You are so high you thnk your head is going to spin off your body and drill its ways through the ceiling. You giggle and the sound echoes round the bar and bounces off the walls, just like your head would do if it wasn't attached, bounce bounce bounce. Zane is somewhere off to your left, chatting up a group of women who must be close to forty and you can hear him shouting over the music and chatter, trying to make himself heard. You turn and try to focus on him, and one of the women looks at you curiously, her face blurring and shifting as you blink rapidly.

"...he...friend...okay?" he hear her say and you nod vigorously, grinning. You suddenly realise how much your jaw is aching, but the more you try to unlock it, the harder it's clenched. The woman is beside you, wrapping her arm through yours and you laugh. It comes out as a high-pitched snigger and the woman - who you've just noticed has huge hair and breasts to match - stares at you like you're an endangered panda.

"...hell...taking?"

You tell her that you've had a pill, about six lines and a bottle of vodka and when she continues to gaze at you, you decide to open your mouth.

"I - uh - yeah," you manage, and she squeezes your arm and winks. It is at this point that you decide to go to the bathroom and excuse yourself, lurching across the bar to the men's room.

You splash cold water on your face until the front of your shirt is sopping wet. Regaining a little of your sanity, you step into a cubicle, shutting the door and sitting on the seat. The door opens and the music flows in, shit commercial dance that is suddenly cut off again as the door swings shut. You put your head in your hands and concentrate on your breathing, and you repeat to yourself, "I will not take an old whore home, I will not take an old whore home," until it becomes a chant and the words meld into one.

The cubicle door next to you bangs and you hear giggling. There is a clatter as someone falls against the toilet, followed by soft murmering and the sound of a zipper. You lift your head and listen, suddenly horny, and your chant pops back into your head as a man exhales and groans slightly. You hear a thump and imagine the woman has been lifted against the partition by your stall. You slowly sink down onto your haunches, peeking uner the gap, only to be met with the sight of two pairs of men's shoes. Slightly sickened to realise how aroused you just were, you stand up and flush, opening the door to be met by your red-fased reflection in the mirror as you hurry out of the otherwise empty room. On your way to rejoin Zane, you decide that at least it was an effective way of sobering up.

You also decide not to tell him.

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