WINTER DOLDRUMS... February (Part 126a)

WINTER DOLDRUMS... February (Part 126a)

Sometime in late January I ran into Johnny at the post office. I’d tried to avoid both he and Sandy after the little “discussion“ I’d had with her and, in so doing, hadn’t gone to but one of his junior varsity basketball games. He reminded me about the promise I’d made to attend more gamesso, somewhat cornered, told him I’d be at the next one which was the following Tuesday. The way the home schedule worked was to have the varsity play the first game at around 3:30pm when they played a on a Tuesday with JV game to follow. On a Friday the games were at night and it was reversed. I left work early (for me) at 5pm hoping to see most of the JV game. When I arrived at the gymnasium the game had started. I watched from the doorway for a while hoping that Sandy wouldn’t see me. But... during a time out, she spied me and waved me down to where she was sitting, right behind the team bench. I’d noticed that she hadn’t been her usually ”bouncy“ self (she was always up and down in her seat exhorting the team like a cheerleader) and stayed seated even when the team scored a basket (a rarity, for sure). The screams and yells continued but without the up and downs. As I moved along the row of seats towards her I noticed that she had her coat across her lap. If anything, the gym was usually too warm. However, I wasn’t thinking about that but on just how she’d act after my little ”rant“ a week before. When I got up to her I sat down and tried to concentrate on the game.

I definitely liked her husband's game strategy... defense, defense, defense! The kids just didn’t have anyone who could put the ball in the basket with any consistency and defense was their only hope. Other teams hated having hands in in their faces or having arms waving in front of them and it was proving beneficial as Johnny’s team was only a few points behind just before half time. To be truthful, I wasn’t looking forward to that period of time as it meant I’d have to talk with Sandy.

If anything, I found her to be a bit embarrassed. I remember trying to figure out if it had anything to do with the last time I’d talked with/at her. I’d vowed to myself to keep my mouth shut as much as possible and she picked up on it. The embarrassment went away and was replaced with something that I’d not really experienced with her and that was coyness on her part. It was like we were both ”sparring” but using feather dusters. Finally she broke it off and, leaning towards me, asked if I could keep a secret. I had no idea where she was going with that so said “Sure!”. Then she threw me a real “bomb” when she, still whispering, told me she was wet. It took me a few seconds to digest that interesting bit of information. There was no doubt there was a “stirring” in my groin area. In retrospect, I really can’t give a reason why I didn’t react by saying “What happened?” but I didn’t. In fact, I don’t think I said anything. My face probably said it for me. In any case she felt she had to explain.

Some kid had broken a urinal off the wall in one of the bathrooms and they had to turn off all the water in the building. When Sandy left work she’d planned on a bathroom break as soon as she arrived at school but had been turned away. She told me she’d given some thought about going home but Johnny’s team came out on the floor before she had a chance to leave. She told me that she was going to wait until after the game started and then go but, the boys scored two baskets in a row to open the game. She, now with her face a crimson color, admitted that she got “too excited” and had jumped up and down and as she did... well, it was more than a “dribble“. By then I was hard as a rock and had one had in my pocket trying to rearrange myself.

I can’t speak to the look on my face but I didn’t say a word. Even in my fantasy world I’d not conjured up a scene where a female would flat out tell me that she was wet. Sometime about then I took a look around and saw there were less than a dozen people in the grandstands and they were pretty spread out. I think the first words I mumbled had to do with how she was going to get out of the place without being noticed. I don’t think she had an answer but I do remember the kids coming back on the court about then. They played ”close” until the very end of the game when, by some miracle, they scored a basket and took the lead. That was too much for Sandy and she bounced up, screaming with excitement. My bulge had been much reduced by then but when I saw the size of the wet patch on the back of her pants it came back with a vengeance. She remained standing which gave the chance to take it all in. Wet halfway to her waist and down to about mid thighs, she was totally oblivious to it with her excitement for the team possibly winning their first game.

Sadly, they did not. Someone on the other team stole the ball and went on down the floor for an uncontested lay-up and the win. I’m sure that if they’d won Sandy would’ve run out onto the floor to give her husband a big hug, wet pants and all. However, with the disappointment came the reality that she was standing up in front of a few people fully exposing her embarrassing situation and she just flopped back down. I really felt badly for her for both reasons... the team losing again and her wetness. After a minute or so she looked up at me (I’d jumped up too) and, with a wistful look, said she was ready to “face the music” meaning walking up the steps and into the lobby. At first she was going to put her coat around her waist to cover her rear but that left her front exposed. I finally spoke and told her to carry her coat in front of her and I’d walk close behind, hopefully shielding the worst of the wetness. When she turned around to look at me there was this look on her face that I took to be a “Thank you” and smiled back at her. We walked out of the gym that way and then out into the darkness. I walked her to her car and as she got in she actually said the words. “Thank you”. That made it all worth while.

Back at home I debated with myself as to weather I should tell Elle about the situation. At the last minute, before opening the door, I decided against it thinking back to the “discussion” Sandy and I’d had in roughly the same spot in my house about “unmentionables” and bikini bathing suits and the fact that she hadn’t brought it up with Elle. I remember mumbling to myself “Mum’s the word!” as I called out to Elle that I was home.

To be continued...