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Pulling my Dior Metal from my purse I pucker up at the big smudged mirror.

Next stall girl smiles at me in a strange, in the mirror way, I shoot her a grin and begin replenishing my lip gloss.

Fleeing through the dancers, my bladder feels fit to burst, but I know it's secret.

It's a joy to enter the chill of the ladies loo, a chance to cool my body, calm the rush, take a breath.

I won't pee, it's the undesired effects of ecstasy, dehydration and a false feeling of need to urinate.