The Ladies' Restroom

I absolutely blame the architects who designed the night club for what happened. Just two stalls in the women's restroom, for a busy nightclub? Really? Maybe alcohol shares some responsibility too for that crazy night, as Lucy and I had more than a few beers (hence the need to use the facilities.) The club was featuring a musician, and at intermission, everyone had the same idea. So, there we were, standing in a long line outside the women's restroom. The line stretched out into the hall. The men's room, on the other hand, had no line and men came and went in a jiffy. Our boyfriends had long since used the restroom and were waiting for us at our table.

"This is unfair," my friend Lucy said. "We'll never get back to our seats in time. Let's use the men's room."

"We can't do that," I said, innocently thinking that we couldn't do that.

"You're still living in the last century, Molly. We were liberated in the 1960s. Follow me," she said.

The next thing I knew, she was pulling my arm and we marched into the men's room. It was, not unexpectedly, full of men. It had two stalls too, one of which a man was just leaving. We raced past some waiting men into the empty stall. The two of us in turn used the toilet to relieve ourselves.

We left the stall and approached a common urinal, basically a tile wall with a drain. Men were standing before it, penises protruding from their slacks, urinating.

"Let's get out of here," I said.

"Not so fast," my intrepid friend advised. "This is something you don't see every day."

Now, I'm not a prude, but the sight of a half dozen penises isn't something I'm used to. In truth, the total number of penises that I've known on an intimate level could be counted on one hand. This was new territory. Lucy and I positioned ourselves against a wall, and watched.

There were a few raised eyebrows, but mostly bemused looks from the men. We observed as men came, did their business, left and were replaced by others. There were a few penises of impressive length or girth, but most were run of the mill (I was able to make that judgment as my familiarity level with the male organ was rising exponentially by the minute.)

The restroom was emptying quickly as the musician resumed his playing. Then one young, nice looking fellow came into the almost empty restroom and stood at the urinal, eyeing us warily. It was just the three of us now in the men's room. He pulled out his penis and stood there waiting to pee. He was looking at us. Trouble; the penis was thickening, rising upward. The erection prevented him from urinating.

I felt bad as I knew we were the cause of his dilemma.

"We need to go!" I said to Lucy.

"Not so fast. I want to see what happens," she replied.

What happened was that, now with a fully erect penis, the fellow abandoned the attempt to pee. He tried to stuff his male part back into his trousers. But it would not fit into the zipper opening. He had to open the trousers fully to contain it, but he was left with an obvious bulge.

"I can't go back out in public like this." It wasn't clear who he was talking to. I guess himself.

"Shall we help him out?" Lucy said to me.

"What are you talking about? We need to leave!"

"Come into the stall," Lucy said to him. "I can fix your problem."

He followed her into the stall. I stood at the open stall door. What the hell was she up to?

Lucy opened his trousers and took the erect penis in her hand. Looking him square in the eye, she began to rub it, stroking up and down, her thumb and forefinger playing with the foreskin. His eyes widened as he realized how she was going to help him. My eyes were as wide as his.

Lucy continued to rub with one hand, while her other hand was unbuttoning her blouse, exposing her chest. She was not wearing a bra. The fellow reached out and rubbed her ample breast and nipple. He was breathing heavily and it was clear he wouldn't last long.

"Molly, grab some toilet paper, quickly," Lucy said to me.

I reached down and unspooled a wad of paper.

"Get ready," she said.

The man groaned and the penis erupted. I used the paper to capture the semen.

"There now," Lucy said, "you shouldn't have any problem peeing. Good luck."

I discarded the toilet paper in the trash. I stopped to wash my hands. Behind me was the sound of a man peeing freely into the toilet. With that, we hurriedly walked out.

Our boyfriends wondered what took us so long. We didn't tell them.

Moral of the story: You really shouldn't wait for intermission to use the ladies' room.