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(Part two. Just a note, there's no more female desperation in this part, just slight male desp and some straight sex. Consider it setup for the third part I don't want to promise but will probably write.)

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Jake waited quietly in the hallway for Taylor to finish. He could also stand to use the bathroom, but not enough so that he felt the need to make a fuss about it. He prided himself on that- control. The ability to make your body work for you, not you for it. When he was younger, he’d been a runner, and he remembered the ridiculous, masochistic joy of the long runs during the cold winters, his hands so cold that his fingers wouldn’t fully uncurl, breaking his body down, bending it to his will. He felt himself stiffen slightly at the thought, dismissed it. Time enough for that later, Jake thought, as he walked slowly down the entrance hall.

He and his mother hadn’t been close, exactly, in the years before she’d died. When she’d left him the house, he’d been surprised, almost- he was certainly a better fit to take care of it than his idiot brother, but she hadn’t seemed the type to take that into consideration. The things you learned about people, even after you knew them for years- reminding you that all you ever really saw was an illusion, just what you thought they were, to you.

He heard the toilet flush, turned, saw Taylor emerge into the hall, shoulders slightly hunched, head slightly bent. He loved that about her, that- weakness, that malleability. He hated himself for loving it, but he loved it still. She walked up the hall quietly, took his hand.

“It’s a pretty house.” Taylor said.

“Yeah.” Jake said. “You hungry?”

She smiled at him, leaned in a bit.

“I”, Taylor pronounced, “am fricking starving.

Jake kissed her on the forehead.

“Then how about you,” he paused “grab some of the sandwich stuff out of the car and eat something. I’m going to go upstairs and pass out.” With that, Jake made his way up the staircase at the side of the hall, his footsteps on the wood echoing through the otherwise silent house.

“…fucker.” Taylor whispered to herself, watching him go.

 

Sun streamed through the bedroom window as Jake woke, groggily. He was still wearing all his clothes, and his bladder was throbbing painfully- he must have been more tired than he’d thought, he’d only meant to lie down for a moment, then get ready for bed. Weakness. He could hear the shower running in the upstairs bathroom, so he made his way down the steps to the hall bathroom, then took care of his needs. After poking around cursorily in the car, he didn’t see his bag, so he assumed Taylor must have grabbed it, flushed with a moment of slight guilt, and made his way back upstairs.

As he entered the bedroom, he noticed Taylor’s clothes from the other night piled in the corner. She’d dressed comfortably for the drive- just leggings and an old t-shirt, no bra, and he looked around for a laundry hamper, intent on setting the place in some order. He found one, or at least an old wicker basket that would serve as one, shoved into the corner, pulled it to the side of the bed, and grabbed the shirt and leggings. As he picked up the latter, something fell out. He dropped the other clothes into the basket, looked down. A slight silk thong, wrought with lace around the edges. Jake smiled. Taylor must have been hoping he were less tired the other night. He bent to pick it up, then stopped, noticing a spot on the front- small, somewhere between quarter and ping-pong ball, but noticeable. He felt short of breath for a moment- had she wet herself a little last night? He’d assumed she’d been exaggerating her need, but she’d certainly seemed desperate for the last part of the drive.

Jake heard the bathroom door open behind him, quickly grabbed the thong, and dropped it into the basket. “Good morning!” Taylor said brightly. He felt like- an animal, or something. Uncontrolled. He turned towards her. She saw the look on his face, frowned. “Are you alright?”, she asked. He walked up to her, put his hands on her shoulders, gently pressed her against the wall. Her eyes widened a little, then softened. She sent a hand gently, searchingly into the waistband of his jeans, found him already fully erect, squeezed his cock gently, smiled at him again. She undid his fly as he pressed against her, one hand cradling her head between it and the wall, the other grabbing her towel around the swell of her breasts, slowly pulling it away.

He hesitated for a moment- remembered, she’d started the pill- tried to thrust into her- missed, at which even he had to laugh slightly. She kissed him, pushed him back, away from the wall, onto the bed, Jake falling back with a slight thump onto the mattress. He looked at her for a moment- standing there, her long black hair still wet from the shower, falling over her shoulder in tangles and clumps, her small breasts still glistening, her nipples erect in the slight chill. Taylor put her right knee up onto the bed, then her left, gently lowering herself onto him with a slight gasp. She lifted herself up, then slid down, again, and again- it only took a few strokes before he shuddered involuntarily, his seed shooting into her. Taylor rolled off him, a little of his fluids leaking out. He lay there, panting, for a few minutes, neither of them speaking, both staring at the ceiling.

She spoke first.

“You know, after that, you at least have to make breakfast.”

 

Jake obliged, surprisingly, and Taylor found herself alone in the bed. She touched herself for a while, halfheartedly, then gave it up. It wasn’t that sex with Jake was bad, necessarily- it was just, there was something missing. She hopped back in the shower to clean herself up, swore up a storm when the hot water ran out halfway through, then pawed through her suitcase and put on some clothes. It had warmed up considerably as the sun rose, so she opted for a loose green top, some plain cotton panties, and a pair of tight lycra shorts that ended maybe halfway down her thigh. Examining herself in the bathroom mirror, she did her hair up into a messy ponytail, then decided she was satisfied, and made her way downstairs.

Jake was in the kitchen, bacon already crackling in a skillet and the old wooden cabinets rattling as he dug around for whatever else he needed. She grabbed some of the orange juice they’d brought out of the fridge, and sipped it slowly as he outlined the plan for the day. Apparently, there was an old barn a few miles away that was also part of this property- they were going to go out there, sort through it for anything they needed or that might be worth selling, then come back to the house for lunch and a rest. Afterwards, they’d check over the house itself, looking for any broken plumbing, mold, structural problems, that kind of thing. It wasn’t a substitute for a real inspection, but it would be a start.

“Make sure you bring water,” Jake said, looking at her sternly. “It’ll get ridiculously hot during the day.”

No shit, Taylor thought, it’s a desert.

“Will do,” she said. She winced slightly, thinking of last night’s close call, and asked “Are there- uh, is there a bathroom at the barn?”. “If we’re going to be there all morning”, she added quickly.

“I think there might be an outhouse or something, I honestly don’t remember. If that’s not to your liking-“ he swept his arm towards the window- “there’s the wonder of the desert.”

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53 minutes ago, WiiGuy86 said:

This is awesome! I love the couple's dynamic and the scenario

Thanks! I've been really enjoying your interactive (as I'm sure you've noticed from the super detailed flippin votes)- it combines the "game" style of some of the old standouts like "Wild Tempest" with a realistic tone that I think I prefer.

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(Bruh I put my heart and soul into that series. That first story wasn't even a story, that was a confession with a fictional ending attached [which I think I mentioned at the time].

 

Also behold the next chapter. Mostly exposition with some light female desp at the end, but I promise this is the start of The Good Stuff[tm])

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It was probably an hour later before they got going- quick, all things considered. Taylor glanced at the hall bathroom, considering stopping off one last time before they headed out, but then Jake was yelling from the front yard for her to grab the cooler and come on, and frankly she was glad- no need to let one night rattle her forever. They piled into his car, and she reached over to the console and cranked the AC all the way up- even after only a few hours of sun, the car was stifling.

She knew the barn was close, but still, she was surprised at how soon they arrived- she could have to stood to ride in the car a little longer, the windows halfway down, staring out at the mountains in the distance. Jake jumped out of the driver’s side, walked a few paces towards the barn, and stood there- thinking something, or planning, probably. Taylor opened her door, carefully stepped down onto the ground, and went around to the trunk to unload what they’d brought. It wasn’t much, just a cooler full of water she already felt grateful for, a couple of sandwiches Taylor had made while Jake was cleaning up breakfast, and some empty boxes for whatever they brought back.

Jake still stood just in front of the barn just… staring. He wanted to feel something, wanted to feel like this place mattered to him, like the ten years before they’d moved up north had left a mark, but the barn was just a barn. He went back to the car, grabbed a water out of the cooler and a cardboard box, and headed for the doors.

 

Taylor sat against the wooden loft wall, breathing heavily. She was sore as hell, and her top was coated in sweat around the neck and the armpits, but she felt proud- apparently those volleyball thighs were still good for something. She could dimly hear Jake below, saying he was ready for another box- she yelled back that she was taking a break, and heard him clomping off to go deal with something else on the ground floor. He had sworn up and down that the work boots were important, something something rusty nails, but with them plus the jeans plus the old metal band tank top he looked like he’d come out here to find Heisenberg or something.

Jake, meanwhile, walked casually out of the front doors of the barn, then laid down in the sand, grinning ear to ear. The barn was just wood, but the work felt real, like he belonged here again, and he wouldn’t have guessed his suburb queen of a girlfriend would be up to it either. He thought about Taylor, and then, his throat catching slightly, he thought back to the morning.

What the hell had he felt, looking at that tiny spot? He pushed the thought away as fast as it came, paused, thought about it again. There was something about thinking about Taylor like that, thinking about Taylor doing that, that was just absolutely wrong in a way he wasn’t entirely sure he didn’t like. He doubted she was the type to experiment, though. It wasn’t that she was closed off, sexually, just that she tended to have her way of doing things, and not venture much outside it. If he asked, she’d say yes, politely, maybe do it once or twice if he really pushed her, and then she’d hope he’d forget about it. It was like arguing with a cup of jello- it gave way as long as you pushed it, then just rebounded to whatever it’d been doing in the first place.

 

Taylor waited ten minutes or so for Jake to come back, then made her way carefully down the rickety loft ladder, taking a long swig of water from a plastic bottle once both feet were securely on the ground. She felt a slight twinge in her bladder, but less than she’d expected. Maybe she’d sweat most of it out, or maybe- she gave a little embarrassed laugh at the thought-  last night had redefined to her what it meant to actually need to pee. She poked around the barn for a little while, then found Jake outside, staring at the sky, motionless. She walked softly, slowly towards his head, then gave his tousled brown pair the slightest poke with the tip of her running shoe.

“Hey,” she said, “a vulture’s gonna get you.”

Jake started, then looked up at her, embarrassed, almost guilty. Taylor gave a slight frown of concern, then sat down beside him. “I get it,” she said quietly, “Memories.”

Jake tried to make his best neutral face, but just felt more guilty. Here he was complaining about his sex life to himself and the sky, and Taylor probably thought he was crying about how mommy never loved him or something. “That’s not… actually what I was thinking about” he blurted out.

Taylor inclined her head slightly. “Okay. What are you thinking about?”

Jake sat up, put his arm around Taylor, pulled her closer. “I was thinking,” he said deliberately “about us.”

Taylor’s face dropped like a rock.

“Not like that.” Jake said hurriedly.

“Oh, yeah, yeah of course.” Taylor said, trying hard to fake a smile.

Maybe this conversation can wait, Jake thought.

 

They went back to the house and had lunch as planned, then spent another sweaty few hours poking through the crawlspaces, closets, and random little holes the place had accumulated over the years. Taylor found an old doll and tried to scare Jake with it, and Jake found a nest of new spiders that scared the hell out of her and, honestly, him. When they’d finished, Taylor had jokingly demanded recompense for the spider incident, and Jake had promised to take her out to dinner at the “finest restaurant in a hundred miles”, which meant the Mexican place in the nearest small town. Taylor showered again and changed into a knee-length sundress with a leather jacket over it, and after a certain amount of pestering, Jake swapped the tank top for a light flannel, though he wouldn’t budge on the boots and jeans.

The town had a gas station, a traffic light, and the restaurant, but the restaurant had bottomless margaritas, and Taylor found herself reevaluating her opinion of the area somewhere in the depths of her second 32oz glass. Jake stuck to a small cup of water, since, of course, he still insisted on driving. After they finished their food, Jake paid, cash, and they headed back out to the parking lot. It was dark, and the chill of the desert night was making itself apparent. Taylor sprinted over to the car, nearly tripping over herself, and called out back to Jake- “It’s fucking cooooold, come on!”. He unlocked the car, and within a few seconds they were both securely within, the heat running full blast.

Jake pulled the car out of the lot. He noticed Taylor had her legs tightly crossed, but she didn’t say anything, and after a brief wait at the light he made the turn onto the state highway. They drove on for about ten minutes with only the soft sound of the radio, and he began to wonder if she’d fallen asleep again.

“It’s my fate.” Taylor said, leaning her seat all the way back.

“It’s your fate what?” Jake replied, keeping his eyes firmly on the road ahead.

“It’s my fate to have to pee in your car. It’s like, synchronicity.”

Now or never, Jake thought.

“Like last night?”, he asked.

“Yeah.” Taylor said, flushing a little.

“I have a question.”, Jake said.

Taylor adjusted her seat back up, and turned to look at him, mock serious.

“What is your question, Sir Jake?”

“Last night.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you, ah- did you make it, all the way?”

Taylor looked like she’d been slapped, suddenly sober.

“Oh- you- um. Look, I’m so sorry. If anything got on the seat” (at this, she glanced down quickly at her legs) “I’ll pay for it, I was hoping you didn’t even notice, and I just really had to go, and I was scared with the truck thing...”

“Babe.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s okay.”

Taylor said nothing, for a moment.

“Thanks,” she said.

Jake said nothing, for a moment.

“That actually wasn’t why I was asking.”

He plunged onward.

“I want you to wet yourself, again. For me.”

Taylor was staring it him, mouth agape.

“Right now?”

Jake laughed so hard he started coughing a little.

“When we get home, if you can wait this time.”

 

Taylor looked at Jake across the front of the car. This Jake, her Jake, Captain Control, Knight of Normalness, wanted her to piss herself? (“Again.”, a little voice reminded her). Was this a fetish thing? Some kind of power move? Was he just fucking with her? And the way he’d said it, like he was asking to borrow a pencil, like she owed it to him. She felt angry. Also a little aroused. Also like she had to pee pretty badly. Just, a lot going on right now.

In all the time she’d known him, this was the first time she felt like she’d seen anything real from him. She felt safe with him, felt like he was someone she could rely on- that was half the reason they’d started dating, after the disaster that was her last relationship. But this- this was a stranger sitting across from her, and it was goddamn fascinating. She felt her bladder swell a little, and thanked God she’d changed out of the shorts- they’d be crushing that thing like a guillotine. Would she even be able to do it? She’d peed in her bathing suit, in the ocean, everyone did that, but in her panties, in front of someone? She imagined that, imagined him staring at her, vulnerable, disgraced, dirty. She felt a warmth, and it wasn’t piss this time.

Maybe this, Taylor decided, was what was missing.

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  • 6 months later...
  • 8 months later...

Taylor tensed, from her little painted toes, to her thighs pressed tight together under her pencil skirt, to her balled fist pressed hard against the desk, to her teeth biting down against her shiny glossed lower lip.

Why was she doing this, again?

She blinked, refocused on the spreadsheet on the monitor in front of her, brushed away a stray strand of hair. Her bladder was insistent, nagging, reminding her this was a bad idea and what the hell was she doing and why why why. Truthfully, she didn’t know why. It scared her to think about why. It made her stomach hurt and gave her little gasping butterflies and scared the ever-loving daylights out of her if for one second she tried to think about why. But here she was. Her headphones whispered in her ear, her fingers clattered determinedly on the keyboard, life went on. She was a grown woman sitting at a desk in an office at eleven in the morning trying to edit quarterly reports and she had to pee really damn bad and she was just sitting here and damn it felt good but why?

She stood up halfway, peered over the cubicle forest like a muskrat in a nature documentary. Nature. Rivers. Waterfalls. She cringed, eyed the bathroom across the office, cringed a little again, pressed her thighs together. She’d wait till 11:30, and then she would go over there, and like a perfectly normal adult, she would pee. Nothing sexual about it, nothing weird, it was just… inconvenient to go all the time, is all. Inconvenient! Her chest fluttered. Back to quarterly reports. Inflow, outflow… the time really did start to fly. She sipped her water bottle, BPA-free, high quality. She tasted each little slightly metal-tanged mouthful. God it felt good. God-

“Taylor?”

Taylor jerked back in her seat. Laura Greenwood, Laura Greenwood CPA, Laura Greenwood President CPA, looked down at her.

“Did I startle you?”, Laura said, smiling.

Taylor ran her hand through her hair. “Oh yeah,” she said, “sorry, I’m sorry, I just got caught up…” frick frick frick what now frick “the reports…”

Laura continued to smile down at her, beatific, unruffled. “Well, go ahead and print them out. The Kinsey and Co gentlemen have just arrived, as scheduled, and we don’t want to keep them waiting, do we?”

Taylor bobbed her head up and down like a rubber duck in a bath. “Oh yeah let me just-“

Laura’s smile faded majestically into a regal frown, a setting sun.

“Taylor, the meeting is scheduled for now. They do a lot of business with us, and you need to be there now.”

Taylor swallowed, printed off the documents. Laura kept smiling that crippling smile. Taylor stood up, felt the weight in her bladder for a moment, tensed her legs, kept as still as she could.

“Let’s go.” Laura said.

Same smile.

 

Jake sat, cross-legged, overalls stained, facing the block of metal on the floor in front of him. His hands were clasped together, pointer fingers steepled. He was sweaty. He had a slight headache, and his eyes were narrowed.

“Tell me what your problem is.” he said, to the block of completely inert metal.

“Tell why you’re being like this.” he repeated, to the totally inanimate object twenty inches in front of his face.

He laid back, arms outstretched.

“God fucking damn it.” he said, to no one in particular.

After he and Taylor had gotten back from the trip, he’d looked forward to the chance to get back in the shop, clear his head. Not to think things through- the opposite really. In here was his sanctum, his monastery, the one place he could not think, just do. Except that one rich asshole client had come in and given him this one rich asshole job and he couldn’t do it. He had read every manual, every stupid Internet car forum, he had done everything, and that stupid piece of shit worthless hell demon engine block was staring back at him and he felt angry tears welling in his eyes and he couldn’t fucking do it. His stomach was growlingly empty, he was thirsty, and he’d had to piss for four hours, which seemed contrary to the thirsty thing but who knew. He came to his hands and knees, peered out the blinds. Was it morning? Who said it was allowed to be morning? He showered up, pissed in the shower, drove himself to breakfast out, a small luxury. Time to think, or not think. He pushed the remnants of his eggs around the plate, sipped his coffee, thought of Taylor, smiled a little. She’d be at work, tapping away, busy little bee. He thought back to the trip, the desert. No need to think on that. Back to the lab, then.

 

Taylor sat, legs crossed, dress clean and sleek, eyes riveted to the charmingly retro analog clock on the wall. Tick tock. Tick. Tock. She explained the quarterly reports to the Ken doll consultant boys, eyeballs floating. She sat oh-so-patiently through their presentation, bladder pulsing, her womanhood throbbing in all the wrong (right) right (wrong) ways. She felt the liquid from her swollen bladder creep down towards escape, then retreat, again and again and again. She thought back to the trip, the desert. No need to think on that. She did anyway. Everyone stood up. Were they shaking hands now?

Taylor stood up, legs shaky, grin plastered to her face. She said thank you and exchanged business cards and expressed hope for their future cooperation and she wanted to fucking scream. Laura shook hands again with Consultant Boy Prime, stepped out the door. Taylor followed, left foot, right foot, step by step, gliding across the room. Someone said something, she mumbled, nodded politely. She stepped into the hallway, glanced down at the restroom, just saw a glimpse of Laura’s dangling earrings, Laura’s platinum blonde hair as the door. Clicked. Shut.

FFFFF F F F F-

"Are you alright?”, a tall, well-dressed, pearly smile consultant boy asked. Ben. His name was Ben.

Taylor’s head swung up, smile on. “Oh, I’m just tired.”, she said.

Ben stood there. “Well if you wanted to get some coffee or something, we’re actually going to lunch after this. Laura said she would come. Are you waiting on her?”

“I’m busy.” Taylor said.

“Oh, I’m sure she won’t mi-“

Taylor clenched a fist behind her back, looked him in the eye.

“I’m really, really busy. It’s been great to meet all of you, and I am really, very busy.”

She didn’t hear what he said next. Her legs were moving of their own accord, pushing her down the hallway, past the locked bathroom, to the back door. The restaurant across the street? The grocery store two blocks over? Could she drive? She felt a tiny little spurt dampen the white cotton of her panties, broke into an awkward half jog, pushed through the door into the little fenced loading area. No warehouse people. Lunch break. Thank Christ. She heard a little patter hit the concrete, and had just the presence of mind to spread her legs as she, a twenty-five year old woman who had been holding her pee since six forty five that morning and had two coffees and a water bottle and a stupid idiot meeting, started to completely piss herself in an alleyway. The pee just kept coming and coming, soaking her underwear, running down her legs, pooling at her feet. Her bladder hurt and she thought it would never end but the relief was so good and she was as wet as a river in every way and oh Jesus she was peeing her pants at work.

Taylor started to cry.

 

Jake stepped out of his car, basked for a moment in the blazing sunshine. He eyed the garage, licked his lips in anticipation, stepped forward- and his phone buzzed. He rolled his eyes, kept walking forward, pushed open the side door- the client could go to hell, he had work to do- and his phone buzzed. He glanced at it for an instant- Taylor, probably bored at the office again- set the phone on a counter, rolled his sleeves up and went back to work.

 

Taylor stared down at her phone. She wanted to sit down, but that would definitely squish pee into the ass of a dress that she was certain was already at risk, so she was sort of awkwardly leaned against the wall, legs slightly apart, switching her gaze between the puddle of slowly evaporating piss in the middle of the alleyway and the phone that was definitely not saying what she really really needed it to say. Jake was not responding. Jake was not responding, and the warehouse people would be back soon, and Laura was probably looking for her to say some bitchy condescending backhanded thing about the meeting, and she was so doomed. She almost forgot to feel humiliated and sad and terrified because she felt so in awe of the massive degree to which she was totally doomed. She wanted to break down sobbing. She wanted to run away screaming, and somehow slough off her body and her life and the degree to which she was currently so incredibly, terribly doomed. But the fact was she was here now, and nobody was coming to help her, and she was Taylor Amelia Russo, and shit was going to hit the fan if she didn’t do something about it NOW.

Think. Think about it like a work project like those stupid Ken boy- well some of them were kind of cute- WRONG TIME her mind screamed. Think. Plan. She made a list, an Action Agenda Laura would have called it.

Problem One. She was standing in soaked white cotton panties, and if she moved the wrong way the pee was going to get on her dress and that was pretty much the only clothes she had right now.

She bent over awkwardly and carefully, glanced around furtively, stepped out of her shoes, slid her wet panties down her legs, cringing all the while.

Problem One Point Five. She was standing in an alleyway holding a pair of pee-soaked panties in her hands oh God gross gross gross she flung them away.

Problem Two. She was standing in an alleyway in a dress and nothing else with the wind gently flapping against her piss-coated, bare, freshly-shaven pussy staring at a puddle of pee, some shoes, and a pair of wet panties.

Problem Three. She was doomed.

 

Laura wiped gently, flushed the toilet, and stood up. She washed her hands carefully, adjusted her pearls in the mirror, checked her makeup- all was well. She unlocked the door, favored Aaron and his team with a beaming smile, and looked around for Taylor. No use. The girl was probably off scrolling through Instagram in a closet somewhere, as usual. Children had no sense of responsibility these days, and that’s what Taylor was, a twenty-something child, no discipline, unmarried, probably screwing that boyfriend of hers like a rabbit. He seemed sweet, if only he had the sense to find someone a little more respectable. She strolled down the hallway, and at a half-nod to Aaron the Kinsey & Co fellows followed. There was an unassuming wood door by the exit to the office, and Laura paused only briefly to jiggle the knob, confirming it was locked, before they headed to lunch. No one had been inside fiddling with the security cameras. Couldn’t be too careful, with kids these days.

 

Taylor stared at the puddle. There was… a lot of pee, and she felt a little proud, then back to horrified. She glanced around rapidly. Could she just leave it there? Would it all go away? Would anyone even know what it was? There was a big cardboard box sitting in the corner of the alley. Taylor looked inside- just a can of WD40 and an old rag. She was suddenly keenly aware of the wet streaks down her legs, looked at the oily rag, shuddered. She heard a car engine. Thinking as fast as she could, Taylor grabbed the whole box, set it down in the middle of the puddle- it mostly covered it? The smell! She grabbed the lubricant, sprayed it around, filled the air with tangy aerosol. She heard footsteps. She stared at her soaked panties, sitting on the ground like a dead squirrel where she’d thrown them. Taylor picked up the rag, picked up the panties with the rag, turned back-

“Hey! You can’t be back here!” It was Alex. She could work with that. She turned around.

“Oh hey, sorry”- she stuttered for a moment- “Laura just wanted me to grab something.”

Alex stood there, looking her up and down. “I didn’t realize it was you,” he said. “You still can’t be back here, we got safety regulations, you know?”. He looked down at the box. “What happened with this?”

Taylor flushed bright red. “The oil was leaking or something, I tried to clean it up, but…” She showed him the rag for a second, remembered, slammed her hand back down to her side.

“Hmm.” Alex said, chewing at his lip.

“Mm-hmm.” Taylor said, her face hot, her thighs wet and slowly drying, her own wet underwear squelching inside the rag in her palm.

A few more seconds passed.

“You can’t be back here though.” Alex said, with an air of finality.

“I’m so sorry,” Taylor said, “I won’t do it again.”

A few more seconds passed, and Taylor began her careful retreat back into the office. She came back into the blissfully air-conditioned hallway, opened the blissfully unlocked bathroom door, triple checked it was locked behind her, curled up with her back to the door, and laughed and cried.

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The sun was setting slowly outside the garage windows. Jake wiped the sweat from his brow. He patted the engine, firmly but not unkindly, and started packing up his tools. Socket wrench, screwdriver, multimeter- he paused, frowned. The multimeter had been acting weird, so he had downloaded the manufacturer’s app on… on- where had he put his phone? He had… ah hell. Taylor had texted him about… something, and he had been focused on the work, oh hell. He washed his hands, went out to the little lobby, checked his phone, the battery almost dead.

Taylor, 1:37pm: “hey can you come pick me up from work”

Taylor, 1:39pm: “babe please”

Taylor, 1:48pm: “please please please this is not funny”

Taylor, 5:43pm: “hey”

Taylor, 5:43pm: “do you want to come over tonight?”

Jake weighed his options. He was dead tired, and he didn’t terribly want to see her, or for her to see him like this. Plus, whatever she’d been texting him about had been more serious than he’d guessed. Taylor would be angry about him ignoring her, and she’d act like it was fine and be snippy as hell all night. But she had some right to be mad, and… and he missed her a little. He texted back.

Jake, 6:15pm: “Yeah, sure.”

Jake, 6:16pm: “Everything OK?”

Taylor, 6:30pm: “it worked itself out :)”

So it was “pretend-it’s-fine” Taylor tonight. He slipped into the driver’s seat of his car, clicked on the AC and the radio, tapped her apartment’s address into his phone. Traffic was shitty downtown, shockingly. Jake rolled his eyes and turned onto the road.

 

Taylor stood in the shower, the water running down all along her skin. Her whole body tingled. She closed her eyes, imagined herself sitting desperate in that meeting, remembered the piss gushing out in the alleyway- in the alleyway! She rubbed harder along her labia, leaned against the shower wall, gasped, swallowed a little water, coughed awkwardly.

She hooked the tip of a finger gently inside herself, ran little circles around the inside circumference of her slit. So bad, so bad, so baaaaaaaaa-ah-ah. Her breath came in short gasps. Her dark brown hair, almost black, clung to her neck and shoulders in wet, tangled locks. Her thumb met her clit, and sent a shock straight up her spine. Fuck that bitch Laura no don’t think about Laura goddamn Laura. So controlling. Control. Jake liked control. Jake didn’t know she liked this this much.

She pictured Jake, his rough, lean, body, his stern face, slowed her fingers down just a little. Jake always so calm, sooooo in control. She thought about him in the work jeans he liked, Jake so fucking arrogant so sure of everything, thought about him grabbing his cock, twisting in desperation. She felt the tide starting to build. She slipped her middle finger a little deeper inside herself, put a little more pressure on her thumb, slower tighter circles. Pressure. She couldn’t hold the pressure she peed outside like a stupid animal bad bad bad could he hold the pressure? Maybe- the orgasm wouldn’t be stopped anymore, it hit her like a brick, shimmering through her arms and legs, setting her nipples aflame, crescendoing in her sopping cunt. She sank to her knees for what felt like the tenth time that day, let the hot water run all along her body, just laid there. She could see stars, blinked.

Taylor shut off the water, and just sat in the bathtub for a while, catching her breath. She lifted herself up, legs shaking, wrapped herself in a towel, and went out to the kitchen. She poured herself a nice, big glass of white wine, picked at some leftover almonds and salad. How to do this?

I want to piss myself again for you- easy enough, they’d been there done that, and she damn well knew he liked it, even if he hadn’t brought it up again. What happened in the desert stayed in the desert, or something. I pissed myself pretty much in public and I loved it- that was her business, she didn’t need him for that anyway.

I want you to get desperate for me- maybe a harder sell. It was basically fair- she’d done the same thing for him, right? But Jake- Jake didn’t like to feel out of control, ever. Jake had some very specific ideas about what being a man was, and it was nice sometimes when he offered to drive or buy dinner or whatever, but… Jake didn’t like to feel out of control. And how did she even know she liked it? She’d thought about it just now… maybe a little before just now, but she’d never seen him desperate, never seen him act like he cared bathrooms existed. Taylor chewed on an almond. This, truly, was a mystery. Her phone screen lit up- he was fifteen minutes away, he was frustrated with the traffic. It was a long drive. And unlike Taylor, Jake never got worried and stopped at the bathroom before a long drive.

Hmm, Taylor thought, chewing one more almond.

Hmm.

 

Jake pulled into the parking garage for Taylor’s apartments, his eyes narrowed, his grip on the wheel tight. The radio was blaring… something, and the AC was up. His bladder was reminding him he hadn’t used the restroom after all the work, he’d been distracted about the texts- whatever. He pulled into one of the guest spots, got out of the car, banged his head, fucking goddamn piece of shit fuckity damn. He waited for the elevator, glaring at it. He took a deep breath.

Taylor’s apartment complex always gave him the creeps- too whitewashed, too clean, too modern, too obviously new-money fake. He looked down at his sweaty white t-shirt, his jeans with the old oil stains, grimaced. The clomping sound of his work boots followed him all the way down the hall, and he clomped a little harder just for the hell of it. He reached- and Taylor opened the door.

“Hey”, he said.

“Aren’t you going to ask how I knew?”, she said, smiling wide at him.

He squinted at her. “Recently acquired psychic powers,” he said, deadpan.

“Exactly,” she said, and took his hand and led him within.

The apartment was more or less as he’d last seen it- generic IKEA furnishings, embroidered sorority pillow and non embroidered non-sorority pillows strewn across the couch, pitcher of water on the counter. Jake glanced across the apartment at the door to the bathroom, cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see your text, I was just working, and…” he waved his hand vaguely.

“It’s fine,” Taylor called back to him, flipping through the cabinets, making a drink or something? “Seriously, it’s fine, I totally handled it.”

Jake sort of pursed his lips and blinked, because he couldn’t think of anything else to do. “Well, that’s good.” he said, crushingly aware of how inane it sounded.

“What exactly happened?”, Jake said, and Taylor froze.

She stood there for a moment, hand clasped to the cold metal of the cabinet door, thinking. Where to start? How to do this? Where to start?

“I had a meeting at work,” she said.

Jake nodded sagely.

“I had a meeting at work and I peed myself outside because I had to go really bad and my boss wouldn’t let me and I’m scared really bad but I really liked it and also would you pee your pants for me if I asked you to like not right now but I just think it’s fair also I peed my pants at work I don’t know if I said that,” Taylor said.

Jake nodded sagely.

Jake was beginning to wonder if he had hit his head harder than he realized getting out of the car. He nodded again, and realized he was starting to look like an idiot, so he pulled one of the barstools out and sat down, hands flat against the cool granite counter. Taylor stood in the kitchen nook, looking at him very expectantly. He nodded one more time, lifted a hand, and stroked his stubbly beard.

“So you… wet yourself, at work.”

“Yes.”

“And this was a positive thing.”

“Sort of.” Taylor’s head bobbed from side to side.

“And you want me to wet myself, for you.”

“Yes.” Taylor said.

“Why?” Jake said.

Taylor felt a moment of resentment flare in her chest, alongside the slow burn of the alcohol from earlier. She crossed her arms and leaned back against the cabinets. “You never told me why,” she said sulkily.

Jake gestured vaguely, again. “I mean, why all of it?”

“Why do you have to ask why?” Taylor said instead of just doing something for me for once she trailed off inside her head.

Jake felt very, very tired.

“Whatever,” he said.

“I’m sorry.” Taylor said.

Jake looked up. “How was your day?”

Taylor stood up straight, walked over, and leaned against the bar. “I actually did pee myself at work. Like, that happened.” She felt tears start to well in her eyes, felt Jake take her hand, gently.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Jake stood up, and moved around the bar, and held her, and Taylor started to cry, really cry. For what felt like the tenth time that day. After a little while they were sitting on the couch, and Jake was gently stroking her hair, and she was in his arms, a hand gently laid against his warm chest.

“I totally fucked up at work today,” he said.

Taylor looked up at him. “Did you pee all over the ground, and panic and have to hide it, and then sit there for three more hours like nothing happened?”

“No,” Jake shook his head, “but I still can’t figure out how in the fucking world to fix that engine for that Aaron guy, and I have like three days before my ass is grass.”

“Maybe we just suck,” Taylor said, cuddling closer to him. “Maybe we just suck at everything and we’re just gonna stay on this couch and never ever leave.”

“I’d like to use the restroom at some point,” Jake said, “but other than that that sounds fine.”

“Baby, please stay.”, Taylor said, sliding her hand down to his stomach, tapping a lazy finger. “I thought you could just hold it forever. Aren’t you the big strong man?”, she said, a touch of laughter in her voice.

“Taylor,” Jake said, “you don’t have to be like that about it.”

Taylor pulled away, drew herself up. Jake felt suddenly cold and rather worried, in addition to the now insistent pressure in his bladder.

“Babe,” Taylor said, “I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do.” As if I could, a little voice in her whispered. “But would you be okay to try it sometime, just for me, just this once?” She felt slightly pitiful- as usual, the voice whispered.

“Maybe,” Jake said. “For you.”

He did not leave the couch, though Taylor had to at least twice, especially when it was decided more wine was in order. They watched a few movies- some stoner comedy, because Taylor liked it, and then a romcom, because Jake said he thought Taylor would like it. Jake shifted a few times under the blankets, and once Taylor thought she caught him adjusting himself- wouldn’t you like that in your mouth right now a very different voice said, but he otherwise showed no signs of desperation or particular discomfort, and Taylor felt disappointed but rather relieved. She was totally drained, and when he suggested they call it a night she was about ready to melt into the pillows, as he gently led her to her bed. She closed her eyes, and drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

 

The clock showed 12:16am, and Jake had to piss so fucking badly. He stroked his cock some, since getting hard seemed to make it less intense, but the moment he left off his dick felt like a fully inflated water balloon, just aching to burst. He could actually see his bladder sticking out under his waistband, just slightly. He nudged Taylor, heard her murmur sleepily, nudged her again, harder.

“Taylor,” he said.

“mmfmmh,” she replied

“Taylor,” he said, more insistently.

She rolled towards him, propped herself up on her elbow, and she looked so ridiculous with bedhead every which way that he laughed, even though he had to grab the shaft of his cock as he did it in case some piss snuck out.

“I need to use the restroom, very badly. That’s… what you wanted, right?”

A smile spread along Taylor’s face.

“Fuck me first,” she said.

“Taylor, really,” Jake said.

She reached a hand under the covers, grabbed his cock for a moment, he gasped a little.

“Come on,” she said, feeling bolder. “Fuck me hard. Fuck me like it hurts.” She shoved the covers down, kicked them off the bed, went to her hands and knees. “Fuck me like an animal.”

“Taylor, I really…”

“Fucking fuck me.”

Jake’s throat felt very dry. He sat up, cautiously, holding his shaft, wincing as his bladder contracted with each movement. Taylor wriggled her ass and spread her legs a little apart, her face pressed against the soft pillows. He entered her from behind, her left hand slowly guiding him in, and they gasped in unison. He thrusted- pleasure. He pulled back, and the feeling of desperation returned- pain. Pleasure, pain, pleasure, pain, pleasurepainpleasurepain-

Jake choked. “I can’t hold it!” he said.

“Just do it!” Taylor said.

“I can’t!”

“Just do it, I don’t care about the fucking bed oh fucking God just do it!”

Jake pulled out of her, aimed at a random spot on the bed, pissed away the last God knew how many hours of piss. He must have gone thirty seconds before reality hit him like a freight train, and he cut off the flow, wincing in pain.

“Oh my God Taylor I’m so sorry, the bed”

Taylor rolled over, her hair splayed out around her head, her pussy glistening, her breasts heaving in the dim moonlight. She grabbed Jake, pulled him down awkwardly into a tangle of bodies.

“Just let it go,” she whispered to him. “For once in your life, just let it go.”

Jake shuddered in her arms as he pissed the last of his overfull bladder onto the already soaked bed. Taylor’s hands were warm around his chest, but he felt cold.

“Taylor, I am so sorry” he said.

“It’s fine,” Taylor said, “I mean it was better than fine, that was-“

“Bad.” Jake said. “That was not okay and it needs to not happen again.”

“Jake, it’s my bed, who else has to be okay with it?”

“It’s not about who, it’s that some things are inherently not okay, and that wasn’t, alright? Fuck!”

Taylor sat up, squinting. “What is your deal right now?”, she said, sleepily exasperated.

Jake positively hissed back. “My deal is I show up to your apartment and you’re all crying and guilty and manipulative and we drink a little bit and six hours later I am sitting in your bed covered in my own piss. That is a pretty straightforward summary of my fucking deal.”

“I’m manipulative?” Taylor whispered furiously “I ask you for like, one thing, ever, and I’m manipulative? You think I felt like a box of sunshine when I was pissing on the ground sucking your dick on the gravel in redneck land?”

“One thing ever? One thing ever? So every time I drive you around and bring you flowers and watch dumbass movies with you that’s all just, one thing to you?” Jake retorted.

Taylor reared up, her voice rising a little. “Yeah, because it bothers you sooooo much when you get to act like Mr. Nineteen Fifties I control everything I’m gonna tell Taylor what to do!”

Jake’s eyes flashed, and his voice dropped to a dangerous low. “You know, it doesn’t. It doesn’t bother me. I’m just shocked that when you hang out with your college friends reading Cosmopolitan and eating, fucking, ‘Fuck the Patriarchy’ cupcakes you can’t tell them it doesn’t bother you either, because you’re twenty-fucking-five and you’re still too afraid to make your own decisions!”

“You want me to decide something?” Taylor said, yelling now. “You want me to decide something? How about I decide you should get the fuck out, okay? How about that?”

“Fine!” Jake yelled.

There was a moment of quiet.

“I’m showering first, though,” Jake said.

“Fine.” Taylor said.

Taylor could hear the shower running. She could feel the warm piss, all over her bed. She could feel the slight rawness in her womanhood, where Jake had fucked her, as requested, “hard”. She could feel the sinking feeling in her stomach that she might have seen this coming. She could hear it when the shower shut off, and she could hear it when the door to her apartment slammed shut. She couldn’t cry. She couldn’t even make a sound, as she drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

 

 

~hey it's an imaginary chapter break where two replies got automatically merged~

 

 

Jake sat on the garage floor. He picked up a little bit of gravel, threw it at the engine block in the center of the room, watched it clink off. Grabbed a screw, a washer, a little snip of woodchip- clink, clink, tap. If he just kept doing things, he wouldn’t have to think. Pace around. Grab something, small. Clink. He grabbed some paper towels, wiped down the counters, wiped down the stool, the workbench. Clink. Don’t think. Don’t think.

He kicked the workbench hard, swore loudly, sighed with relief as the pain flooded in. He slapped his arm with his hand, felt self-conscious at the sound, did it again to feel the red welt flush, dug his nails along his wrist. He looked at the pointed metal corner of the workbench- no, too stupid, too melodramatic, too many consequences.

Consequences.

Last night had consequences.

He couldn’t look Taylor in the eye again, that was for sure. Another one bites the dust. If he hadn’t picked a fight in the middle of the night if he hadn’t been that way with her didn’t you like it a voice said

“Fuck you!” he yelled, to the empty garage.

He couldn’t look himself in the eye.

Why would anyone like something like that? It was so gross, so… biological. He’d cleaned fish less disgustingly animalistic. Why would she ask him that-

Why had he asked her that? On the trip. In the desert. Was this her way of getting back at him? Why had he gone along with it didn’t you like it shut up shut up shut up. Oh god, the bed. He’d cleaned up more or less at Taylor’s, and then he’d driven the hour and a half midnight no-traffic ride back to his house, and he’d stood in the shower for forty-five minutes and he’d woken up and come here and he just couldn’t feel clean. It was like he was dirty on the inside, like he needed to rip his own heart out like an engine that needed fixing and scrub it raw until the filth came loose. He closed his eyes, counted to ten. He opened them and he was still him and everything that had happened had still happened and he was still in the garage and dirty and oh god, the fucking bed. Was she going to ask him to pay for that? Fuck! Fuckity shit fuck fuck

Jake felt suddenly winded, the burst of panic receding, sat down again. He was still behind on work, naturally, but he didn’t have any more energy to be afraid. Did anyone know? Had Taylor told anyone? Would she tell anyone?

The blinds on the windows were shut tight, the door locked, his tools neatly arranged, this was still his sanctum, his fortress, his prison. He shut his eyes and counted to ten.

 

Taylor’s head was pounding. She opened her eyes, blinked blearily, shut them again. Too bright. The bed was cold, wet. Had she spilled something? Had she been drinking? Had she wet the bed- wouldn’t be the first time, stupid Spring Formal, had

Oh, crap.

Taylor half-opened her eyes.

The morning light was shining through the window, bright, dainty, fairytale-esque. Her covers were in a matted clump at the bottom of the bed, her naked body sprawled across the upper half. The air was cold, and the bed was wet and cold, and- oh, and she had to piss like hell, she now realized, jamming her legs together. She looked at the soaked-in stain on the bed, pondered her pounding head and sore muscles, made an executive decision. She sighed gently, closed her eyes again as her little stream soaked into the mattress cover. Maybe she didn’t have to wake up. Maybe this was a dream still- it was a dream where she was peeing the bed, then, but dream/no dream was lose-lose on that count.

Oh, fricking crap.

Had Jake really left? She poked her head up, stared warily through the door into the living room, heard nothing, saw nothing, just two bottles of wine left standing open on the coffee table. She closed her eyes again, sank back down into the pillows.

She felt- weirdly calm. Relieved, even. He’d stay away for a few days, he’d go do whatever he did when they fought, and he’d come back. He always came back. And she’d apologize, and he’d do his stupid annoying “I acknowledge you were hurt” non-apology, and he’d come back. She’d get the covers to the laundry- was the mattress okay? There had been a lot of pee- she laughed, and OH CRAP WORK.

Taylor sat bolt upright. What had she been thinking? She had work! She had work and oh God oh work- it crashed over her like a wave. Alex! Laura! Could they have gone through the trash, found the rag, found her- she cringed- panties? Not that Alex would mind hmph oh hell she had work.

She leapt into the shower, bit her lip as she saw one of Jake’s curly hairs in the drain, cleaned herself as best she could, threw a random dress over her body, and burst out the door. She got her hair managed in traffic, checked her face in the glove box mirror, decided it was a great day for the raw, natural, no-makeup look. She pulled into a parking spot, slipped out the car door- only 9:37- one more great escape for Taylor- looked up and saw Laura standing dead in the doorway, arms folded.

Taylor looked at Laura, expectantly.

Laura looked at Taylor, expectantly.

There was an awkward silence.

“A paragon of professionalism, as always,” Laura said, sneering so hard Taylor would have laughed if she hadn’t felt so afraid.

Taylor said nothing.

“I presume you have the accounts ready for our trip today?” Laura said.

Taylor felt her mouth working, open a little then closed a little, like a stranded fish.

“I took the liberty of checking them and printing them off myself,” Laura said, “since you were… otherwise engaged.”, the sneer so intense it wanted to leap off Laura’s face and bite Taylor right on the nose.

“Shall we?” Laura said.

Taylor nodded.

They walked over to Laura’s car, a new-model SUV painted a rich, deep bronze, the seats brown leather, immaculately clean. Taylor felt a moment of gratitude for the sensible flats she’d chosen at random as she hefted herself into the passenger seat. Laura droned on about something receivable something contract, and Taylor nodded politely as they turned onto the highway.

Apparently they were visiting an engineering firm, for which they did the accounting, which also did some kind of IT work for Laura. The amount of money flowing both ways had resulted in some kind of hiccup, and Laura was going to smooth things over with the big boss there. Taylor was being brought along to “learn how things are done”, which sounded to her like one more excuse for Laura to use her as a secretary.

They rode along the highway for a while, and the buildings changed from dense hyper-suburbia to real high rises- not too far from where Taylor had started the morning. They took an exit, a left, a right, and ended up in front of a nine-story black glass edifice with “Larssen Design Partners” stenciled in solemn silver above the entrance. Taylor swallowed.

They walked through the doors, Taylor trailing just behind Laura, and into a cavernous lobby, the AC on full blast. A prim young woman with olive skin and bleached blonde hair sat behind a round desk, and Taylor took one of the chairs as Laura went over to check them in. She could hear little snippets of the conversation-

“…of course, Mrs. Greenwood.”

“will Jeffrey be…?”

“conference room three…”

“…just going to pop off to the restroom, I’m not the one who made us late.”

Loud and clear, that last part. Taylor smiled nervously at the receptionist, who didn’t smile back, just went back to her work. Laura disappeared around a corner, and came back a few minutes later. She started walking down one of the hallways sprouting off the lobby, and it took Taylor a few seconds to realize this time she was meant to follow. The hallways on the main floor were black marble, very imposing, and it came as a surprise when the conference room  they entered was all grey carpet and cheap furniture, basically the same as their own. Laura snarled for an instant, then fixed her face into that same plastered-on smile.

Two men sat at the far side of the table- one older, nice suit, combed-back black hair, the other younger, rumpled flannel, ugly brown belt over mom jeans. Taylor had to hold back a laugh when she realized she was looking at the other side’s version of her- did they hold pet shows for Best Status Symbol? She’d beat that scruffy geek any day. Good for Laura.

Once it became clear Taylor was not expected to speak, other than to supply numbers from a binder Laura had brought, the meeting went swiftly. There had been a simple accounting mixup, on the engineers’ end, and Laura seemed to have this magical way of making them realize it without ever directly saying they were wrong. Taylor was beginning to wonder if she really could learn something when the nicely-dressed man suddenly raised a hand.

“Laura, I understand you also wanted to discuss- the other project?”- he eyed Taylor.

“Of course, James,” Laura said, “at an appropriate time.”

Nice suit man- James- turned to scruffy geek boy.

“Joshua, why don’t you give Mrs. Greenwood’s assistant a little tour?”

Taylor and scruffy g- Joshua both opened their mouths to protest, and were both silenced summarily by a wave from Laura.

“That sounds wonderful, James. You have to help the next generation learn, you know?”

Assistant, Taylor thought angrily all the way down the black marble hallway. Assistant.

 

Joshua did nothing to defy her initial impression of him, as he led her through a long dusty series of cardboard displays, between small windows overlooking people in white coats. He seemed most excitable when he talked about their… server infrastructure? Cloud computer? Taylor nodded and oohed appreciatively at what seemed like the right moments, and Joshua seemed to like it. They got to chatting after a while, from boredom if nothing else, and he seemed more interested in all the details of the accounting they did than Taylor was. Taylor felt a certain deja vu from the math major boys in her college statistics classes, and decided to take pity.

“So, besides like, all the math stuff,” she interrupted, “our office actually gets kinda crazy sometimes. Laura’s like, a total control freak.”

“Really?” Joshua said, his face curiously and suddenly blank.

Taylor pressed on. “Yeah, like, nothing moves in that building without her knowing. It’s like she has eyes in the back of her head. And if you’re three minutes late for one little thing, she’s all over you, all like ‘oh, you’re so unprofessional’, and ‘oh, back in my day’.”

“Kinda old-fashioned, huh?” Joshua said.

“Yeah, I guess.”

They came to the end of the hallway, to a bank of elevators, stepped into one. It was a little cold. Joshua looked at Taylor, his eyes a little wide, his lips a little parted.

“Can I tell you something?”, he said, leaning in a little.

Nope, nope, nope, Taylor thought.

“Tell me what?”, Taylor said, inching away.

“It’s a secret,” he said, eyes a little wider.

Taylor had come to realize over time that too-friendly young women in dresses had this effect on nervous, wiry-haired men with thick glasses. He leaned dangerously close.

“Laura paid us to install secret cameras at you guys’s office!” Joshua said.

“I’m so sorry, I have a boyfriend!” Taylor said at the same time, stepping back.

“What?” they said, simultaneously.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Joshua said.

“I didn’t mean-“

“No, I didn’t mean-“

“Secret cameras?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re serious?” Taylor said, her mind running like wildfire through the previous day’s events.

Joshua grinned, back in his element.

“You want to see?”

He pressed a button on the elevator, and they went down, down, down, definitely past the lobby. Joshua burst out the doors the moment they opened, and Taylor found herself half-running to keep up as he ducked left and right through featureless white hallways, past miles of neatly bundled cables, to a beige door blank besides a keypad and a handle.

“Where even are we?” Taylor whispered.

“My empire.” Joshua whispered back, without a hint of irony.

Joshua tapped some numbers on the keypad, and the door opened into a small, dark, dusty room, crammed from floor to ceiling with cables, computers, and monitors. There was a large, soft, black chair in the center, and Joshua sat down in it like he was coming home. Taylor leaned against the one patch of bare wall, arms crossed, as the door creaked shut. Joshua delicately puttered away at his keyboard while the monitors came to life, and just when she was convinced he’d forgotten she was there, he started to speak.

“About six months ago, Laura came to us asking us to put hidden- the official word is ‘low visibility’, but hidden- cameras in her office building. People do that all the time- worried about theft, liability, safety violations. In this state-“ he waved a furious hand “totally legal.”

He continued.

“Normally, when we install cameras, we talk with the other company’s IT department about where to route the cloud backup feed- in case somebody breaks in and smashes the cameras, or smashes the on-site server, or whatever. Sometimes the answer is nowhere, if they’re doing really hush-hush stuff, but usually corporate guys want as much proof in as many places as possible, because Legal’s up their ass about it.” Joshua said.

“Okay,” Taylor said.

“But you guys don’t have a dedicated IT department- small business, yada yada, and Laura wants this done quiet, so when we ask where to route the backup feed, she waves her hand and says ‘do whatever you want, you stupid nerd gremlins, I fart in your general direction’” Joshua continued, finishing in a bad mock-French accent.

“Why would she say that?” Taylor said.

“It’s a reference to- never mind. Anyway, so we do the default backup option, because it makes us money, which is…” he did a little drumroll on the desk.

“Can you get to the point?”

“Which is backing up all the footage here.”

“That’s horrible!” Taylor said, screwing up her face in disgust. “So you’re just like, creeping on everyone all the time?”

“It’s the 21st century!”, Joshua said. “Facebook’s creeping on you, Google’s creeping on you, privacy is a lie. We don’t sell the information or anything- we just keep it here. And it’s also on the local server at the site, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Taylor said, bitterly. She remembered why she was here. “Do you, um, do you know where specifically Laura put cameras?”

“No,” Joshua said, smiling, “but we can find out.”

He tapped at the keyboard again, furiously this time. Windows flickered and shifted, scrolled around.

“What’s your company’s name again?”

“Greenwood & Associates.”

“That would make you one of the associates?”

Taylor snorted. “Sure.”

“Got it. The cameras aren’t specifically labeled with locations- you recognize any of these?”

“That’s the main area, that’s the break room, the meeting room- great. That’s Laura’s office, and that’s…”

Taylor froze.

Joshua continued unfazed.“The warehouse yard or something, right? Little small, but you can see people loading and unloading stuff. Look, if you were smoking weed or something back there, who cares? They usually don’t check these cameras unless something actually happens."

“Laura checks them,” Taylor said, deadly serious. “I promise you, Laura checks them. I need to see if something is on there, from yesterday.”

“Great,” Joshua said, “I’ll just go back a little bit-“

“I need to see it alone!” Taylor said, louder than she’d intended.

Joshua swiveled in the chair, a broad grin on his face.

“A little more than smoking the chronic, huh?”

“I need to see it alone.” Taylor said, insistently.

“I’m not leaving you alone with this,” Joshua said, stern now. “I could get in enough trouble as it is.”

There was a moment of silence, then Taylor broke into a downright predatory grin.

“Yeah,” she said, “yeah, you could.”

“Oh screw you-“

“I’m just an innocent assistant-“

“No fricking way-“

“I didn’t know those things he was showing me were company secrets- is that okay?” Taylor said, exaggeratedly batting her eyelashes.

Joshua sat, silent, for a little while, then got up and opened the door. “Three minutes,” he said. “Three minutes, and if you break it…”

Taylor rolled her eyes. “Right, because my tiny accountant woman brain can’t use your nice computer.”

Joshua turned on his heel- “I didn’t mean it like a sexist th-!“

Taylor shut the door. The interface was simple, and she clicked the timestamp back- she shuddered. Holy crap, had it actually only been twenty-four hours? She felt tired. There she was, on the big fancy screen- walking out of the meeting room- oh God, had she really looked like that? Little computer screen her was positively waddling, her legs crushed together under her skirt. Stupid oblivious consultant people. Then nothing in the hallway, then coming out into the alley… And there she was, pissing and pissing and pissing. She clicked ahead, guessed it was nearly a minute from when she lost it to when she finished. There was a knock on the door- she closed the window.

“You said three minutes.” Taylor said.

“Your boss is looking for you.” Joshua said, not quite keeping the triumph or the fear out of his voice.

“How do I delete it?” Taylor hissed.

“Get into the local server, then it’s like any other file,” Joshua said. “Your boss would have a password and maybe two-factor. I’ll handle the copy here.”

Taylor pointed two fingers at her face, then at him, then back to her- the I’m watching you. “Elevator’s two lefts and a right,” Joshua said, and she sped off down the hallway.

 

Joshua sat in the chair for a long time, looking at the single freeze frame of Taylor wetting herself in the warehouse yard. She didn’t look ashamed, or scared. She looked- relieved, obviously, but also a little- into it? It wasn’t his thing, but there were probably freaks on the Internet who loved that stuff- people would get off to anything these days. Whatever. Delete.

Edited by nestorius (see edit history)
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14 hours ago, Ranpalan said:

Amazing writing!  I'm looking forward to reading more from you!

Thank you!

 

5 hours ago, Bismiris said:

looking forward to more!

i do have to say though, I don't understand Jake at all. He's kind of a control freak, and seems to really minimize Taylor's feelings and not take her seriously. What's his deal?

Also thank you!

As I kept writing the story, I kind of got the idea in my head that neither one of the main couple was a super well-adjusted person, and that was probably a big part of why they were together. Jake got fucked over real hard at some point and decided that nothing was allowed to exist in his life that he couldn't control, including his own feelings or anyone else's. Taylor has been somewhat sheltered and would rather avoid responsibility than risk being the "bad guy" or getting in trouble. So they're a little toxic!

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