By John Martin
Harriet Lewis looked up at the clock: 5:52 pm. She chewed one of her fingernails. This was not a good day for her. She was the top news presenter at the radio network, she was about to go live on air in 8 minutes, to over 130 million people around the world and still she couldn't get a garage to fix her car properly. She'd been across there earlier in the afternoon to pick it up - she'd even offered to pay cash as an incentive for them to get it ready by 4 o' clock - and still they hadn't finished it. She glanced down at her bag; the $1100 was still there in crisp $100 bills in an envelope.
She had worked hard in the last hour getting everything ready for the long bulletin; she'd existed on adrenalin and coffee. But it was all done now and she was beginning to relax a bit. Once she was on air, she'd be fine. It was a thirty minute bulletin - the longest the network did - but she was a true professional. Nothing ever phased her, once she was on air. Which is probably why she was paid such an obscenely large amount of money for reading some words out aloud. She smiled to herself. 5:54pm; time she was in the Studio! She glanced up at the Schedules Board expecting to see the usual '4D' - but for some reason it said '2B'.
"What's wrong with 4D?", she asked, to no-one in particular. "Oh, it's out for maintenance. All the bulletins have come from '2B' today". "Oh NO!", she shouted - again to no-one in particular - "I hate the Shoe-box. The lighting's terrible, it's about the size of a broom cupboard and I can't see anyone." No- one seemed to be taking much notice, so she picked up her bag, scripts and running order and set off down the corridor, down two flights of stairs and round the corner to the basement suite. As usual, she'd dump her stuff in the Studio and pop into the Ladies' (she always did before the long bulletin). Except today she was cutting it a bit fine, perhaps, thanks to the garage and with all the coffee, she was getting quite desperate now!
She was just about to push the heavy door to 2B open, when, glancing up, she noticed the red light was on. She automatically stopped dead. "What the fu-?" She peered through the glass in the door; there was no-one in there. She looked up again; the light was off. She really did not have time for this. She opened the door, dumped her bag and scripts and glanced at the clock; 5:57. It was going to have to be a quick pee!
Suddenly the wall spoke. "Hello?" She nearly leapt out of her skin. A head popped up behind the mixing console; it was a young man with sandy hair and a puzzled expression on his face.
"I don't know what you're doing here young man, but I am reading a bulletin in two and a half minutes, so could you please get out now?". The young man took a piece of paper out of his breast pocket and murmured to himself, "2B, 26th, 17:15 to 21:30, Engineering". "Nope, it's quite clear, we've got this booked out at the moment."
Harriet's bad day was getting rapidly worse. She felt a sense of rising panic. She put the headphones on, hit the talkback button and started shouting to her Producer upstairs. "There's a guy in here who - ". The young man interrupted her. "It's not working, the power is off while I wire in the new signalling system". She didn't really understand what he'd said, but knew it was bad news. She looked at the clock; 5:58. He could see there had been some terrible mix up in Studio Bookings and knew he had to do some quick thinking.
"Look, I can have the thing up and running in 40 seconds if that helps". "Do it, DO IT!!", said Harriet, screaming now. The young man went around the front of the console, went underneath and pushed something in. He tightened something, hit a switch, and the mixing desk lit up. He leapt to his feet, tapped a couple of commands at the keyboard, and glanced at the screen. It slowly got brighter.....
DRAKE VIPER SERIES III, v3.0
P.O.S.T. COMPLETED SUCCESSFULLY
COM PORT 4/9600 NOT PRESENT
"Okay, you're on", he said. Just then a voice crackled over the Intercom "2B where the hell have you been?". "Er, no time to explain" said Harriet, just relieved they'd made it. "Here's some level, one two three four five, headlines tonight....".
"That's fine; standby, coming to you in fifteen". Harriet's heart was pounding. She had never made it so fine and glanced at the young man who was standing out of the way in silence. She knew the mix- up wasn't his fault and was just grateful he was so good at his job.
The red light came on and through her headphones Harriet could hear "...three...two...one...cue sig, standby Harriet, and......cue..."
"Network Radio News at 18:00 UTC, good evening, I'm Harriet Lewis. Welcome to 'World Briefing', and the top story tonight, three men accused of...."
The bulletin was on the air! Her heart was gradually slowing down from about 120 bpm to her usual 80, and things weren't looking so bad now. Except for one thing. Her voice was slightly more tense than usual because she was getting quite desperate for a pee now. In all the panic she had completely forgotten to go to the loo; but her bladder was now reminding her of the fact. She glanced up; the red light went off as the first recorded item was played in from upstairs. 6:02; only 28 minutes to go and she could dash out and pee. But could she make it? Her mouth was dry and she absent-mindedly picked up the jug and poured some water into the plastc cup. She brought it to her lips and then stopped. What was she doing? She didn't want to make things worse. But her mouth was dry, so she took a sip.
The young man was still there looking at some technical drawings on the floor. He had a nice bum, she thought. He looked up aware that she was staring at him. "Sorry, would you like me to go?". "No," she said, not understanding why, "As long as you're quiet you may as well carry on and tinker". The young man winced; he was a Broadcast Engineer and didn't think of his job as 'tinkering'. But Harriet didn't notice, she was looking down at her script for the next link, marking it every now and then. She was trying to take her mind off more "pressing" matters. Which were becoming more pressing with every passing second.
18:18. Things were getting desperate now. Twelve minutes to go and she knew she was in trouble. The young man was quietly soldering away in the corner, but becoming aware that something was wrong. She'd just finished a link and they were into Insert #21; one minute and 23 seconds long. Damn, still not enough time. "Are you okay?" he said, having waited for the red light to go off. "Yeah, fine. . . .well no, if you must know, I need to use the bathroom badly". The young man blushed. "Oh, I see, yes that is awkward." He was trying to be sympathetic, but not really helping. If only there was a container of some sort she could use? She glanced down at his tools. His toolbox had a large plastic lid, an ideal pottie! "Listen, I am really sorry, but I'm going to have to relieve myself in here".
The young man stood up, nodded and started to leave. "No wait!" said Harriet, not understanding why she said it. He stopped and looked back at her, now biting her lip in desperation. "I think I'll need you to help me". He wasn't sure he had heard correctly. And if he did, what exactly did she mean? "Can I use the lid of your toolbox? Please, I am really needing". He could see her plight, so he broke the lid off.
"10 seconds...standby studio, mike live.....and cue..."
Harriet did the next link in a very strange way. She did not sound relaxed at all! But somehow she made it and the next tape started to roll. She had 58 seconds until the next link, and she needed every second.
As soon as the red light went off Harriet sprang to her feet and had her underwear off in three seconds flat. The young man blushed and didn't know where to put himself. She motioned to him to pass the lid; he picked it up and passed it to her, but dropped it. Harriet had started peeing and let out a yelp of anguish. He picked the lid up and automatically pushed it under her open legs just in time to stop a cascade, which hit the bottom of the lid. Some splashed off the side and onto his hand. "Just hold it still!", said Harriet, almost passing out with relief. It was left up to him to hold it in place while she carelessly and noisily filled it up. When you're that desperate, accuracy takes a back seat. His face was only centimetres away from this strange pink organ. He had never seen a woman urinate before (his wife was very traditional!) and he was spell-bound. The two thick outer lips just held themselves out of the way, as if by magic. There was thick curly black hair and lots of folds of pink skin. And a strong shaft of yellow emanating from this black hole. It looked faintly scary. A faint mist of urine wafted onto his face. She stopped. And then a final spurt; but this time it missed the lid completely and a thick yellow column of pee hit the young man squarely in the face. He closed his eyes but it was too late; they were already stinging.
"Oh god, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...". But there was no time to finish the sentence. She had to stop peeing now, sit down and prepare herself for the next link in four, three, two, one...
"Jim Nichols reporting. In a moment, Sports News....". She had made it, but it was too damn close: 130 million people nearly heard her peeing, but in the end only one did: the young man. Not that she wasn't ashamed and embarrassed. But it seemed the lesser of the two evils. And in ten minutes, her worst bulletin ever would be all over. Not that her reading wasn't fine. In fact, the last ten minutes of it were superb; she sounded relaxed, confident. And relieved.
"Network Radio News, it's 18:30, this has been 'World Briefing' from me, Harriet Lewis. Goodbye."
The red light went off, and the nightmare was over. She had scarcely noticed the young man, such was her sense of relief. But now the bulletin was over, two more problems arose.
"Look, I'm really sorry about that. Whatever must you think of me? I have never ever done that before, I assure you. Would you do me a big favour though? Please don't mention this to anyone. Here."
She reached into her bag and took out $500 from the garage money and handed it to the young man. His eyes nearly popped out of his head; this was a lot of money to him, even though it was pocket money to Harriet. "Sure, no problem, you have my word. It's fine by me; if my wife ever finds out she'd kill me. Don't worry, our little secret eh?", he said winking at her. She glanced across at the upturned lid, almost brimming over with her urine. She bit her lip. How on earth was she going to get it out of there, without being seen? The Ladies' was just across the corridor, but she couldn't risk it. Supposing someone saw her? She gave it some thought, but there was no solution. The young man followed her eyes and saw her problem too. He'd taken a plastic cup and was sipping at some water.
Harriet gazed idly at his wet lips; and a sick, perverted idea immediately sprang to mind. Before she could stop herself, she was saying it. "Look, have another $500. All you have to do is drink it. Oh please." She could hardly believe what she had just suggested. She was pushing another $500 into his hand. "Go on, it won't harm you - it's only water really. But I'd be ever so grateful. PLEASE!"
He looked at the money again. $1000 for having a drink and staying quiet about it? What the heck! Why not? He pushed the cash into his pocket, bent down, and carefully picked the container up. This would be the easiest $1000 he'd ever made.
He took a huge mouthful and swallowed. It tasted horrible! Salty, warm and smelly. Yeuch! Harriet saw he needed some help. She tucked her final $100 into his breast pocket. Okay, this is it. He then downed the whole lot in 20 seconds flat, coughed and looked at Harriet. The aftertaste hit him now and he grimaced. It was foul. But at least he'd just earned himself nearly two week's pay in 20 seconds. Harriet was flushed and was staring at his mouth wildly. He didn't know it, but she had just found this to be one of the most intensely erotic things she'd ever experienced. She very nearly came, and longed to put her hand down there and finish herself off. She looked away and took control of herself.
She gathered up her tights and panties, turned away from the young man (there was no need, being shy he had already turned his back to her) and slipped them back on. She gathered up her papers, took a final sip of water, and slung her bag over her shoulder. She was about to leave when the reality of what had just happened hit her. This young man had just consumed a full bladder's worth of her strong, salty urine - and she didn't even know his name!
"And please remember, not a word to anyone, er?. . .", she said. "Andy, Andy Black", he said automatically before he realised he probably shouldn't have told her. But it was too late now. "Our secret, Andy, eh?...", and with that she patted him on the arm and left the Studio.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
As the weeks went by, Harriet thought a lot about what had happened. Usually late at night, in bed and on her own. She was 34 years old, had never married, and hadn't had a relationship with a man for over six years. She'd been celibate for the last two years. Yet somehow this one crazy, accidental experience had triggered something in her. Andy wasn't bad looking, but it wasn't that. At the time it was awful and highly embarrassing, but with hindsight she found it more and more erotic every time she thought about it. His face when a spurt of her pee accidentally hit him in the face, and he screwed his eyes up in pain. The way he dutifully drank the contents of that toolbox lid; and his expression when the taste finally hit him. Exquisite! She had often lay in her bed, alone, thinking these things and brought herself to some of the most intense orgasms she'd ever had. She had an array of some of the most expensive "battery operated" gadgets you could think of, but she hadn't used one for weeks. There was just no need!
She was gradually becoming obsessed by it all. She would have to do something about this, one way or the other. She had never run into the young man - Andy - since then and so she resolved to do some research.
The next day, she rang her friend Moira in Personnel. Moira was a little surprised, since Harriet hadn't contacted her for months. And they used to have lunch nearly every week, at one time. But Harriet could no longer disguise the real reason she'd rung Moira.
"Listen, I know you're not supposed to do this, but I need to find out about someone who works in Engineering. Phone number, address, and a look at his CV too. There's a free lunch in it!". Moira thought about it. If anyone ever found out, she'd be in big trouble. But she trusted Harriet to be discreet, so she reluctantly agreed. "Okay, it's a deal. Meet me in O'Neill's at one and I'll bring the file. What's the name?"
"Andy Black. Thanks Moira, you're a pal. I won't forget this."
After the meeting she had everything she needed to know - and a whole lot more. It turned out that Moira knew his boss quite well and had passed a lot of useful stuff on. There were one or two things in there she could use against him, if she were ever disposed to blackmail! She knew he usually worked 12 hour night shifts, because he was saving hard to buy a new house. They were hoping to start a family and needed a bigger place to live. So he was doing quite a bit of overtime too; he really needed the money. This was good news for Harriet.
Two nights later, she knew he'd be working, so she thought "this is it". She rang the Engineering number and asked for him. "Sure, who shall I say is calling?" "Oh", said Harriet, "Just a friend". He handed Andy the phone, with a bemused expression: it was nearly midnight and no-one ever rang Engineering at that time.
"Hello, Andy Black speaking?". Harriet took a deep breath. This was going to be much more difficult than reading a damn script. Her heart was thumping. "Hello, Andy, it's Harriet Lewis here. Remember, that little 'problem' you helped me with in 2B?" Andy was very surprised, to say the least. He thought it was her idea to keep the whole thing quiet. So why the hell was she ringing him? At work? Had something gone wrong?
"Er, yes" he said, lowering his voice. His boss was now sitting only 5 metres away on the other side of the Workshop. "I remember. Is there a problem?" Harriet decided to go for it. "No, Andy. Quite the opposite in fact. Listen, how do you fancy making a bit of extra cash, tax free of course." Andy wasn't sure what she meant. He was an Engineer, but sometimes helped out freelance journalists who were setting up recording facilities for themselves. That must be it, he thought. "Yes, go on".
"Well, I really liked what you did for me the other week. So I would like you to do the same again. $1000, cash in hand if that's okay." The money was irrelevant. She could afford ten times that much. Andy blinked and looked across at his boss, who had his nose in a service manual. He lowered his voice, "You mean you want me to drink your piss, just like I did the other week. Again? For $1000?". Harriet was getting really turned on just hearing him say it. He could hardly believe his ears, but he sure did need the cash. So he had no hesitation.
"Yeah sure, why not! But please make sure my wife doesn't hear about it, she'd kill me. Oh and it'd have to be at your place". Harriet had already thought about that. She didn't want him to know where she lived; that would be TOO risky. "No, Andy, that's not really what I had in mind. I was thinking about '2B' again. Say about two o'clock in the morning?" Andy was getting slightly overtaken by all this, it was all happening too fast.
"What, during my shift? Tonight". "Yes", she said, "I've got the cash in used $100 bills with me now. So that's settled then? 2 o' clock, Studio 2B?" The mention of the money did it. "Sure, why not, I should be starting my break then anyway. OK. But I hope no-one walks in!"
Harriet smiled. He knew as well as she did about studio discipline. You should never walk into a studio when the red light is on, while a transmission is in progress. And she was now onto her third cup of coffee, filling up nicely. She would have a lot to 'transmit' to him. Except tonight there'd be a difference. No containers, she was going to go straight into his mouth this time. She'd fantasised about it for weeks. And she had an extra $500, just in case he needed extra persuasion.
"Oh, and one more thing Andy", she said. "Don't drink anything from now on. I need you to be really thirsty this time. OK?" He wasn't sure what she meant, but agreed. "Okay, Andy, see you in two hours then?" She hung up and fingered her crotch. She was looking forward to this particular piece of studio discipline. It was to be the first of many such encounters with Andy under the red light. - The End -
John Martin Stories