Sayuri's Stakeout Dilemma

Sayuri shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat of her Mercury Tracer. She had been sitting there for more than two hours: Her butt was numb; the backs of her thighs ached, and her bladder was almost bursting. She reflected ruefully that they never showed this aspect of a stakeout in the movies. Male detectives either had cast–iron bladders, or they would simply step out of the car and pee in the gutter. For a woman, that wasn’t an option, especially not on a street bordered on one side by a high wall and on the other by a residential estate. She adjusted herself in her seat, flicking her long, black, slightly curly hair over her shoulders, and wondered how much longer she would have to sit there before her subject made a move.
Hours of tedious surveillance was not exactly how she pictured spending her first week in business as a private detective, but she and her partner Sue had been fortunate enough to get a job offered to them on their second day in business. They could not yet afford to start turning away potential income, so even though it was far from the glamour of investigating industrial fraud, they had accepted it. Besides, the big companies they had canvassed before opening their doors for business would probably wait to see how they handled themselves before putting any business their way. It was the classic catch–22 situation.
Their first client was a Mrs. Abigail Winters, and right from the start it promised to be a bit of a sordid case. Abigail wanted her husband John followed, and for the Agency to collect evidence of infidelity. It was not the first time he’d been unfaithful, Abigail asserted, and she was out to get a divorce with enough dirt on her husband to guarantee her a sizeable percentage of their joint estate.
Sayuri and Sue had taken it in turns to tail John, the woman’s husband. This mainly entailed sitting in a car or in the cafe across the street from the offices of Blake, Winters, and Pearson. For the first two days, Winters had not put a foot out of line. Then, on day three, he had left his office at noon driven twelve miles to the neighboring town of Falls Church, ending up at 1703 Laburnum Drive, a house in the heart of a residential district that boasted no shops and no amenities, and certainly no toilets.
That was at a few minutes after twelve thirty. It was now three fifteen, and Sayuri badly needed to relieve the mounting pressure on her bladder. The trouble was, short of peeing herself in the car, there was just nowhere she could go to do it.
She unbuttoned the jacket of her dark gray business suit, tempted to also unbutton the waistband of her skirt and lower the zipper to ease the pressure on her abdomen. However, both button and zipper were located at the back, and if she had to get out of the car in a hurry, it would be difficult to do them up again discretely. She tensed her thigh muscles, pressed her knees firmly together, and resolved to put off fiddling with the button or zipper for a little longer. If she couldn’t think of a way out of her dilemma, however, undoing them was soon going to become a necessity.
That was when the solution struck her, and she wondered why on earth she had not thought of it before. She would call her partner and ask her to come out and take a turn watching Winters while she, Sayuri, found a place for some much needed relief, and then a belated lunch.
She pressed the button on her cell phone and waited as the office phone rang. The answering machine kicked in almost at once, which meant that the line was already busy. As she listened impatiently to her Agency’s greeting message, Sayuri muttered irritably that Sue’s call had better be business and not one of her interminable conversations with her sister. The latter, who was having boyfriend problems, had been monopolizing her big sister at the worst possible time, when their fledgling Agency required Sue’s full attention.
“Hi, Sue,” Sayuri said a little tersely when the greeting had finished and the tone had sounded. “Listen, there have been developments on the Winters’ stakeout. He left the office a couple of hours ago and I followed him to 1703 Laburnum Drive in Falls Church. He’s spent the last couple of hours tucked up in bed with his bit on the side, what my father would have called a buxom brunette. He isn’t showing signs of coming out any time soon, and I really need to pee. Can you come and take over for a while, just for an hour or so, and then I’ll carry on with it. As soon as you get this message, give me a call back and let me know how quickly you can get here. Please hurry, I need to piss like a race horse.”
Sayuri hung up and put the phone back on the front passenger seat. She felt her stomach rumble where she had missed lunch. She had consoled herself with two cans of Coke instead and now she was regretting it, stuck sitting here with an aching bladder. She had to do something to take her mind off it.
Not usually one to listen to the radio––she normally found the DJs banter mind–numbingly tedious––she tuned into a station at random and began listening to Led Zeppelin performing Stairway To Heaven. It was a long number, and by the time it finished, her abdominal discomfort was noticeably worse. Sighing in frustration, Sayuri began tapping her heels on the floor, making her knees bob up and down. She would have to do something about her bladder soon. God, she was bursting!
There had to be a way out of this, she told herself, but how? Should she knock on the brunette’s door and plead that her car had broken down, and could she possibly use the bathroom while waiting for the Triple–A man to show up? It would work she supposed, but then Winters would see her and tailing him would then become vastly more difficult. There was no point in tipping her hand. She would have to think of something else.
But what? What––what––what? How was she going to get herself out of this predicament?
Distractedly, she started running her hands up and down her thighs, from her knees to the hem of her skirt and back again, her palms softly rasping against her pantyhose. Then she began to rock back and forth in her seat in time with the rubbing motion, and only caught herself when she realized she was starting to pucker up the hem. She promptly smoothed her skirt, and then shifted her legs to one side to avoid the steering wheel as she crossed them.
With a loud sigh of frustration, she snatched up the cell phone and hit redial. Again, the line went directly to the Agency’s answering machine. She swore savagely, broke the connection, and threw the phone back onto the seat beside her. Her bladder felt horribly tight, and she knew she couldn’t keep this up for much longer without doing herself an injury. She struggled frantically to come up with a viable alternative, but with her bladder aching so acutely, she just could not concentrate.
Then, on the point of despair, a second possibility occurred. She could go to one of the neighboring houses and, as embarrassing as it would be, admit to her predicament and ask to use the lavatory. The embarrassment she would feel if a man answered the door gave her pause, but, what the hell, she could live with it: Anything was better than just sitting there until she was forced to wet herself. Her thoughts jumped back to Winters. There was a slight chance that he would choose that moment to depart his illicit love nest, but she was in agony and would simply have to risk it. With a last wistful look at the silent cell phone, she opened her door and climbed stiffly out onto the pavement. She locked the Mercury and hobbled across the quiet street to the opposite sidewalk, turning in the direction of the house Winters had entered, now more three hours previously. She would not choose the adjacent house, she decided, but the one next to it. That way, she would maintain a discrete distance without straying too far away from the action.
Arriving at the gate to 1699, she hesitated. She could feel her cheeks burning at the humiliating prospect of asking a perfect stranger for access to her––or worse still––his bathroom. She would dearly have liked to just turn away and go back to her car, but as she stood irresolutely with her hand on the gate latch, her bladder gave a thoroughly violent spasm which made up her mind for her. She pushed open the gate and stepped into the yard before she could change her mind, walking purposefully up to the front door of the house. She pressed the white button on the right side of the door then waited tensely, turning around to look up and down the street, crossing her arms across her chest and desperately fighting the urge to break into a pee dance.
She took a few mincing steps which seemed to help a little, but now that she was standing upright and supporting the full weight of her bladder, the urge to release was nearly overwhelming. “Come on. Come on,” she muttered as she jabbed her finger at the bell again, praying for someone to answer. But as the seconds stretched out, she realized no one was at home. “Damn,” she muttered, and was about to go back along the concrete path to the street and try the next house when the door to number 1703 opened. Suddenly, he was there in the yard. Winters and his bit on the side were on the move.
Sayuri quickly looked away, pretending to pay them no heed as she went on waiting for someone to answer the door. When she heard a car alarm beep as it was disarmed, she flicked a quick glance in their direction to see what was going on. Winters was loading suitcases into the back of the car, while the brunette was climbing in on the passenger’s side. She would have to return to her own car at once if she didn’t want to lose them.
Still taking mincing steps, she started back along the path, muttering, “Shit, shit, shit,” under her breath. As she stepped through the gate and onto the sidewalk, Winters backed out onto the road and pulled away in the direction of the Lee Highway, the main artery leading to Washington and National Airport. Where the hell was going on? Was he planning to leave the country? And if so, was the arrangement permanent? But then his wife would get his entire estate… unless he had someone moved all his assets without Abigail realizing. Was that possible? Hell, he was a lawyer: Of course it was possible.
Sayuri hobbled across Laburnum Drive to her car, reaching it just as Winters’ vehicle reached the Lee Highway and began indicating to turn left, heading for downtown D.C. and National. Sliding back into the driver seat, which now only afforded only the slightest relief from her frantic desire to urinate, Sayuri fumbled with her safety belt while simultaneously gunning the Mercury’s engine into life. She executed a U–turn just as Winters made his turn and disappeared from her line of sight. “Shit!” she exclaimed again and accelerated wildly, approaching the junction at just under sixty miles per hour.
She jammed on her brakes at the last moment so that the Mercury overshot a few feet and sat there with its nose sticking out into the cross–traffic. She hardly noticed the rebukes from the other drivers, so preoccupied was she by with pain the safety belt had afflicted as it pressed hard across her abdomen. She quickly made the left turn, cutting up another car and incurring the wrath of a bellowing horn. She pulled quickly away in pursuit of her quarry.
The light was starting to go as the December sun dipped out of sight below the horizon. She switched on her headlights. She was driving just over the speed limit, and when she failed to gain ground on the Winters’ car, she realized he must be doing the same and sped up a little more. She prayed that the cops would not catch her. Being pulled over was the very last thing she needed, especially in her present state. If they forced her to step out of the car and stand around on the roadside while they checked her out, her bladder would simply explode.
At last, she managed to close the gap top about a hundred yards. Even so, it was hard to keep Winters’ car in sight. Sucking in air between clenched teeth, she wondered how much longer she could bear the pressure around her abdomen, and for the first time gave serious consideration to just wetting herself and getting it over with.
Then her cell phone rang. She snatched it up and pressed the connect button. It was Sue. “Hi Sayuri,” her colleague greeted her cheerfully. “Got your message. What’s up?”
“How the hell can you ask that?” Sayuri snapped irritably. “I’m breaking my neck for a piss and I needed you to come and relieve me.”
“Sorry, I’ve been on the phone.”
“As if I didn’t know. Business?” There was a long pause before Sue answered.
“Um, well, no. It was––”
“––your sister,’ Sayuri finished for her.
“Look, I’m sorry,” Sue said. “I’m out the door now. Where exactly do you want me to meet you?”
Sayuri released a tense sigh. “It doesn’t matter. Winters is on the move and I don’t know for sure where he’s going, although it might be the airport.”
“Oh shit,” Sue remarked sympathetically. “What are you going to do?”
“If I stop somewhere I’m going to lose him, but if I don’t stop I’m probably going to piss myself. What do you think I’m going to do?”
“I’m really sorry Sayuri.”
“So am I– oh shit. I’ll have to call you back. He’s turning off.”
“So not the airport then?”
“Maybe not. Once he’s got to wherever they’re going, I let you know and we can sort out the changeover then.”
“Okay. Oh Sayuri, I really am sorry. It must be awful for you.”
“Yeah. Okay, gotta go.” Sayuri broke the connection, grimacing at her own choice of words.
She slowed the Mercury and followed the other car onto a quiet side road, wondering what the hell Winters was up to now. There was no sign of his car ahead, and panic fluttered in her stomach. After all this, had she lost him?
Common sense quickly came to her rescue. The road was narrow; a single–track affair, which didn’t look like it had many turnings. It was probably safe to assume that her quarry would not be leaving this road any time soon. All the same…
As she drove, glanced left or right whenever she saw a gap in the dark forest now flanking the road. Branches meshed overhead, blotting out what little daylight remained. After nearly a mile, the road narrowed still further and, seeing no lights ahead, Sayuri accelerated, wondering if Winters had managed to give her the slip after all. But didn’t that imply that he knew he was being followed?
In the gloom, a metal gate seemed to appear out of nowhere. Sayuri’s right foot jumped across to the brake pedal and thrust down hard, locking the Mercury’s wheels. Her bladder issued another protest at this cavalier treatment, and for the first time, Sayuri felt her control falter– and a squirt of urine escape from her into her panties. She grunted loudly and struggled to clamp off the flow. She could feel the patch of moisture between her legs, but as far as she could tell the damage had not spread far. The agony of holding back the rest of the flood was close to unbearable, however, and she knew she could not keep up the uneven battle much longer.
Then, with a tiny gasp of relief, she realized that she didn’t need to. Winters had gone; vanished, and as bad as that was for the Agency, at least she could now get out of the car and relieve herself in the forest under the cover of darkness.
She switched off the engine and opened the door, but before she could get out, a hand reached in and grabbed her by the hair. For a terrible moment, she thought her bladder was going to let go, but she somehow managed to clamp it off.
“Undo her belt,” a male voice commanded.
The passenger door opened and the brunette she’d seen outside 1499 Laburnum Drive reached in to release the catch of safety belt. As the soon as the belt slackened, Sayuri felt herself being dragged from the car.
“Is it her?” she heard the woman asked.
“Yes. I saw her this morning when I came out of my office, and on Wednesday when I was having lunch.”
“You think your wife sent her?”
“Let’s find out, shall we,” the man said, and tugged Sayuri close so that her face was only a few inches away from his. “Well?”
Sayuri felt her mouth working, but no words came out. She stood there shaking, partly from fear, and partly from the sheer effort of suppressing the urge to urinate in her clothes. She squeezed her thighs together, holding her breath as she strained to keep her muscles under control.
“Do you think she knows?” The woman said.
“Shut up!” Winters snapped.
“But––?”
“Just drop it.”
“But what if she does?”
Winters sighed expressively, and pursing his lips declared, “We’ll have to get rid of her.”
“What?” The woman sounded shocked. “You’re not suggesting we… Oh John, we can’t.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“We just can’t. For God sake, embezzlement is one thing, but murder…”
Winters glanced towards his companion and snorted. “Well done. If she didn’t know before, she damn well does now.”
The woman drew in sharp breath. “Oh God.”
“Well, that settles it. We can’t just let her go.”
There followed a silence with stretched on for five seconds. Sayuri could not believe she had frozen not like this, and questioned whether or not she was really cut out for this kind of thing. She had always assumed she could remain professional in the face of adversity, even when threatened. Now she was facing the possibility of being murdered! She wondered was on earth had possessed her to want to pursue this line of work?
It was almost a relief when the brunette spoke again. “Can’t we just tie her up or something, and hide her car?”
Winters relaxed slightly. “I suppose,” he conceded. “But it would only delay the inevitable. As soon she got free, or somebody found her, she’d go straight to the cops.”
“Does it matter? By this time tomorrow, we’ll be in South America.”
Winters moved his face away from Sayuri’s, but he still watched her. “You’re one lucky girl,” he said. “My friend here wants me to be humane.” Again, he glanced at his companion. “There’s some duct tape in the back of my car. Go get it. And bring the flashlight. It’s as dark as a nun’s tit under those trees.”
A minute later, Winters was marching Sayuri into the woods, the brunette trailing a few paces behind and shining the light. The pressure on Sayuri’s bladder was now unbearable, and she finally decided to swallow her pride. She announced, “I need to pee.”
“Too bad,” Winters retorted unsympathetically. “You’ll have to hold it.”
“I can’t. I’m really desperate.”
“Yeah? Well that’s what you get for sitting in your car all afternoon spying on us.”
“Why not just let her take a leak before you tie her up,” the brunette interceded.
Winters retorted angrily, “Hey! I’ve agreed to let her live. Whether she pisses herself or not hardly matters, does it?” The brunette fell silent. Sayuri, while sorely tempted to plead her case further, decided not to push her luck and stayed quiet too.
Winters selected a suitable tree and stood Sayuri against it. “Put your hands together behind the trunk,” he instructed sharply. Sayuri winced as she felt the duct tape being wound about her wrists, securing them firmly together. She knew there would be no way of wriggling out of that, and wondered how long she was going to be stuck here in this lonely spot before somebody found her.
When he had finished, Winters came around the tree and stood in front of her, a supercilious smile playing about his lips. He tore off a strip of tape about six inches long, then pressed it hard against Sayuri’s mouth and cheeks. Next, he wrapped tape across her body and extended it around the tree, securing her firmly in place. The first strip passed just below her breasts, the second across her stomach, and the third was pulled tight across her hips and abdomen. Sayuri let out a groan of protest at the added pressure on her distended bladder.
“Why the hell did you do that?” the brunette demanded. “You know she needs to piss.”
Winters refrained from comment as he stooped down and started wrapping tape across Sayuri’s thighs, working his way down her legs to her ankles. Faced with the prospect of not even being able to cross her legs, Sayuri closed her eyes and whimpered through her gag.
“Why bother holding it?” Winters taunted her. “You’re gonna have to piss yourself anyway, unless you think you’re going to get out of this lot in the next few minutes?”
“Leave her alone John. Let’s just get going before we miss the plane.”
“One more minute,” Winters said, reaching inside Sayuri’s jacket, and allowing the back of his hand to linger against her left breast.
Sayuri felt her bladder spasm violently as her muscles protested at the strain they were now under. She felt another brief surge of warmth between her thighs and knew that she had started to wet herself again. She tensed her muscles, managing to stem the flow. She hoped she hadn’t let enough escape to soak through the front panel of her skirt. She was determined not to let Winters have the satisfaction of seeing her wet herself, but if he didn’t leave very soon, she would not be able to avoid it.
After groping her for several seconds, Winters finally pulled her wallet from her inside pocket and flipped it open. Tipping the ID towards the flashlight, he said, “Well, well. Sayuri Timerson. P.I. Licensed to operate in the state of Virginia.” He gripped Sayuri’s cheeks, making her open her eyes and meet his. “So, my wife did send you. Well, she’s too late. You can tell her that when you next see her.”
“Okay, so now we know,” the brunette said with mounting impatience. “Can we please just get out of here?”
“In a minute,” Winter replied, dropping Sayuri’s wallet on the ground in front of her.
“Will you leave her and come on.”
“Actually, I want to see her piss herself.”
“Why? Are you perverted or something?”
“Yeah. Didn’t you know?” Winters tossed back with mild amusement.
“Well I’m not staying here to watch. I’ll wait for you in the car, and if you’re too long, I’ll leave without you.”
“Keep your pantyhose on,” Winters said. “I won’t be long. She can’t hold it any longer, can you, Sayuri?”
Sayuri strained frantically to hold in her pee, not wanting to lose control for this bastard’s gratification. But he was right: She was at her limit. Her legs were shaking, straining again the duct tape, tearing her pantyhose as she struggled.
As the brunette moved away, taking the flashlight with her, Winters moved in closer and placed his hands on Sayuri’s breasts, squeezing them as her leaned in close and breathed in her face. “Let it go. You know you’ve got to.”
Sayuri shook her head, trying to twist away from him, but she could only shift her body a few inches before the restraining tape arrested her movement. She could not stop herself gasping through her gag with the incredible effort of maintaining bladder control. Then she felt Winters’ right hand leave her breast and travel down her body, coming to rest against her abdomen. She whimpered, knowing what was coming. He began to rub, gently at first, moving her bladder around, and then squeezed harder. Almost at once, Sayuri felt her exhausted muscles give way and her pee started to flood out. It squeezed between her taped thighs with a loud hissing sound, and she could feel it spreading over the front and back panels of her skirt.
Winters moved his hand lower, fingers splayed to let her pee run between them as it streamed down the front of her skirt. His other hand held her chin to keep her head still as he kissed her through her gag, breathing heavily. Sayuri knew what was happening: The bastard was about to ejaculate in his pants, getting his kicks from her agony and embarrassment.
The pee kept coming for the better part of a minute, and Sayuri’s body slumped against the tape as the terrible, nagging pressure on her bladder finally eased. It still ached, and would do so for some while yet, but at least the worst was over. Her legs were now completely soaked, and she could feel that some of the urine had collected in her shoes. She couldn’t even move enough to kick them off; it was incredibly frustrating.
Winters began to grunt like a furrowing sow, and then finally backed away, clutching his groin as he found his own form of relief. Catching his breath, he said, “Thanks for the massive turn on. I’d like to stay and fuck your brains out, but I guess my lady friend wouldn’t like that.” He made a pretense of consulting his wristwatch in the gloom, then added, “Well, must fly. Literally. Better luck next time, gumshoe.”
As Winters picked his way back through the trees, Sayuri slumped against the tape binding her to the tree and began to sob through her gag, deciding that, if she got out of this in one piece, there was never going to be “a next time.”
By: David North David’s Website: Bound Girls Bursting to Pee