You unlock the door, waiting the half a second it takes for the lock to switch from occupied to vacant. Walking out, you turn on the water tap and shove your hands into the running water. Remember, lots of soap. Must wash your hands. You've put your hands in places that you never would imagine putting somewhere, now they've got to be washed clean.
You dry your hands and look at yourself in the mirror. Your hair is tangled, your face is flushed, the top button of your shirt is unbuttoned and giving a flash of the thin gold crucifix that lies against your creamy skin. Damn you, you naughty girl. Your mother's going to tell you you'll go to Hell for what you've done... well, she would if you told her.
'You'll have to button up your shirt.' The toilet door swings backwards and his reflection is shown in the mirror next to yours.
He's just done up his belt again and thrown the user rubber down the machine that you toss your time-of-the-month womanly materials down.
'I don't think you're supposed to toss that down there,' you reply. Your voice is high.
He gives you a smile that clearly shows he thinks you're an idiot. 'What am I supposed to do? Throw it in the bin and get caught?'
'People will think it some other student's. Besides, you think we're not going to be caught in here?'
He slaps you on the bottom playfully. You wish he wouldn't do that. It's embarrassing, even if there's only the two of you around. 'Of course we're not going to be caught in here, you stupid girl. No one uses the disabled toilets. Who have you seen use the disabled toilets?'
You think for a moment. No one.