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When you’re the governor of a state and get invited to a party by one of its premier celebrities, you’re expected to go to it. Networking among some of the most famous faces in the country was mandatory when you wanted a strong rapport with powerful supporters and the many people who worshiped them. It was at one such function Governor Diane Foxington found herself clapping along with everyone else and laughing whenever a speaker cracked a mediocre joke. It was an outdoor event, out on the patio where an army of cloth-draped tables were mogged by famous celebrities and aging philanthropists.

Atop the many white discs were fake candles and champagne flutes with varying degrees of drink still bubbling inside them. Floating about the floor were servers carrying expensive wine bottles, ready to refill a patron’s alcohol supply at a moment’s notice. There had already been a pair of glasses shattered thanks to drunken carelessness. They were promptly cleaned up without an uproar so that the event could continue unfettered.

Diane sat near the back, away from the front stage where keynote speakers would hobble to the podium and deliver some brief words that were always greeted with laughter and applause. She remained placid for now, resplendent as she was in a gorgeous blue dress whose bell was cut to reveal a flattering portion of long, sturdy, fox leg. Her makeup was on point, bringing out the witty youth of her visage with a sparse but expert application of blush and liner. From her proudly pointed ears hung pearl earrings that swung about her lobes whenever she clapped. A matching necklace hung around her neck, the center pearl falling to just above her cleavage.

The host was up on stage. He was dressed in a sharp, pinstriped black tux. He was an elderly human with loads of money, much of which he had spent on Diane’s first gubernatorial campaign. His estate was behind Diane, looming above them with a Victorian facade that exuded wealth and power. When he spoke, the audience listened. A chamber band was to his left, sitting patiently until their next queue. He cracked a joke and the drummer [i]ba-dum-tsss’ed[/i]. More laughter from the audience to which Diane joined. The host resumed his speech thanking the audience for their attendance. With his exodus from the stage came the start of the after party. Attendees rose from their seats and began to mingle with drinks in their hands and smiles on their faces.

Diane did the same, but she was not in a friendly mood. That wasn’t out of any dislike towards her fellow attendees; she was familiar with quite a few of them and enjoyed their company. However, she wasn’t here to make friends. Rising from her chair she took a deep sip of sparkling water from her flute. Before this she had consumed only a single glass of champagne. Being drunk wasn’t going to help her any. There was no room for a gaffe or slip up. Now was the time to introduce herself to people and make an impression.

Derek, her secretary, stood up with her. “I’m going to go talk to some people,” she told him while she patted her dress to make sure it was all in the right place around her body. A quick tug on the bust made sure her breasts were properly covered. She was a governor, not an exhibitionist. “If I’m needed for anything, come get me. I’ll be around here.” Her eyes scanned the crowd of party goers as it continued to migrate from the tables. She recognized one elderly man as he shakily pushed himself out of his seat with his cane and the help of either his daughter or an inappropriately young wife. He was one of the benefit’s wealthier donors and had been a longtime supporter of Diane’s. Target acquired.

“Yes ma’am. I’ll keep an ear open for any news,” Derek said.

“Right. Let’s hope there isn’t any.” She took a deep swig from her glass before splitting a bright smile and floating towards the old man. “Mr. Watkins! I thought I recognized you! How are you?”

Watkins looked up at her with venous eyes. His pale, wrinkled face was splotched with red. The woman he was with had glaringly fake breasts and liberally applied makeup, confirming that she was indeed Watkin's wife. Diane ignored her and kept her attention on him instead, watching as he managed a crooked smile upon recognizing her.

“Diane? Is that you?” he croaked.

“The one and only! Come here.” She brought herself in for a hug. He felt fragile within her embrace. She could feel him trembling like a leaf. Just patting him on the upper back seemed dangerous. A liver-spotted hand slid onto her lower back, concerning her for a moment that he would cop a feel on the upper swell of her buttocks. Fortunately for her he did no such thing and the two of them parted.

Small talk commenced with the two of them asking how they were, what they had been up to, and how the family was. Watkins had just turned 89. Diane fought the urge to then ask how old his wife was, instead lying and telling him that he didn’t look a day over 70, to which he said “The hell I do.” That got a laugh out of everyone.

The moment the conversation grew long she bid them farewell. “Well, you all take care now. I hope to see you next year!” She held up her glass of water. Those with glasses of their own held theirs up too, and they all took another sip. Diane downed the rest of her glass, enjoying the fizz that slid down her gullet. It was going to be a long night. Better stay hydrated.

After a quick trip to the meal table to refill her glass she glided to the next group of famous faces and introduced herself. Hugs and handshakes were given all around. There were more perfunctory questions and wishes to see each other next time. At the end of it they would lift their glasses and they would all sip.

And so the hour went. Diane was like a pinball, bouncing between each group and making an impact. Some folk she knew personally, others not. Those who hadn't had the pleasure of meeting her before were struck by her smile and amicability. Of course, that was all a result of her many years of being a politician. Knowing how to woo a potential donor and sway their vote was quintessential to starting and maintaining a healthy career, no matter the position. Diane would’ve argued that a state governor required the most direct relationships with supporters than any other position. That included the president.

It was back and forth between the meal table and the party at an almost mechanical rhythm. Each conversation, no matter how brief or long, felt like a carbon copy of one another. Diane could recite her introduction and questions without a single thought going behind them. It was mostly about smiling brightly, looking pretty, and acting like you understood what everyone said. Her feet started aching in her heels after a while. She upgraded her drink back to champagne so that she could power through the discomfort. After two glasses a slight buzz had fallen over her eyes so she came back to sparkling water.

She was in the very center of the patio, holding a discussion with yet another donor and friend named Frederic. They were sitting at a table, a crumb-laden plastic plate in front of the heavily intoxicated patron she chatted with. His suit jacket was unbuttoned and his tie was undone. A shade of red had fallen over his bearded face while he held onto a glass of red wine, his third. Daine nodded and smiled along with his rambling, somewhat raunchy tale of how his business was going, what was going well and what had been “a pain in the ass”. Diane congratulated him and expressed her empathy accordingly, as if she really cared for the drunken capitalist and his seemingly unsinkable enterprise.

In the middle of one slurred sentence Diane noticed for the first time that she had to go to the bathroom. It was subtle for now, just a slight pressure that kept her bladder bloated inside of her. Without breaking eye contact she calmly crossed her leg over the other. Her heeled foot bounced slowly, a small distraction from what was now just a minor discomfort. Otherwise her focus remained on the donor. She kept nodding along like nothing was wrong.

“-and I don’t think he’ll ever show his face ever again. I hope he doesn’t,” Frederic grumbled, not having noticed the shift of Diane’s legs. He took another swig from his wine glass and set it down on the table. Watching the red liquid slosh around did Diane’s bladder no favors.

“Well, I’m glad you sorted it all out. I’m sure he’s learned his lesson and won’t be a problem anymore.” Diane uncrossed her legs and stood up. Instantly the pressure on her bladder increased, instigating a sharp clench of her kegel. [i]Damn. Maybe all those glasses weren’t such a good idea.[/i] “Well, I’m glad you came tonight! I hope to see you again soon.” By reflex she meant to hold her glass out, but realized that it was still on the table. It went ignored. Being close to any more liquid was not a good idea.

“Oh! Before you go,” Frederic said. “Please, I wanted to introduce you to my son, Arnold.”

A man nearby who was the spitting image of Frederic heard his name mentioned and turned to see the two at the table. He smiled and sauntered over, admiring the pretty fox. Diane smiled back, if without her usual approachable flair. [i]Oh God, can this please hurry up?[/i]

“Diane, this is Arnold,” Frederic said, clapping his son on the back. “He’s attending USC right now. I thought the two of you would like to meet.”

Arnold extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Governor. You look lovely tonight.”

Diane laid her paw in his hand and squeezed it hard, short of a death grip. The muscles in her bare arms bulged visibly as she shook his hand. “Mmhmm! Thank you! Very sweet. Very nice.” When she let go her hand came down to her side where it remained balled into a fist. [i]Please let that be it.[/i]

“Arnie here wants to be a criminal defense lawyer. I’m trying to get him in the business but he won’t listen to me.” Frederic smiled and batted Arnold on the back, almost knocking him over.

Arnold just chuckled. “Come on, dad.”

“Won’t you talk some sense into him? I thought maybe the Governor of all people could talk some sense into him.”

[i]I think maybe this governor needs to take a piss and doesn’t give a fuck what your privileged-ass son does.[/i] “Well, I say follow your dreams! If you want to be a criminal defense lawyer, be a criminal defense lawyer. Be the best darned one there is!”

“Aww, OK. I guess that’s fair,” Frederic conceded.

[i]Thank God.[/i] “Now if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I have somewhere to be. You enjoy the rest of your night.” Then, without waiting for anything further, she spun around, twirling her dress and swaying that poofy tail of hers. She marched through the table and crowd for the building, her heels clopping on the tiled stone loudly. Each brush of her thighs was a small twang of discomfort on her bladder. Her face remained stoic, but inside she was clenching both her teeth and her floor muscles for dear life. [i]I hope the bathroom isn’t too hard to find.[/i]

She wove and bumped through the crowd of party goers. Most of them were clotted in the space between the tables. The ones sitting were scooted back, leaving little room between them and anybody sitting right behind them. Diane had to turn her body and squeeze herself through two backrests. One mushed into her butt while the other glided across her loins, adding a bit of pain that made her wince and wheeze through her nose. The gentleman behind her felt the fabric of her dress scrape the back of his head, followed shortly by the soft bat of her tail. He ducked out of the way and turned to see Diane’s round ass sliding across his chair.

Diane smiled awkwardly. “Sorry. Excuse me.”

“Oh no,” said the man with a smile. “You’re fine.”

Once Diane was through she rolled her eyes. [i]Men.[/i] She was out of the crowd and at the end of the patio where it met the house. [i]Thank God.[/i] Her march accelerated into a trot. She came within feet of the brick porch steps when someone came trotting after her with their arms extended to stop her.

It was Derek. “Diane! Hold on. We’ve got something.”

She blew past him, walking right into his arm and landing on the first step. “Not now,” she said curtly while pulling her dress up to her shins.

Derek, a man she knew and trusted, had the audacity to grab her upper arm. “Diane, it’s important. You’re going to want to hear it.”

A deep inhale hissed through her nose as she turned to face him. Painful urgency made her eyes go round. “What is it?” she demanded.

He leaned into her and spoke in a hushed tone. “We think we have intel on who’s been investigating us. If we act now we can prevent a leak.”

That was big news. Very big news. If she did something about it now, she could prevent a catastrophic scandal from ruining her career. Too bad she had to pee. “OK. Good. Keep me updated.” Then she stormed up the steps.

Derek was left in the dust, shocked by her sudden leaving. “Wait! Don’t you want to hear more?”

“Later!” Diane shouted, then disappeared into the double doors.

Derek stood where he was, unsure whether to follow her or not. A few people were staring at him, so he calmly ducked his head and made his way towards the meal table.

Diane was finally inside. Her paws were still latched to the bell of her dress, hiking them way above her ankles. It was not to prevent stepping on it, but because she needed something to wrench so as to distract herself from her continuously growing piss reserve. The patio door had led her into a spacious room where the TV room and kitchen were combined. People were loitering in both spaces, drinks in hand, chatting amiably. A few of them noticed the distressed governor and said their hello’s. Diane was able to nod her acknowledgement before she scooted along towards the nearest hallway.

She went at a brisk pace, not quite a run but definitely faster than a walk. The memory of how many times she had drained her glass flashed through her head. [i]God I’m an idiot. Need to think next time.[/i] But there was no point in dwelling on it. For now she had to find one of the bathrooms and let loose finally.

Easier said than done. The mansion was just as big on the inside as it was on the outside. Each hallway just seemed to peel into another one. Not a single door had a label of any sort, and when Diane opened them she found nothing but a laundry room, a parlor, and a few guest bedrooms.

“Fuck,” she hissed after closing the door on the third guest room. She hurried along the hallway, now at a full speed walk, heels clopping on the hardwood floor loudly. After rounding what felt like the entire first floor she managed to land right back in the TV room where she started. A hiss of frustration seeped through her clenched teeth as she saw the same people from earlier, all minding their own business and not having to piss their brains out.

One woman saw her brief fit of anger. “Is everything OK?”

Diane wasn’t sure what to say. Ask where the bathroom was and let everyone know what was wrong? At this point she was too far gone to care. The pressure on her bladder had become something like a needle poking into her pee hole. Her floor muscle was clenched at its absolute tightest. Just one misstep and she would risk a leak.

“Yeah, um…” She came trotting over and leaned towards the woman. “Do you know where the bathroom is?”

“Oh, I don’t. Sorry,” said the woman.

[i]Fuck![/i] “That’s OK.”

Fortunately for her situation and unfortunately for her pride, someone overheard the question. He pointed at the hallway she had come out of. “You’re gonna wanna take your second right down that hallway. Third door on the right.”

Alongside her immense relief she was kicking herself on the inside. [i]Goddammit! I went right past that![/i] She lifted her paw as a show of thanks and zoomed back down the hallway. There was the entrance to the hallway the guy was talking about, looking like the light at the end of a very long and dark tunnel. [i]Oh, thank fuck.[/i] She could already feel the sensation of urine squirting out of her. It would be the sweetest relief. A smile was lifting her face by the time she rounded the corner.

Horror! Instead of an empty hallway beckoning her with the bathroom’s door, she saw a line of people leaning against the wall, their backs facing her. She counted at least seven people, each one of them in varying degrees of needing to go. Some were on their phones, others were tapping their fingers on the wall and jittering where they stood. Diane hadn’t a fraction of doubt in her mind that none of them had to go as badly as she did.

[i]Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit.[/i] Without making a scene she drifted into the back of the line, becoming the eighth person. Her arms crossed beneath her breasts as an intense scowl wrinkled her features. There came a steady clop sound as she tapped her shoe on the floor. While she wasn’t moving the weight of her piss settled more firmly on her bladder. She could feel it swelling by the second as her kidneys went into overtime filtering the great amount of sparkling water she had consumed. Her ears fell back on her head while her lips unfurled into a snarl. [i]Please, fucking God make this go quicker.[/i]

There was a flushing sound from within the bathroom. Diane’s heart fluttered when she saw the door open, but it was only a small victory. One down, six to go. The next person filed inside and the line shifted forward. Diane looked at her watch. 10:48. [i]That better not go past 10:55, I swear.[/i]

She did not think time could possibly move so slowly. There was another flush and the person inside came out. The next one went in, a woman. Another harsh syllable burst in Diane’s mind. She came dangerously close to telling the woman to heave it out and that the same applied to everyone else. Meanwhile her body was screaming at her to do the same. Her struggle was no longer hidden as she started pacing on her two feet, lifting them one at a time and rocking back and forth. Her claws scraped at the sequins on her dress, popping a few of them.

“I think you’re hurting your dress,” said a voice behind her.

It startled her badly, almost making her lose a few drops. She looked over her shoulder and saw a woman with a mildly concerned look on her face, one that recoiled at the sight of Diane’s fury. “Don’t worry about it,” bit Diane before turning back around.

The woman sneered at her back. [i]Fine then, bitch.[/i]

Diane could not have cared any less of what that woman, or any other person on Earth, thought of her at that moment. The only thing that mattered was the slowly shrinking line in front of her and the crushing pain that was now drilling out of her crotch like a finger trying to penetrate her pizzle. She had to pee so badly. She was bowed at the waist. Any and all stoicism had contorted into lip-biting anguish. Her knees were knocking together. No longer just pacing where she stood, she would stomp her feet to the floor, startling the people around her.

The fellow in front of her turned around and gave her a look of pity. “You want to go ahead of me?” he asked.

Diane never thought she could be more grateful towards someone. “[i]Yes, please God.[/i]”

He put his back to the wall and gestured ahead of him. “Go right on ahead.”

“[i]Thank you so much.[/i]” She shuffled ahead of him, rubbing her inner thighs together and curling her toes inside her shoes. The folks in front of her saw and heard what was happening. They all gestured ahead of themselves for her to take their place, including the gentleman who was at the front. She would’ve taken time to land a fat, sloppy kiss on each of their faces if the dam in her crotch wasn’t ready to burst.

She made it to the door half bent, paw balled into a fist in front of her crotch, teeth sunken into her bottom lip. Her tail was curling between her legs. The door to the bathroom was so close now. She could see its wooden texture beneath the varnish. So close, but so far. All that was needed was to hear that beautiful ring of a toilet flushing followed by the creak of the door.

It never came.

An entire two minutes, both of which were inexorably drawn out by her still-increasing need to go, passed and the door did not open. There was no flush or shuffling of feet. Diane’s teeth sank deeper into her lip out of a growing anger. Even the people behind her were growing antsy.

Diane, the governor of California and elected face of its people, banged her fist on the door hard enough that the flesh on her arm shook with each impact. Everyone around her jumped. “[i]What’s the HOLD UP?[/i]” she barked. Almost everyone on the first floor heard her and went into a brief moment of silence.

“Hey!” shouted a voice from within the bathroom. It was a man’s. “I’m taking a shit!”

A groan echoed through the hallway, emanating from everyone except Diane who pounded her fist again. “This ain’t the fucking place, asshole! [i]COME ON![/i]”

Many were unsettled by how furious she was. Nobody had heard a politician swear so furiously. Few thought she was even capable of it. The gentleman behind her laid a hand on her shoulder to calm her down.

She shrugged it off hard, almost hitting him in the face with her elbow. He was greeted with a furious snarl. “[i]Get your fucking hands off me.[/i]”

The man recoiled backwards and held his arms up defensively.

Immediately she realized her mistake and her face softened. “Fuck… I mean… Ah, I’m sorry.”

All was forgiven, but the storm was ready to break inside of her dress. With that jerk still on the toilet doing a number 2, Diane wasn’t going to be going here anytime soon. “Is there another bathroom?” she asked, her voice and body starting to quiver. The first droplets of pee were on the gates, ready to spring free. The people in line either shrugged or shook their heads, making her stomach clench out of fear. Then one fellow at the end of the line spoke up.

“There’s one upstairs, but that’s off limits. Though I’m pretty sure they’ll-”

Diane was already gone, charging down the hall towards the foyer. She was still hunched over, fist over her groin, that twisted look of agony baring her teeth. She came bursting into the foyer through double doors. It was alight with a crystal chandelier that doused the double staircase in a fractal gold. There were two guards and a doorman there. Guests were done arriving, but they remained for any latecomers. They were shocked to see the governor come charging in like a bull, dress flapping around her knocked legs, a look of blinding-panic exaggerating her features. She went right up one of the stairwells, completely ignoring the three men.

“Ma’am!” shouted the doorman. He jogged after her with one white-gloved finger in the air as if to correct her. “Madame Governor! The upstairs are off limits!” He ran up the staircase behind her. One guard was right behind him while his partner went up the other staircase to catch her in a pincer maneuver.

She came to an abrupt stop and turned towards her pursuers. The look of white-hot rage made them both halt, bumping the bodyguard into the back of the doorman. “[i]Fucking try and stop me. I DARE you.[/i]” And with that she charged the rest of the way up the steps. The guard on the opposite case kept coming, but was stopped by a cut-throat gesture from his partner. Whatever was going on, it was best to leave the governor to it.

Thank God. At the top of the staircase she blew through another pair of double doors and found herself in a dimly lit hallway. Stretched before her was an alley of more doors, none distinguished from their brethren, carrying behind their backs either Diane’s salvation or absolute nothing. There was no time to pick and choose. She darted for the nearest one, a door on her left, praying for a bathroom or at least a bedroom that contained one. Her paw clamped on the knob, twisted it, and launched it open.

Before her was a guest bedroom, one of what had to be twenty in that entire fucking labyrinth of a house. A large king-size bed with a thick, pillowy white comforter was in the center of it. While her legs were trembling beneath her she darted her eyes around for another door, one that led to a bathroom. There were none.

A pitiful groan seeped through her teeth. “[i]Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnn…[/i]” She meant to turn around, back into the hallway, but her bladder was at its absolute limit. Her floor muscle was now burning from fatigue. She could feel it quivering, ready to split at the seam and ruin her dress. It was now or never.

Diane waddled the rest of the way into the bedroom, managing to close the door behind her. [i]Where, where, where?[/i] The bed loomed before her like a stone coffin. Beyond it was the wall and a nightstand in the corner between them. There. It had to be there. Diane mustered the last of her energy to shuffle over to the opposite side of the bed. The nightstand, she saw, was on four legs with only one drawer. The floor beneath it was white carpet. The fat lamp that sat on top was plugged into an outlet on the wall.

It was as good a place as any. [i]Fuck. I hope nobody comes up here to clean any time soon.[/i] She struggled the rest of the way to the corner and turned her back on it. Without a moment’s hesitation, Diane hiked her dress up, squirmed her panties down to her mid-thigh, then squatted. Her pompous, orange rump jutted behind her while her tail flicked upwards into a flamboyant arch. Her cunt hung below, just an inch away from the brown pucker buried in her cheeks. Diane let her muscles go, and at last the floodgates were broken.

[i]Fssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss-[/i]

Out from her pursed cunny spewed a thin but ramrod straight geyser of crystalline Diane water. It smacked into the carpet a few inches behind where her heels sank into the fuzz. The material bowed beneath the torrent. Piss rippled outwards and clotted into a frothing puddle that spread and gurgled every which direction. With the angry hiss of her pizzle came the rapid thud of water hitting the carpet.

Diane’s head slumped backwards. Her eyes rolled with them, half-vanishing behind her fluttering eyelids. A hideous groan bellowed from her slacked jaw. “[i]Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh~[/i]” Her voice wavered with the joyous shudder that blew through her muscles. A bliss like the sweetest of orgasms glowed across her loins, making her toes curl in their shoes. The feeling was so overwhelming that it almost made her keel over. It was only by some miracle that she was able to stay upright on her continuously-jittering legs.

Alas the delight faded and was replaced by the sharp burn of piss being ejected with such force. Her head came level again, and she remembered that she, the governor, was in someone’s home, pissing on their carpet. The waterfall between her legs showed no signs of slowing down. It was splashing the inside of her heels. The puddle had spread between the wall and the bed next to her. She accelerated the piss with a grunt, but still it did not slow down.

“Shit… Fuck… Goddammit… Come on.” She dared to look down her back to see how bad it was. The entire corner of the carpet was flooded in her pee. It sloshed about the baseboards like water on pool steps. Her face turned red. “[i]Shit![/i]”

At last the streak began to weaken until it was but a meager trickle. A sharp quiver made her tail jitter and go kerfuffle before she was able to stand up. The muscles in her legs were tight and had to be stretched out. She made sure to take a step forward, away from the piss puddle she had created before she pulled her panties up and let her dress back down. She noticed the gross squish of residual piss stuck within her lady parts. Looking around she saw nothing else but the bedsheets to wipe herself with. She reluctantly kicked one leg onto the mattress, pulled up a corner of the comforter, and scraped it across her flower a few times.

Diane walked out from the corner and looked back on her mess. The entire region of the carpet beneath the nightstand was utterly swamped. A region the size of a bath mat was darkened and sunken in. The baseboards and the paint just above it glistened. The atmosphere was saturated with her scent, conspicuous in every one of Diane’s inhales, even through her mouth. Shame dug itself into her chest like a dagger. If someone found this, they would know it was her for certain. If word got out…

She couldn’t dwell on it. After wiping the pee-splatter off her heels on the bed she took a deep breath, collected herself, and walked out of the bedroom with her head as high as she could keep it. When she came back into the foyer she found Mr. Sadlon, the host, talking to his guards and the doorman. They all looked up when they heard the door open and saw Diane come walking back down the steps with her dress in her paws, acting like nothing had happened.

“Diane!” said Sadlon, worried. “Are you alright? I heard you came running up here.”

Diane flashed him a bright smile. “Oh, of course! I just…” [i]Shit. What do I say?[/i] The first thing that came to mind was an old politician’s trick: tell the truth, but not all of it. “Had to use the restroom is all. The downstairs one was too busy.”

“Oh no! I’m sorry! Did you find it OK?”

[i]Nope.[/i] “Of course!” Diane made it to the bottom floor. “Sorry I came running up here.” She looked at the doorman. “And sorry for screaming at you boys.”

“Oh, don’t worry about them,” said Sadlon. “I would’ve done the same thing.”

Diane doubted that.

“Anyway, I think I ought to open the upstairs for people if the downstairs bathroom is overused. This dreadful old home was only built with one on each floor. I really ought to install more.”

[i]Jesus Christ, you really have no fucking idea.[/i] “That sounds good.”

The two of them exited into the downstairs hallway to rejoin the party. “I’ll start letting people know,” said Sadlon. “The upstairs bathroom is open. First door on the right.”

Diane’s smile plummeted. [i]First door on the right. Dammit, I took the left.[/i]

Sadlon saw her frowning. “Is everything alright?”

Diane summoned her grace again. “Oh, of course! Of course. I’ll tell the people in line for the bathroom. First door on the right,” she said. Then she repeated to herself, more grimly, “On the right… Not on the left.”

“That’s right. You take care of yourself. Have a good rest of the night if I don’t see you again.”

Diane nodded. “You too. Thanks for having me.” And then she zoomed ahead, straight for the downstairs bathroom where she was happy to inform everyone in line that the upstairs bathroom was open. “First door on the right,” she told them with a smile, and then again with extra emphasis:

“On. The. Right.”

[center][b]THE END[/b][/center]