The Secretary Who had to Pee Ch. 02

"Need the loo, love?" the man in the doorway asked. Kate blushed as she nodded, and he added, "Won't keep you long."

Kate took a deep breath. "Right, where do you want to sit?"

I indicated the nearest table. "Here's fine."

She slipped off her jacket, hung it on the back of her chair and sat down opposite me. I could tell from the way her body moved that she had just crossed her legs. Looking across the table at me, she whispered, "I hope they are nearly finished. I'm nearly bursting."

"You'll be fine," I offered the usual platitude, trying to ignore the way my cock had just stiffened at the sound of her words. I tried to concentrate on the lunch menu.

After a minute, George arrived to take out order. "Can I get your folks something to drink?" he asked innocently.

I looked across at Kate who was clearly tempted. When she continued to hesitate, I said, "I'll have a pint of bitter, thanks George."

"And to eat?"

"I'll have the fish and chips today."

"Right you are. You the young lady?"

"Okay, I'll have a half pint of Hardy's," Kate said as George turned his face towards her. "And the fish and chips too."

As he retreated to the bar to fill our orders, she said quietly, "I don't have to drink any of it until the loos are open."

"True," I said.

I went up to collect our drinks and pay. As I carried the drink over to our table, I noticed that Kate was swinging her crossed legs from side to side under the table. I set her glass down before her and she smiled her thanks, but it was a distracted smile. Her bladder had to be badly distended by this time, and I wondered what would happen if the anticipated reopening of the toilets had been over-optimistic.

I didn't have to wonder for long. Ten minutes later, Kate was still fidgeting around on her seat, her drink untouched before her. "Oh God, come on," she complained under her breath, then more directly to me. "This is getting serious," she said, a note of panic now creeping into her voice.

"I'm sorry," I said, and I truly was because she looked so worried. I would have said more had George not appeared with our lunches.

"Something wrong with your drink?" he enquired, noticing Kate's still-full glass.

"No," she replied quickly. "I haven't tried it yet, actually. I'm still waiting for the loo."

"Oh, bloody hell," George responded, looking through the west-facing window towards the truck I'd vaguely noticed on our arrival. "I'll go and see how much longer they expect to be."

"Um, George," I interrupted his departure, "I know it's not really the done thing, but don't you have some staff toilets in the back that she could use?"

George shook his head solemnly. "They're all linked together, so the staff ones are blocked too. I had to go into the yard for a wiz this morning."

It was just a little more information than I wanted, so I just nodded and let George go on his way.

I regarded my lunch but felt guilty about eating when Kate was sitting opposite me in so much discomfort. Part of me was excited by her predicament, but at the same time it had to hurt like hell.

"Eat up," she said with forced cheerfulness, and took up her own knife and fork. "I'm sure they'll be finished soon."

With an apologetic smile (after all, coming to the Bell & Anchor had been my idea), I began eating.

We ate in silence. Kate picked at her food, rocking her body continuously as she fought the urge to void her bladder. The poor girl had been desperate to pee for at least an hour now, and I didn't think she would be able to bear the mounting pressure much longer.

At one point, George came through the still-empty bar and Kate looked up at him expectantly. He shook his head to indicate that the crew working on unblocking the lavatories were still not finished.

I was almost finished with my fish and chips when Kate set down her fork and folded her arms tightly across her stomach. "It's no good, Mr. Denes. I have to leave. Will you please take me back to my car so that I can go home and do something my situation?"

"Yes, of course," I agreed readily. "Are you planning to leave your drink?"

"I have to. I don't dare drink anything at all."

"Okay," I said, then paused. "Kate, since you live in Charlton, don't you? That's only a few miles from here, so I think you could get home a lot faster if I drive you straight there from here. Then I could wait for you in the car and drive you back to work. Want to do that?"

She considered this for a moment, her expression one of sheer anguish. She didn't hesitate for long. "Yes, if you wouldn't mind. I'm so close."

"I know," I said, taking out my wallet and putting fifteen pounds on the table. "Come on, let's go."

Kate grabbed her jacket and literally hobbled towards the door leading into the car park. She didn't seem able to stand upright. Her heels clicked in rapid succession as she took fast, tiny steps, clearly trying to not jolt her bulging bladder.

I tripped the locks on the car just before she reached the passenger's door, and heard her grunt as she lowered herself gingerly onto the seat. I hopped in beside her and started the engine, aware that she was fumbling with the catch on her seat belt. "Oh God, please hurry. I don't know if I can make it. Ooohh! I've never needed to loo this badly before."

"Not even yesterday?" I asked before I could stop myself.

She shook her head. "This is definitely worse. I feel like something's going to pop!"

I sped along a narrow country road with banks to either side, and if we had encountered an oncoming vehicle on several of the sharp bends, that would probably have been it. Even though I was doing sixty miles per hour, however, I could see that Kate was in serious trouble. She had her legs crossed, her fingers pushed between her thighs close to the tops of her thighs, and she was bending over and sitting upright every few seconds, her seat belt sliding and sometimes locking in she moved to quickly.

"Oh shit!" she yelped when we were still at least a mile from her home. "I can't hold it. It's starting to leak out. Oh my God. I'm so sorry, Mr. Denes. I really can't wait any longer."

Abandoning all attempts at modesty, she parted her knees a few inches and jammed both hands into her crotch, rubbing herself frantically. Perhaps she was trying to stimulate herself sexually to help take her mind off her burning desire to pee, or perhaps she was simply doing anything to help her hold back the flood for a few more seconds.

Suddenly, she let out a loud gasp. "Oh! Oh no. Stop the car. I have to get out. Now!"

I glanced in my rearview mirror and saw that I had some twat in a sports job right up my arse. There were several oncoming cars too, and passing them was going to be a squeeze as it was. "I can't. There's nowhere to pull over."

"You have to. I'm pissing myself!"

"Kate, even if I could stop, there's nowhere for you to go. Those banks are nearly sheer."

She didn't protest any further, and when I glanced across at her, I found her looking down at her crotch. She had withdrawn her hands and now hand them resting palms down on her upper thighs. Over the drone of the car engine, I could have sworn I caught the hiss of her pee jetting into her knickers and trousers. A few seconds later, confirmation came as the acrid smell of fresh urine filled my nostrils.

Kate began to sob, and without pausing to think about the potential ramifications of what I was doing, (she could have accused me of sexual harassment), I reached over and gripped her right knee. "Don't worry. It's alright."

"It's not alright," she countered sharply, removing my hand from her leg. "I'm peeing on your car seat. The upholstery will be ruined."

"Let me worry about that," I said.

She let out a long, heartfelt sigh, mostly to express the immense relief of emptying her aching bladder at last.

"I'm sorry," she said, her tone softening. "I didn't mean to... I know you weren't..."

"It's fine," I told her. "I wasn't thinking."

As if the implication of what she had done had just struck her, she covered her face with her hands. "I really am so sorry.

"It's alright. I know you were bursting. You couldn't do anything else."

"But it's so awful of me. Twice in as many days."

I paused a moment to think about whether or not I should try to make light of the situation. It was a gamble, but I decided to risk it. "At this rate, you won't have any clean clothes by the end of the month."

After a brief silence, Kate sort of laughed. It came out half way between a laugh and another sob, but when I stole another glance at her face, I saw that she was smiling rather than crying. "I did actually wash my clothes from yesterday last night," she said.

I grinned, showing that I really was alright with what she had done on my leather car seat, thinking myself fortunate that the upholstery was not suede or some mix of cotton and synthetic. Cleaning that would have been just about impossible.

"I have to admit, I've never even seen a woman wet herself once in my life before yesterday, and now I've witnessed it twice I the space of twenty-four hours."

"I am sorry," she apologized again.

"You know, you really shouldn't worry. Like I admitted yesterday on the phone when you asked me, I am interested when you're... you know, desperate to go."

"What you actually said was that it turns you on," she reminded me.

"Right. Maybe I said a little too much there."

"No," she said, and fell silent for a while.

I was about to jump in and fill the voice when she resumed speaking. "When I was a kid, I always liked holding on until the last second. My mum would always tell me off for running through the house screaming that I needed the loo, and sometimes when it was occupied, well, I'm sure you can imagine the consequences."

"Your father, you mean?"

She nodded in silence. At last, she continued. "I stopped holding it like that when I got older because it seemed undignified, and I really didn't think boys would like it."

"Then, about four years ago, I met one who liked to tie me to the bed before we made love. He often used to keep me there for hours, even after we'd finished having sex. I don't know about you, but sex always makes me want to pee. He used to make me wait, sometimes too long and I was forced to wet the bed."

"Was happened?" I asked, posing the question as tentatively as I could manage.

"He went off with someone else."

"Sorry," I said. I didn't know what else to say and elected to remain silent.

We arrived in the little village of Charlton and I stopped at what was probably its only junction. "Which way?" I asked.

"Left," she said. "It's about a quarter of a mile out of the village. The third house on the left-hand side."

As I covered the last few hundred yards of the drive, Kate asked, "Do you want to come in to wait while I shower and change?"

"Um, yes, if that's okay?"

"Of course." She pointed to a narrow driveway that led up to a garage just big enough for a single car. "Pull right up close to the garage so that I can get out and go round to the back door without anyone seeing me."

I did as she bade, climbing out and following her through the garage to a door leading into a small garden at the rear. She took a key from under a flowerpot, of all things, and let herself into the kitchen. "Wait here," she instructed as she kicked off her shoes and socks and padded barefoot across the tiled floor, disappearing from view through a doorway on the opposite side of the room.

I heard the shower running and sat there for a minute imagining what Kate must look like, standing in the cubicle naked, her skin streaming with water. Then I remember the car seat, and went out to inspect the damage. It wasn't too bad, I discovered; a lot of the pee must have soaked into her trousers as she continued sitting in it. I opened the boot, retrieved a fairly clean rag normally used for wiping the windscreen, and ran it over the base of the passenger's seat. I then found a plastic shopping bag and ripped it along its seams. I opened it out and spread it over the seat to prevent Kate getting any lingering residue of pee on her fresh clothes.

Returning to the kitchen, I caught the sound of various bumps from above as doors and drawers were opened and closed. A minute later, Kate was back in the kitchen with me, dressed now in black skirt and tights, and a pair of high heels. She had changed her top for a black sweater which hugged her curves and accentuated her marvelous figure.

"Funeral black again?" I teased her.

"Mourning the loss of bladder control," she joked, then, pointing to the kettle, she added, "Fancy a cup of tea? Remember, I didn't have anything to drink at the pub."

I glanced at my watch, was about to nod, and then suddenly remembered the Regional Director's impending arrival. It was already ten minutes to one. "We have to get back," I said urgently.

My tone must have triggered the memory for Kate because her mouth fell open as she drew in a sharp breath. "Oh my Lord, of course. Quick, let's go before I make you late. I can brew some coffee at the office."

A minute later, we were back on the road. I now followed the route Kate would normally use to reach the plant, and could safely go faster. I couldn't resist a glance at her slender thighs as she crossed her legs, and remarked, "You don't need to go again already, do you?"

"No," she answered, slightly taken-aback. Then she glanced down at her crossed legs and seemed to grasp what had prompted this remark. "Mind you," she added with a mischievous smile, "after a few mugs of coffee, all that could change."

"Well, I certainly hope so," I quipped.

"Hmmm," she responded, pursing her lips. "If you're interested, you should come and see me after your meeting."

"I will," I agreed promptly, seized again by the knowledge that I was, once again, leaping rather than merely stepping over the bounds of propriety.

I had no idea what had gotten into me. All I knew was that, since I had met Kate, my life had turned into a roller coaster of a ride, and it was too late to jump off now.