The Newcomer

Adam sat in a corner of the canteen, sipping a cup of what purported to be coffee from the vending machine but was, truth to be told, rather more weak than willing. It was 4.45pm on a Friday afternoon and he'd just completed his first week as a data imput clerk in the Finance Department of Woodchester City Council. So far the job had been enjoyable and the first two days had been mostly about induction rather than real hard work.

Looking up he noticed spotted Barnaby Timpson, a tall, lanky youth who worked in Enforcement, walking towards him carrying plastic beaker of what passed for tea in that place and a sizeable bar of milk chocolate. Barnaby had been particularly kind to him when he'd first started work at the council offices, showing him the ropes and explaining where everything was – including the toilets. Interestingly Adam had never seen Barnaby go anywhere near the gents, despite a copious consumption of various liquids through the day and he never left the building at lunchtimes either. To be fair, Adam hadn't used them either. Barnaby had, however, been a good friend and Adam was grateful not only for his assistance in the office but for his friendship during lunch breaks. Today they'd valiantly both done battle with the council's version of cottage pie and agreed that it wasn't quite up to home made standards!

"May I join you?" he ventured.

"Yes of course."

Placing his purchases on the table, Barnaby smiled and sipped the tea in his plastic cup.

"I was meaning to say Adam, what attracted you to this place. I mean it's not as though your exactly local, is it? Greathampton's a good hour away – more in the rush hour."

"Well I went to university here in Woodchester and rather liked the place so when this job cropped up I decided to apply. You could say I got lucky."

"Aha, so you went to the old poly. My auntie used to teach there years ago. What did you read?"

"Applied Mathematics. Presumably you went to uni, Barnaby?"

"Of course. Oxford. Doesn't the scarf give it away? I read the read the History of Art - when I wasn't training for the boat race that is! Got my BA and would have liked to stay on and get a master's degree but money was tight and those who controlled the purse strings decided it was time I got out and earned a living. This job's only a stop gap till I can find something better."

"Snob!"

"What, for going to Oxford or wanting to work somewhere better than this shit hole?"

"Both."

"You wouldn't think so, listening to my Aunt Anne. What she said when it came to light I'd applied to Oxford instead of her beloved Cambridge was unrepeatable. Put it this way, she used a word that rhymes with 'cooking' rather freely – and she's a church woman too! However I think she's forgiven me since."

"So your aunt went to Cambridge, then?"

"Yes but I don't know why she bothered. Education was wasted on her. All she ever did was spend seven or eight years teaching in a crappy polytechnic before deciding she didn't need the money or the hassle of going out to work. Uncle Brian's got a top job high up in industry and they're loaded anyway so I guess it doesn't matter much one way or another. Anyhow Adam, have you got anything planned for the weekend?"

"Nothing really. I've got few bits to sort out with the landlady at my bedsit and maybe I'll have a look round town tomorrow but that's about it."

"Well, if you're interested, I've got a spare ticket to the Wensums game tomorrow. I was going to take Alice, my girlfriend, but something else has come up and she's had to cancel."

"Who on Earth are the Wensums?"

"The local rugby team when they're at home."

"Nah, mate. Sorry, but rugby's not my game. I'm a footie man through and through."

"Football? Bollocks. Bunch of diving nancy boys if you ask me. Plus they earn enough in a week to pay everyone here for a year."

"Don't give me all that. Besides, I'm a Greathampton Rovers fan. Proper football! Better than an excuse for ex-public schoolboys to roll in the mud sticking their fingers where the sun don't shine."

"Oi, watch it - or I'll drag you down there tomorrow and ask you to say that to their faces! Tsk! At least you'd get on well with my Aunt Anne over this. It's one of the few things we don't see eye-to-eye on."

"Who does she support?"

"Norwich City - religiously."

"The Canaries? Hey, they're in the same division as Woodchester City now that they've been relegated. Why them?"

"Well, partly for tribal reasons and partly because she's a big fan of the chairwoman. She's got all her cookbooks you know. Actually, that gives me an idea. Why don't you come round to ours for some tea this evening?"

"That's very kind Barnaby, but will your parents mind? I assume you're still living with them."

"No. Mum and Dad have got some problems at the moment so I decided to get out of the firing line and I'm living with Aunt Anne for the time being. It suits us well because Uncle Brian works away a lot and he's hardly ever around so she's glad of the company." Barnaby lowered his voice to an almost conspiratorial whisper. "Between you and me she thinks Uncle Brian's shagging his secretary and at least some of his business trips are a cover up but she's not been able to prove it."

"Sounds intriguing. What if your aunt's suspicions are right and she has a big bust up with your uncle? Presumably you'll be looking for somewhere else to stay then."

Barnaby broke the bar of chocolate in two and handed half to Adam.

"I don't think so, Adam. Aunt Anne's not the type to get mad and go in for histrionics over something like like that. If she finds out that Uncle Brian has been playing away she'll get even though and he'll pay for his sins, be very sure of that. He's paid dearly for lesser things in the past and he no doubt will again. However my aunt's invested too much in that marriage to let go of it lightly and she wants to protect her investment."

"I see. Look Barnaby, are you sure it's okay for me to come round to tea? I don't want to get you into trouble with your aunt or anything."

"Adam, it's absolutely fine. She's a fab cook but she always makes far too much and it'll be no problem setting an extra place. We don't live in Woodchester by the way. We're in Attleton Market, a small town about half an hour's drive from here – well it's twenty minutes or so normally but not on a Friday afternoon if you get my drift. My vehicle's only just over in the staff carpark and if we get a move on now we should miss the worst of the rush hour."

Their journey was an uneventful one. Barnaby fiddled with the car radio, alternating between Classic FM and Radio Woodchester. Adam sat silently in the passenger seat, wondering whether he'd done right or not by accepting an unexpected though generous invitation from someone he'd known for less than a week. However he felt calm in Barnaby's company. Here was a guy who accepted him for who he was and didn't try to load unrealistic expectations onto him. Presently they approached the old town of Attleton Market, a curious mixture of ancient modern with the old church, market place and quaint medieval timbered pubs cheek by jowl with Victorian shops and contemporary offices. Soon they were in what was obviously a private residential area and Barnaby turned into a small cul de sac of neat, trim, Seventies' town houses and pulled up outside one near the end.

"Well, here we are. What do you make of it, Adam?"

"Looks good to me."

"I thought you'd say that. Welcome to the mad house!"

Barnaby led the way down the drive and through the front door.

"Hi Aunt Anne. I brought someone home for tea. I hope you don't mind."

A mellow East Anglian accent rang out from the direction of the kitchen.

"Of course not. Who is it?"

"It's a guy from the office who's new this week and he was at a bit of a loose end this evening so I thought I'd invite him round."

Barnaby led Adam into the kitchen where the oven was on and something smelt good.

"Aunt Anne, this is Adam Flaxwell. He works in the Payroll section at our place."

Adam sensed a slight stiffening of the fabric in his trousers as he viewed the vision before him. A well preserved woman, she had shoulder length flaxen hair, penetrating blue eyes, a light complexion and a figure which belied her age. As she turned to check a pan on the hob, Adam noticed she'd got a nicely formed bum in tight fitting stone washed jeans, sexy and ample but in proportion to her trim, attractive, figure. She had to be in her mid forties but somehow managed to avoid looking it and could pass without difficulty for a woman ten years younger.

Smiling, she turned and extended a slightly floury hand in Adam's direction.

"Welcome to our home, Adam. It's haddock in parsley sauce for tea with new potatoes and garden peas. Is that alright? I always do fish on Fridays – it's what going to a convent school does to you."

Adam smiled.

"Sounds good to me. What do I call you by the way?"

"Some people call me Mrs Timpson but it makes me feel old. Anne's fine. My nephew here still persists in calling me 'aunt' but I wish he wouldn't! It makes me sound like some sort of old dowager. Anyhow, I hope you'll join us for a glass of wine."

Adam stammered.

"I'm sorry Mrs Timpson – Anne I mean – but I don't drink."

Anne smiled at her guest.

"How unusual. A young man who doesn't drink. That's fine though, Adam. I wish I'd had as much sense at your age. Perhaps I can offer you tea, coffee or, if you prefer, there's some apple juice in the fridge."

"Apple juice would be lovely."

Anne poured a large glass of apple juice for Adam and a glass of Chardonnay each for herself and Barnaby.

"Tea won't be long now, boys. Barnaby, perhaps you'd be good enough to lay the table. Remember the fish knives and I think we should have out those cream napkins I bought for when your mother visited."

Barnaby pulled a face but did as he was told.

In what seemed like no time at all, tea was served and they took their places round the dining room table. Adam hadn't tasted fish as delicate and fresh as that before or sauce anywhere near so creamy. Real parsley too, going on the taste and texture – not something awful out of a packet. Barnaby's aunt really was a 'fab cook' and there was no denying it.

Anne eyed Adam carefully.

"So you've known Barnaby for a while then?"

"We've known one another for about a week, Anne. We've seen each other around at the office and hang out together in the canteen. You could say we've sort of become friends."

"I see. Are you local then?"

"No. I'm from Greathampton on the other side of the county. I went to uni in Woodchester though and when a job cropped up with the council I applied. The rest you could say is history."

"It's a long way to commute. You must get tired, Adam?"

"No I don't. I've taken a bedsit in Freehold Street, behind Woodchester Cathedral. It's handy enough for work but I'm looking for something better in the long term."

"Hmm. A lot of student accommodation down there if I remember rightly. Must be noisy at times, I'd have thought."

"It's not too bad but I've been told Friday and Saturday nights can be a bit eventful. I've not really got used to the cathedral clock striking at all hours yet but I expect it's early days. When I was at uni I stayed in the halls of residence which are more on the edge of town."

"I know. Near the hospital."

"And the prison," Barnaby chimed in.

"Thank you Barnaby," said his aunt, casting a reproving glance in her nephew's direction. Turning to Adam, she smiled.

"Look Adam. Barnaby really needs someone his own age around the house and, besides, I'm not much company. As you seem to get along well enough, why not give up those digs in Woodchester and move in with us?"

Taken aback by her offer, Adam was momentarily lost for words. It was a very generous one to say the least and the prospect of cooking like this was certainly more alluring than that of microwaved supermarket ready meals consumed in a rather cramped bedsit.

"That's very kind of you Mrs Timpson – I mean Anne – but are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. You don't have to decide right now, but I think it beats the arrangement you've got. You'd have your own room and I'd be willing to throw in breakfast, an evening meal as well as a packed lunch if you wanted one and your laundry for, shall we say, thirty five quid a week?"

"Well won't your husband mind? I don't want to intrude on your domestic arrangements."

"Adam, you wouldn't intrude in the least. In fact the pleasure would be all mine. So far as my husband's concerned he's rarely at home these days and he's long since learned not to mind about the decisions I take if he knows what's good for him."

"Well thank you, Anne. In that case the answer's 'yes' – I'll take up your offer. I need to go over to Woodchester and pick my things up though – and explain the situation to my landlady."

"That can wait till the morning, Adam. Woodchester's not a fun place to be on a Friday night and both Barnaby and I have been drinking so we can't really run you over there tonight. There was a time when I'd get behind the wheel after a couple of glasses of wine but not nowadays. The police are so bloody keen and it's just not worth it. You can borrow a spare pair of Barnaby's boxers tonight or, if you prefer, some of my husband's cashmere pyjamas, and we've got a new toothbrush in the bathroom cupboard."

Barnaby, long-silent, turned to Adam.

"Aunt Anne's right. Woodchester's no joke on Friday and Saturday nights when all the drunks and crackheads are on the prowl. You're a lot safer staying here."

Realising he was outnumbered – and outmanoeuvred – Adam realised there was only one response.

"Thanks. I guess you're right."

"Of course I'm right. Barnaby dear, why don't you show Adam where the living room is? I'm sure there must be something on the telly that appeals to him." She turned back to Adam. "And never fear, we have got the full Sky Plus package. We've plenty of DVDs in case you don't find anything as well. Meanwhile I'll clear away the dishes. Help yourselves to fruit from the sideboard by the way."

Barnaby beckoned to his friend.

"Come this way, Adam."

Adam found himself escorted into a large room with a plush leather sofa and matching chairs. A large television set perched on one corner above what was obviously the DVD player. Reaching for the remote control he brought the set to life and quick flick through the available channels confirmed what he already knew, namely that there wasn't a deal worth watching on a Friday evening at this time of year.

Busy channel hopping, Adam began to feel a familiar sensation down below. Although by no means desperate, he'd not been to the toilet since breakfast time and a need to pee was becoming evident. Part of him hated admitting that he needed to go but as the pressure on his bladder increased, Adam realised that he would soon have no alternative.

"Barnaby, where's the bathroom?," he enquired.

Barnaby cast his new friend a knowing smile.

"Come with me. It's up the stairs and first on your left. Your bedroom is on the second left, right next to it. My room's opposite by the way and Aunt Anne's is next door to that."

Adam followed Barnaby up the stairs and dived straight into the bathroom whilst Barnaby headed in the direction of his bedroom. Looking around him, Adam surveyed the scene. This was some bathroom with gleaming gold bath and washbasin taps, a separate shower cubicle and a sparkling golden rail with what appeared to be fresh, unused towels on it. With some trepidation he lifted the toilet lid and seat and unzipped his trousers, releasing a swollen penis. The sheer cleanliness and orderliness of this bathroom made him feel that by using it he was in a sense desecrating it, yet use it he must. Overcoming his initial hesitation he began to pee and was soon peeing hard, a massive yellow torrent cascading into the bowl before him, the result of holding his water for twelve hours. Within a couple of minutes he was done though and flushing, proceeded to zip his trousers and tidy himself up. Leaving the bathroom he bumped into Barnaby, who had a rather cheesy grin on his face.

"Hey Adam, that was quite some performance. A guy who can pee for England, eh?"

Adam couldn't help feeling a sense of displeasure that his privacy had been intruded on by prying ears but at the same time felt there was a compliment in Barnaby's remark to be appreciated.

"So you've been listening in then?"

"Not intentionally, no. You might say it was the kind of performance I couldn't well avoid overhearing though. You're almost as loud as me when I go."

"Well to be honest I'd not been for twelve hours and it does rather build up."

"I thought as much. I guessed you were a holder like me before the week was up but I wasn't going to mention it until the time was right. Anyhow, I've not been for nearly as long myself and I'm ready for a shower too, so if you'll excuse me, I'm next in. I shouldn't be more than about ten or fifteen minutes and I'm sure you can find something to do in the meantime."

With that, Barnaby closed the bathroom door behind him and in barely the time it would have take him to get undressed, Adam could hear the shower running. So Barnaby hadn't peed for nearly twelve hours either then? His decision to head straight into the shower though suggested that he was a guy who liked to combine two jobs in one and, after all, who could blame him?

Looking around the landing, Adam contemplated what to do whilst Barnaby attended to his needs. Barnaby's bedroom door was ajar and, although he knew it was wrong to go in there uninvited, Adam found curiosity getting the better of him and quietly crept in. A laptop, running on standby mode, was perched on Barnaby's bedside table. Knowing he shouldn't touch but unable to contain his curiosity, Adam reached for the mouse and the laptop sprang into life. Barnaby's homepage came up before and there was an open list of favourites. As he scanned through Barnaby's favourites, Adam's eyes were on stalks. Listed there were various sites connected with peeing and desperation, most of them portraying women either peeing themselves defiantly or holding themselves as though they were clearly bursting. So this was what Barnaby was into then. Feeling himself aroused, Adam began to masturbate and, concentrating on the needs of his penis, didn't hear the freshly showered Barnaby's footsteps as he entered.

"And what's the meaning of this?" he thundered, startling Adam in the process.

Panic stricken, Adam removed his hand from his crotch and turned to Barnaby, blushing as he did so.

"I'm sorry Barnaby. I didn't mean to be nosy. It's just that curiosity got the better of me and I couldn't help myself."

"Obviously."

Barnaby's tone mellowed a little.

"It looks as though you have some of the same interests as me. Somehow I can see us getting along quite well. You must ask though in future if you want to borrow my laptop. There's private stuff on there and I don't really appreciate people helping themselves."

"I really an sorry, Barnaby. It won't happen again. I'll pick my own laptop up from the bedsit tomorrow. However I am surprised though that you leave it running for anyone to see with that sort of stuff on it. Don't you worry about your aunt stumbling across it or anything like like that?"

Barnaby fought hard to suppress a chuckle.

"Adam, you've had a bit of a sheltered upbringing by the sound of it. Who do you think introduced me to the world of holding, desperation, wetting and all that goes with it?"

"Surely you're not suggesting..."

"I am. It was none other than Aunt Anne herself – whilst I was still at university as it happens. She'd come to visit me sometimes at weekends, ostensibly to bring me some fresh clothes and one of her delicious rich fruit cakes. However she'd often come in peed pants and make no secret of the fact. She had a knack of getting stuck in traffic jams on the M25, usually with a full bladder, and if she wasn't wet by the time she got to me she was always desperate – and enjoying it into the bargain. However she preferred the college lawn to my loo, often just squatting and peeing through her panties. I think it was her way of venting her disapproval of my choice of university! She did teach me that it was okay to hold and go to the loo when I wanted, not necessarily the same thing as when I needed to go or other people thought I should."