Flushed with Honour

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Anne fought her way determinedly through the crowded supermarket aisle. Necessity, not choice, dictated that she undertake the weekly shop now rather than at a time which she knew would be much quieter. Since Brian had become mayor – and she his mayoress — the days and weeks had become so much busier and she’d felt that her life was no longer her own. Still, his mayoral year was more than half over and she looked forward to May when he would be handing over the reins to someone else. He was rather enjoying his spell as mayor and had expressed the view that he wouldn’t mind standing for a second term in the absence of too much competition – and there wasn’t much. Anne, however, had put her foot firmly down. There was absolutely no way she would be prepared to go through another year like it — if she could possibly help it. Submissive as ever but nevertheless reluctant to accept her ruling, Brian had resigned himself to the fact that it was his one and only chance to serve as mayor so he determined to make the most of it.

Make the most of it he did too — by accepting any and every invitation that was offered to put in a public appearance somewhere – and if possible contrive to get his photo in the local rag. Brian was anything if modest! Only that morning, they’d opened an extension to the local swimming pool which had recently been refurbished. Immediately afterwards they’d been whisked off to put in an appearance at a glittering charity luncheon and helped to raise funds for a worthy cause. Afterwards, Brian had adjourned to a local hostelry with his councillor friends, assuring his wife that he wouldn’t be home early!

Anne, however, had a public engagement — yes a very ‘public engagement’ of her own that afternoon. Wendy, her best friend, had asked if she’d go and open the new toilets which had just been installed at her village hall. For three years Anne had helped Wendy with fund raising for the new loos and played an active part on the village hall committee. Furthermore she’d helped Wendy serve at several fund raising coffee mornings during the last couple of years. One in particular — or rather the aftermath of it — came vividly to mind but she chose not to dwell on it. There was no way she could have refused to perform the opening ceremony, had she wanted. It was an honour Wendy thought she should have — in her capacity as mayoress no less. Furthermore it would be followed by a Sale of Work and, she hoped, an opportunity to buy Brian a jar of the home made marmalade casino oyna he so much loved but which she seldom had the time to make.

Thinking of duty which shortly lay ahead of her, reminded Anne of her own needs and she became increasingly conscious of a steadily filling bladder. She’d had a major session on the toilet first thing, Brian firmly but gently insisting that his wife was thoroughly ‘drained down’ before they embarked on the morning’s engagements. However, that had been at eight o’clock, six and a half hours earlier. It was now two thirty and she was feeling the need for another trip to the toilet. She didn’t need to go badly but the sensation in her bladder was strong enough to tell her that a visit would be wise before too long — particularly in view of the engagement which lay ahead.

Finally through the checkout (it was a good job she had sufficient cash to make fiddling about with plastic unnecessary) she grabbed her carrier bags and headed towards the ladies. Her heart sank at the sight of an all too familiar plastic notice and brooms blocking the entrance. A lad of about nineteen was busily mopping away in the entrance and, noticing her approach, he looked up.

“Sorry madam. The ladies is closed for cleaning.”

Anne’s heart sank. This was all she needed.

“Oh dear. Would you mind if I used the disabled loo then? “

The youth shook his head.

“I’m sorry madam. The disabled’s in use and I think the lady in there is likely to need it for some time. If it was up to me I’d let you use the gents but it’s not allowed and it would be more than my job’s worth to say that you could.”

Reluctantly Anne admitted defeat and walked away, thanking the youth as she did so.

Not wanting to waste any more time she made her way out to the car park, packed her carriers in the boot and started to drive off. It was twenty to three and she had to be at Wendy’s village for three in order to perform the opening ceremony. If the traffic wasn’t too bad she should just about make it in the nick of time. On her way out of town found herself in a bit of a jam. Not a bad one, but enough to delay her journey by a few minutes. Quite why the electricity board had decided to dig up the road just beyond the traffic lights on a Saturday afternoon was a mystery she couldn’t fathom! Soon she was on her way though, increasingly conscious of her growing need to pee. Of course she’d endeavour to perform it with aplomb and decorum but Anne knew for certain that canlı casino the opening ceremony she was about to perform would have to be a brief one if she was to avoid disgracing herself in public.

Finally, at five past three Anne pulled up outside Wendy’s village hall. A slightly apprehensive looking Wendy was stood by the main door, the expression on her face turning to one of relief as Anne appeared. Desperate by now but eager to retain some semblance of decorum, Anne gingerly stepped out of the car, keeping her legs close together as she did so. They’d been close friends for longer than either of them cared to remember and Wendy, observant as ever, immediately recognised the signs.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Anne. You look uneasy though. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Anne grimaced.

“I’m fine, Wendy. Just a bit the worse for being held up in traffic. Shall we go inside and do the business?”

Wendy led the way, escorting Anne down the hall and up on to the stage. There looked to be about thirty villagers in their sat neatly in rows before them. Stalls of various sorts, laden with homemade goods were at the back of the hall. Wendy and Anne shared the stage with two others — the vicar and the chairman of the parish council. Not one to waste time, Wendy was first to the lectern.

“Ladies and gentlemen. It gives me great pleasure to welcome Mrs Anne Timpson this afternoon. I have known Anne for a long time and I’m sure she will be familiar to many of you. As many of you will know this year she is mayoress of Attleton Market and she has very kindly agreed to open our new toilets this afternoon as well as the Sale of Work. This is particularly appropriate because she has worked tirelessly helping with the fund raising and contributed generously to the toilet scheme, not just financially but with her time and talents as well. Without further ado therefore, I hand you over to Anne.”

Wendy stepped to one side and Anne took her place at the lectern, needing to pee more than ever. As she did so a small spurt of pee escaped into the white maxi knickers she was wearing. It eased the pressure a little but only very slightly. Summoning all the self-control she could muster, she addressed the assembled company.

“Ladies, gentleman, reverend father, it gives me great pleasure to be with you this afternoon. Knowing Wendy as I do, I think she would rather have had the Queen here to open the new toilets and this Sale of Work but Her Majesty was otherwise kaçak casino engaged and so you’ve got to make do with me instead. I know it’s scraping the barrel but that’s life. Everyone has worked do hard to make the new toilets here not just a dream but a reality. Most of the credit, however, must go to my good friend Wendy here without whose vision and energy it would not have happened. Wendy has been studying the council minute book and she tells me that the old toilets were installed in 1953 to mark the Coronation. However by the late Nineties they had, like me, another relic of the Fifties, seen better days and were well overdue for replacement. It is therefore with great pleasure that I would like to declare the new toilets and this Sale of Work open. I would, however, be failing in my civic duty if I didn’t first check that the ‘ladies’ were in good working order.”

With that she stepped back, another larger spurt of pee escaping into her knickers, and holding herself was escorted by Wendy at great speed to the new ladies loo. By that point, pee was starting to run down the insides of her legs. Diving into the nearest cubicle she lifted the toilet lid, hoisted her tartan skirt as clear as she could and sat straight down to pee, not bothering to remove what had only minutes earlier been clean white knickers. They were already wet through so there wasn’t any point. Finally free to relax her muscles she peed with a force that wouldn’t have seemed strange to a fireman’s hose and en enormous feeling of relief swept over her. After about three minutes it died down to a trickle and finally ended. Grabbing half the loo roll she did her best to get cleaned up. As she did so there was a knocking on the cubicle door and she could hear Wendy’s voice.

“Annie, are you alright? You’ve been a long time.”

Flushing the toilet, Anne shouted back, “Never felt better! You can tell them it’s in full working order.”

Wendy left and Anne took the opportunity to rinse her hands and fix her hair. As she emerged from the ladies, she was greeted by the vicar who handed her a large bunch of pink carnations.

“There are for you my dear. Are you okay? You look a bit flushed”

Anne smiled graciously at him.

“Thank you. Absolutely fine. Only flushed with honour at the immense privilege of being here. Now if you’ll excuse me, Canon Hampson, I see your wife is in charge of the jam stall and I really must go and get some of her excellent marmalade for my husband.”

With that she hurried on her way. Despite her attempts to prevent one occurring there was a conspicuous damp patch on her skirt. Anne didn’t care though and she suspected that no one else in the hall did either.


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