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  • Writer's pictureRabby


Pomaa was bored out of her mind. She counted the minutes that passed and passively drummed on the notepad on her lap.  She was trying her best to be patient, but she had doodled all she could, and the meeting refused to come to an end. It seemed to her that the managers didn’t have anything better to do than sit there – so she had no choice but to grin and bear it. She was just about to take another trip to the dispenser, when she realized her earlier six visits had paid off – she needed to pee. Urgently.

Unlike the dispenser, the washroom was situated outside the conference room. She thought to herself: If none of the higher-ranking officials could leave, how could she? She was only an assistant. She looked at the faces of everyone else at the meeting: out of fifteen, two people were asleep, six workers were distracted and on their phones, and everyone else was either glancing at the clock intermittently or nodding encouragingly to the manager giving his presentation. She wasn’t following well enough to know how soon they would be done. She had to move now.

She got up and swiftly moved to the door.

“Pomaa, you need to be here for this part – It’s in your purview.” The CEO cut into the presentation and everyone’s eyes (even the ones that were initially closed) were on her.

She smiled timidly, drew courage from the urgency in her groin and said, “I need to use the washroom”

“We’re almost done,” The CEO pointed her to her seat.

She shuffled back to her seat, being careful to stiffen her thighs and keep them together. The next six minutes were torture, but she made it through. Barely.

Pomaa was out of the door before the CEO finished saying “meeting adjourned”.

Safely in the walls of the washroom, she shivered all over – it was sweet relief!


Finally sated, she realized she had left her phone, notepad and pen in the conference room. She retraced her steps as fast as she could manage. When she got there, no one was in the conference room. She picked her belongings and strutted towards the door.  As she did, she felt a light breeze. The sensation wouldn’t have stopped her in her tracks, if she had felt the breeze on her arms or legs – her knee length flair skirt and sleeveless chiffon blouse allowed that.

But she couldn’t understand why it was suddenly breezy around her thighs.

She tilted her head backwards and almost screamed. The hem at the back of her skirt was neatly tucked into her granny panties.

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