Chapter Eight

The room was so quiet, you could hear the falling drops of piss splash into the puddle at my feet.

Did…did that just fucking happen?

I genuinely couldn’t even begin to guess how long Vivian and I just stood there in absolute silence. I couldn’t remember the last time I had wet myself—well, I couldn’t remember the last time I had accidentally wet myself—not counting wetting the bed two weeks ago, anyway.

That’s a lot of caveats.

Tears were silently falling down my cheeks; part of me felt like I should be sobbing in humiliation, but I was too stunned. Part of me was terrified of what Vivian would say; part of me was screaming in horror and shame. Some deep part of my brain couldn’t help but buzz with…

Arousal, say it.

Yes, okay, arousal. But I pushed down hard on that; the alcohol made it heard to ignore that buzzing, but now was not the time.

We can think about this later.

Yes, but not now.

Now…now we…had to…right now, we had to…

Do what?

Fuck, I have no idea. I had just pissed my pants in my professor’s parlor with her right there. Her hand is on my back. Oh god, the tip of her high heel is touching my pee. We were just making out—we were making out for fuck’s sake—and now I’m standing here in my own piss. She’ll never want me like that again; I just ruined my chances. She probably just thinks I’m some immature kid that can’t hold their alcohol. She’s probably so grossed out! She…wait, is she saying something?

“…does that sound nice, Lavender?”

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” I blurted out, my paralysis suddenly broken. I wanted to stand up, but staying bent over was the best way to hide the worst of the pee stains. “I just…I don’t know…and then…” tears were starting to come harder.

“Shh, shh,” Vivian shushed me gently, lovingly, while rubbing my back, “it’s okay, Lavender, I’m not upset, no one is mad at you, it was just an accident! These things happen, and I promise I don’t think any less of you, okay?”

How could she not think less of you? You just pissed yourself like a toddler right in front of her.

“I’m just so…” my brain searched for the right word—admittedly, there were a lot that could complete the sentence, but I finally settled on “humiliated.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” even now, even under these circumstances, her calling me ‘sweetheart’ make my heart skip a beat, “it’s really okay. This isn’t your fault, okay? And just like last time, it’s going to stay our little secret, okay?”

“Okay,” I replied with a tearful sniffle and forced a weak smile.

“Okay, there we go, that’s a little better already, huh?” She smiled softly at me and gave my cheek a single, soft stroke. “Why don’t we get you upstairs and into the bath, does that sound nice?”

“Yes,” I sniffled again and nodded, “yes, please, I’m so sorry, I’ll clean all this up too.”

“Nonsense, nonsense,” Vivian rebuffed me firmly, “I’ll take care of everything; you’re going through enough. Now let’s get you upstairs and into the tub.”

Vivian took my hand softly and led me out of the room and towards the stairs, but hesitated before the first step. She looked at the stairs, then down at my feet, then up to my face, “I’m so sorry, dear, but could you…” she gestured towards my feet.

I looked down at my feet in confusion, then to the stairs. The carpeted stairs. “Oh,” I said with a blush as it dawned on me: she didn’t want me to track pee on the carpet. “Of course, I’m sorry,” I knelt down and began to untie my shoes, thankful for how it hid my bright red cheeks.

“I’ll just get a towel to wipe your feet and legs off before you come upstairs,” she said, quickly disappearing up the stairs. By the time I had taken my shoes off and peeled my soaked socks off my legs, Vivian was back with a hand towel, damn with warm water.

I reached out to take the towel, but Vivian was already kneeling in front of me. “I hope you’re not too ticklish,” she smiled up with me as she grabbed my ankle and gently lifted one foot. I placed my hand on the wall for balance as she wiped the residual pee off my foot and lower leg, and again as she repeated the process on the other one. “There we go, all done,” she stood up and took my hand again, “now come on, I started the bath while I was up there.”

Vivian led me back to the same bathroom she had taken me to last time I was here after I had wet the bed. She had already laid out a towel and a robe. “I added some bubbles to the bath,” she said, gesturing to the growing mountains of bubbles in the tub, “I thought they’d help you to relax.”

“Thank you, Vivian,” I said sincerely and softly, “I…can’t believe this happened…I’m just so…ashamed…and I ruined everything, and—”

But Vivian cut me off with a wave of her hand. “Nonsense,” she said firmly, “you’ve ruined nothing, and there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you, Lavender, and I never want to do anything that makes it worse for you, only what I can do to make it better. Speaking of, is there anything else I can do? I’ll wash your clothes for you, of course, but is there anything else?”

“No,” I shook my head and fought back tears—of gratitude this time. “Thank you so much, Vivian; I’m just…so grateful for your kindness and understanding. I just…I swear I don’t…this doesn’t…” I was trying to explain how much of a freak accident this was, but it felt like lame excuses—not to mention there was something fundamentally humiliating about trying to convince your mentor that you really don’t piss yourself on a regular basis, despite having a zero for two track record for staying dry at her home.

“I understand,” Vivian placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder and put me out of my misery, “and it’s okay.” We locked eyes and exchanged a long, meaningful look. At least, it felt meaningful; the problem was that I wasn’t sure what it meant. When we finally broke eye contact, Vivian walked to the bathtub, her heels clicking on the bathroom tiles, and turned the water off. “There, that should be good for you.”

“Thank you again,” I said with my eyes downcast while I waited for her to leave so I could get undressed, but she lingered. I chewed my lip. She looked at me, almost like she was assessing me. I fidgeted under her gaze.

“Lavender,” Vivian said at last, “I…well, I hate to ask, I certainly don’t want to embarrass you further, but…” it was rare that I saw Vivian seem unsure of herself, and it made me nervous—my mind was racing trying to figure out what she might be trying to say, and most of my options were not good. “What I’m trying to ask,” she started over, “is…did you come…prepared?”

That wasn’t an option I thought of.

What does she even mean?

Prepared for what? For a bath?

“I mean,” she went on, picking up on my confusing, “did you come prepared for…bed? It’s okay if you didn’t!” She added the last part quickly before hurriedly continuing, “I know you said you weren’t planning on spending the night, so I understand if you didn’t, and it’s absolutely okay if that’s the case, but I thought I should ask, if…you know…you brought…protection?”

Prepared…for bed? Protection? What in the fuck?

She thinks you’re a bedwetter.

She…what?

She doesn’t realize last time was a one-time incident or think it was the alcohol; she thinks you’re a bedwetter!

She…thinks I wet the bed?

She’s asking if you brought diapers!

My cheeks turned the brightest crimson ever recorded.

“Oh, dear,” Vivian said, clearly noticing my intense blushing, “I can see I’ve embarrassed you. I’m so sorry, Lavender, I shouldn’t have said anything!”

“No!” I said, a bit too quickly, especially since I wasn’t sure what to follow it up with, and I suddenly realized it might seem like I was mad she had asked and agreeing that she shouldn’t have said anything. “I mean,” I scrambled to recover, to explain that I wasn’t mad, to find a way to explain that I wasn’t a bedwetter, “it’s not that! Like, it’s okay that you asked, I just…you know…it’s just that, I don’t…” I wrung my hands, why was it so hard to say I wasn’t a bedwetter? What I finally managed to get out was, “I’m really not…I didn’t…I’m sorry…” which didn’t really explain my sentiment at all.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Vivian said softly and stroke my shoulder, “I understand, don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything, okay? Just relax in the tub,” she gave me a reassuring smile and kissed my forehead gently, “and don’t forget to put your clothes in a pile outside the door so I can get them washed,” she added before leaving.

Things just keep getting worse, don’t they?