The Secretary Who had to Pee Ch. 05

After several minutes, Foster interrupted me. "So, essentially, you are saying that you have known about the structural weaknesses in the west wall of the tank for some months. Why, may I enquire, have you not done anything about it?"

"But I did," I objected. "I submitted two reports on the advanced state of deterioration of several key structures in the treatment process, and requested that funds be released that would allow me to initiate immediate remedial work. These requests were both declined."

Foster turned his frosty gaze on Thompson. "Is that true, Divisional Director Thompson?"

Thompson shot me an equally cold look before answering. "I receive dozens of requests from Regional Managers across the entire Division on a weekly basis. There is no way to fund all of them, and I found it necessary to set priorities."

"I see," Foster nodded. "And you didn't think that mitigating the risk of contaminating one of the most unspoilt stretches of coastline on the south coast of England was a sufficiently high priority for funding?"

For one of the most unspoilt stretches of coastline, read, a harbour where the boats of several dozen wealthy and highly influential people are moored.

"There were other matters which had the same -- or greater risk -- of doing environmental damage." Thompson argued, and I noted that he was avoiding specificities.

Foster scowled, then turned back to face me. "Did you make the urgency of this situation sufficiently clear in your reports to the Divisional Director, Mr. Denes?"

"I stressed the need for immediate action in both documents, sir," I said. "I was informed that the matter could not be addressed during the current fiscal year owing to budgetary constraints."

As Foster turned his attention back to Thompson, I took the opportunity to see how Kate was doing. I watched her uncross and recross her legs, the hand gripping her pen pressing down hard on the front of her skirt just inches from her crotch. It was obvious that she could not hold on much longer. I looked into the outer office once more, but it was still deserted. Even the receptionist's desk was untenanted.

Since Foster and Thompson were essentially just squabbling, Kate stopped taking the minutes and glanced up. Her gaze intercepted mine, and she gave me a look of sheer anguish. I mouthed the word sorry as I watched her rocking back and forth on her seat, knees clenched. I could see she was concentrating hard, and I imagined her forgetting to breathe at moments when the urge to urinate almost overcame her. It looked like she was experiencing one of those moments right now.

Poor Kate. She'd been sitting there for at least twenty minutes, after being desperate to the point of bursting when we arrived; when she had been forced to delay a visit to the toilet for the sake of keeping the peace with Foster. By now, she must feel like she had a weather balloon swelling in the space between her hips. The evil part of me found her predicament both exciting and stimulating, and yet, at the same time, I did not want her to be forced to disgrace herself in front of these two men.

An idea occurred. "Er um," I interrupted. "Can we take a brief recess? I need to take a leak."

Both Foster and Thompson treated me to reproachful glances. Foster nodded sharply and I immediately rose, looking over at Kate and inclining my head towards the door leading into the outer office. Getting the message, she stood up stiffly, eyes bulging with the effort of dealing with an extremely full bladder. She dropped her note pad and pen onto her chair, seemingly unwilling to risk bending down, then walked with her knees almost touching towards the door.

I stood aside to let her precede me. She hobbled into the outer office and, without waiting while I closed to door, she blurted out, "Where's the loo. Oh God, I'm never going to make it!"

"This way," I pointed, then seized her arm and hurried her across the office. She staggered along beside me, her breath catching in her throat as she strained to maintain control for just a few more seconds.

We turned into a short corridor just off the main entrance. Ahead of us on the right was a drinking fountain; on the left, two doors, the first one leading into the Gents and the second one, the Ladies. "There you are," I said, simultaneously letting go of Kate's arm.

She seemed to be on the point of losing her balance, and I grabbed her again. At the same moment, she stretched out her left hand and rested it against the wall. She looked down, and following her gaze, I saw her right foot come off the floor just before the first splash of urine hit her unlifted shoe.

She drew in a sharp breath. "No! Oh shit. Please nooo!"

She took several steps towards the toilet, then froze again as more pee splashed around her feet. This second, brief loss of control seemed to galvanize her, and she made a mad dash into the Ladies. As the door closed quietly behind her, I heard her heels tapping against the tile floor, and had a vision of her lifting her skirt while trying to tear down her underwear as she half-ran, half-stumbled towards a cubicle.

I stood there, not so much aroused as feeling desperately sorry for Kate. It was the one thing she wanted to avoid. I felt angry with Foster, and indeed with Marcia Smith, for placing her in that situation.

I heard voices behind me, and there was Marcia entering the building with several other women. I heard Marcia saying, "Mr. Denes' assistant has been covering for you, so you'd better go straight in."

"Can't I just pop to the loo first Marcia?" one of the others answered.

"If you can hold it, please do. Mr. Foster and Mr. Thompson are both in rather a bad frame of mind this morning."

"Really?"

"Well, consider the circumstances," Marcia retorted. "You turning up late won't have helped."

"But I couldn't do anything about that."

"I understand, but they are not in any mood for excuses. Now hop to it."

I approached Marcia just as the women she'd been talking too hurried across the reception towards the Board Room. Turning at my approach, Marcia said, "Oh. I thought you were in the meeting?"

"I popped out to use the loo," I explained. "Actually, to let Kate use the loo," I amended. "She didn't quite make it."

"Oh good heavens. The poor thing," Marcia glanced past me at the corridor leading to the loos. "She must have been mortified."

"Perhaps you can help by finding her a change of clothes, Miss Smith. I'm sure she'd really appreciate it."

"Um, yes, yes of course. I'm sure one of the girls will have something that will fit her."

"Thank you. Please go and tell Kate what you're doing for her. I have to get back into the meeting."

"Of course," Marcia repeated. "I'm terribly sorry."

"Tell Kate," I said as I walked away.

When I returned to the Board Room, Foster was in full swing, lecturing the entire board about the follies of delayed action. Arguments about budgetary constraints held no sway with him, at least not right here and now; he was in full politician mode.

I glanced over at the girl who was evidently Thompson's personal secretary, and saw her sitting at the stenographer's desk, legs crossed, unsure if she should be trying to record the conversation. She caught my eye and I shook my head very slightly to tell her no. She smiled her understanding, and settled down to wait for Foster to return to some kind of agenda.

The morning dragged by with interminable slowness as we moved from one emergency to the next. At least half the Board raised issues about regional problems, taking their lead from Foster. From time to time, I stole a quick look at Thompson's secretary. It did not escape my notice that her legs were crossed, or that her elevated foot was swinging rhythmically, an indication that she was dealing with an uncomfortably full bladder. I wondered just how urgent her situation was, then felt a little guilty for thinking about her predicament instead of poor Kate's.

Kate had not reappeared. I worried a little that she had fled in humiliation and was even now on a train back home. When we finally adjourned for lunch, at which point Thompson's secretary sprang to her feet and walked to the door in rapid, bird-like steps. She was bursting to pee alright, and I could not stop myself watching her cross the outer office en route to the lavatory. She looked as if she was going to make it, however.

I went to the receptionist to ask if she knew of Kate's whereabouts, but before I could frame the question, both Marcia and Kate emerged from an adjacent office. Kate, now wearing a pair of dark grey trousers, smiled at me as she approached.

"How is it going in there?"

"Grim," I said, telling her what she already know, "but I think we'll get a budget increase once the dust settles."

"Great," she said, nodding and smiling.

As Marcia was called away, Kate took a step closer to me, speaking now in a low voice. "I do apologies for not coming back in there, but I really couldn't face it. I felt so embarrassed."

"That's quite alright," I assured her. "I don't think anyone noticed your predicament, and frankly, I'm not even sure they would notice your change of clothing. They're all pretty numb from the neck up."

"Oh God, I was so desperate in there. I thought I was going to die."

"I know. I felt for you."

"Really? I thought you would have been enjoying it."

I shook my head. "Not when you're in that much pain and facing such dreadful embarrassment. I care about you, Kate, and I don't want to see you humiliated like that."

She regarded me for a moment, as if she were trying to make up her mind about something, then she said, "Are we going out for lunch? I'm starving."

"Um, yes, but it will have to be a quick one. The meeting will resume in about forty minutes." She looked a little disappointed, so I added, "We'll dine out somewhere really nice this evening."

"Good," she said, and looping her arm through mine, she led me towards the lift.

The afternoon went much as expected, with Foster instructing a review of my budgetary needs and recommending that my area be made a high priority for emergency funding. It was as good as it gets, and the fact that Thompson came out of it looking like a dick in a dildo factory was the icing on the cake.

Kate and I dined at Le Restaurant Gastronome, a pretentious name but definitely a gastronomic delight. We managed to get through two bottles of 2005 Cote de Nuits, eating up a huge chunk of the available credit on my MasterCard, but oh, was it worth it. Kate truly enjoyed herself, dining on baked scallops and coconut shrimp.

We chatted about everything except work - our tastes in music, wine, vacation locales, and even a little about our respective families. I didn't even notice that Kate was not visiting the Ladies at all. I'd just assumed that she'd gone to relieve herself when I'd gone off to do so, which had been necessary twice during the evening. It was only when she became distracted and sat rocking ever-so-slightly on her seat that I realized she was exhibiting symptoms of holding a full bladder.

I opened my mouth to comment, but before I could comment, the waiting arrived with the bill and I spent the next few minutes dealing with that. When we were alone again, relatively speaking, I whispered, "You look like you need the loo."

She nodded, a slow, deliberate nod, before whispering in return, "I've been holding it."

"For how long?"

"All evening."

"Why? You were supposed to be enjoying the meal and the wine, not sitting there in agony."

"I'm not in agony, just very full and experiencing those urgent feelings."

"Still..."

"I'm doing it for you."

I smiled, feeling a tingling sensation travel all the way from my groin to the middle of my back. "You don't have to."

"Oh yes I do," she insisted. "I'm going to walk back to the hotel like this."

"But... that's over half a mile away, and you're wearing heels. Are you sure."

"Pos-sitive," she stammered, sounding a little drunk.

"I don't know, Kate. You've suffered one humiliating experience today, and I don't--"

"It's alright," she interrupted, silencing my protests. "It's dark and I'm wearing a black dress, and black tights, and black shoes. No one will see the damage if I can't it."

"Kate," I said, feeling it necessary for me to object one last time. "You're tipsy, and you don't know what you're saying. Once you get out in the night air, you'll be going frantic for a loo. I think you should go now, while you still have the opportunity. There aren't many public loos in Bexhill, and even if we did come across one, it would be locked at this time of night."

"Stop... worrying," she said as she stroked her fingers along my forearm. "I'm going to hop and dance all the way, and I will make it, because when we get there, you're going to take my dress off and put me to bed without letting me-"

I held up a cautioning hand to silence her. It may only have been paranoia on my part, but I was convinced that people seated at adjacent tables were starting to listen to our conversation. "Okay," I conceded. "Let's... just go, shall we?"

"Abs-solutely. That's what I've been saying," Kate said, her expression an odd mixture of mischievousness and panic.

She drew in a gasp as she rose from the table, and I imaged the abrupt intensification of her desire to empty her bladder. She looked for a second as if she might buckle and let it go there and then. She puffed out her cheeks and gave me a wide-eyed stare. She mouthed the words that was close. I nodded, and inclined my head in the direction of the exit.

As we walked slowly along the high street, Kate holding on to my arm to steady herself, her heels clicking irregularly on the pavement, I heard her suck in a sharp breath though clenched teeth. "Oh God, I'm so full. You wouldn't believe how tight my bladder feels."

"Yes, I would," I said, feeling the tension in her arm muscles as she slowed her pace still further and bent forward a little at the waist.

"I'm never going to make it to the hotel in time," she gasped, ending the sentence with another sharply-drawn breath.

"You can do it," I said, aware that this platitude was hardly likely to even register on her distracted mind.

We walked as fast as Kate could manage, with frequent pauses for her to bend right over and cross her legs. The third or fourth time she stopped to do this, she inserted her hands between her thighs and ran them quickly up to her crotch, lifting her skirt and showing that she was wearing stockings and suspender, not tights as she had claimed. The effect of all this on me was electric. I could hardly stand up straight myself, and desperately hoped that she could last until we reached the hotel room. I knew she was bursting, in agony, longing to relieve herself of the colossal pressure stretching her abdomen, but I still selfishly wanted to get her into bed and spend a few seconds inside her before she finally lost control.

By the time we reached the hotel entrance, Kate was leaning on my arm so heavily that my muscles were trembling with the effort of keeping her upright. Her breathing was fast and shallow, and her steps, while rapid, were not heavy - I could hardly hear the click of her heels, and guessed she was trying to walk on the balls of her feet to avoid jolting herself.

We crossed the lobby, Kate not saying a word. All of her concentration was devoted to holding on just a little longer. I asked for the card keys for both of our rooms, the receptionist treating me to a knowing smirk as she handed them over. I then steered Kate towards the lift, fairly sure she would not be able to navigate the stairs in her present condition.

Naturally, neither of the two lifts were waiting at ground floor level, and as we waited for one of them to arrive, Kate broke away from my grip and began pacing up and down between me and the lift doors. I saw that she was opening and closing both hands, perhaps in an effort to resist grabbing her crotch. Looking back at her face, I noticed that she had her eyes closed, shutting out everything that did not aid her desperate struggle to wait.

One of the lifts began descending, starting from the third from floor and coming slowly down. Kate saw the floor numbers decreasing, and released a little whimper of frustration. In the same instant, her left foot came off the floor as she raised her knee, turning it in towards the right leg. After drinking and holding her pee all evening, she had to be so terribly close to wetting herself where she stood.

When the lift doors finally parted, Kate practically fell inside, her hand groping for the button that would send it back up to the fourth floor, where both of our rooms were located. I stepped in beside her and stood watching her screwing up her face in agony as we waiting for the doors to finally close.

As soon as the doors shut and we were alone, Kate whispered urgently, "I'm losing it. My knickers are already wet."

"Please try to hold on," I urged. "We're so close."

"I am trying to hold on!" The rejoinder was sharp, and I knew she didn't mean it to come out like that. She was just in some much pain forcing her outer sphincter muscles to stay shut in the face of urgent demands from her brain to relax it. Her face was flushed with the heroic effort she was making, but one can only resist the inevitable for so long.

Fortunately, no one else summoned the lift on its way up to our floor. If they had, I think Kate would have wet herself in the presence of strangers. As it was, she staggered as she tried to step from the lift, and divining that she could no longer walk, I quickly thrust the card key into her hand before snatching her up in my arms and carrying her along the corridor to her room.

"Stop jolting me!" she squealed, and I slowed my pace, trying to keep her body as motionless as possible.

At the door, I let her fumble with the card key, unwilling to risk putting her down at this late stage. With a toilet just seconds away, her brain must have been about to betray her and force her to release her urine. She made two unsuccessful attempts to swipe the card, swearing and almost crying in frustration. On the third attempt, she did it, and I used my knee to depress the door handle and push the door open.

I carried Kate in, straight past the door I knew would lead into the toilet, and quickly deposited her on the bed. She literally writhed as I let go of her and struggled in an effort to get up. "I have to go," she shouted. "I have to go NOW!"

I quickly unbuttoned and unzipped my trousers and dragged my underpants down to my knees, looking a comical and highly unappealing sight, but there was not a second to waste. I grabbed Kate by the shoulders and made her lay back down, while she grabbed my wrists and fought me.

"I can't, Michael. I'm going to wet the bed any second now. We can't have sex."

"Please. Just quickly," I pleaded, my voice pathetic. "You've no idea how much I've longed for this."

She gasped, squeezing her eyes shut as if in a final, desperate attempt to suppress the urge to start peeing. She struggled with her knickers, and I, perhaps less than gallantly helped her. As soon as she had one leg out of them, I sank quickly down on top of her and, without the foreplay I'd dreamed of enjoying, worked my way inside her.

It was not a moment too soon. I made contact with her bulging bladder almost at once, and in the same instant, I feel a gush of hot pee against my testicles, flowing with the force of an erupting geyser. I sank myself deeper into her as she released the pressure on her swollen bladder. With every stroke, I could feel the obstruction shrinking, growing steadily more slack, aware that my thrusts were actually helping her to empty out faster than she would normally have done.