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Summary
“Sophie,” he hisses as soon as he’s recovered, sending her a pleading look. He doesn’t want to ask her to stop, not when she’s clearly having a good time teasing him--he’d never want to end her fun on purpose, especially since he’s usually willing to go along with her assortment of kinks. But he’s at work. There’s no way out if he ends up actually wetting himself, which he’d like to think wouldn’t happen to him, but at this point in his desperation, he’s not so sure anymore. His mind darts back to those three cups of coffee--a natural diuretic, at that--and five glasses of water, and he bites his lip and crosses one leg over the other tightly at the thought.
Sophie seems to have had a similar idea, because her eyes flicker to the small paper cups on the counter next to the sink. “You seem flushed, doctor,” she says jovially, slipping away from him (and leaving his poor bladder alone, thank god) and plucking one of the cups off of the stack. “Have you been drinking enough? Maybe you should have some water…”
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A desperate doctor is tormented by his patient (and girlfriend) during a routine check-up.