Might as well jump

I was in an, ahem, gentlemen's club years ago. Management had declared the night a private party, so everyone (punters, bar staff, wait staff, dancers) had been shifted into a smaller upstairs room with its own little stage. The main area, with loads of tables'n'chairs/lounges and a multi-section stage, was deserted and only dimly lit. However, you still had to walk through there to reach the men's bathroom.

Heading to the loo to relieve myself of a few criminally overpriced lagers, with no-one else around, I was seized by a childish urge and jumped down the stairs. At that instant, a dancer was walking out of their dressing room, bound for the party. Her face broke into a grin. "I saw that," she said, grinning more. I smiled back and shrugged. It was a real, unguarded moment in a place built on illusion.