The Helpful Paralegal

Oh, man, he thought, that’s it; I can’t take it anymore.
He didn’t care how cute the new paralegal was. He didn’t care how sweetly she had asked him to help find the old files in the basement. He had to go. He had just gotten out of a very boring, three hour board meeting, where he had drank cup after cup of coffee to keep awake during the first hour. The rest of the meeting he spent trying to ignore his full bladder. Finally, the meeting had concluded, and he made a direct beeline towards the bathroom. But, on his way there, the new paralegal, Lisa, approached him and asked his help to find the files on the case she was researching. She was so cute in her short navy blue skirt and little matching high heels. How could he say no to her?
Trying to ignore the growing fullness in his bladder, he led her to the basement, into the backroom. Quickly finding the file, he had handed it to her, only to be met with a pout. She asked if he could help find the deposition she was looking for in that file. She batted her pretty eyes at him. She said she was so lucky to be working for such an intelligent, sophisticated man, who was so generous to help such a new person as herself. He took a slow breath as they opened the huge file on the table, pulled up the chairs, and began looking through it one page at a time.
Halfway through the file, the pressure on his bladder could no longer be ignored.
I have to pee so bad– he thought. I’ve never had to go so bad. You can hold it, he told himself. You are an adult; now act like one. Then a shiver of desperation ran down his spine and ended painfully in his groin. His bladder would not be silenced.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, standing up, his bladder pinching. Suddenly even the walk up the stairs and down the hall to the bathroom seemed very daunting in his condition. He walked towards the door, wiped his sweaty palm on his pants and reached to turn the doorknob. It wouldn’t turn. Instinctively crossing his legs, he tried again. Locked. It was locked.
No, oh no, he moaned silently. No, don’t be locked. Please, no, not now. He tried again, to no avail.
“What’s the matter?” Lisa asked.
“Um,” he said. “We’re locked in.”
“Really?” she said. “We’re really locked in down here?”
He tried to swallow, but found his mouth dry. “For a while,” he said. “The janitor does a door check around six every night. So, we’re locked in until then.” He raised a shaking hand and looked at his watch. It was only three o’clock. Three hours. He knew he would never be able to wait that long. The pressure increased just thinking about having to hold all that water for so long. He loosened his tie and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
“Well,” she said, oblivious to his situation, “we can just keep on working until then.”
With nothing better to do, he sat beside her again and continued going through the file. He couldn’t sit still. He fanned his legs back and forth. He leaned forward, and then sat back in his chair, trying anything to lessen the pain. He squeezed his legs together, his hands pressing his thighs tight together. He crossed his legs one over the other, and then switched legs. Nothing helped.
She was asking him questions, but he couldn’t concentrate enough to answer her. The idea of releasing the torrents of water that he held inside him was occupying all his thoughts. Even the thought of letting out just a small fraction of the tidal wave of urine was maddening. He had held all this urine for so many hours. It was not fair. He longed to be able to relax his tired muscles for just two seconds. Just two seconds is all I need, he thought. Anything, just for a little relief. Just a little relief, oh please, just a little, became like a mantra in his mind.
His need to urinate suddenly grew in intensity. He hissed through his teeth. He stood up without even realizing it, knocking over the chair behind him. He paced like a caged animal in the tiny room, stopping every once in awhile for a few seconds to gain control. His bladder screamed mercilessly at him to let go. Finally, the spasm lessened. He looked at a wide–eyed Lisa.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“I, um…I have to use the men’s room,” he said, through clenched teeth.
“Oh,” she said, “that can be uncomfortable.”
He couldn’t stop pacing. “I am way past uncomfortable.”
“Oh,” she said quietly.
Suddenly another spasm hit and he felt his bladder swell. The pressure was unbelievable. This unremitting pain was excruciating. He thought he might be sick. The immense weight of urine forced itself against his trembling urethra that threatened to give way any second. He crossed his legs tight against each other, with every muscle fiber seeming to vibrate with the incredible strain. “Mmmmm…” he involuntarily cried. He didn’t know how much longer his muscles could contain the continuous pounding from such a large amount of urine. He longed to hold himself but just couldn’t bring himself to do it in front of Lisa. He couldn’t embarrass himself that much. But when the need to urinate swelled to an unbearable level, he found himself frantically pulling off his suit coat. His hands were shaking so badly and his body contorting itself so ridiculously that he struggled to release himself from the sleeves. Finally with his suit coat held in front of his groin with one hand, he grabbed at his trembling penis. Expecting to be able to relax, he took a slow breath.
Suddenly, he tightened up. Holding himself didn’t help. He tightened his grip and the pain in his bladder matched the pain in his penis. Desperation overwhelmed him. He was frantic. Oh, God, please help me, he thought. What am I going to do? I can’t hold it. I just can’t. Oh, please help me hold it. Oh, please.
He found himself leaning his sweaty forehead on the cool file cabinet, bent over at the waist, shaking all over. Tears were streaming down his flushed cheeks.
Suddenly Lisa was beside him. He had almost forgot that she was there. She set a small trashcan at his feet. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she said softly, “Do what you have to do.”
He shook his head, embarrassed. He would not do this, not in front of her. “I won’t tell anybody. I promise,” he heard her say. “I won’t watch. Go ahead.”
He was afraid to talk, afraid to move. With every short, labored breath his urine threatened to escape. His bladder throbbed, relentlessly. He felt a surge of urine painfully fill his penis, increasing the pressure beyond anything he ever thought possible.
His body sprang into action. He dared not lessen his grip on himself, so he knew he had to manipulate his belt, button, and zipper with one hand. His sweaty hands were shaking so badly that he struggled with his belt buckle for thirty agonizing seconds. Finally free of the belt, he went to work on his button. But, when he tried to unbutton it, the increased pressure on his bladder made him stop and grab himself with both hands. No, please, no, no, he cried silently. Just a few seconds longer. Please, please help me last just a few seconds longer.
He took a deep breath and in one swift motion, he let go of himself with both hands, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. He barely had his shuddering penis free of his boxers, when he finally lost the battle. Urine seemed to explode out of him. The stream was so forceful that he even missed the trashcan at his feet. He was helpless but to stand there on trembling legs, and finally relax, watching the trash can fill with urine. The relief was incredible, almost orgasmic. After what felt like minutes, embarrassment made him remember Lisa.
Finally, gratefully, empty of urine, he was humiliated. He stammered. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe I…I did that. I…just…”
“Don’t mention it,” she said. And to his relief, she never did.
By: Kaye