Nathalie (2)

Nathalie (2)
More from Nathalie, as told to Nick:
Before I left school, and aged 18, I took a Saturday morning job at a small filling station in Bristol. Normally there was a staff of three; the boss, who was a small, balding man nearing retirement who was always looking up my skirt, and his wife and son. Between them they served petrol and did some small repair jobs in the adjoining workshop but on Saturdays mornings only the boss turned up as the son took his mother shopping. This was OK for the first few weeks although if it was busy I sometimes found it difficult to find time to go to the loo, which was at the back of the workshop, and anyway I tried to avoid using it because it was filthy and the door had no lock.
During the week before the sixth Saturday, just before Christmas and bitterly cold, my boss phoned me to ask if I could manage on my own for, not just the morning, but the whole day, promising to pay me double if I said yes. He knew it was asking a lot, for the takings would be big and there was a certain risk involved in having only one, 18 year–old, girl in charge but he had arranged for his brother to come in early in the afternoon to remove the morning’s takings for safety. As it was Christmas the extra money was going to be welcome so I agreed to help out.
When I arrived at 9am it was snowing a little but there was already a lot of traffic as people went to do last minute Christmas shopping, so I knew it would be a busy day. My boss was there with the keys and after making sure I was OK he left, saying that he would come back to close up at 5pm. I had a packed lunch with me and was to work all day, non–stop. I almost regretted having said yes to this arrangement, but the money made up for it. It really was cold and the small gas fire behind the counter was not a lot of help when, every time I went out to serve petrol, cold air rushed in. Stupidly, I had not thought to wear jeans, which would have been warmer than my short denim skirt. Still, I had warm, knee lenth fur–lined boots and a warm parka over my blouse and thick jumper.
By 10am I began to feel my bladder filling uncomfortably and wished I hadn’t had my usual two large coffees for breakfast. The customers arrived none–stop and no sooner had I taken their money and got change for one of them, than the next arrived, allowing me no time to even think about going to the loo. And being on the move all the time helped too so I risked a coffee to keep me warm. By noon, I badly needed a wee and was hoping that it might quieten down a little over lunchtime, just to give me a minute or two. After another half an hour there was a break in the queue so I grabbed the keys, dashed out, locked the door as there was already a lot of money in the till, and went next door to the workshop. I couldn’t stand still as I fumbled with the keys in the lock and it took me a few seconds to realise that I hadn’t been given a key to this door. Therefore, no toilet! I felt like crying, my bladder was beginning to hurt and there was no way I could hope to wait another 4 hours or more. At this point a car arrived so I had to open the shop and carry on until I could think of a way to relieve myself. And it would have to be soon, I thought.
At 2pm the brother arrived for the money and I don’t know why I didn’t say anything to him about my problem, – too shy as usual, – but in any case he wouldn’t have had a key to the workshop. It got busy again then and I was on the move constantly, lunch completely forgotton now as all I could think of was wanting to pee so badly. My lower belly felt hard, like a football, when I touched it, and I was having trouble walking back and forth while trying to keep my thighs pressed together. At least, when I came in each time to the till, I could press my hand between my legs without anyone seeing me behind the counter but still I had to step from foot to foot. Outside, when filling tanks, I stamped my feet and said how cold it was, using this as an excuse to keep moving as the customers stood there talking to me.
By 3pm, even this wasn’t enough. I was so desperate! Not since I was at junior school had I felt like this, when I used to try to last the whole day without going to the loos, and I remembered numerous times when I had wet my knickers, even if only a little. Now, I had to press a hand to my crotch all the time and I had realised that if I did up my parka all the way to the bottom, it was long enough to hide what I was doing. I think some customers must have realised that I was dying to wee because of the way I was jiggling about and sucking breath through my teeth in my agony, and one man I’m sure, not only knew what I wanted but was interested to see more. He followed me in to the office and began to chat, leaning on the counter. I saw his eyes drop to my lower body a couple of times but there was no way I could keep still even then. Only when I had to serve another client did he eventually go away.
When he had gone and I went out into the icy air again I realised that I had done a little wee in my pants and I felt it cold between my legs. As I served the next car, more escaped and I felt it run, warm, down my legs before I could stem the flow. At least I couldn’t see any drops on the ground as it was already wet.The traffic thinned and I had some time on my own, but all I could do was pace up and down the office. I tried sitting on a high stool and crossing my legs tightly but this wasn’t much help. Another spurt of hot pee made me cry out and when I pulled my skirt up to look, I saw that my white cotton knickers were now very wet. I had to sit with my skirt pulled back off the stool so as not to wet that any more as there was a small damp patch at the hem already.
Another leak and I had soaked the stool’s plastic seat so I resumed my pacing up and down before seeing, for the first time, a plastic 5 litre jerrycan on the top shelf of the shop and next to it, a plastic funnel. In a state of panic and praying that no one would stop for petrol, I got it down and with shaking hands, unscrewed the cap. Having to use both hands meant that I felt yet more pee escape and run down my legs and now I saw that I had been leaving a trail of droplets all the length of the shop which I would have to clean up later. Taking these things behind the counter I was shaking with the effort needed to control my bladder and I knocked the can and funnel over twice as I tried to get the funnel to not tip the lightweight can on its side. After a final glance over the counter to check if anyone was coming, I frantically pulled down my wet knickers, peeing already, and crouched over the funnel. What delight! I peed and peed and wondered when it would stop. Suddenly, the bell on the door rang as it opened and a middle–aged man came into the shop with a can of his own. I stood up, managing to stop what I was doing. He asked me to fill his can and I nearly laughed because I felt like I had already filled mine! My knickers were still around my ankles so all I could do was to kick them off and follow the man outside. It was freezing under my skirt, but I felt so much better than I had for hours and didn’t care any more. If only I had seen the can earlier!Nick