textfiles/sex/EROTICA/L/lmorgan1.txt

TEST ANXIETY

Fiction by LAWRENCE MORGAN
                PO BOX 314
                GROVE CITY OH 43123

        I still remember the midterm exam that I gave in the summer of '94
like it was yesterday. I was teaching an introductory algebra course that
quarter. I had only ten students in the class; algebra was not a popular
course during summer term, because it met five days a week for two solid
hours.

        There were four guys in the class and six girls. Lynn was the
prettiest. She was about twenty years old, and she had just finished her
first year in college. This was her first time taking a summer course. She
was also one of my brightest, most attentive students. She was rarely
absent, always prepared for class, and usually sat in the front row.

        It was a hot day in late June, and Lynn came into class in a white
tee shirt with some sort of environmental message on it (I think it was
something to do with Earth Day) and a pair of baggy khaki shorts. She was
barefoot, her sneakers tied to the straps of her backpack.

        She had a large soft drink with her, and I could hear the ice
sloshing around as she took her seat  in the front row. It was about eight
minutes before the hour. Other students filed into the room slowly,
chatting idly about the exam, the weather, and other things. I looked over
the exam one last time, searching for any errors that my teaching assistant
might have missed. Lynn took a long drag on the straw of the paper soft
drink cup, and I heard the ice protest once again. It sounded like the cup
was empty. She searched through her backpack, lines of frustration crossing
her face, and finally produced two pencils and an eraser.

        I studied her long dark hair, her tanned legs and her bare feet. I
often had trouble taking my eyes off this girl during class. I wished I was
younger.

        With four minutes to go, I asked the class if there were any last
minute questions. Tom, the guy who had been absent most of the quarter,
wanted to know how to divide two complex numbers. A few of the other
students groaned. If he hadn't mastered that by now, it was unlikely he
would pass this test.

        The bell rang. To an observer from another planet, we must have
looked like rats in some of sort of operant conditioning experiment. I
picked up the stack of exams, and my students cleared their books off their
desks.  I distributed the exams. Some students began working on the first
page immediately while others leafed through the exam to get a general idea
of what was involved.  "You should have three sheets with five pages of
text," I announced. "Make sure you aren't missing any pages." I then
informed the class that they had the whole two hour class period for the
exam.

        The room was warm, so I went over to the thermostat and adjusted
the air conditioning. Then I sat down to read the paper. Exams like this
can be incredibly boring for professors. My students were seated far enough
apart that I really didn't have to worry too much about cheating. But I had
to stay in the room, otherwise the temptation would be too great,
especially for someone like Tom. I leafed through the paper, occasionally
glancing up to see if anyone was trying to get my attention to ask a
question. And of course I would take a peek at Lynn and one or two of the
other girls in the class.

        After about twenty five minutes, I noticed that Lynn seemed to be
shifting her weight and adjusting herself quite a bit. Once she dropped her
pencil, and it rolled under another desk.  She looked up and leaned
forward, but couldn't reach it. So she sat back a bit and retrieved it by
grabbing it with her toes. She looked at me briefly and smiled.

        She continued to shift her weight from time to time, and it
occurred to me that perhaps the soda she had drunk was beginning to catch
up with her. If this was the case, I thought to myself, this may well
become the most interesting exam I have ever given. Normally my students
get a five minute break in the middle of the period; but today no one was
permitted to leave the room until they turned in the exam. And I expected
even my best students to need most or all of the period for this test.

        Some fifteen minutes later,  Lynn got up slowly and approched my
desk. She leaned toward me, and said in a whisper, "Can I go to the
bathroom?" I had to struggle to keep from smiling too broadly. I couldn't
believe what I was hearing. "You can't leave the room during the exam,"  I
said gently. She looked down, disappointed. "Okay," she said quietly.

        Well, I thought, this is definitely going to be better than reading
the horoscopes for the rest of the exam.  I got up to stretch my legs, and
walked around the room a bit. I stopped for a side view of Lynn. She now
had one leg crossed under the other; the bottom of her right foot was
lightly covered with dirt from running around barefoot. One hand held her
pencil, while the other rested on her forehead, giving her a look of
intense concentration.  I wondered if my hard-on was noticeable. But no one
in the class was looking at me, of course; everyone was wrapped up in the
test.

        As the time passed, Lynn's discomfort increased significantly.
With about an hour left to the period, Lynn now had her legs crossed with
one on top of the other, in the more traditional female style. But after
another five minutes, she shifted her position again, this time placing her
left leg under her right leg. She looked up at the clock.  I was back at my
desk now, and she looked at me briefly. I smiled, and she smiled back. She
returned to her exam, uncrossing her legs and placing one hand in her lap.
A few more minutes went by, and Lynn crossed both her legs in a yoga style.


        I got up to walk around again. As I circled the perimeter of the
room, I saw Lynn bite her lower lip. She uncrossed her legs once again,
this time squeezing them together. I returned to my desk and pretended to
look at the paper again. Lynn was slowly relaxing the tension in her legs,
and looking down at her lap. Sure enough, a wet spot had appeared right in
the middle of her light khaki shorts. She crossed her legs once more,
looked around nervously, and finally turned her attention back to the exam.

        There were now 50 minutes remaining in the class period, and I
noticed that Lynn had just started the fourth page of my five page exam. I
walked to the back of the room and looked over the entire class, while
reaching into my pocket to adjust my hard-on. Lynn was definitely going to
need the remaining class time in order to finsh the exam. Her little leak
that had probably released a lot of the pressure in her; I wondered if she
would be able to hold on until the end.

        Fifteen minutes later I found out. Lynn drew in a sharp breath, and
snapped her mouth shut quickly. Her legs were not crossed at this point;
she squeezed her legs together tightly, but a large damp patch quickly
spread across the front of her shorts and began to stretch toward her
knees. I looked right at her now, unable to resist this visual treat. She
was staring at her lap in horror. It seemed that she had once again been
able to stop the flow, but the wet spot had grown substantially in size.
Anyone looking directly at her could tell that she had peed in her pants.
Fortunately for her, there was only one other student sitting in the front
row today, and he was five seats away from her. So no one except me had a
frontal view. She looked up from her crotch and stared at me. Her face was
bright red. I gave her a half-smile, not knowing how else to react.
Certainly she didn't want me to say anything. I simply couldn't let her
leave the room.  Besides, at this point, getting up would attract attention
to her situation and let other people see her condition.

        Lynn looked down at her backpack, and then went back to the exam. I
began to feel sorry for her. Lynn lived in an apartment off campus,
probably with a couple of roommates. Did she have a change of clothes in
her backpack? It seemed unlikely, unless she had athletic clothes for a
workout or something. She was going to have a hard time getting home
without everyone seeing that she had wet herself.

        I wondered what would happen if other students noticed what was
going on. This seemed inevitable, since they would eventually approach my
desk to turn in the exam. Because of the weather, no one had sweaters or
jackets of any kind; Lynn had only her backpack and her shoes, and these
weren't going to be very effective at covering up her mess. She looked wet
enough that I was pretty sure it wouldn't dry before class was over; in
fact, if she wet herself much more, I estimated, it might start dripping
onto the floor. I wondered if she was wearing a pad or feminine napkin.
Probably not. If she was, it had soaked through quite a while ago. There
was even a possiblity that she had only a bikini bathing suit on under her
shorts. Sunbathing was a popular way to pass the time between classes at
this time of year, and judging from her tan, it was something she did on a
fairly regular basis.

        With twenty minutes left to the class period, the first two
students got up to turn in their exams. One walked right past Lynn, handed
me the exam, and went back to his seat, passing her again. If he noticed
anything, I couldn't tell from his behavior or facial expressions. He
picked up his backpack and left without crossing the front of the room.

        Since I already had a full view of Lynn's accident, it seemed like
her best bet for avoiding some major embarrassment was to wait until
everyone else had left the room. She had apparently come to the same
conclusion, because she was indeed the last one to turn in her exam. As the
others handed theirs in and left, I saw some of them looking back at Lynn
as they opened the door to the room. But no one actually said anything
because others were still taking the test. When the last two girls left the
room, I heard excited voices out in the hall, which slowly receded into the
distance.

        Finally, Lynn was the only one left in the room. She looked up at
me, her face turning a bright shade of pink again.  She stood up slowly,
and I noticed a dark stain on the fabric of the chair underneath her. She
handed me her exam slowly, looking down at her shorts.

        "Well," she said nervously, "I guess next time I'll know to go to
the bathroom before the test."

          I wasn't sure how to respond. I really didn't want to embarrass
her any further. If she had simply handed me the exam and left, I never
would have said a word about the matter to her or anyone else. Well... OK,
maybe I would tell a few friends about it, but I wouldn't mention her name.
I counted myself lucky just to have seen it.

        But her comment caught me off guard. It sounded like she wanted me
to acknowledge what had happened. She seemed to want to get it out in the
open. Did she want me to apologize for not letting her leave the room? She
looked at me.

        "You couldn't quite hold it, huh?" I finally said.

        "I shouldn't have had all that soda right before the exam," she
said. "We usually get a break during class."

        "I'm sorry I couldn't let you go," I stammered. "But we can't have
people going in and out during a test. It would create a lot of problems
with cheating."

        "I know. Don't worry about it." She seemed more comfortable with
the whole episode now. Her shorts had begun to dry, but it was still
obvious that she had wet herself.

        She collected her things and picked up her backpack.  A final
thought struck me. "Can I give you a ride home or something?"

        "Would you?" She asked. Her face lit up. "This is pretty
embarrassing." She managed a nervous laugh. I agreed, and we headed toward
the door.

        We headed down the hallway. "Uhm... I still have to go," she said
quietly. I waited patiently while she disappeared into the ladies' room.

        On the way to my car, she stopped and bought a newspaper, which she
carried in front of her to cover the wetness on her shorts. But she still
couldn't do much to hide the backside. Then she sat on the paper in my car,
trying not to get the seat wet. As I drove her home, she wondered aloud
what she would tell her roommates. But by the time we arrived, her shorts
were almost dry from the sun and the heat. If you knew what you were
looking at, it was still obvious; but her roommate probably wouldn't notice
it if she disappeared straight into her room.

        She thanked me for driving her home, and then looked over her
shoulder and smiled as she went up the steps to her apartment.

Needless to say, she got an A on the test.