A few days ago Steve and I went out to dinner in Leeds with some friends, it was a hot and sunny day and we had had long and busy days at work.
Taking advantage of the weather I decided to wear one of my 'summer' dresses, you know, the dresses that are so strappy/bright/inappropriately short, that you can only really wear them in lovely weather.
Indeed it was so delightfully warm that I didn't take a coat - that has absolutely no bearing on the story I'll admit but to travel an hour to Leeds without a jacket seems incredibly exciting to winter loving me!
The meal was scrummy, I ate and ate and ate, chicken and gnocchi, bruchetta, mozzarella, courgette, mushrooms, bread with oil and vinegar (you may not think it is humanely possible to eat all that in the space of one two hour meal - it is). Absolutely stuffed, I relaxed and we started to pay the bill and think of the journey home.
Before we left I decided to go to the bathrooms, I was checking my reflection in the mirror when I decided that, actually my bra felt slightly tight (apparently food goes directly to my boobs... who knew?), having not heard or seen anyone else in there, I quickly hoiked up my dress and undid the clasp.
Just as I was about to redo it, there was the unmistakable noise of a toilet flushing.
I desperately tried to hook faster when the door of not one, but two cubicles opened only to be confronted by me, dress up my back, bra still undone.
I quickly muttered an apology, pulled my dress back into place and slunk out, thanking god that this was the end of the meal.
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