Bathroom

Scene in bathroom 3.36 hours after our protagonist’s departure.

This is what she said: “Do you think I’m a sexual person?” I said: “I don’t know, probably.” She said: “Well, actually I’m not a very sexual person. What made you think I am?” I said: “Your lips.”
This conversation took place in the downstairs bathroom just off the kitchen. She’d dragged me there to escape the raging New Year party that filled the rest of the house. We’d only just met – I sat on the edge of the bath while she locked the door.

New Year’s Eve is, in my experience, one of the calendar’s most disappointing events. There seems to me to be a counter-correlation between the anticipation of pleasure and actual pleasure that invariably reaches its peak on December 31st . So, in view of the fact that I rarely have anything like approaching a good time at such parties, I had decided to stay at home with a bottle of wine and watch television. When one of my housemates heard of my plan she insisted I went along to the pub and then a party where there would be people who’s company I would enjoy. That is how I ended up locked in a bathroom with a beautiful, though sadly not very sexual, young woman.
She lifted the toilet lid; she lifted her skirt; she sat down; she pissed. We’d only just met.
When she’d finished she sat next to me and reached into the bath where cans of beer and cider lay cooling in icy water. She grabbed one, pulled back the ring, took a couple of swigs and handed the can to me.
She said: “What do you do?” I said: “I’m a waiter.” She said: “My boyfriend’s outside.” There was a knock at the door and she got up and unlocked it. A guy I’d been talking to earlier poked his head around the corner. He was her boyfriend.
She left the party at around 7.30 a.m. While her boyfriend had been calling a taxi she’d given me her phone number. She said: “Text me.”