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Caught with my pants down.

My most embarrassing moment.

By Danny CJ MitchellPublished 3 years ago 7 min read
Caught with my pants down.
Photo by Hello I'm Nik on Unsplash

Many moons ago, I was working as a cook at a local restaurant that sat just outside a large shopping centre. I worked the dreaded split-shift so my lunch breaks tended to be between two to three hours long and not having a car at the time, I couldn’t just pop home. For anybody having worked in hospitality may know, even free food from work gets boring after a while. There was a food court in the shopping centre, nothing fancy but at least it had variety. The only advantage of having a late afternoon lunch break was the Chinese spot! They would box up what was left of the self serve and sell it mad cheap. Granted, this food had probably been sitting there at a holding temperature for several hours but it still tasted good, and it was cheap, so I ate double.

You know when you’ve eaten a good fast food Chinese meal, and by good I reference the portion size and not the nutritional value. Loosen the belt, dab the sweaty forehead and slid your bum slightly forward to form a kind of slouch, extending the space your intestines have to process that mountain of sweet and sour pork, chicken balls, fried veg and three types of rice. I still had at least an hour of my lunch break left, ‘oh how beautiful it would been to take a nap’, I pondered, as the the food coma crept upon me, weighing down on my eye lids and lowering my body deeper into the slouch.

Having been a smoker at the time, there was only one thing that would provide motivation to move, a cigarette. I washed back the last mouthful of orange juice and used the only clean corner of my napkin to wipe away the deep orangey red food colouring of the sweet and sour sauce from my lips. There followed a moment of bliss, a genuine satisfaction from the 10 litres of grease I just consumed and the carcinogenic poisons of a cigarette blitzing through my arteries.

Then there was a drop.

I felt it, my guts. It was not unlike putting on a rucksack having underestimated the weight and it almost toppling you to the floor. I needed a number two. ASAP. My stomach churned and growled at me, my skin started to break into sweats as my mind confirmed we was in a spot of trouble. I didn’t even take that last pull of the smoke as I twisted my hips back toward the door, only to save spreading my legs too wide. A clammy warmth spread between my tensed thighs and buttocks as i waddled back into the shopping centre. The toilets were not far, 50 metres at most. I managed a steady speed walk that turned into a skip, staying light on my feet. My back completely straight and hands on my waist attempting to relieve some pressure. It was coming. I got to the entrance of the toilets, similar to most shopping centres there’s a long hall you needed to walk down first. Nobody in sight, ‘thank god’ I thought, considering the pain I was in, it was probably showing on my face too. I took the left signalling toward the men’s.

‘Toilet is currently being cleaned.’

- A maintenance note hung on the door.

One of them ‘oh your fucking kidding me!’ moments. I spun on my heel and head straight back towards the disabled toilet. I hit the automatic button, the big heavy door clicked and started to slide open.

I have never, ever, seen a door open so slowly.

The pain crippled me further, like being stabbed in the side, both sides, with searing knives. Sliding into the disabled toilet I see it’s just a big square room with a changing table and sink on one wall and the toilet in the far corner. I rest my arm up against the wall beside the door and held the button firmly.

One slow arse door.

I stayed rested up against the wall, using an arm to steady myself, my forehead resting against my arm took the opportunity to wipe itself dry. The door clicks shut. Finally.

Now this disabled restroom was definitely larger than it need to be and by no means of an exaggeration either, you could fit a lot of wheelchairs in here. I unfastened my belt and drop my shorts before reaching the loo, my bare butt almost gliding through the air. There was no time to wipe the seat first, check if there was toilet roll etc. I was all in for this gamble. Without going into too much detail, it was bad. Loud, wet, and coated the whole bowl. The first wave was spent, I composed myself for the second coming.

Then I heard the click.

That big old slow automatic door begun to creep open. I look up in horror as the hallways bright lights began to spill into the restroom. A woman stood waiting with a young girl, we caught eyes for a moment. Shock spread across her face, as she gawped for what felt like a lifetime. The fingers of her right hand spread across the eyes of the young girl to save her witnessing the sweaty little gremlin committing foul deeds in the corner before them. I still saw the young girls smirk grow as far to see her top teeth. I must have looked a mess. The woman’s left hand grasped the daughters shoulder as they turned tail and left.

The door was still only half way open. For what felt like an eternity, I watched it slowly swing the last half. In an absolute shock, embarrassment flushing my body. Almost frozen I sat for moment, a vulnerable, helpless part of me praying the lady turns back around and out of some kind of decency, closes the door. She didn’t.

The hallway still screamed light into my little shit cave, my mind racing for an escape. I hear only two steps before another woman walks by, similar age to myself. Like is the curiosity of most, she glances through the open door as she passes, we also met eyes. Although they did not linger for long, I caught her every expression. The awkward look away, the humorous rise of her cheek bones and the effort to avoid laughing as her jaw dropped wide open. In a panic I went to stand and go run for the door, only to be bound by the trousers around my ankles. I heard a short explosion of laughter from the woman as she disappeared down the hallway, this in turn made me laugh too. Standing in a pose similar to a golfer as they ‘T up’, my rear hovering above the toilet, my feet firmly beside each other and both hands covering a club. A little squeak escaped me, it felt like a little bubble grew and popped, I almost lost it all.

The second wave was at the gate. My whole body tensed again, this was a think fast, act fast moment. I knew I had it in me to get back to the door again, I had no choice. I clenched tighter, feeling the unwiped mess spread between the cheeks. I couldn’t risk pulling my trousers all the way up, I didn’t have a spare pair, so with one hand pulled them closer to my knees as the other hand covered my manhood. I waddled, short fast steps, like a penguin skipping to the door. I was barely an inch from indecent exposure as I heard more voices coming from the hallway. Two more woman approached. I held the button until I heard the click and the door began it’s slow journey closed. I managed to just get behind the inside of the door as the woman’s voices went silent and only the breeze of their passing confirmed they was gone. My waddles stayed an inch within the door, ready to barricade it should a person try enter. I slightly applied some pressure to speed things up, the door clicked and stopped moving. Similar to those revolving doors outside hotels and shops, it had a safety measure in place should it be interrupted. I let go and composed myself, hating, suffering every moment. ‘I am safe behind this door, it will close soon’, I comforted myself. The final click come. I searched about for the lock, something I had grossly mid-considered before.

The seat was still warm when I returned. Fortunately there was plenty of toilet paper and I had no further issues whilst dealing with my business. I took my time and regained my composure, playing the experience through my mind on repeat until only humour remained. I waited a further fifteen minutes, just to be safe, before making my walk of shame. I took the nearest exit of the shopping centre and the longest, least populated route back to work.


About the Creator

Danny CJ Mitchell

I write for fun.

I also take pictures.

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