She emerges from the stall tugging the hem of her dress. Wiggling her hips, she readjusts her damp panties, then sweeps her lips. Leaving the guy to pull up his pants, she primps her hair as she passes the mirror and exits to the club.

Her boyfriend sneers. “You’re so slow with your fucking makeup.”

“Really?” She grins, eyes aside. “I thought I was quick with my fucking… makeup.”