Finding the Bathroom At a Party
We’re all sitting in a circle smoking cigarettes on the balcony and I’m taking in this great view of the outskirts of the city, it’s mostly just urban squalor but because of the sunset it has an indescribable quality that reminds you of a painting, like it’s not real. I don’t even know whose apartment this is. It’s mostly ‘fashion people’ and this drug dealer and some older guys who probably earn more a month that I’ve earnt in my entire life. I came with one of my good friends; she works as a talent scout at a modelling agency. She and I are sitting on the edge of the circle. I don’t know why I came. “I need to piss” I said, mostly to my girlfriend but within clear earshot of some of the other party guests. I didn’t give them time to react and got up to find the bathroom. But truthfully, I didn’t give a shit. What, with my gaudy vintage outfit, abortion jokes and the fact that I reeked of stolen Marc Jacobs perfume and my boyfriend’s come meant they couldn’t act surprised. My ‘outrageous dinner guest’ persona had decided to come to the party (without bathing) and wasn’t planning on leaving any time soon. I didn’t really need to go to the bathroom but I had suddenly remembered it as ‘my go to’ move if people were annoying or boring me in a social situation.
I found the bathroom easily and once I had locked the door I looked in the cabinet above the sink. Toothpaste, shaving cream, a dirty looking razor, some sleeping pills – the usual. I pulled my skirt up and my knickers down and sat upon the perfect white toilet seat, staring into the mirror directly in front of me which was in fact the cabinet’s door, attempting to identify which party guest was the owner of this place in my head. I struggled to recall some of their faces, their features almost too perfect to have any sort of lasting effect on one’s memory. Absentmindedly, I trailed my fingers over my lower stomach and the place where my pubic hair starts. It felt stubbly, as usual. My grooming standards weren’t exactly on par with ‘normal’ people, whoever they were. And then it came. Hot, stinging piss. It felt good. Those first couple of pees after being vigorously fucked always held for me a strange and kinda perverse satisfaction.
So, I wasn’t a liar after all. I had needed to go. I slowly closed my eyes against the harsh fluorescent light of the bathroom and tilted my head to the ceiling. Tonight would be a long night.
photo: lastnightsparty
