The Realtor Chapter 4 (C) by erotinthaller Sometimes there is danger. Sometimes excitement. Sometimes preparing a house to sell it has a way of providing very interesting results. Codes: exhib, voy, MF The Realtor Chapter 4 We walked through the kitchen and into the little half-bath in the mudroom. I raised the lid. "Well, go ahead," Nancy instructed. "Let's get this over with." I raised the seat and pointed my peter at the pot. After several moments, there was still no relief. "What's wrong?" she asked, prancing about impatiently behind me. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm not accustomed to having an audience." "Oh," she whispered back, as if mocking me, "I wondered if this was standard practice, or if you have a problem." "No problem, just a little delay." "You want me to hold it for you?" She leaned around to look up into my eyes. Her face was beaming as if about to burst into all out laughter. "Your turn is next, remember?" "Yes, but I plan to sit down. That gives me a tad more privacy." She paused a moment, than added, "You could sit down if you wanted. Or is standing there with your plumbing in your hand the only real he-manly way to pee?" Just then, my bladder decided it had waited long enough. My prostate relaxed enough for a very respectable stream to spray into the stool. "Careful," Nancy demanded. "I don't want that stuff all over me." I burst out laughing. "What's so funny?" "Oh, I just remembered something I saw years ago penciled behind the stool in a public restroom. It read, 'We aim to please. You aim too, please.'" "Very funny." "Well, you'd never see that in a ladies' room." "Touchè." When my bladder was finally empty, I jiggled the last few drops off the end, then suddenly felt strangely awkward about just letting my tool drop. I mean, usually when I'm done peeing, I tuck my equipment back into my pants, but when you're naked, what do you do? Just turn it loose and let it hang? Awkwardly, I simply stepped off to one side out of the way, still holding my limp member between my fingers. "Okay, I'm done," I told Nancy. "Here, I'll put the seat down for you." She frowned up at me as she lowered herself and sat on the stool. Almost immediately the sound of running water filled the room, and she sighed deeply. "Oh, that feels good." I was amazed at how long it took for her to finish. Her bladder must have been a lot fuller than mine. When finally she was done, she reached automatically for the toilet paper. "Look!" she squealed as she tore off several sheets, "We have paper. Do you realize this is the first thing we have found in this house which is not nailed down or stuck in place?" "Yeah, I can see you catching a bus across town wearing three sheets of toilet paper." "Under different circumstances, Bill, I'd take that as an insult," Nancy laughed, "but considering how we're dressed right now, even three sheets would be quite modest. She flushed the toilet. "Well, now that we've shared these intimate moments together, I hope you feel as much better as I do." So it was, feeling much relieved, we walked somewhat aimlessly back into the kitchen, still unsure of what to do next. I mean, what can a couple do when they're locked in together? With neither of them having anything to wear? And no place they could go? Literally. "I don't know about you," Nancy spoke softly, "but I'm tired. Isn't there some place we can sit down while we talk about what we're going to do to get out of here?" "Well, Madame," I replied in my most dapper voice, "I would offer you a chair, but they seem temporarily to be out of stock." I looked around the living room, and the fireplace caught my eye. "You're wrong about the toilet paper," I laughed. "How's that?" "You said it was the only thing not nailed down. Well, look at the fireplace. The tools are still here." Sure enough, the three traditional fireplace tools were hanging on pegs set into the bricks, the tongs, poker, and brush. "Yeah, a lot of good they'll do for covering up when we go walking down the street." There was no sense of humor in her voice. "Well, I just thought it interesting to find something still here. "The stairs," she said. Her voice had a suddenly optimistic list. "We can sit on the steps." Indeed, we were standing beside the stairway. While they were not the most comfortable place to sit, the did provide a nice way to get off our feet. End of Chapter 4: Continued in Chapter 5The Realtor - Chapter 4