If there’s one thing I hate it’s asking for a pee break while on a road trip. I blame my dad, who firmly believed that there was a direct relationship between a person’s moral value and their ability to hold their water. But it was another hour to the swing party boy toy Lenny and I were heading for and there was just no way I was going to make it. So I put in a request we take the next exit. “Sure,” Lenny said.

Lenny is good like that.

Even taking the first exit it took another fifteen minutes to find a likely gas station. Yes, I know. But given the alternatives I would have been happy to hold my nose and squat and hover. I was clutching my play kit with its sex toys and feminine wipes and had the door open before Lenny came to a full stop.

The only other vehicle was an ambulance fueling up, but I hardly looked at it as I marched in my four inch stilettos to the side of the station, seized the restroom door and yanked.

Nothing happened.

Then I remembered. There were no lights on in the station. It was closed for the night, only doing credit card purchases through those automatic swipers.

Shit. Well, fortunately not shit, but still the situation was getting more critical.

Trying not to think too much, I whipped around to the back of the building. No one from the fueling stations could see me and the back overlooked an empty parking lot.
Guess it was going to be squat and hover after all. Sometimes there are definite advantages of not wearing panties.

A few moments later I felt a thousand times better and tidied myself up from my play kit. I headed back for Lenny’s truck. And I admit it. I was strutting a bit. I’d just averted a fatally embarrassing situation with a modicum of grace and discretion. I couldn’t help flashing the cute EMT’s my sexiest smile.

Now that my bladder was off my mind, I was looking forward to this party. It had been a long week of keeping it under wraps at work and with the roommates and the rest of the vanilla world. My sex kitten self was ready to play, which always puts a little more wiggle in my walk.

Which is an issue when stilettos are not your everyday footwear. My heel caught in something, wrenching my ankle and I fell to my knees, hard. The EMT’s were true to hero form and were immediately there to help me up. Lenny was out of the truck and on his way, too. But I waved him back and he went.

Lenny is good like that.

Yes, I was okay, I told them. No, I wasn’t hurt, though I could have lost a toe and not been able to feel it through the pain of embarrassment. I looked down and saw my knee looked like raw hamburger. Raw, bloody hamburger, with the blood rapidly progressing toward my treacherous heels.

The EMT’s, who were McClain and Dietz from their name badges, offered to help fix me up. I tried to put them off, but not very hard. I couldn’t show up to a party looking like road kill.
In the ambulance Dietz put on a pair of gloves (safety guy, I like that) and knelt on the floor to clean up my knee. McClain got me a bottle of water I didn’t want – no way was I asking for another pit stop on this trip. I pretended to sip it while he sat beside me and chatted to try to distract me. Sex kitten self was coming back so I flirted with McClain some.

Then I noticed Dietz was blushing. I mean, really blushing, red all the way to his ears. What the hell was his problem I wondered until I remembered—no panties.

From his place on the floor of course he could see right up my dress. He was so cute. I couldn’t help it; I spread my legs a little wider and started giving McClain answers that were a little closer to the truth than I usually do for vanilla people.

Soon both guys were big eyed and I could tell they were turned on. I started talking about the party we were headed for and how it’s had been a long, lonely, sex-deprived week for me. Dietz and McClain were passing looks back and forth. They were “Should we…?” looks. I definitely thought they should and opened my mouth to suggest they shut the ambulance doors to give us some privacy.

And then their radio went off.

McClain went up front to take the call and Dietz regretfully told me they had to go. I could have screamed.

Instead I thanked Dietz for his help and gave him a kiss I don’t think he’ll forget anytime soon. I walked back to Lenny’s truck, a bit less wiggly and a lot more careful and the ambulance pulled away, flashers and siren going.

As I slid into the truck, Lenny asked, “Feeling better?”

I grinned, “A bit. But I’ll be a lot better when we get to this party.”


Originally a Pennsylvania girl, I have been a writer for 16 years and a unicorn for five. I come armed with condoms, a Masters in Screenwriting from USC and an overdeveloped sense of the ridiculous.

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