116: Porcelain Abyss
How to commit to a toilet.
Went for a meeting upstairs today. Should’ve gone for a piss before, my kidneys were aching by the time it finished. Was sitting there three hours trying not to wet myself.
The big boss stood at the door after. A few people lined up, hoping to speak to her. To pay homage. Fucking sycophants.
I pushed past the gaggle and legged it to the bogs. Slammed the door open and rushed in.
Something wasn’t right.
There were only cubicles. Rows of them. Door after door. All closed. No movement, no reassuring sounds of piss hitting water from waist height.
Had I just walked into the ladies’?
Should I turn around? What if it’s the men’s and someone sees me come out, stare at the door, then walk back in? Worse, what if it’s the ladies’? And one of them was coming in as I left. They’d think I was some kind of toilet weirdo.
So I did what anyone would do. Got on my knees and looked under the cubicle doors, looking for men’s shoes.
Nothing. No one here. My heart was palpitating. Got up and gingerly walked deeper into the porcelain abyss.
Heard female voices and high-heeled footsteps outside.
My god, this is it. This is how I get my final warning again. Decided to dart for a cubicle. Hide.
That’s when I saw it, tucked away in the corner. Partially hidden behind a tiled partition. A single urinal.
The relief.
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