Dark Dilemma

Out of conscientious habit, he's turned the lights off as he leaves. He doesn't seem to realize that I was there with him and that I'm still midstream. The light from the slowly closing door has diminished to an inch and Mr. Conscientious is long gone. Fuck.

Summoning muscles that are very poor at restraining fluids, I attempt the impossible, using my underwear to prevent dribbling. It's difficult. Damage is minimal--thank fuck. I end up working my way from the urinal to the light-switch feeling only a little warmer. But, Christ, this could have been bad. That guy should really pay better attention to other people in the bathroom. He doesn't have to be so afraid. People get hurt in a world of fear.