"You're not the first and I doubt you'll be the last. Now if we could please focus on my grant application as I haven't got all evening. My husband needs me to serve at Benediction at six thirty, after which I've got to do my domestic goddess bit and prepare supper for the deanery synod."
"Yes of course, Mrs Glenson. A couple of committee members raised slight concerns about what you do at Holding for Life. They seemed to think there was some slightly - how shall I put it - kinky stuff - going off there."
Anne intentionally crossed and re-crossed her legs. Not for nothing had she decided to don a slightly tight pair or jeans for this interview. She needed to pee pretty badly, having not released her bladder for over nine hours, but certainly wasn't desperately uncomfortable by any means.
"Such as?"
"Well it's rumoured that you make your clients - or is it service users - hold their pee in all day at your courses. Is that correct?"
Anne crossed her legs yet again, not because she had to but for effect.
"Mr Faulkner, Miss Worthington and I are both highly qualified urology nurses who maintain current registrations. We both hold current DBS clearances and have all the required safeguarding certificates. With regard to the first point, we are caring, compassionate, professional people. We certainly do not force our service users to hold their pee all day. Yes, there are some toilet restrictions and for good reason, but much of the work we do with clients as you call them, involves Kegel exercises which are about strengthening sphincter muscles by peeing in a controlled way. Our courses are designed to empower people and give them options so that they don't have to panic and think about tracking down a toilet as soon as the need to pee arises.
My colleagues and I certainly don't demand anything from our service users of which we ourselves are not more than capable."
"I'm sure you don't, Mrs Glenson. I have heard a rumour though that you make some use of humiliation on your courses. Is that correct?"
Anne coughed, gave Mr Faulkner a slightly disdainful look, and took a swig from her water bottle. Noticing that Mike Faulkner's right hand had slipped beneath his desk and he'd begun to stroke himself, she couldn't resist crossing and re-crossing her legs yet again.
"Mr Faulkner, many - though not all - of our service users are high profile people. Not unnaturally some of them present with challenging attitudes and at any one time we have service users who regard our courses as jolly japes. If they are to derive a long-term positive benefit from coming on our courses, such attitudes have to be countered robustly and, if we have to wipe smirks off a few faces, so be it. We do not take people on our courses who are medically incontinent but we rely on service users to be honest with us about any ongoing health conditions, including bedwetting. If a service user hasn't been honest with us and if they don't abide by the rules of the course they are required to account for it. That's why all beds are checked by matron every morning and we have adjudication in a group setting after breakfast. By the way, we have a zero-tolerance policy on masturbation, Mr Faulkner! Having worked extensively in urology, Sarah and I have seen more than enough of its unhelpful and counter-productive effects."
Mr Faulkner quickly withdrew his hand from his crotch area.
"Quite Mrs Glenson. Now turning to your grant application, I see that you applied for fifty five thousand pounds towards the repair of a gymnasium roof."
"That's correct. My colleague and I have both sunk a lot of our own money into the venture but, even taking into account income from service users, we're stretched to find money for re-roofing the old gymnasium to a standard which will keep it watertight for the next 20 years. Our premises are based in an old secondary modern school which County Hall wanted to dispose of cheaply and you could say that fabric was an ongoing challenge."
"Hmm. As a matter of interest, what do you charge your service users?"
"Usually two thousand pounds. That covers an intensive weekday course with induction on a Monday afternoon followed by three and a half days of serious work followed by the award of certificates after lunch on a Friday."
"I see. Have you thought of increasing your fees?"
"We keep them under review but we think two thousand is a fair fee to charge most users at present. Part of it goes towards a bursary fund for service users who would benefit from attending a Holding for Life course but cannot afford to pay or require some level of subsidy."
Mr Faulkner nodded.
"I see, Mrs Glenson. Clearly your operation is run in a responsible way. Despite the reservations expressed by some committee members we are happy to award you fifty thousand."
"Only fifty? We asked for fifty five."
"I know, but that's our decision and we must abide by it. Mrs Glenson, I hope it's not an impertinence but I've noticed you crossing your legs and moving about quite a bit. You don't need to pee by any chance?"
Anne smiled.
"No more than anyone else who hasn't peed since seven this morning! Don't worry, I need to go but it's not an emergency."
Mr Faulkner could barely contain himself.
"Mrs Glenson, you must be bursting. I know it's a big ask but I've never seen a lady pee. Would you be willing to pee for me? I keep a container - an empty pickle jar - in here just in case of emergencies. Here it is. One of the joys of working in offices shared with other organisations is that the loo's always occupied."
Anne smiled broadly.
"I'd be more than happy to oblige Mr Faulkner."
Anne, deftly removed her dark blue stone washed jeans and, leaving her white maxi panties on, squatted over the pickle jar. She peed a little hesitantly at first but her stream soon became a strong one and Mike Faulkner watched, amazed, as she completely filled the litre sized jar, almost overflowing it. Although in middle age they occurred less readily than as a young man, he found himself developing an erection of a kind he'd not experienced for at least a decade. Without the aid of any kind of manual stimulation, he found himself ejaculating uncontrollably into his underpants, an experience he'd not met with since his twenties. Anne finished as abruptly as she started, got up and handed the jar to him. Carefully removing her pee stained panties she tossed them in his direction before slipping back into her jeans and zipping them up with the same ease that she'd removed them.
"You may as well keep those knickers as a little souvenir, Mr Faulkner. I'm sure you'll find a use for them. By the way, I look forward to receiving the cheque for sixty thousand by Tuesday's post at the latest."
Mr Faulkner looked bemused.
"Sixty thousand? I thought we'd settled on fifty."
A broad grin crossed Anne's face.
"My dear Mr Faulkner, we settled on nothing. I applied for fifty five thousand and you offered me fifty. Now I'm sure you wouldn't like your interest in women peeing to become public knowledge, would you? It would be so embarrassing, wouldn't it, especially for a charity trustee?"
Mr Faulkner went pale.
