Like Warm Sun on Nekkid Bottoms - Charles Austen [96]
“Down the hall, and to the left,” she said unnecessarily. Then added, even more unnecessarily: “It used to be out back when they first built this place, but we got a lot of complaints over the years, especially when it was cold because you had to go out front first then out and around to the back of the entire building to use the toilet, and sometimes the seats would freeze—only in the winter, of course— which—as I’m sure you can imagine, would cause problems—the toilet seats freezing, not the entire season, itself—especially when you’re in a hurry, though it’s more a problem for women than men because we have to sit down for everything, you know, which can be awfully irritating, how you men just have it so much easier in that way, and you have no idea how I envy that, how I often think about how nice it would be to just stop and go like you do—hang something out there and let it fly—I mean, it’s so much quicker and simpler, and you don’t have to check to see if some other guy has left the seat up first, or peed all over it, which is totally disgusting how some people can just leave it like that, isn’t it? And imagine if it gets frozen, which was part of the problem, especially when you’re rushing—and who isn’t rushing these days, because time is so short, and there are always so many people wanting something now, now, now…”
As I knew all too well. With Wisper waiting, and Mindie already suspicious, I had to get away. But Petal continued on, oblivious to the existence of periods. So I just smiled and nodded while backing away, looking for a break. Any break. Any break at all.
“…that was before we even had a paved road down the main street, if you can imagine…”
“Hard to believe!” I said, then turned and ran.
I dove between tables, tripped over a chair, recovered, and headed for the storage room.
“Like I said: People these days are in such a hurry,” I heard Petal say as I zoomed off. “Don’t rush so much you leave pee on the seat!”
I was almost there. I could almost see the light of Ms. Nuckeby as if she were some kind of personal homing beacon just for me. But as I approached the restroom, a tall, handsome man stepped in front of me. He was, of course, naked save for a bowtie and cuffs. Very Chippendale’s, completely devoid of pubic hair to—one assumed— more appealingly display a penis he was clearly quite proud of. And why shouldn’t he be? It could easily have been used to model sexual aids for very happy women. Not too big, but still pretty damn big! And as if that wasn’t enough, he looked like Tarzan. Or what Tarzan would look like if he were as staggeringly handsome and in shape as this guy.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“No, thank you,” I said. “I just need to get by to use the restroom.”
“Restroom’s right there,” he said, pointing to the wrong door. Wrong for me anyway.
“Right,” I said. “Right. See, the thing is, I need to get into that room.”
He looked at the door I indicated, and it had a sign that said— quite plainly—‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’.
“Not gonna happen,” he said flatly.
“Look,” I said. “I know this seems unusual, but there’s someone in there I need to talk to.”
“I know. Not gonna happen.”
He folded his arms across his chest and stood defiantly before me, his penis swinging beneath him like Poe’s pendulum of death.
Somewhere overhead, on a bust Pallas quoth a raven, “Nevermore.”
I looked at Tarzan for a long moment, wondering what was going on. I felt as though I’d missed an important detail somewhere, and looked around to see if there was some kind of joke being played.
No one seemed to be laughing.
Most of the customers in the general proximity were looking at me; one in particular was an older, gray-haired gentleman sitting at a nearby table with what might have been an appendix scar above his very thick penis. Not long, just thick. Like a doorstop. Those gray, commercial ones that are fat, and small, and round, and can stop a heavy, metal fire door in its tracks. I’d never seen anything like it. His penis, I mean. Not even stopping doors—and