Doing Business, Part 10 (Patreon)

Ten

“No way,” she said, shaking her head and laughing. “I just can’t even wrap my head around it. Minutes after you walked out of her office, some other guy in a suit and tie probably walked in to talk about a spreadsheet, and the room had to smell like…a dirty diaper still, right?”

I just shrugged. I was telling Lyndie everything. Everything. Messy diapers made on the floor of Ms. Heller’s office and all.

“Imagine having that kind of backbone,” she said. “Your office could smell like a dirty diaper and you just…don’t care?”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t know that she doesn’t care,” I said. “Maybe she cares deeply. Maybe she locks the door after changing someone’s diaper in her office and pretends to be out of the building for the rest of the day.”

“The balls on that woman.”

I shrugged. “She’s something, right?”

We were walking down the street together, having left the office for the day. For as humiliating as it was to put every single embarrassing detail out into the world for her, it felt good to get it off my chest. Given this knowledge, and after Lyndie had seen the way Ms. Heller interacted with me for herself, I no longer felt alone. If I didn’t have a friend, I at least needed an ally. I needed that.

“But you like it,” she said. It might have been a question, but it seemed more like a statement. An observation.

“Is that obvious?”

Lyndie laughed. “If you didn’t like it at this point, I’d say you’ve had plenty of opportunities to shut it down.”

“Guilty, then.”

“Who else knows?” she asked.

“Within the office? I have no idea how deep this thing goes. Otherwise just you. And my roommate.”

“Oh?” she said, eyebrows raised. “Is that as awkward as it sounds?”

“Too soon to say,” I grumbled. “But probably.”

She laughed again, shaking her head. “You can’t catch a break, can you? Maybe I should be asking if there’s anyone who doesn’t know.”

I shrugged. “It’s only a matter of time, I’m sure.”

We never really made any sort of plan for the evening. She had just begun following me after work. I used my transit pass to board the train, wondering if that might’ve been our point of separation. But then she scanned hers and followed me to the tracks where we boarded my train together.

It looked like she was coming home with me.

Sitting down on the train brought a blush to my face. First, there was the louder-than-expected crinkling coming from my rear as I lowered myself to the seat. Then, the faint scent of baby powder hung in the air around us. I wondered if I’d ever get used to that.

“Need a change?” she teased.

“I’m fine,” I muttered.

Somewhere between getting my diaper changed by Ms. Heller in The Closet and leaving work, I had returned to Ms. Heller for another fresh diaper. The fact that getting my diaper changed by the CEO now felt like a footnote in my day rather than the main event made me a little nervous. Someday soon, all this weirdness in my life might seem kind of…normal.

“She offered you a job?” Lyndie asked.

“Yeah…”

“Full time baby, I assume? Are you going to be her court jester? Bopping around in a stinky diaper for her amusement?”

“Her assistant,” I said. “But…let’s be real. That might as well be the same thing as a jester. She’s certainly not interested in me for my filing skills.”

“How come you didn’t tell me about that?”

“Well, for one, it would’ve required me to tell you about, you know, diapers?”

She chuckled. “Right, right. That checks out. So, now that your dirty laundry–pun absolutely intended–is out in the open, are you going to take her up on the offer?”

I spared her my whole internal debate about the fork in the road my life was approaching, just cutting to the current feeling I had in my gut: “Yeah, probably.”

“Good,” she said, nodding. “Do you think you’ll get business cards? Your official title can read: ‘Office Baby.’ And the card could even be baby-scented.”

My cheeks warmed again. “You’ll be the first to know.”

“I’m learning a lot about office politics,” she said. “For one, there are clearly two types of employees: Parents and babies.”

I was reminded of something Ms. Heller had said to me in one of our earliest encounters–that there were just leaders and followers. By recognizing a similar pattern herself, Lyndie’s quip only further confirmed that she was in the ‘leader’ category.

Or, ‘parents.’

“You might be onto something,” I said, staring out the train’s window as the chain of cars began to move forward on the track.

A few minutes passed, mostly in silence. We had said plenty already, and there’d be more to say later, so I didn’t think much of it.

“Do you have, like, a boyfriend?” I asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Why? Are you interested?”

“No,” I said, realizing that I hadn’t put much thought into my question before asking it. But, then, I worried that denying my interest could’ve sounded even worse. “Not that I don’t think you’d be a good girlfriend or anything…”

“Calm down, baby,” she teased.

“I just don’t know a whole lot about you.”

“I tend to prefer it that way,” she said.

This, I already knew. Her antiauthoritarian attitude had suggested she was the lone-wolf type. I wondered where that fell on the whole leader/follower paradigm. Or, parent/baby.

“I’m single,” she continued, getting back to my question. “If you were anyone else, I’d say it’s by choice.”

“But because it’s me?”

She laughed. “I just got dumped a few weeks ago.”

“Ouch. Sorry.”

She shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. Well…no, it is. But I’m getting over it.”

“What happened?”

“We’re young and stupid, honestly. I wish I had a better answer, but that’s what it boils down to. I wasn’t going to marry this ding-dong and I doubt he wanted to marry me either. He found someone that put out more than I did, so I got kicked to the curb.”

This felt good. Adult conversation. Well, young-adult conversation at least. I struggled to maintain friendships in college, and while Evan and I got along just fine, at the end of the day he was more roommate than friend.

“I’d ask about your love life,” she said, “but I suspect it begins and ends with your Mommy.”

“You’re not entirely wrong…”

“You’re not going to win over too many women while peeing in your Pampers.”

I shrugged, doing my best not to let my embarrassment show. “I’m not sure that I’m looking to date right now.”

“Why?” she asked, grinning. “Do you think you and Gabrielle Heller have a future together?”

The thought had never crossed my mind before, and hearing the words come out of her mouth did sound kind of ridiculous. Still, the idea did seem to resonate with some part of me.

“Fuck,” I said, shaking my head. “I think you might be right.”

She laughed, slapping my leg playfully. “Seriously?”

“I dunno.” I was thinking out loud now, venturing into parts of my psyche that I had yet to analyze or process–a dangerous place to be, really. “Nobody’s ever paid attention to me like she has, you know?”

“Are you in loooove,” she asked, mockingly. Condescendingly.

“No.” Not yet…

She sighed, her smile fading a little bit. “Look, just do me a favor.”

“Hmm?”

“Just…be careful?” Her tone had changed, and I could tell she was being choosy with her words. “There’s still this big power dynamic in play, right? You’re having fun and meeting all of her needs and being the best baby you can be. But you’re still just a toy to her. And she’s a big powerful CEO. She eats little babies like you for breakfast.”

I recognized that she was probably right about all of that, but to truly embrace her words would put a huge damper on the thrill this new lifestyle was giving me. I tucked away what she said into a small place in the back of my mind for now.

“I’ll be careful,” I said.

It wasn’t long after that we had reached my stop. Lyndie followed me off the train and out of the station.

“What’s the plan for tonight?” she asked.

I shrugged, realizing I had no plan at all.

“I assume you’re fine with going to your place?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“We can order a pizza, then.”

It seemed as good a plan as any. Her ability to make a plan on the fly certainly had ‘leader’ qualities to it. “That sounds perfect. I can order one now.”

I pulled open my food delivery app on the phone as we walked. For a moment, I was feeling inspired–like I too could show some leadership by just ordering food without consulting her for her opinion. But I hesitated, it just wasn’t in my nature.

“Pepperoni,” she said, as if reading my mind.

I laughed and shook my head, selecting that from the menu.

“Will your roommate care that I’m there?” she asked.

“I doubt it. He’s pretty chill. Besides, he’ll be happy I ordered food.”

The closer we got to the apartment, the more I had to pee. For a few minutes, I didn’t think much of it. Twenty years of experience had taught me that I could easily ignore these early alerts from my bladder. But, I thought, I was wearing a diaper. I weighed my options, and I was left feeling confident that I could probably go ahead and wet my diaper without it causing any sort of unnecessary humiliation. I’d wet myself, go home, and then change. Easy peasy.

“I don’t talk to my roommate much,” she said. “We used to be close when we first moved in. I don’t think, like, anything happened. But I think she’s going through some stuff, you know? I think she’s struggling in school and it sounds like her mom is a real bitch and…”

I was only partially listening to what she had to say. It was one thing to wet myself while sitting in an office chair or just standing in a room. Walking down the street with someone, trying to seem engaged in a conversation, was something else entirely. I could feel the pressure in my bladder building. I knew that I had to go, but it was hard convincing my body that this was an acceptable time to do it.

“Yeah, I hear that,” I said, hoping that I was providing a suitable answer at a suitable pause in the conversation.

“But, whatever,” she continued. “If what she says is true, it’s not like it’ll be an issue for that much longer, you know? She’ll go her own way, and I’ll go mine. So it’s not even worth getting mad about, really. I don’t want to say it’s silly but at the same time…”

I couldn’t have been paying less attention to what she was saying. I was concentrating on my bladder, and my efforts to empty it into the diaper.

This isn’t hard, I told myself. You do this all the time. Pee. That’s it! Just pee. Pee into the diaper. You can do it. Pee into the diaper.

“...and she thinks that I’m probably going to end up paying that bill, right? I mean, maybe? But do I really want to pay it when I know that she’s probably not going to be able to pay me back?”

I had no idea what she was talking about. Was she still talking about her roommate? It didn’t matter. Focus. Not on Lyndie, on peeing. Pee into the diaper. Pee into the diaper.

We reached a crosswalk and paused, waiting for the signal to change so that we could proceed. It was here, stopped, that I was finally able to win my battle over my body. I could’ve moaned in relief, it felt so good to feel the warm pee begin to trickle into the padding, slowly growing into a heavier stream. The warm sensation saturated the diaper, quickly spreading in all directions. It felt heavenly.

“I don’t think it’s that funny,” Lyndie said, looking at me. I stared at her vacantly for a moment, unsure of what she was talking about or why she’d get the impression that I thought it was funny.

“I…I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Are you even paying attention to me?”

“Well…sure. It’s just that I was–”

She shook her head and chuckled to herself. Just in time for the ‘walk’ signal to light up so we could continue on our way.

“Oh my god,” she said. “You were just using your diaper, weren’t you?”

“Wh-what?” I stammered. “No way!”

“Oh come on, I’m trying to open up about my life and I look at your face and all I see is some dumb baby who is lost in thought. And then you got this goofy grin on your face. You totally just pissed your pants, didn’t you?”

“No! I was paying attention! I’m sorry, I just got the tiniest bit distracted for a moment there.”

“So if I made you pull your pants down, I’d see a completely clean and dry diaper?”

“Well…that’s not what I said.”

She laughed. “So you did just piss your diaper?”

“I didn’t say that either.” I swallowed nervously, frustrated that I had once again seemingly set myself up for embarrassment. I didn’t want to lie to her, but I also didn’t think it mattered. There was still a plan: get home and get changed.

I was saved by the sight of my apartment building ahead. “That’s where I live.”

“Is that the crib?” she asked. There was an implied wink and nudge.

We entered through the lobby and boarded the elevator. I hit the button for the fifth floor, and no sooner than the large metal doors slid shut, Lyndie turned to me with a wildly gleeful look in her eyes.

“Well?” she asked, as if I should already have known what she wanted.

“Well what?”

“Show me your diaper!”

“No way! I can’t just… Not here on the elevator.”

“Real quick,” she said. “Just pull down your pants, show me, and then pull your pants right back up again.”

The elevator began to move; it was a dreadfully slow machine. We were so close to the apartment now. So close to just leaping into my room and slamming the door shut for long enough that I could exchange this sopping wet diaper for a new one. I wondered if I’d be able to stall her long enough to get out of the elevator without pulling my pants down.

“There’s really nothing to see,” I said. “Just forget about it.”

“Do I need to tell Mommy?” she asked playfully? “What would she say if she knew that you weren’t being a good little boy and allowing for a diaper check?”

Damnit. I had no idea if Lyndie was bluffing or not, nor was I sure that Ms. Heller would care if Lyndie did actually say something to her. But just the thought of that conversation happening–the potential humiliation–was enough for me to reconsider my plan.

“Fine, fine,” I said. “It has to be quick though.”

“Whatever,” she said. “Just show me.”

I glanced up at the LED screen above the elevator’s buttons. Three more floors to go. Surely enough time to give her a quick peek.

I took a deep breath and quickly unbuckled my belt and unzipped my pants before shoving my pants down, just far enough that my diaper would be visible to her. I, of course, knew what she’d find and could guess how she’d react, and I braced myself for that humiliation.

“Well would you look at that,” she said, bending over to get a quicker look. “Looks like someone did have a little accident in their diapers, huh?”

Two more floors to go.

“There,” I said. “Happy now? Can I pull my pants up?”

She seemed to ignore my question, instead running her hand over my diaper. “It’s so warm. It gets so squishy when you’ve peed in it, yeah?”

One floor to go.

“Okay, I need to pull my pants up,” I said, practically pleading now. “Please. We’re almost there and the door is going to open and…”

“Sheesh,” she muttered. “Just hold your horses, okay? I’m still checking the baby’s diaper.”

DING. We had arrived. And the door immediately opened, revealing my neighbor–a middle-aged woman from a few doors down the hall, Ms. Tuttleman.

I quickly pulled up my pants, having to give them an extra firm hoist to get them up and over the swollen diaper. I could only imagine how red my face was. Meanwhile, Lyndie slowly stood up straight, grinning as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

“Uhm, hi, Ms. Tuttleman.”

The woman narrowed her eyes towards us, looking both concerned and suspicious. “Good afternoon, Clark,” she finally offered. And to Lyndie: “Miss.”

“Good afternoon,” Lyndie said back with a polite nod.

We quickly stepped off the elevator as Ms. Tuttleman got in. Her eyes continued to watch us as the elevator doors slid shut again.

“Well that was fun, wasn’t it?” Lyndie asked.

I wanted to crawl into a deep pit and allow myself to be buried alive. I couldn’t believe I had been exposed, once again, to someone else–another person who I encountered regularly enough. How was I ever supposed to look her in the face again?

“That was not fun,” I said. “I’d love it if I could make it, like, ten whole minutes without being embarrassed.”

“I hate to say it,” Lyndie said, “but you’re probably not going to get those ten minutes anytime soon.”

“Why not?” I spat.

“You said your roommate knows already, right?”

I nodded, though it occurred to me that he only sort-of knew. He had made guesses, but nothing was actually ever confirmed.

She shrugged. “If everybody knows, I see no reason not to talk about it.”

Fuck. It was going to be a long night.