Ray slowly pushed himself up from his knees. His legs were all pins and needles, but he still yanked his jeans up, buttoned them, then wiped his mouth and chin—still wet as hell—with the sleeve of his shirt. Felt nasty sticky. He didn't dare look at Milady's face yet.
Milady moved too. She pulled a tissue from her little bag and wiped her pussy, still twitching and soaked. Fast, neat, but a little rough. The tiny stall reeked now—mix of fluids, sweat, and cheap toilet soap. The air felt heavy as fuck.
Neither of them said a word. Just the sound of tissue scraping and a zipper being yanked shut. No talking. No eye contact. After a few seconds Milady tossed the tissue in the trash, straightened her blouse, and shoved the stall door open without waiting for him.
Ray followed. They washed their hands side by side at the sink, still dead silent. Then they walked straight out of the bathroom into the mall crowd that was still pretty packed even though it was late.
