The Conference
Posted: 09 Aug 2024, 20:37
I forgot my password and got locked out! Anyway - here's the first part of another story I've been working on. Hope you enjoy!
12 NOON
A day at a conference was a rare treat for teachers Jack and Chris. Both men were just twenty two, fresh out of university and thrown into their first year of teaching. They’d met on their first day, and struck up a friendship quickly – the amount they had in common making it effortless. Both lads had struggled with the fact that for them, university was now over, work and responsibility taking president over drinking and partying. But in each other they’d found a friend to go through it with.
Today, instead of the intense, hustle-bustle of school, today they’d swapped the classroom for a seminar on teaching English at a hotel venue in Manchester, a few hours drive from their usual place of work. In all truth, it was incredibly boring but the two friends had been able to sit together and chat most of the day, and they were currently enjoying something they never normally got to experience – a proper lunch break.
“Fuck it, I’m getting a pint.” Chris came out with, as the two lads ate their lunch.
Jack laughed. “You’re not!”
“Why not though?” Chris replied. “It’s not like were in school. Plus one’s not going to get you drunk is it? No rules against it”.
“I’m not sure he’ll like it.” Jack pointed three tables down at the elderly man who’d been leading the day’s seminar.
“We’ll go outside and have it; he’ll never know!” Chris motioned towards the hotel’s outside seating area; it sat quiet and empty in the late July sun. “You want one? I’m buying”.
Jack thought for a moment. He was always so cautious. The thought never would have crossed his mind, if he was here on his own. But…
“You’re a bad influence, Chris.” He sighed, “Go on then, if you’re buying. Get whatever cider they’d got on tap.”
“Now we’re talking! Find somewhere outside, I’ll come over”.
A few minutes later Chris had found Jack outside, a pint in each hand and big, stupid grin across his handsome face. He was enjoying this, Jack thought. And he had to admit that it did taste good – enjoying a pint on a hot summers’ day, when usually he’d be in work now preparing for an intense afternoon. He was a little anxious about needing the loo on the afternoon. He hated saying he needed the toilet, and would always try to go in the most discrete way possible. But being a teacher had mastered the art of holding his bladder, and knew that whatever the afternoon brought, he’d deal with it and visit the loo when he got a quiet chance.
However the afternoon was about to throw something unexpected.
“Ah there you are!” A voice called from behind Matt and Chris. It was Gary, the elderly lecturer. Like naughty school boys, they turned around and held their almost-empty pint glasses behind their back in a feeble attempt to hide them from Gary.
“Look slight change of plan. There’s been an awful accident on the M62. We’re going to postpone the afternoon session so that people can get away before the whole place becomes gridlocked.” Gary announced.
“Oh,” replied Chris. The news caught him by surprise.
“Please get yourselves away … when you’ve finished your drinks.” He added with a smile.
Jack and Chris returned the smiles and pulled their drinks round to their fronts, their little ruse over. “Thank you,” Jack added, as Gary walked off.
Chris turned to Jack. “That’s a turn out for the books! Shall we just get away before we get stuck?”
Thoughts raced through Jack’s head. His journey home was over two hours. He really should have a wee, but the simple fact was he’d been not more than hour an hour ago, before lunch, and he just didn’t need one yet. He would need one before he got home though. Badly. Could he make it two and half hours? Plus all that traffic? Then another thought – he hadn’t seen Chris use the toilet. And he was suggesting just going home now, without going to the toilet. So if the traffic was awful, Chris would need one before him and he could go when they stopped, without having to be the one to ask. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was the best he had.
Those thoughts raced through his head in less than a few seconds, and he quickly replied, “Yeah let’s just get going.”
The two lads walked across the hotel foyer towards the car park. Jack gave a glance towards the toilets, knowing that even if he visited now, nothing would come. The, they climbed in Chris’s black Audi (how he afforded that, Jack would never know) and set off.
1PM
For the past hour, Google Maps had read 2 hours 37 minutes as the estimated duration of the journey. Chris’s car had crawled along the Mancunian streets towards the motorway at less thana snail’s place, and Jack’s bladder had – as he’d predicted – filled a considerable amount in that time. He wasn’t *bursting* but he was at the point where if he was at home, or out and about, he’d be heading for the toilet.
Seeing the time inexplicably not move at all was demoralising. He hated saying he needed the toilet. He didn’t really know why. He just felt embarrassed at having to admit it - to admit weakness, to admit he couldn’t control his own body. Chris wasn’t giving any sign he needed to go, though. Jack was going to have to say something soon. But what would Chris think? He might just want to keep going, he might -
“I wish I’d gone for a piss before we set off”. Chris said, as he stared blankly ahead in frustration, the words interrupting Jack’s train of thought and immediately making it somewhat redundant. Jack wanted more information without pressing, so casually offered a reply of, “Yeah?”, hoping that his tone made it sound like the question he intended.
“Yeah,” came the welcome reply from Chris. “I’m dying for a piss. Soon as get to the motorway, we’re stopping at the first services”.
Jack felt a palpable sense of relief. “Yeah no problem” He replied. He didn’t even need to admit his own need, he could just visit the service station loo. He relaxed a bit in his chair and hoped they’d reach the motorway soon.
2PM
The pair had reached the motorway by 2PM, but it was essentially gridlock. Jack didn’t think they’d moved more than a mile in the last half an hour. By now his bladder was uncomfortably full, and his anxiety around when exactly he’d be able to empty it was building up. The services were 17 miles away, but how long would that take?
The only thing not taking him into full-blown panic was the fact that Chris clearly needed to go worse than he did. It was all he’d talked about for the last half an hour. He was grabbing himself, jiggling his legs up and down and occasionally tasking big, laboured breaths (although Jack didn’t know how much of it was genuine and how much was just Chris trying to prove a point.
He moved his right hand down over his lower abdomen and felt the hard, balloon-like shape of his distended bladder. Christ, he had to go. Why did he have to have that pint? A wave of pressure washed over him and unconsciously he grabbed his willy and gave it a big squeeze. As he realised his friend had spotted him doing this, he quickly removed his hand and flushed with embarrassment.
“You need a piss as well?” Chris asked.
There was no hiding it now. “Yeah a bit” Jack offered. Part of him was relieved he could now talk about it, and thinking on his friend’s situation, he decided to be honest. “Actually not a bit,” he admitted, “I’m dying for a wee.”
“I genuinely can’t hold it any more.” Chris confessed, turning to Jack.
What did this mean?
“I’m gonna have to pull over.” Chris added, and moved the car slowly to the hard shoulder.
“You can’t just have a wee here!” Jack said, incredulously.
“It’s that or my pants mate and I’m not getting piss over my new car!”
“What if someone sees? If someone reports you doing this you’ll lose your job!”
“No one’s going to report me, we’ve been stuck here for hours, what am I meant to do?”. Chris got out of the parked the car and Jack watched him walk a few feet up the grass verge. Jack turned around. Everyone could see him. Everyone knew what he was doing. Hundreds of stationary cars. Jack could only see his back but a few cars and in front and behind, they could probably see everything. What was his friend thinking?
After a few minutes, Chris returned to the car, a look of relief filing his face. “Oh thank fuck!” he grinned. “A few minutes more and I’d have pissed myself! Seriously you want to just go over there and go.” Chris said.
“I’ll just wait for the services” Jack replied, on instinct.
“Sat nav’s saying road’s shut now. Twitter’s saying we could be here another two or three hours. Can you wait THAT long?”
Jack felt his stomach drop. Of course he couldn’t. “Really?”
“Yeah seriously mate, just go. It’ll be fine.”
Jack sat, frozen. His head was spinning
-What can I do? I can’t wait that long, I just can’t. I probably can’t even wait another hour.
-Oh fuck. I’m going to have to go over there and do it.
-I can’t though. I can’t!
-I don’t have any other choice!
As he sat thinking, his legs were bouncing up and down as he attempted to distract himself from the immense pressure in his bladder. Chris saw the state his friend was in. “Seriously. Mate. Just go.”
Jack’s head was still swimming. “Fine” He heard himself say. He got out of the car, and slowly, awkwardly walked his way up the grass verge. There was nowhere even remotely private. Just an open expanse of fields. He walked up the verge to fence, but even that was only about 20 feet from the stationary traffic. He breathed out. He couldn’t believe he had to this. He stood awkwardly, just still, wishing the ground would swallow him up. After a few more seconds of deliberating, he finally moved his hands to his belt buckle and undid it, and gingerly removed his willy from his black CK boxer shorts. He gripped the very end of his willy with both of his hands, using them a make-shift shield for it. But he felt so ridiculous doing this, it only made his face burn more with embarrassment. He stared down at his penis. The fresh breeze coupled with his anxiety had shrivelled it to a couple of inches, and this just added to his shame. He swore he could feel a hundred pairs of eyes from the cars below boring into his back. He was so incredible desperate for this – why was nothing coming? He swore under his breath, cursing his anxiety. A pain washed over his bladder. It urgently wanted to be empty, and he could feel an unbelievable pressure at the base of his penis. But still nothing came. He tried to slow his breathing, and clear his head. He picked a fixed point in the distance and just stared blankly at it, trying to empty his mind completely. Time ticked away. He felt a gradual easing in his bladder. It was going to come. In a few second, he was going to have his wee. A trickled escaped his foreskin, when suddenly a car horn blared. His bladder seized up again and on instinct he shoved his penis back into his boxers. He quickly fumbled at his belt – leaving it on the loosest notch he could – and walked back to the car.
“All better?” Chris grinned as Jack got in.
“Yeah fine.” Jack lied. Why had he done that?
Chris looked at his friend. He didn’t *look* fine. He looked tense, and anxious. Maybe he was just embarrassed?
“OK cool.” Chris said, and turned the car back into the traffic, which was finally begging to crawl again.
To be continued…
12 NOON
A day at a conference was a rare treat for teachers Jack and Chris. Both men were just twenty two, fresh out of university and thrown into their first year of teaching. They’d met on their first day, and struck up a friendship quickly – the amount they had in common making it effortless. Both lads had struggled with the fact that for them, university was now over, work and responsibility taking president over drinking and partying. But in each other they’d found a friend to go through it with.
Today, instead of the intense, hustle-bustle of school, today they’d swapped the classroom for a seminar on teaching English at a hotel venue in Manchester, a few hours drive from their usual place of work. In all truth, it was incredibly boring but the two friends had been able to sit together and chat most of the day, and they were currently enjoying something they never normally got to experience – a proper lunch break.
“Fuck it, I’m getting a pint.” Chris came out with, as the two lads ate their lunch.
Jack laughed. “You’re not!”
“Why not though?” Chris replied. “It’s not like were in school. Plus one’s not going to get you drunk is it? No rules against it”.
“I’m not sure he’ll like it.” Jack pointed three tables down at the elderly man who’d been leading the day’s seminar.
“We’ll go outside and have it; he’ll never know!” Chris motioned towards the hotel’s outside seating area; it sat quiet and empty in the late July sun. “You want one? I’m buying”.
Jack thought for a moment. He was always so cautious. The thought never would have crossed his mind, if he was here on his own. But…
“You’re a bad influence, Chris.” He sighed, “Go on then, if you’re buying. Get whatever cider they’d got on tap.”
“Now we’re talking! Find somewhere outside, I’ll come over”.
A few minutes later Chris had found Jack outside, a pint in each hand and big, stupid grin across his handsome face. He was enjoying this, Jack thought. And he had to admit that it did taste good – enjoying a pint on a hot summers’ day, when usually he’d be in work now preparing for an intense afternoon. He was a little anxious about needing the loo on the afternoon. He hated saying he needed the toilet, and would always try to go in the most discrete way possible. But being a teacher had mastered the art of holding his bladder, and knew that whatever the afternoon brought, he’d deal with it and visit the loo when he got a quiet chance.
However the afternoon was about to throw something unexpected.
“Ah there you are!” A voice called from behind Matt and Chris. It was Gary, the elderly lecturer. Like naughty school boys, they turned around and held their almost-empty pint glasses behind their back in a feeble attempt to hide them from Gary.
“Look slight change of plan. There’s been an awful accident on the M62. We’re going to postpone the afternoon session so that people can get away before the whole place becomes gridlocked.” Gary announced.
“Oh,” replied Chris. The news caught him by surprise.
“Please get yourselves away … when you’ve finished your drinks.” He added with a smile.
Jack and Chris returned the smiles and pulled their drinks round to their fronts, their little ruse over. “Thank you,” Jack added, as Gary walked off.
Chris turned to Jack. “That’s a turn out for the books! Shall we just get away before we get stuck?”
Thoughts raced through Jack’s head. His journey home was over two hours. He really should have a wee, but the simple fact was he’d been not more than hour an hour ago, before lunch, and he just didn’t need one yet. He would need one before he got home though. Badly. Could he make it two and half hours? Plus all that traffic? Then another thought – he hadn’t seen Chris use the toilet. And he was suggesting just going home now, without going to the toilet. So if the traffic was awful, Chris would need one before him and he could go when they stopped, without having to be the one to ask. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was the best he had.
Those thoughts raced through his head in less than a few seconds, and he quickly replied, “Yeah let’s just get going.”
The two lads walked across the hotel foyer towards the car park. Jack gave a glance towards the toilets, knowing that even if he visited now, nothing would come. The, they climbed in Chris’s black Audi (how he afforded that, Jack would never know) and set off.
1PM
For the past hour, Google Maps had read 2 hours 37 minutes as the estimated duration of the journey. Chris’s car had crawled along the Mancunian streets towards the motorway at less thana snail’s place, and Jack’s bladder had – as he’d predicted – filled a considerable amount in that time. He wasn’t *bursting* but he was at the point where if he was at home, or out and about, he’d be heading for the toilet.
Seeing the time inexplicably not move at all was demoralising. He hated saying he needed the toilet. He didn’t really know why. He just felt embarrassed at having to admit it - to admit weakness, to admit he couldn’t control his own body. Chris wasn’t giving any sign he needed to go, though. Jack was going to have to say something soon. But what would Chris think? He might just want to keep going, he might -
“I wish I’d gone for a piss before we set off”. Chris said, as he stared blankly ahead in frustration, the words interrupting Jack’s train of thought and immediately making it somewhat redundant. Jack wanted more information without pressing, so casually offered a reply of, “Yeah?”, hoping that his tone made it sound like the question he intended.
“Yeah,” came the welcome reply from Chris. “I’m dying for a piss. Soon as get to the motorway, we’re stopping at the first services”.
Jack felt a palpable sense of relief. “Yeah no problem” He replied. He didn’t even need to admit his own need, he could just visit the service station loo. He relaxed a bit in his chair and hoped they’d reach the motorway soon.
2PM
The pair had reached the motorway by 2PM, but it was essentially gridlock. Jack didn’t think they’d moved more than a mile in the last half an hour. By now his bladder was uncomfortably full, and his anxiety around when exactly he’d be able to empty it was building up. The services were 17 miles away, but how long would that take?
The only thing not taking him into full-blown panic was the fact that Chris clearly needed to go worse than he did. It was all he’d talked about for the last half an hour. He was grabbing himself, jiggling his legs up and down and occasionally tasking big, laboured breaths (although Jack didn’t know how much of it was genuine and how much was just Chris trying to prove a point.
He moved his right hand down over his lower abdomen and felt the hard, balloon-like shape of his distended bladder. Christ, he had to go. Why did he have to have that pint? A wave of pressure washed over him and unconsciously he grabbed his willy and gave it a big squeeze. As he realised his friend had spotted him doing this, he quickly removed his hand and flushed with embarrassment.
“You need a piss as well?” Chris asked.
There was no hiding it now. “Yeah a bit” Jack offered. Part of him was relieved he could now talk about it, and thinking on his friend’s situation, he decided to be honest. “Actually not a bit,” he admitted, “I’m dying for a wee.”
“I genuinely can’t hold it any more.” Chris confessed, turning to Jack.
What did this mean?
“I’m gonna have to pull over.” Chris added, and moved the car slowly to the hard shoulder.
“You can’t just have a wee here!” Jack said, incredulously.
“It’s that or my pants mate and I’m not getting piss over my new car!”
“What if someone sees? If someone reports you doing this you’ll lose your job!”
“No one’s going to report me, we’ve been stuck here for hours, what am I meant to do?”. Chris got out of the parked the car and Jack watched him walk a few feet up the grass verge. Jack turned around. Everyone could see him. Everyone knew what he was doing. Hundreds of stationary cars. Jack could only see his back but a few cars and in front and behind, they could probably see everything. What was his friend thinking?
After a few minutes, Chris returned to the car, a look of relief filing his face. “Oh thank fuck!” he grinned. “A few minutes more and I’d have pissed myself! Seriously you want to just go over there and go.” Chris said.
“I’ll just wait for the services” Jack replied, on instinct.
“Sat nav’s saying road’s shut now. Twitter’s saying we could be here another two or three hours. Can you wait THAT long?”
Jack felt his stomach drop. Of course he couldn’t. “Really?”
“Yeah seriously mate, just go. It’ll be fine.”
Jack sat, frozen. His head was spinning
-What can I do? I can’t wait that long, I just can’t. I probably can’t even wait another hour.
-Oh fuck. I’m going to have to go over there and do it.
-I can’t though. I can’t!
-I don’t have any other choice!
As he sat thinking, his legs were bouncing up and down as he attempted to distract himself from the immense pressure in his bladder. Chris saw the state his friend was in. “Seriously. Mate. Just go.”
Jack’s head was still swimming. “Fine” He heard himself say. He got out of the car, and slowly, awkwardly walked his way up the grass verge. There was nowhere even remotely private. Just an open expanse of fields. He walked up the verge to fence, but even that was only about 20 feet from the stationary traffic. He breathed out. He couldn’t believe he had to this. He stood awkwardly, just still, wishing the ground would swallow him up. After a few more seconds of deliberating, he finally moved his hands to his belt buckle and undid it, and gingerly removed his willy from his black CK boxer shorts. He gripped the very end of his willy with both of his hands, using them a make-shift shield for it. But he felt so ridiculous doing this, it only made his face burn more with embarrassment. He stared down at his penis. The fresh breeze coupled with his anxiety had shrivelled it to a couple of inches, and this just added to his shame. He swore he could feel a hundred pairs of eyes from the cars below boring into his back. He was so incredible desperate for this – why was nothing coming? He swore under his breath, cursing his anxiety. A pain washed over his bladder. It urgently wanted to be empty, and he could feel an unbelievable pressure at the base of his penis. But still nothing came. He tried to slow his breathing, and clear his head. He picked a fixed point in the distance and just stared blankly at it, trying to empty his mind completely. Time ticked away. He felt a gradual easing in his bladder. It was going to come. In a few second, he was going to have his wee. A trickled escaped his foreskin, when suddenly a car horn blared. His bladder seized up again and on instinct he shoved his penis back into his boxers. He quickly fumbled at his belt – leaving it on the loosest notch he could – and walked back to the car.
“All better?” Chris grinned as Jack got in.
“Yeah fine.” Jack lied. Why had he done that?
Chris looked at his friend. He didn’t *look* fine. He looked tense, and anxious. Maybe he was just embarrassed?
“OK cool.” Chris said, and turned the car back into the traffic, which was finally begging to crawl again.
To be continued…