The guy had got up, presumably to use the toilet. Here was my chance. I stood up and announced that I needed the toilet and was disappointed when Sally said she'd go with me. This was not going to be easy.
The toilets were in the corner of the pub, out of sight from where the guys were sat, just beyond the dance floor where the DJ was setting up his equipment. There was no sign of the guy. I sat on the toilet and locked the cubicle door. My only hope was to somehow get a written message to him. I fumbled in my handbag and found an old receipt. Shit, where was my pen! I was aware that Sally might be wondering what I was doing but thankfully I found a biro to write my number on the crumpled bit of paper.
Now for the hard bit. How was I going to get it to him without anyone else seeing. I washed my hands, applied some lipstick and screwed the paper into my palm. We walked through the toilet door and my heart started to race as I saw him chatting with the DJ just a yard or two from me.
I had no time to think and acted impulsively. I slid my bag from my shoulder and dropped it on the floor between the two of us. I bent down to pick up the spilled contents and he dutifully followed the script by bending down to help me. "Butter fingers" he said with a smile and I grinned back at him.
He held his hand out to help me up and I squeezed thesquashed piece of paper into his hand before walking back to my husband. "He's fit", said my friend but I could tell she didn't suspect anything.
All I could hope for now was a message. I began to picture his cock inside me as I lifted the wine glass to my lips.