Smokin' in the Ladies Room

Ah, sure, we had some times now, didn't we.  I will miss you, #3, set just in far enough from the ladies room, those brilliant stalls just like them in Ireland which go right down to the floor.  The hangovers and post-all-nighters were saved for the last, larger, and more equipped "handicapped" stall (I was perfectly within my bounds to occupy it as I did, in the states I was - half sick, half leftover drunk, post "going for a drink with an insomniac" or just mixing those elixirs of life which tested my once great digestive mettle and now just left me raped and beaten in the stomach and spleen at the side of the road).  I've even used the railing at times, to lift me up from my slumber.  On those days, I would curl up fetal-like in front of the toilet on the floor, and have been known to get a good 15-30 minutes of actual twilight sleep.  Somehow the automatic flush on the handicapped toilet was more sensitive than the other 3 (I guess if the handicapped can't reach as well as they should) and the toilet would flush more than occasionally, so the others who happened to be in there knew that Someone was in there, and that Something was going on.  Sometimes the flushing would be every two minutes or so - it was gentle though, and soothing in a way, as I drooled onto my curled up hand and hair, almost like putting your ear to the conch shell and listening to the ocean.  I certainly had no grand speeches to make with the so-called conch in my hand -- just my ear down on the cold tile, nestled into my hair and I slept soundly, whenever I could.

The only other times I've had of note in the 21st floor ladies lavatory were much more illicit.  Looking back, to the old and new company names and the old and new years I've spent in this place, I must have gone to heaven so to speak over 100 times.  When my good friend was here, and I was in the middle of causing her life to take an illicit turn, she and I joked about those doors that went "all the way down" and the fun times we had in there.  I used to pretend I wasn't even in there, hoping no one would jiggle the handle and listen in (truthfully it was and is hard for me to keep quiet on such occasions but this is not the sort of thing one likes to share with women who they don't respect, like or with who to engage a five minute conversation much less invite them in on their late morning or early afternoon orgasms), but then after some time, even though the quiet stealthy climbs weren't as satisfying as they could be, I didn't even care if two women were having a conversation at the sinks about the weather or the weekend -- I didn't let the pallor of their voices invade my space any, and the reaches between my legs and ears were safe from their chatter, clatter, redundancy and glee.  I was in candyland, bellyfulls of play dates, arse ready and legs up and over it all, walking the plank, though my hands and on out of there.

There was nothing so satisfying (in a place wholly and utterly Un-satisfying) as coming brilliantly of myself, silently grinning at their flushy, pissy, wipey and dull body movements, sliding their soft and muttering selves, touching my face all warm and rosy, zipping up my jeans (if applicable) and exiting the stall.  I hated to wash my hands after, but the feeling remained, if nothing else.  That grand walk down the taupe hallways, happy and for the moment beatific in the knowledge that I had come of my own accord just minutes earlier.  Passing by people and enjoying it all at least until the next roadblock hit me hard in my malar flushed face.

And now, to the last day.  You served me well, #3, as stated earlier.  It wasn't our grandest yet, but it'll do, for today.  I planned it out from the moment I woke up and knew if nothing else went my way today, this would.  Best part is, it's free and anyone can do it.  Again, information which it seems doens't trickle down like I had assumed it would, like I mostly did when I had finished, and the only evidence that someone was in there, living it up again and again.  I walked out of there today, threw myself back in my chair and exhaled just right. I'm told the next place won't have these stalls that go down all the way....perhaps I'll have to figure some new stance to hide my beautiful shame from the others......my malady of wanting as much as I can experience....then again, I may just leave the door open at the next place.  A good Samaritan knows no bounds.........

M. Lucia