Her hands tightly grip the arms of her chair and the plane reaches her arrival gate. She hurriedly grabs her stuff, bundles it in her arms and gets ready to deplane. Once off, she looks around to find the pictures for the bathroom. She rushes in, washes her face, gets some fresh clothes on and goes to retrieve the rest of her baggage. Once she has all her bags, she goes through customs and starts looking for him, knowing how he will smell, how good she will feel, once she is in his arms.Finding him right away, her smile gets wider, and her body trembles with excitement. Her feet have a mind of their own and take off in a run to greet him. Reaching him, she is unsure of whether to kiss or hug or run her hands all over him to be sure he is real. She inhales deeply as she gets close to him, her senses errupting with fire as she takes hold of him and lands his outstretched arms. Eventually she pulls back from him a little as her eyes move over his body, knowing what she wants to do to. I needed to pee. This was, I know, predictable, but I had not even thought of it. Sylvia knew how much this would humiliate me and I realised this was her plan. I was almost sobbing after a while, then I really was sobbing, hand pressed to me, thighs clamped together but it was as inevitable as it was horrible. There is a point at which it becomes impossible to prevent it and she had said I might not move. I squirmed but there was no point. In the end I simply had to let go and cry with humiliation. The initial warmth turned to cold. I felt wretched. She came into the bathroom and looked at me, studied me, a look of pain in her eyes. She was wearing a plain, grey dress; knee length and high necked. Her shoes were flat and black as was the scarf tied loosely round her neck. ‘Follow me.’ I started to say something but her look stilled me. I followed her downstairs where she led me to the kitchen. She pointed to a chair which she had placed in the middle of the tiled floor. ‘Bend over.
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