I reached up and forward to turn on the air conditioning and then it happened. I lost control of my bladder and unloaded a stream of piss into her shoe. 

Or so she told me later. 

An hour or so earlier, I was sat in a nightclub toilet, shitting and puking. Endlessly. 

“Is that your boyfriend in there?” 

“Yes, is he OK?” 

“No and I’d dump him if I were you.” 

She sent in a female friend who didn’t have a problem going into the men’s loo. 

“Are you OK?” The friend enquired. 

“I don’t think so.” I managed to reply. 

“Well you better get your shit together, as she’s waiting for you.”

Somehow she got me into a taxi and home. It was to be the first time she was allowed to stay at my house. 

We were sixteen.