The Secretary Who Had to Hold It
Part 3

(Female Desperation)



Written by David North

      The meeting with the Regional Director Thompson seemed interminable. I couldn't concentrate on the issues at hand, but found my thoughts straying repeatedly to Kate. Whenever she came into the room to bring us paperwork or recharge our coffee cups, I had to work hard to avoid looking at her legs; part of me wondered if she needed to pee, and I suppose I was looking for evidence in her posture.

      By the time my guest was ready to depart, it was nearly six o'clock, an hour after Kate's usual going-home time. Yet when I walked through the outer office to show Thompson out, she was still there, industriously typing away.

      Alone together at last, she turned to me and said, "I thought it would create a good impression if I stayed behind."

      I nodded, aware that Thompson had looked favourably upon her apparent devotion to Authority duties. "You did that all right," I told her.

      She grinned happily. "Good," she added, her tone chipper.

      I saw that she had her legs crossed, and she noticed my glance. "Yes," she said.

      "What?" I asked, acting innocent.

      "Yes, I do need to pee."

      "Oh."

      "Is that all you have to say?" she teased, uncrossing her legs and recrossing them as I watched.

      I grinned. "Very well, Miss Bond," I said formally. "I still have several letters to get out today. Perhaps you would be good enough to come into my office to take dictation?"

      She hesitated. "Actually, I really do need the loo. I ought to go home really."

      "And spoil your image as a devoted secretary? That will never do." I took a deep breath and added, "Duty first, Miss Bond. I'm afraid you'll just have to wait."

      "Very well, Mr. Denes," she replied, matching my formality.

      She took up a pencil and a notepad and followed me into my office. She sat, crossed her legs, and waited for me to get started. I rattled off three fairly lengthy letters which probably took fifteen minutes, or perhaps a little longer. As I spoke and she furiously scribbled shorthand, I noticed that her knees were bouncing up and down -- not overtly, which told me that she wasn't acting up for my benefit. This was a genuine attempt to cope with a full bladder.

      As soon as I'd concluded the third letter, Kate looked up at me a little anxiously and asked, "Will it be alright if I type these up in the morning?"

      "They should really go in the mail tonight in order to catch the seven a. m. collection," I told her, maintaining a serious demeanour.

      "Oh," she said, and it came out as a little gasp. "It's just that I really am getting desperate for the loo."

      Without pausing to think about what I was saying, I replied, "I know."

      She blew out her cheeks and asked, "Do you seriously want me to type the letters tonight?"

      "Yes," I said.

      She took a deep, slightly unsteady breath before asking, "Okay, then would it be alright if I go and use the loo here first? I'm sure all the men have gone home by now."

      "I'd much sooner you typed up the letters first."

      "But I really am desperate to go," she insisted. "I can't spend all my days here with a cripplingly full bladder."

      She sounded a bit irritable, and I realized that she must be in quite a bit of pain. Her condition might, I realized, have been exacerbated from her chronic desperation earlier in the day, so I hesitated. Should I really try to force her to hold it when she was so clearly in trouble. The poor girl had pissed herself in front of me twice in as many days, unintentionally on both occasions. She wasn't, as far as I could tell, putting herself through all that discomfort and humiliation solely for my entertainment.

      My thoughtful silence prompted Kate to speak again. "Sorry. I suppose I was leading you on a bit this afternoon, and you're only doing what I...sort of implied you could."

      "No, no," I said with a dismissive wave of my hand. "I don't want you to sit there in pain. By all means use the lavatory, and I think the letters can keep until tomorrow after all."

      "Did they ever really need to go out today?" she asked.

      "No," I admitted candidly. "I just wanted to make you wait."

      Kate set down her notepad and pencil and rose from her chair. She came towards me, stopping when she was standing directly to my right, she turned and bent at the waist as she prepared to sit on my lap. Surprised, I quickly put out a hand and rested it against her lower back to steady her as her bottom made contact with my thighs. She wrapped her right arm around my shoulders, then sat there looking me directly in the face.

      "We shouldn't be doing this," I said. "If anyone sees us..."

      Wordlessly, she took my right hand in her left and placed it against her abdomen. "Feels swollen, doesn't it?"

      I nodded mutely and swallowed hard. I could feel my penis stiffen against her thigh, and had to work hard to resist the urge to press really hard on her distended bladder.

      "Do you really enjoy the knowledge that I need to pee, and I'm holding it?"

      I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

      "I sort of enjoy it, but it really does hurt after a while. I've been holding it for the last two hours."

      "Did you have some coffee yourself this afternoon?"

      "Two cups. It really does make me want to go."

      I looked down at her legs and saw that she had her knees pressed together. I could feel the muscles at the backs of her thighs tense and guessed that she must be fighting a wave of pressure, her bladder muscles no doubt contracting and trying to force her to let go. She caught her breath and opened her mouth slightly, her grip on my hand, the one she was still holding against her abdomen, briefly tightening.

      "I don't think I can hold it much longer," she said without looking at me.

      "Please try," I whispered, feeling my cheeks grow warm even as I said it.

      She turned her head to regard me, and noticed my embarrassment. She smiled, leaned in and brushed my right cheek with her lips. "I'd better get up," she whispered back, and after removing my hand from her abdomen, she leaned forward and put her weight back onto her feet. She straightened up then immediately bent forward a little, her own hand now resting against the bulge just below the waistband of her skirt.

      "Oh God," she gasped. "I really need to go. I'm almost bursting."

      For the second time that afternoon, I acted without pausing to think. I stood beside her, placed one hand against the one she was using to massage her abdomen, and the other against the small of her back to prevent her moving backwards, then I pushed.

      Her eyes widened, and she grunted with the strain of trying to cope with this additional pressure. She wrenched herself free of my grip and backed into the wall next to the door. She stood there looking down at herself, her breathing now fast and shallow.

      I followed her gaze, and saw a thin trickle of pee glistening in the overhead light as it emerged from beneath the hem of her skirt. It reached her left knee and then dripped onto the carpet between her shoes, landing with an audible plop, plop, plop.

      I'd actually been instrumental in making her start to wet herself!

      Another stream of pee appeared, this one traversing her right thigh. It merged with the stream from the left and, collectively, they cascaded as a single waterfall onto the floor.

      After a few seconds, it stopped, and Kate, her hands to the sides of her head, pushing back her hair, said, "I'm sorry about your carpet."

      "It doesn't matter," I replied quickly, barely resisting the urge to tell her to carry on peeing.

      But she didn't let the rest go, even though there had to be plenty more still to come. Instead, she returned to stand beside me. "May I sit on your lap again?" she asked.

      I think my mouth may have dropped open in surprise, because I saw a fleeting smile touch her lips. "Um, yes, if you like," I managed at last.

      She sat, letting out a sigh as she did so. "I still need to pee," she told me what I already knew. "I'll save the rest until I get home, but before I leave, I wondered if...if you wanted to...you know, touch...?"

      I swallowed hard again, and moving slowly, giving her every opportunity to warn me off if I had misunderstood her, I placed a hand on her right knee, let it linger there for a few seconds, then slowly slid it up her inner thigh, feeling the dampness of her tights.

      Half way up, I encountered the hem of her slightly wet skirt. I kept going, pushing it up as I went. There was more moisture now, and it was warm. I could smell the acrid odour of urine, but it didn't bother me. It was, after all, the second time I'd smelt it that day.

      I was perhaps two inches away from touching the crotch of her panties when she gently seized my wrist to halt my progress. I looked into her eyes, and she blinked several times before she said, "Not yet."

      I badly wanted to touch her there, but I also knew that the anticipation of another, future encounter would be wonderfully sweet. I smiled, nodded once, and just as slowly withdrew my hand.

      Kate rose, smoothed down her skirt, then treated me to what I can only describe as a tender smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Denes," she said in a soft yet formal voice.

      She turned and left the room. I sat where I was, listening to the sound of her heels clicking across the floor of the outer office. A pause as she collected her bag and jacket, then more steps as she walked to the door.

      After the door closed behind her, I sat unmoving for several minutes, waiting for the obstruction in my pants to subside before getting up myself, switching off the light, and going home.

      I felt very content. Tomorrow held promise. The prospect of coming to work had never been so alluring.


Proofread by Mr. Sinistar


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