ALWAYS Attended (the Story) (Patreon)

Alright!  Here's that story I mentioned that goes with ALWAYS Attended!  I don't think it's anything too special, since it's in that "summarization" type of style I tend to do these in.  But I really couldn't keep delaying the post until it was finished, so here it is now!  I hadn't really come up with a name for the character, so I just went with the first thing that came to mind.

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Her breathing is shallow, carefully calculated, and yet still wavering.  Every muscle in her body is either tense or shivering.  Sweat glazes her forehead.

Bridgette’s temples pound with a hastened heartbeat, yet she feels faint.  The horrified --- or is it agonized? --- grimace on her face compromises any degree of composure inherent to the professionalism of her uniform.

~

The Erebus Hotel, Casino, and Lounge was a gargantuan and imposing establishment better likened to an entire campus than a single building.  But, indeed, it technically comprised a single, massive, crescent-shaped complex skinned in gleaming white marble that, by night, was lit from below by many humming spotlights.  At its feet was a wide, circular pond designed to reflect its majesty.  Sculptures of Greek gods, goddesses, and heroes peeked out of the hundreds of ornate niches that lined the opaquely-tinted windows.

The interior, a thematic contrast to the facade, bore darker colors --- blacks, golds, silvers --- in all its hallways.  Its casino (actually, casinos) were, of course, far more colorful, but hid behind select, soundproof doors.  As the image of obscene wealth, the Erebus featured such absurdities as dedicated ice-sculptors hired to provide elaborate  and unique carvings for each of its many dining halls.  Its suites resembled millionaire penthouses more-so than individual hotel rooms, as each was guaranteed to have a loft that overlooked an ornate sitting area.  The reception area housed two glass elevators for clients, Erebus management, and bag-haulers only (the rest of the staff was instead required to quietly disappear into a partially-concealed, single elevator near the back of the building).

Most relevant for Bridgette was the observation that every last inch of the interior was spotless.   The cleaning and maintenance staff resembled an army, and most even had rooms within the massive subterranean living-quarters.  In fact, every staff member was required to complete a year of training while living on-site.  Unsurprisingly, this was not much of a burden considering the generous accommodations provided in the subterranean complex.

Considering the position she had been hired for, though, the requirement to remain on-campus for an entire year seemed utterly ludicrous. But upon Bridgette’s hiring, she was assured that it would be necessary.  She had quickly learned what that meant.

Bridgette was responsible for the 19th Female Restroom on Floor 3 of the East Third.  She was to be the dedicated bathroom attendant for the day shift, and would only be relieved  for a single 30-minute meal or upon the arrival of the night shift's attendant.  At all other times, she was required to remain present and available for any cleaning duty or client need that might arise.  In contrast to the strictness of her schedule and the elaborate code of professional etiquette, the cleaning was no more difficult than it would have been at any other public restroom.  In fact, it might have been easier, since the clients served by the Erebus did not usually leave messes.

And until last week — nearly two years after her being hired — Bridgette even managed to be a model employee.  Despite the intimidation of interacting with insanely rich and powerful women, she maintained an unwavering dedication to the persona required of her by the Erebus code of etiquette.  In a way, she felt that the code kept her “safe” from being the subject of their ire.

Last week, however, she received the news in an email --- an update to the professional code of etiquette.  This was nothing out-of-the-ordinary, though usually lowly bathroom attendants didn't find anything that would apply to them.  This time however, a new, applicable rule did come through.

"To All Erebus Staff: Topside restrooms are now only for use by clients.  Employees must instead use the staff toilets located in their quarters or other staff areas and are only permitted to do so while on their meal break."

For Bridgette, this would be a problem.  Her restroom was the 19th --- far from the staff elevator.  It was physically impossible for her to make it all the way to her room and back within her allotted break...  This was due to the staff elevator — it was always in use by other staff members.  The fact that there was only one of them might have been the only deficiency in the building’s design.

During the first few days, she tried to comply.  But her shift was 10 hours long. Her meal break was only five hours in, and even by then she was desperate to relieve herself.

She inevitably failed and broke the rule. Her restroom served the third floor casino and was thus usually busy; but even in agony, she waited for the restroom to be empty before darting into a stall to fiercely urinate.  Surely her manager would understand…

Three days ago, Bridgette had been called into her manager’s office.  She could tell by her boss’ interlaced fingers and unblinking glare that the circumstances of this meeting would not be good.  While confused about how management could have known what she was doing, she had prepared something of a defense for herself…  At least, so she thought — until they leveled an entirely unrelated and confusing charge at her feet: a client had complained that their presence at the Erebus had been (embarrassingly) disclosed.  This was supposedly done by one of the bathroom attendants.  And Bridgette fit the description of the culprit.

It was clear in the moments that followed that denial would not be a sound strategy. She knew that she was not the one responsible, but her testimony mattered a lot less than the client’s.  She would take the fall for this, and the question was a matter of how far.  She’d have lost her job that night had it not been for a single gesture of “mercy” from her boss:

For the next six months, her boss or someone else would stop by her restroom randomly during her shift numerous times per day to ensure that she was upholding the code of ethics.  This would be a problem.

~

These memories race through Bridgette’s panicked mind as she stands at her station — a table in the front corner of the 19th Ladies’ room on the third floor of the Erebus Hotel, Casino, and Lounge.  She is bent forward at the hips, but it isn’t helping her situation.  Her quivering hands hover over her thighs dangerously close to where she so badly wants to cram them.  But doing such is disallowed by the code of ethics.

The skirt of her uniform feels tighter than it ever has, and the string of her apron puts a ring of torturous pressure around her abdomen.  

Bridgette needs to pee extremely badly.  Her bladder is beyond full — such that her last attempt to straighten her back had forced a horrifically tempting dribble of urine out of her straining body and into the sweat and piss-quenched gusset of her panties.  The dainty cotton can retain nothing more.  Her legs twist together, and her feet shift over each other as she seeks any position that will prevent further leaks.

All around her are the occupied stalls of the restroom she is charged with maintaining.  Relaxed drinking and long hours of gambling lead an unending stream of clients to seek out this room.  And, to Bridgette’s ears, it sounds as if every single woman is releasing an ocean of hot relief.  Each woman is rich enough to buy her entire childhood neighborhood as if it is a gumball, and they expect Bridgette to conduct herself accordingly.  As such, sympathy is a rarity.  The older ladies side-eye her in displeasure when they leave.  The younger women giggle among each other about Bridgette’s misery as they pass.  And no more than seconds later, more women enter to replace them.

Bridgette doesn’t really notice.  Her attention is fixed squarely between her legs.  Her heart thuds with cold blood at merciless reality: it’ll be another three hours before the end of her shift.