The ringing of the phone wakes me, and I fumble with it until I finally get it open. No one there....oops it was a text message that read, "girl, get your lazy ass out of bed...my house 30 minutes."
The sender is well known to me and a smile spreads slowly as I look at the clock. Climbing out of bed and stretching, the phone rings again, text message..."don't pee, don't get dressed, NOW, in whatever you are wearing."
Shaking my head...no way, my bladder has been holding this river all night long and needs to be released, the pressure increasing at the very thought of waiting. Ringing, text..."I mean it, and I will know...NOW....grab your keys."
Looking down at my nightshirt, I brush my teeth at the sink, the sound of the water making me dance. Sighing aloud, I slip my feet into sandals, and pull a thigh length coat over my nightshirt. Grabbing my purse and my keys, I check my watch...he knows it takes 30 minutes to drive there. Setting me up for his own brand of punishment. Text..."tick tock." Grimacing, I climb into my car.
Text..."Door is open, come in, strip and climb onto the chair...ass in the air." Watching the clock and my speedometer, I cruise along the highway, the sun just peeking over the horizon.
Text..."ten minutes and counting, 5 stripes for each minute late." Gritting my teeth, squeezing my legs together, I press the accelerator a little firmer, watching the needle just peek over the top of the 120 kmh mark. The clock showing my need for speed, it seems to mock me as the minutes click off faster than I anticipated. Passing in the shadow of the trees, still dark on this section, I can see the red lights flashing in my rear view. Biting on my lower lip, I flip my turn signal and touch the brakes, pulling slowly to the shoulder. Tears of frustration in my eyes, the urgency of my bladder overwhelming...I wriggle in my seat. Text..."5 minutes."
Rolling down my window as the officer approaches, I swallow the lump in my throat and force a smile. I will admit to speeding, take my ticket and then take my punishment...oh...this one is gonna hurt in so many ways.
This officer, all business, asks to see my license, which I promptly offer up. Then my registration and insurance. He scrutinizes each piece of paper and turns away, climbing in his car. In the near darkness, I can see his face lit by the glow of his on-board computer. His lips held tightly together, frown lines creasing his forehead. I wiggle and bounce in my seat, panting with the sheer effort of holding my bladder in check.
After what seems like a very long time, he approaches my open window once more. As he turns to lean in my window, my phone bleats its text tone. As he opens his mouth to speak, it rings again...a constant string...5, 6, 7 messages, one after the other. Tears shining in my eyes, he raises one eyebrow and asks if I have been drinking. "No, Sir." I answer quickly, my voice trembling. He leans in and surveys my bare legs sticking out from the hem of my jacket. "A little cold for shorts isn't it?" he inquires. "So exactly what is your hurry?"
Taking a deep breath, ready to try to explain the urgency of my bladder, the phone rings once more, and he reaches with long arms into my lap to retrieve my phone. "I think I should check to see what is so urgent that makes you speed."