They were in a lesbian bar with a rather outre reputation. Unlike more demure bars that catered to gay women, Klit Klub had a rep for attracting women whose interest in each other was, if not entirely, at least partly sexual, frankly so. And that sexual vibe -- attraction, desire, call it what you will -- is what had Svetlana, the tall, buxom, older Slavic beauty pressing close to the lithe, waifish, younger Beth, an all-American pixie of just the sort Svetlana tended to relish. Yes, they were inches from each other now, drinks in hand, bodies radiant with heat, so close that it looked to an outsider that they were about to pounce on one another like a pair of cats in female heat. While they had said little that was provocative to each other, it was clear, lucidly, abundantly clear, that lust was in the air, that the erotic charge between these two was becoming quickly electric.
It was dark and crowded here, they were pressed closely together, and Beth happened to be wearing a rather short skirt. So at that moment Svetlana took a chance, lowering her hand and slowly gliding it up the bare, smooth thigh of an almost quivering Beth, her eyes glistening with arousal, with expectation. That hand of Svetlana's traveled so very slowly, so very provocatively until it reached its destination and Svetlana found herself cupping the crotch of Beth's panties. And that crotch? To call it merely damp would be such an understatement; it was soaked!
The evidence of the young waif's arousal could not have been more profound, more obvious, or more welcome to the seductive Slav.
"Mmmmmmmmh," Beth purred, her eyes closing part way for a moment to relish the sensation of Svetlana's hand resting between her legs, squeezing the pubic mound softly, meaningfully.
Suddenly Beth reached down to put a hand on Svetlana's arm.
"Hold on, I think before we go much further, I better go and use the bathroom. I'll be right back, I promise."
Beth gave Svetlana a quick kiss on the lips, a tender kiss, and then pulled away.
"Right back."
Svetlana finished her drink, waiting for Beth. And waited a little longer. And then yet longer. She knew restrooms here could get pretty crowded on a weekend night, with lines snaking outside the doors. But looking in that direction, Svetlana could see no such lines. She started wondering, getting just a little uneasy. Could it even be that this pretty young thing got cold feet at what she may've felt was Svetlana's too-brazen advance, and decided to slip away? That seemed unlikely, given her response and the kiss, but it was possible.
Finally, a few minutes later. Beth returned.
"Sorry I was so long."
"Is everything okay?"
Svetlana could detect a slight look of discomfort on Beth's face.
"Well, uh, not really," Beth stammered, "I needed to pee and I peed, I peed an ocean. But I also really need to take a crap and I couldn't. You know, I tried and I just couldn't."
"Constipated?" Svetlana asked, sympathetically."
"Very," Beth whispered, looking for the first time a little ill at ease herself, Avery, very constipated."
Svetlana stepped closer, smiling warmly, running a comforting hand down Beth's cheek.
"Maybe I can help, Beth," Svetlana said, "you won't believe this, but I'm a nurse, and I'm a nurse for a proctologist. I'm a proctological nurse. We can't really go to the doctor's office now, and I don't think you'd want to, but if you'd like me to take you back to my place, I think I have everything there I need to help with your problem."
Beth looked a little stunned.
"A proctologist's nurse? You? Really?"
"Yes. Would you like me to help you?"
"I'd love it!" Beth said, almost with a passion, "I really could use some kind of help."
In the car over to Svetlana's place, she explained that she had been educated as a nurse in the Ukraine, and had been in the U.S. for almost ten years. Beth noticed that while Svetlana spoke with an accent, her English was virtually perfect, the phrasing, the grammar, everything. Svetlana went on to tell Beth that she worked for a female proctologist whose practice serviced almost exclusively women and children. She explained than many female patients were uncomfortable to see male doctors for procedures such as colonoscopies, or other colonic issues. And many men, for different reasons, also were rather uneasy about being examined and treated by a female proctologist.
When they returned to her home, Svetlana asked how long Beth had been constipated, how long it had been since she'd had a bowel movement. Beth confessed that it had been at least a week, maybe longer.
"That's quite a long time," Svetlana said, "you must really be packed inside. I can imagine how uncomfortable you must be feeling."
"You know, to be frank, I'd do almost anything to be able to take a shit, a nice big shit that really emptied me out."
Svetlana was taken aback a moment, but pleased, by the blunt way Beth expressed herself about this. She would've expected her to be a little more circumspect and formal. But Svetlana had realized that most people really don't know how to speak about issues involving defecation, constipation, other rectal matters, and revert to what some may feel is coarse language, but which Svetlana regarded merely as frank and familiar. She was used to that more blunt, colloquial mode of expression from her nursing experience in the Ukraine.
