Girl interrupted

Slipping into the dark, empty, alleyway that separated the two shops in front of me, I followed it as far up and away from the still busy main road as I could get, which was when I reached an alleyway that ran along the back of the strand of shops.

I suppose it would be accurate to say I was forced to make the choice I did, because it was my choice, however at the time it felt like my only option.

In my post Conditioned To Expect And Accept It Part 2.c, the post about Adams friend who had the strange hobby of sexually assaulting any blonde women that he came into contact with, I mentioned how the rest of the night wasn’t uneventful for the group that went on to the club with him.

The truth is, it wasn’t uneventful for me either.

There is part of what occurred as we made our way home that night, that I left out of the post. The reason why I did this isn’t because at the time it happened to me it was deeply shameful and extremely traumatising, which it definitely was, rather I try not to ramble or go off topic in my posts, which is actually very hard for me due to my racing scrambled thoughts, this is also why I am going to tell you about it separate to the stories that prompted me to tell you this story today, all of which happened on the same night as each other, but not on the same night as this one.

It does have loose links to the first incident, in that it was fresh in my life, and I recall feeling ashamed, violated, and afraid, on both nights, while in the alleyways and after, but also later while standing in the snow half dressed.

Now, at the age of thirty six, the story in this post is one I have told as funny anecdote on many occasions when people who know about it ask me to, usually at parties, to their friends I have never met.

After we split up in to two groups, a quick discussion took place between the people in the group I was in, about how we were going to get home now our night had been cut short. I wanted to go into a pub, any pub, before we set off, to use the toilet, as I was feeling the urge to pee coming on, but the others were determined to make the last train and insisted I could use the toilet at the tube station, if it had one.

I knew that even if the tube station had a toilet, using it before we got on the train home wouldn’t be possible, as to me it didn’t seem like we could realistically make it to the station on time. Never mind fit in a toilet visit, yet when I voiced my concerns, they were dismissed, so I kept my mouth shut for the next ten minutes until we reached the tube station, twenty minutes after it had closed.

The last train had been due fifteen minutes earlier than they thought it was.

Desperate now, and surrounded by closed shops, I requested that we find any open business that might have a public toilet in it.

Again, I was told firmly that we didn’t have time, only now their reason was that they wanted to make the earliest night bus possible.

That was it. My stomach was aching, I was so desperate. There was no chance I was making it from central London to oakwood on a bus without pissing myself, I wasn’t even convinced I could make it to the end of the street. I needed to go, and I needed to go right there and then. The choice I made was the only one I thought might not involve me covered in my own liquid waste. I had to pee, even if led to me ending up alone, in a strange city, at night. I’d get a taxi home, like we had all planned to, only alone. I would pay the huge fare myself if I had to.

The place I found, that alley way, never seemed like an ideal place to go, but it was because I suspected many people had pissed in this exact same spot, on this exact same night.

Attempting to squat and balance, while not allowing any of my bare skin or clothing to touch either, the floor, wall, or my own pee, I let go.

It was at that very moment I learned the back of those shops wasn’t as isolated as I had thought it would be.

I heard them before I saw them, coming along the alleyway behind the buildings, rather than the one up the side, which I was at the top of. A couple of them were already whooping and laughing.

Then one of them shouted, “There’s a woman pissing in that alleyway.”

That’s when they all started clapping and cheering as they approached me.

I tried to stop, but it was impossible. I had been so desperate and held it for so long that I couldn’t. Plus, when they started whooping, they were close enough to the side alley I was in to see me in the very dim light from the streetlamps at the front of the shops.

It was out of my control. I continued to pee as they passed by, all having a good look.

As soon as I finished, I pulled up my underpants and ran back out onto the main road, where I was thankful to find the group waiting for me.

In shock, I explained what had just happened to me, and they all laughed too.