I couldn't believe it! I was on my way to the most important appointment of my career, an interview at Pierce, Wyndgate and Hauser, the law firm where I'd interned while still in school. It was a little stuffy, but a pillar of respectability and a great place for a rookie legal eagle to start building her reputation.

      The day had begun inauspiciously, however. A power outage overnight shut off my alarm clock so that I failed to wake at seven-thirty as planned. Consequently, I got up an hour late, leaving just thirty minutes to shower, dry my hair, don my suit and heels, and drive downtown for the interview, scheduled for nine o'clock. In my haste and panic, I neglected to attend to my bladder, an oversight that was to cost me dearly.

      Next, my car refused to start. On this of all days! A call to the local taxi company elicited only laughter from the dispatcher when I told him where I needed to be, and when. "Lady," he chuckled, "there's a wait time of forty minutes right now."

      "What?" I exclaimed, glancing at my watch: it was eight forty. "But I have to get there. It's really important."

      "What can I tell ya," he responded unsympathetically. "Take a bus."

      It was sound advice. I ran two blocks and was just in time to catch the 247 service downtown. It was only now, seated on the bus and letting myself relax a little for the first time since tumbling out of bed, that I felt the urge to pee. I would need to find a bathroom before the interview... if I had time!

      When road work sent the bus off on a long detour, I became convinced that somebody up there didn't want me to get this job. It was nearly ten after nine when the bus finally put me down at the corner of Fifth and Mason, three blocks from my destination. I ran, getting all hot and bothered and jolting my poor bladder in the process.

      The offices looked unfamiliar when I arrived, and then I remembered that they had been planning some renovation work during my internship, which had obviously been carried out. The place looked spacious, modern, inviting.

      I entered a large reception furnished with comfortable armchairs and a desk at which sat a sophisticated-looking blonde. Oh yes, the perfect image for a law firm. Before I reached her, however, a door opened to my left and a man emerged. I recognized him as Edwin Pierce, senior partner in the firm. Recognizing me, he said, "Ah, Miss Johnston."

      "Hello, Mr. Pierce," I greeted him a little breathlessly. "I'm so sorry I'm late. My car wouldn't start, and--"

      "It's quite all right, but you'd better come straight in. The partners are all waiting for you."

      "Oh," I hesitated, glancing around the reception for any sign of a ladies room. I couldn't see one, and was about to ask when I decided that it wouldn't be politic to keep my interviewers waiting any longer. After all, time literally was money to these people. Forcing a smile as I tensed my muscles to combat a nagging urge to pee, I replied brightly, "Of course."

      There were five of them, four men and one woman, arranged in a semicircle. I flashed them my most winning smile as I sat down in the chair positioned at the center of this arena, crossed my legs, and waited. They didn't smile back.

      After a few preliminaries from Pierce, the questions began in earnest. What unique qualities did I think I could bring to Pierce, Wyndgate and Hauser? "As you know, I interned here, so I'm already familiar with your practices. I believe my training has equipped me to..." My answer rambled on. In fact, it was probably a little too long, but I was distracted now by the painful throbbing in my abdomen. I really needed to pee, and longed to be able to just stand up and excuse myself, but I didn't dare.

      They asked me about my personal interests and how I might reconcile these with my commitment to the firm. "I um...my personal interests are not business related in any way, so I would...er...I would be exclusively focused on my legal career."

      My concentration wandered as the urge to pee sharply intensified. I knew my answers were becoming a little incoherent and tried to maintain my concentration. Oh, why did I have to have a full bladder now? I recrossed my legs and began wiggling my elevated foot, turning it in little circles. It seemed to help...a little. I noticed several glances from my inquisitors, but I really couldn't sit still. I was bursting to pee, for God's sake!

      The woman -- I couldn't remember her name -- asked: "Do you think you would be comfortable dealing with a case of spousal abuse, and able to maintain a professional detachment?"

      "Um, yes, I do," I answered, swallowed hard as I fought another violent bladder contraction. I was terrified that I might actually start to wet myself in front of these highly-conservative people. "I...I'm sure I...I mean, I believe I could remain impartial. If you remember, I...um...I did sit in on a case of spousal abuse when I was here--ooh--last year."

      I could no longer focus on anything except how much I wanted to reach round and unbutton the waistband of my skirt to ease some of the appalling pressure on my abdomen. I realized too my leg wiggling had become more vigorous and I tried to suppress it, but I was almost at the end of my tether.

      After what felt like an eternity, Pierce finally ended the interview. "I think we all have ten o'clock appointments, so we'll stop there and thank Ms. Johnston for coming in to see us."

      They all rose and departed from the room, most of them without looking at me. It had been a total disaster. I stood up to leave, the strain on my sphincter suddenly overwhelming. I moved with careful, mincing steps towards the door, thinking only of finding a restroom before it was too late.

      I hobbled over to the receptionist's desk. She was on the phone and signaled me to take a seat. "Excuse me," I tried to interrupt, "I just need to know--." She held up a finger to indicate that she would be just one more minute. But I didn't have one more minute! Couldn't she see I was standing there with my legs crossed and practically wetting myself?

      I looked anxiously around the reception and noticed the passageway leading off it. Without waiting, because I simply couldn't, I decided to try down there.

      I gasped aloud in relief as I turned a corner at the end of the passage and confronted a door bearing the universal symbol for the Ladies room. I hurried forward, slamming my palm against the door to push it open, but it didn't move. "Oh no," I squealed. "Please, noooo."

      I noticed the card reader, and realized I would need a security card to get in. I leaned my shoulder against the door and bent my right leg, ramming my hands against my crotch. I stood like this until a spurt of pee shot into my underwear, galvanizing me into action again. I hobbled back to the reception, fighting to keep my hands off my crotch.

      I found Pierce talking to the blonde behind the desk. He had apparently been asking after me, because when he saw me he nodded and said, "I'm glad you're still here, Ms. Johnston. Can you spare me a few minutes in my office? There's something I'd like to discuss with you."

      Oh no, I thought, not now. Please not now. I'm absolutely bursting!

      The receptionist answered the phone and said to Pierce, "It's your ten o'clock. He says he'll be here in two minutes."

      "Right, we'd better hurry," Pierce informed me, and without waiting for my response, he strode towards his office, leaving me to hurry after him, my bladder bouncing up and down inside my bloated abdomen. It was excruciating!

      Once inside, Pierce closed the door and gestured for me to sit. I did so gratefully, crossing my legs and pressing my hands hard down against my lap. Sweat was beading on my brow and upper lip now, because I knew I was about to pee all over the expensive chair and carpet.

      "Ms. Johnston," Pierce said gravely. "We were impressed with you during your internship, which is why we arranged this interview. However, I have to say that your performance this morning has given us all pause. I wondered if something was wrong?"

      I could feel myself leaking pee into my panties, and in a few moments it would seep through my skirt. I had nothing to lose. My face burning, I admitted, "Yes, there was--is! I need to go to the bathroom really badly."

      Pierce raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Why didn't you say anything before?"

      "Because I was so late, and you all looked so annoyed. I didn't...ooohhh! Oh no. I can't wait any..."

      Pierce rose quickly and opened a door to the left of his desk. I gasped at the sight of the washstand and toilet in the little room beyond. "Please, be my guest," he invited.

      I stood up, whispered "Thank you" in a constricted little voice, and staggered into his private restroom, my fingers clawing at my skirt as I went. The instant the door closed behind me, I flipped on the light and literally dragged my skirt up to my waist. I stood there dancing frantically, as my trembling fingers struggled to tug down my panties and pantyhose. Before I could lower them far enough, however, pee blasted out of me and sprayed all over my legs. I quickly plopped down onto the toilet and let it go through my underwear, and despite this filter, it still sounded like a waterfall pouring into the pan. My pantyhose were soaked, streaked with rivulets of pee, but all I cared about at that moment was the indescribable relief.

      As the pressure subsided, the realization that I would have to leave through Pierce's office and probably converse with him again, turned my cheeks scarlet. I'd wet myself! How could I sit there and talk to him now? All I wanted to do was hide in that little room for the rest of the day until everyone else had gone.

      I was still wondering what to do when, through the door, I heard the receptionist's voice on Pierce's speaker phone. "Your ten o' clock is here, sir," she announced.