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I think my torture is over when it’s been a solid five minutes without any vibrations and I’m left with a heavy ache in my core, one so uncomfortable I need to do something about it before I burst.

I think about leaving, but the waiter appears with my wine, and as I go to thank him, a strong vibration zaps through me that has me up and out of my seat.

“I need to pee,” I declare, louder than needed, my words falling out on a strangled moan.

“Okay, Gabs, are you sure you’re okay?” Jack asks, eyeing me suspiciously.

“I’m great, chat among yourselves, I’m gonna go, erm, pee, and you chat. Yes. You chat, I’ll pee,” I say, pointing to them and then myself. I don’t wait for any of them to comment on my ramblings. I hurry to the bathroom on shaky legs, the vibrations continuing, making the walk difficult.

I burst through the bathroom door, not taking in any of the décor, and hurry into a bathroom stall. The vibrator, now stuck on what I presume is high, continues to buzz and the part that’s over my clit is pulsing. I think about leaving it in, ride this wave, and falling apart in this bathroom stall, but I refuse to have an orgasm here. Not like this.

I yank down my leather pants, pushing my hand in between my legs, hooking my finger and thumb around the tail of the vibrator, my fingers are instantly coated with my hot arousal and I wince. Dear God, I am a mess.

I pull it free, relief instantly flooding me, but the vibrator falls between my fingers, hitting the floor and sliding under the bathroom stall. My eyes widen in horror and I crouch down, sticking my hands underneath, but I can’t find it. Panic floods my body.

“Oh, shit.” I pull up my pants at lightning speed, open the door and frantically search the floor of the ladies' bathroom for my pink shrimp-shaped vibrator. My eye catches something next to the trash can under the sink.

Come on universe, throw me a bone.

I do something that would send my germophobic mother into a spin. I get down my hands and knees and lean to reach the vibrator. I’m so close to touching it, but the sound of my name startles me and I hit my head on the cabinet.

“Ouch,” I yelp.

“What are you doing?” I back up, still on my hands and knees, and look up at Ria and Ali above me, foreheads furrowed, mouths agape.

Well, Gabriella, this may be rock bottom. You’re on all fours, in a restaurant bathroom, reaching for a vibrator. How are you going to explain this one?

“Ha Ha, I’m fine. I dropped my phone.” I clutch the sink and heave myself up, catching a glimpse of my flushed face and disheveled hair.

“Seriously, are you okay? You don’t seem yourself tonight,” Ria asks, concern in her voice.

“Yes, I’m fine. I, uh, got my period. I just have some cramps,” I say, turning on the faucet and scrubbing my hands like a surgeon preparing for surgery.

“You got your period?” Ali questions.

“Yes,” I reply.

“But we have the same cycles, and we just finished our period last week.”

Oh shit, she’s right. I turn off the faucet and reach for a fancy hand towel from the basket beside the sink to dry them.

“I’m having another one,” I declare, praying they will believe my lie.

“Another one?” Ali asks, folding her arms and eyeing me curiously. Not believing any of my bullshit.

“Yeah, that happens sometimes,” I state.

“I don’t think it does, Gabs. Maybe you should see a doctor,” Ria suggests.

“I will, I’ll call tomorrow.” I begin to breathe a little easier, hoping they believe my lie when the vibrator begins buzzing. Ria looks around and my eyes widen as I pray the damn thing doesn’t buzz its way out from under the countertop.

“There’s that buzzing again. Seriously, can no one else hear it? Am I going mad?” Ria asks.

“I think that is my phone. Silly me. I’ve left it in the stall. You two go back and I’ll be right out.”

I walk back into the stall and close the door. “I’ll be out in a minute.” I wait for them to leave and sag against the wall. I hate lying to them. It’s not that I don’t think they will understand or be supportive, of course they would. I just don’t really know what this even is. I need to figure this all out before I invite anyone else into this mess and make sense of it. The walls of the bathroom suddenly feel like they are closing in on me. I need some air. I need to get out of here. The burning ache in my core, the weight of my lies, is all becoming too much. I need space to breathe and to think. I open the bathroom stall, forgetting all about the rogue vibrator that lies on the floor, and leave the bathroom. I double step to the side exit and walk on shaky legs into the alley beside the restaurant.

Jesus, I’m a mess.