So we didn’t wait. Coat still on. His hand over my mouth because the attendant was two feet away pretending not to exist.
Tag: queue
Romantic is generous. Functional. His belt buckle kept hitting the dispenser. I still came. That’s the bit I’ll leave in.
Four girls, one lock, someone’s boyfriend knocking like he pays rent. I gave her my concealer. She gave me the story. That’s how you leave a club with better gossip than a hangover.
Two girls I didn’t know asked why I was in last night’s dress at 8am. I told them. They bought my coffee. Community.
Some girl in the queue for the loo, full face on, calling my dress tarty. I smiled, took a photo anyway, and posted it before last orders. She can cope.
Soho, Saturday, one toilet cubicle with a lock that actually worked. We still managed. I lost an earring and gained a story. The attendant definitely knew. I tipped her anyway.
Because Mia smiled and I looked expensive. We repaid him by disappearing into the booth and never buying bottle service.