That's What You Said Last Time
That's What You Said Last Time Part 1
Julie rubbed her fingertips back and forth into her short brown curls, and her matching eyes squinted with frustration. Just one block from her apartment building, she stopped for the second time since getting off the bus five blocks and almost ten minutes earlier. The urge to pee was almost too much to handle, but she couldn’t place her just-in-case pad from her purse into her panties on a public sidewalk. Jim is going to be furious, she almost said aloud.
A gust of chilly November wind, an almost perverse joke by Mother Nature, blew around Julie’s legs and up her pleated skirt. Droplets of her urine almost burned her skin wherever they touched but she managed to keep the accident to just a few dribbles rather than a full flow. She began to run and kept on running despite intermittent, hot, tiny splashes warming her thighs.
Fighting back tears, Julie swiped her access card and then dashed inside the building. Grateful she did not have to stand still inside the elevator and submit to a stranger’s glare, she kept running down the carpeted hall and stopped only when she was in front of her own door. Another swipe of the card and she was standing inside on the linoleum tile foyer, and temperature change from cool to warm was so welcome every muscle relaxed just for an instant. Enough time for her to let down her guard and the flow started, soaking her panties and tights, some running down the inside of both legs to ooze into her shoes and the rest a waterfall falling from her crotch to the floor with audible splashing. Julie clamped her eyes shut with shame.
“Oh, lord, PLEASE don’t let Jim be home yet,” Julie prayed in a whisper.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the flow stopped and the urge to piss subsided. Eager to clean things up before her husband got home, Julie kicked off her shoes, looked down the short hallway, and nearly panicked. She saw him standing quietly at the end of the hall, fists on hips and his face almost glowing red with emotion.
“I, I’m sorry. It was an accident.” The words ran out of Julies mouth. The faster she talked the higher pitched her voice climbed. Desperation.
“That’s what you said last time,” Jim said quietly, almost a whisper, but projected straight down the hall to surround his piss-soaked wife.
Julie cringed, her humiliation tinged with fear of what she knew was to come.
“Please, Daddy, no.” Struggling to stay on her feet, Julie whispered, “Please don’t, Daddy. I promise, it won’t happen again.”
Jim Hutchins unbuckled his leather belt and without hesitation pulled it through the loops of his denim trousers.
“That’s what you said last time.”