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.