Chapter Three:

	The following day was sweltering from the moment I woke up. The old house had a modern air conditioning unit, but my grandmother complained it cost too much run and that she was sensitive to the cold. This resulted in an AC that cut off moments before the heat reached a bearable level and only turned back on when the house was close to becoming a second sun.

	Daisy had checked the news and told me the day before that it was going to be hot, and based on that information, we planned to go to the stream—assuming the 40% chance of rain did not escalate to 100%. I looked outside the window and found clear blue skies and an obnoxiously bright sun, with no sign of rain in the distance. A far cry from the morning before.

	I got dressed and bounded down the steps to eat breakfast. I made some small talk with my grandmother and I helped her with the dishes. She mentioned something about chores, but was content with me doing them tomorrow (much to my relief.)

	The thought of hanging out with Daisy was always exciting, but the thought of going to the stream carried with it some important implications. At least, they were important to my young, male mind. 

	I chewed my lip nervously as I walked to her place, pondering questions of extreme philosophical importance:

	Would she wear a bikini? If she did, would it be a one-piece or a two-piece? And what color will it be? A classy black? A bold white? Something colorful like red, or blue, or green, or maybe even purple? I pictured her wet and glistening in the sun, and cycled through different potential swimsuits in my fantasy.

	[i]Hmm, I hope we do at least a bit of swimming.[/i] I glanced down at my shorts. I'd put on swim trunks instead of underwear just in case. Would she have the same foresight?

	[i]What if she forgets and wears regular underwear? [/i]That thought disappointed me, but it was followed up with another possibility. [i]What if she forgets and still decides to go swimming...?[/i]

[i]	[/i]I swallowed and forced my thoughts in another direction. I was almost there and I could feel myself beginning to react physically to the images in my head.

	[i]What if I see her in a bikini and 'react physically' then? What will she think? My swimming trunks aren't going to do a very good covering me.[/i]

[i]	[/i]And then there was the [i]other[/i] implication. The implication of being wet, in a swimsuit, of being out in the middle of nowhere for a long period of time. It was a consideration justified by the last two times I'd seen Daisy, by her... unconventional habits. But I dared not consider this in detail. I knew the moment I did, I would most certainly 'react physically,' and I would likely remain 'reacted' for a substantial period.

	I was so distracted by my own thoughts that I got three-quarters of the way to Daisy's house before realizing she was sitting out on her porch, already waiting for me. There were a few moments of mild awkwardness, that sense we'd had on the first day I'd arrived of 'I can see that you see me coming toward you, but we're still too far away to speak,' but not as pronounced. There was less anxiety now, and more of a bountiful sense of optimism—a feeling that my life in the city had largely lacked.

	I arrived at decaying steps that led up to her porch. There was a wisp of white before me, contrasting dramatically with the rest of the scene. The porch was old and rickety and the very picture of mildew and dirt. It had never been much to look at, as the Harris family had never taken the time to paint it, but at least back in the day it had been clean. Now it seemed barely fit for occupation. 

	The sight was strange, as strange as seeing her dad, Clark, in tatters, as strange as seeing the downstairs of her house in such a mess, as strange as not seeing her mother anywhere around the house and knowing I would never see her again. But the sight was made stranger by the sight of Daisy: the beautiful young woman who had once been a cute little girl, who had once been my best friend and my first crush. She was sitting amongst the mildew and dirt and old wood, sitting with her own fragrance of both youth and maturity, of flowers and nature--of pure feminine charm.

	She stood out so definitely there, so defiant, with her flawless skin, which had the smoothness and tint of vanilla milk; with her pale white dress, so white it seemed almost electric among the browns and the light browns and the dark browns and the dark greens of the porch; with her dirty blond locks that tumbled past her shoulders, seeming more blond than they had the day before.

	“Hey, took you long enough.” She said, smiling at me.

	“I'm here early. Didn't think you'd be outside waiting for me, though. What's wrong? Couldn't contain your excitement at the thought of seeing me again?”

	“You could be so lucky. I actually just wanted to get some fresh air. Too stuffy in there.” She lifted the glass on the armrest of her wooden chair and took a sip.

	An image of her drunk dad in stained work clothes flashed through my mind. [i]Stuffy, huh? That's one way to put it....[/i]

[i]	[/i]“You want a drink?” She held the glass out to me. My eyes instinctively went to the spot her lips had touched. 

	“Sure.” I took the glass and drank, making sure to put my lips in roughly the same place. “Wow, you like your tea bitter.”

	“Or maybe you just like your tea sweet.” She stood up, patting down her dress as she did it.

	My eyes went to the hem of the skirt. The dress hung off her shoulders, held up by two narrow straps that looked as if they would snap from the slightest provocation. They extended down her chest and then widened out to cover her body, starting just a bit too low to cover her entire breasts. The dress hugged her body a bit further than most sundresses, loosening and even billowing a bit around her waist, right around the point a traditional skirt would sit.

	Despite the perfect shape and the aggressively form-fitting nature of the dress, and even despite the cleavage which would have made looking her in the eyes a challenge had she not had such a cute face, and even despite the slight transparency that accidentally showed the outline of the dark bra beneath; the thing that was most notable about the dress was how well it fit compared to how short it was. It seemed to be exactly her size, and at the very worst a half size too small, but it's length seemed one, maybe two full sizes too short for her, and even then I had my doubts. 

	When I'd walked up and saw her initially, I'd assumed she'd just neglected to mat down her dress before sitting and that it'd gotten pulled up a bit, but now that she was standing I could see that the dress at full length only came about halfway down her thighs. It was cute and fun, something that might be worn to a church-sponsored picnic--but was the length of a mini-skirt while being as light and loose as any sundress could be expected to be. It was the sort of thing only a little girl could get away with wearing without seeming promiscuous, something that she [i]would [/i]have worn as a little girl.

	[i]And we're going in the woods.... She's going to have to climb some fallen trees and bend into some pretty compromising positions to avoid vines and roots and stuff.... [/i]I swallowed, knowing what I would be seeing whether I intended to see it or not. Whether I intended to see [i]them [/i]or not.

	She set the glass on the armrest and turned toward me. “Ready to leave?”

	We left her house and walked together down the grassy valley. For a few minutes she strode along with her hands clasped behind her back, her skirt blowing dangerously in the wind and her hair mimicking the motions. I watched her, amazed at my luck, amazed how little she'd changed, at how little [i]we'd [/i]changed.

	I fell behind her a few steps and eyeballed the skirt. Her butt pushed it out a bit and the wind carried it so high I thought I'd nearly seen her panties a few times, but always to no avail. I took in the complete shape of her body, the perfection of it. 

[i]	Then again, maybe she has changed a bit....[/i]

[i]	[/i]I looked down nervously at my own body before catching up with her and walking side by side again. [i]Maybe I have too.[/i]

[i]	[/i]We reached the edge of the valley and stood for a moment on the fringe of the woods. 

	“Is there any trail at all?” I asked, looking at the wall of leaves and trees and bushes.

	“Yeah, it's probably the most... still existing trail left, but the bushes completely grew over the entrance, so we'll have to force our way by.” She led the way up to a bush that seemed like any other, but after we slid our way past the sticks and vines, there was the remnants of a path.

	The walk was a smooth one for some time, but we eventually encountered a felled tree, and from that point on, things got a bit more difficult to navigate. It was nothing we couldn't handle, but handling it in a short dress while remaining both sure-of-foot and couthful was another matter entirely.

	Daisy went up to the tree and looked down at her dress for a moment, as if considering the matter. She turned toward me and lifted herself up and sat her butt on the old wood. With her legs expertly closed, she managed to contort them over the tree sideways, so smoothly and with such grace it hardly seemed like she had done anything unusual at all. It wasn't until she flipped completely around to face the opposite way and slid down to her feet that the dress caught on the trunk and rode up, showing a glimpse of red. Rising up high enough to show even a hint of flesh at the plumpest corners of her butt cheeks.

	When she got to the other side, she matted down her dress, as if it hadn't happened at all.

	I bit my lip and my heart fluttered. [i]God, she is hot. She is just... unbelievable. [/i]It was all I thought as I climbed over the tree and followed behind her again. It was all I could think.

	“Damn. I knew I should have gone inside to pee before we left.” She didn't look over at me when she spoke. She only looked around a bit, as if she might stumble upon a wild toilet.

	I looked over at her, my heart fluttering harder. “Did you need to go then?”

	“A bit, yeah.” She matted down her skirt again, as a matter of habit. “But I don't really like going in and out a lot. Plus, it wasn't bad then. I should have just known better since I was drinking tea.”

	[i]You don't like going in and out a lot... [/i]A picture of her dad ran through my mind. [i]I wouldn't either if I were in your position.[/i]

[i]	[/i]“That's quite the situation.” I said back to her, a few moments later. “At least you're in a dress. That way when you piss yourself, it won't show.”

	She smiled and ducked her way through some bushes. When she ducked down, her dress lifted again and saw a momentary flash of red against her behind. “Worst case scenario I'll just pop a squat. Like last time.”

	[i]Last time had seemed like such a close call I was surprised you came back with dry pants.... [/i]I thought, but dared not say.

	Instead, I remained silent, wanting the conversation to go on, but at a loss for words.

	Throughout the remainder of the walk, there were a couple more flashes of her panties, but nothing as major as the first one by the tree. These were not from such a perfect angle or seen with such clarity, nor was it in moments where I had the pleasure of watching her like she were some kind of movie.

	I felt a bit guilty eyeballing her with such lust. I felt guilty that I was not only seeing the panties she was taking efforts to hide, but that I actively wanted to see them and was subtly contorting and positioning myself to increase the chances of them being shown.

	We reached the end of the path after a fair bit of walking, seeing the clearing first and hearing the stream as we got closer. We walked out onto white, stony sand and basked in the sun. It was hellishly hot in the woods, so hot that one yearned for direct sunlight just for the accompanying breeze.

	“This brings back lots of memories, wow.” I walked toward the stream and took a deep breath.

	“I can imagine. I get the same feeling every time I'm out here, and I haven't been away for years.”

	“Yeah,” I said. “Makes me wonder why I ever even left.”

	“Because you  had no choice.” She said. I turned around to meet her eyes. “I remember that distinctly,” she continued. 

	“Yeah, I do too.” I turned back toward the stream. “Won't be forgetting that day any time soon.”

	“You should try to.” She answered, amused. “I don't like the times I've cried to be remembered.”

	“What's wrong? Does it embarrass you?”

	She walked over to the  middle of the beach, kicked off her shoes, and sat down crossed legged on the sand. Her skirt draped down over her panties and covered a bit of her upper thighs, but that was scarcely it. She clutched the edge in her palm and kept it pulled tightly down, showing even more thigh, but assuring it did not ride up or get caught by the breeze. I swallowed, immediately aroused by the sight. 

	“Maybe.” She answered, removing her socks. She looked out onto the stream, which was really more of a slow moving river, and then beyond it, into the endless brush and trees.

	I walked over and took a seat next to her, only a few inches from her side. “All the same, I have no plans of forgetting.”

	A few moments of silence passed before she looked over me. I looked back at her. She had no particular expression on her face, save a mild curiosity. 

	“Plus, I can remember a few things more embarrassing that.”

	She pursed her lips and blushed the faintest bit. “Is that so?”

	“Uh huh.” I confirmed. “Some rather embarrassing stuff that happened right out here, actually....”

	She cocked an eyebrow, lips still pursed. But her expression relaxed into a smile and she turned away. She squirmed a bit, like she were grinding her butt into the sand, and it'd looked as if she'd pressed the dress into her womanhood for a moment.

	“Let's hope we don't have any repeats, shall we?”

	My eyebrows rose in surprise, but she wasn't looking at me anymore. I turned away, lost for words. 

	[i]She knew exactly what I was talking about.... How, though? Of all the things we've done here, how'd she immediately know I meant [/i]that [i]stuff?[/i]

[i]	...It's impossible. I must have read into it wrong. She could have meant anything with that comment. Right?[/i]

[i]	...Right?[/i]

[i]	[/i]We sat in silence for a bit, appreciating the crackling of the stream and the virtuous breeze and the noise it made as it glided against the trees. I saw Daisy squirm a few times, the same motion as before—like she were grinding her butt into the sand while pressing the dress into her crotch, before relaxing a moment later. As it went on, the squirming got more frequent until eventually her feet begin to fidget and her bare toes curled in and out.

	[i]I doubt the crackling of the stream is helping much. Of all the days you could neglect going to the toilet....[/i]

[i]	...Then again, that's been every day so far, so I guess the thought isn't too out there.[/i]

[i]	[/i]Finally, she squirmed again, a major squirm, followed by continuous fidgeting in her hips that showed no sign of stopping. Not long after, she climbed to her feet, cleverly holding the dress to her crotch like she were covering her underwear, when in reality she was holding herself.

	“Too hot over here.”

	I leaned back and watched as she walked to the only big rock on the beach, positioned immediately behind me and perfectly-placed beneath the outer edge of a long, jutting branch covered in leaves. She went down again, holding her dress against her crotch. I turned back toward the stream, secretly glad she couldn't look over and see I'd grown hard (yet again.)

	[i]I wonder if she really was just too hot. Or did she move back there so she could freely hold herself?[/i]

[i]	Why go through all the trouble, though? Why not just piss?[/i]

[i]	...She really hasn't changed all that much, has she? [/i]I thought, amused.

	“Did you ever think of me?” She asked suddenly, shattering my reverie. “When you were away, I mean?”

	I half turned to look back at her. “Of course.” I paused for a moment to collect my thoughts.

	“Yeah?” She urged me on.

	“Yeah, of course. I mean... how could I not?” A boyish smile formed on my lips. “You cried for me.”

	“Ugh. I meant after that. Later. Way later.”

	“How much later?” I asked.

	“You tell me.”

	I rotated 180 degrees to face her. The beach was sloped down the slightest bit, so I was looking up at her, directly across from her body, directly across from her pretty face and tumbling locks, directly across from her delicate curves and the bold cleavage visible atop the perky breasts kept suspended in her dark-colored bra, the outline still showing through the white dress.

	The weaving leaves on the branch above her filtered out about three-quarters of the light. The remaining sun bathed her in a mosaic of transforming spots. She readjusted herself against the rock and lifted her legs into the shape of an 'N.'

	My heart pounded against my chest as her dress lifted and my eyes traveled the lengths of her legs. Even in the shadows I could make out the dark red strip of fabric traveling the length of her crotch. I could even see where it widened out to cover her butt.

	And then there was the extended shock of realizing this was not just a between state assumed during some desperate squirming, nor a momentary lack of judgment. Her legs remained like this, up, completely uncovered from the bottoms down, her groin nearly presented to me.

	But the final shock, and arguably the most shocking realization of the three, was that she did not spread her legs to allow the short skirt of the dress to fall down and cover her; nor did she hold it down like when she'd been sitting cross-legged; nor did she close her legs completely to help use her shins and her feet to block my view. Her dress was held up by her closed thighs--presumably leaving the fabric free to curl up further toward her belly—and her legs spread below the knee, as if to make it easy as possible to look up at her bottoms.

	[i]Or to make it as hard as possible to not look....[/i]

[i]	She wouldn't mess with me like that, would she? Not... not anymore, at least?[/i]

[i]	Maybe she just isn't paying attention. Maybe she just isn't used to dresses anymore.[/i]

[i]	But... it's so... obvious. How could she not realize?[/i]

[i]	It's just like what she used to do.[/i]

[i]	She wants to call me on it. To tease me for looking like when we were kids. The real question is should I give her what she wants and... what I kind of want? Or should I fight it and not look?[/i]

[i]	Can I fight it, though...? It just so out there, so obvious, even now I'm-[/i]

[i]	[/i]“Jeez, don't have an aneurysm.” She squirmed a bit in the hips, as if telling me that was the area she was referring to. Her eyebrows were pursed like she was angry, but they relaxed a moment later. She rolled her eyes.

	I stared back at her, shocked and speechless, for a split second unsure if she could read my mind.

	[i]How could she tell? Was I really being... that obvious?[/i]

[i]	[/i]“Jacob, your face is almost as red as my [i]bikini.”[/i]

[i]	[/i]I inhaled slowly and heavily, an involuntary smile creeping on my lips. As much as I wanted to play it cool and fabricate a lie, my smile gave me away. It was the sort of smile only she could bring out of me. 

	“You thought they were panties, didn't you?” She had an almost coquettish tone, and even in the darkness of the mosaic shade I could see her cheeks turn a shade darker.

	“I thought they were, yes.” I answered, closing my eyes in shame. But I opened them a moment later and put up my index finger. “But. I did have my suspicions.”

	“Your suspicions, huh? But you did think it was panties, though. When all is said and done?”

	“When all is said and done... yes.” I reluctantly admitted.

	Her smile widened. “Do you really think I'm that slutty?”

	My eyes widened a bit, but before I could panic and stumble over words, she went on:

	“Maybe you just wanted to believe they were my panties.” She smirked mischievously.

	My face was burning. [i]So she [/i]was[i] messing with me.... Just baiting me in....[/i]

[i]	I deserved it, though. And it was totally worth it.[/i]

[i]	[/i]“Yeah, yeah....” I answered, too embarrassed to find cleverer words. 

	We sat in silence for awhile. At first looking at each other, and then looking at the nature that surrounded us. Daisy stared at the creek and at the brush beyond it, and I stared up at the big tree which shielded her and into the deep woods I'd not been apart of for so many years.

	I considered turning back around, but Daisy had not lowered her legs. I knew it was the gentlemanly thing to do, but I couldn't quite bring myself to spoil the view. The image of Daisy like that, at complete peace, bathed in fragmented pieces of light, her body the living form of femininity, her shape the shape of pure beauty itself, her words and her jokes and her coy, calm demeanor still echoing in my head—I had come to see the creek and woods and to see the habitat I'd grown up in, but I'd found something far more charming. Something that dwarfed the undeniable immensity of the woods. 

	Unlike the woods and unlike unmanufactured nature, she was not just the conduit to that boundless feeling of smallness that culminates into a free-falling sense of freedom inside of something divine, but she was the object of my subject and the subject of my object, the very thing I wanted by my side when I entered that space, the very and only person who could give it the meaning it deserved.

	The truth was, I wanted to look at her. I wanted to look at her face and her hair. I wanted to admire her ears and delicate little fingers and toes. I wanted to bite her thigh and squeeze her ass and kiss her long and deep on the lips. I wanted to take her out for dinner and to take her home to watch movies all night. 

	But above all, in that fleeting strand of moments, what I wanted most was to look up her dress and see her bikini, and see the full image of her beautiful body, and she didn't seem to mind. At one point I even went so far as to lie down on my side and face her, one elbow placed on the dirt holding up my head. I pretended to be admiring the sunlight pouring through the big tree, but it was pretty obvious what I was really focused on.

	“I know I say it all the time, but I can't believe I'm really back here. And with you of all people.”

	“Who else would you be back with?” Her tone grew suddenly matter-of-fact. “I don't remember you staring up any other girl's dresses out here.”

	“No, no, of course not.... None that I told you about, at least.”

	Her body jolted in a way indicative of a chuckle, but she made no noise. “Don't make me laugh.”

	“Really. I was quite the player back in the day. I-”

	“-No, I mean literally. Don't make me laugh.”

	I cocked a curious brow and smiled slyly. In the same moment, she looked down at me from her small knoll, her line of sight traveling between her knees and landing on me.

	[i]Not what you pictured when you thought of seeing me between your knees, is it? [/i]I thought, smirking.

	“Why is that?” I asked instead. “Something the matter?”

	She paused for a moment. I couldn't see her face clearly in the shadows, but I could tell her expression had changed. “[i]Yes, [/i]something is the matter. I wonder what it could be.”

	“It must be your bikini. Is it uncomfortable? You're free to take it off. Really, don't mind me.”

	She laughed a bit, but it sounded forced. “Seriously. Stop making me laugh.”

	I couldn't tell if she was just subdued by the atmosphere and that had caused the laugh to sound soft, or if she'd possibly exaggerated a chuckle to play along. I preferred it to be real, but the idea of her faking it for the sake of continuing the topic carried with it certain pleasant implications.

	Had I been more of a Dickinson, I'd have chased that with another joke, but unfortunately, I was better at clever responses and too nervous of a person to have any consistent aptitude in improvised witticisms. So instead I did as she told me and stopped making her laugh. We sank into a blissful silence after that, just like the silences before. 

	There was a tension in the air now,, something shapeless yet growing, both a pressure and anxiety that promised pleasure in it's wake, a driving force that had always been there, but had gone consistently unnoticed.

	There was another tension, too, one that hadn't been around quite as long, but was growing far faster. 

	Daisy gyrated her hips a bit, as if she'd momentarily lifted her butt to push her pelvis forward, and then immediately pulled it back. The motion had been so slight I wasn't sure it had happened at all, but before I could question it, I saw her legs beginning to rock back and forth, slowly and only an inch or two apart, but with a sometimes jolting sense of urgency that showed me the action was largely compulsory. 

	This went on for about a minute. In this minute her toes had begun to curl again, and I saw the same gyration of her pelvis, except more pronounced this time—a pushing and then a pulling back, with an almost snake-like burrowing of her butt into the sand at the end. And then her hand appeared, coming around the back of her thigh, just above her butt. She pressed the flat of her four closed fingers against her groin and then squirmed again. 

	My eyes lifted a bit when I saw this. My heart began to pound against my chest once again. For a few moments, all I could think was [i]right in front of me. She's doing it right in front of me. [/i]

[i]	[/i]Once I managed to get a grip on myself and calm down, my thoughts expanded. [i]Right in front me. Letting me see it so intimately. Letting me see her hold herself. Letting me see her press her fingers into her own pussy through her bikini.... And she's doing all of this instead of just peeing, even though she knows there's no way she'll make it back at this point. She's just delaying the inevitable, and for no reason....[/i]

[i]	For no reason....[/i]

[i]	[/i]She squirmed again on the spot. Her fingers visibly pressed harder and her legs shook haltingly.

[i]	“[/i]Why the hand?” I asked, suddenly unable to merely observe the event. “I'll admit, I do like the style of it, but it's blocking my [i]wonderful [/i]view.”

	“...Just like a little kid.” She fired back after a moment's pause. “Absolutely smitten by a swimsuit, cause he's just [i]that [/i]inexperienced. Good thing I didn't wear panties--who knows what would have happened.”

	“They kinda look like panties from this angle. And I did make that mistake earlier, and I'd say I... contained myself.” The thought of cumming on my trunks made me blush.

	“Hrm.” She grunted back. It was hard to see in the light, but it seemed like she'd blushed a bit too. 

	“I remember having that argument in school.” I began, doing my best to tease through the crushing tension of the moment. “About girls being all shy about their panties, but happily walking out in an almost identical thing with a different name.”

	“When you put it like that, maybe they [i]are [/i]a little too like panties.... Too much for comfort. Maybe I should just... close my legs then?” 

	“Well, let's not do anything drastic.... They're not [i]that [/i]much like panties.”

	She smiled. “Well? Which is it? Are they like panties? Or are you gonna take it back so you don't have to stop gawking at me like a pathetic, little kid?”

	“Hmm.” I frowned. “A rock and a hard place.... But... I suppose it's a worthy cause. From here on out, I am a little kid who is smitten by bikinis, and since I am a little kid and you are a woman, I will now refer to you as mom.”

	She laughed out loud. 

	A second later, her body jolted. The hand on her crotch pressed down and turned sideways, causing it to lie almost vertically against her pussy. It pressed down tight, pushing the bikini against her flesh and some of it nearly beyond her lips.

	Most of her expression was still calm, but her eyes had widened a bit and her body was visibly tense.

	“Did you just piss yourself?”

	“I told you not to make me laugh.” She answered, matter-of-factly.

	“You pissed yourself.”

	She glanced down at her bikini. “No, but a little might have come out.”

	“Might have...?” I pressed.

	“Did.” She confirmed. “It's your fault, though, for making me laugh.”

	“Oh, is it now? Weren't you the one who was making[i] irrational [/i]threats if I didn't admit to being a child?”

	“I don't think putting my legs down is an irrational threat, especially when it's only to get you to admit the truth.”

	“Yes, but I can't think of a threat worse than that one.”

	“Is that so?” She asked coyly, her body beginning to relax a bit after the close call. “Well what if I threatened to pee on you?”

	 Hearing something like that out of her mouth, even jokingly, made my heart pound. After a moment's pause, I responded. “I think you'd have to run pretty fast to do that. And judging by how 'a little might have come out' from such a small amount of laughing, I'm pretty sure the only person who would end up peed on is you.”

	She smiled and closed her eyes for a moment. “That is a possibility.” Her legs shook a bit and she bit her lip. “I think I should bring my legs down now.”

	“Well that's not fair,” I complained. “I went and admitted I was pathetic and everything. You have no reason to... 'punish me' now, right?”

	“...Maybe.” She looked a bit surprised, as if she'd only just remembered our back and forth.

	[i]I guess suddenly peeing a little would make anyone forget what they were talking about....[/i]

[i]	[/i]“But, uh, while making you admit your pathetic-ness was... pleasant, [i]and[/i] completely true... I don't think I really have a choice anymore.”

	“And why is that?”

	“Because I'm pretty sure if I keep my legs like this you're... gonna see more than you signed up for.”

	“...More than I signed up for? What does that mean?” I pressed.

	“Hmm, what's the best way to put this....” She paused a moment. “So imagine taking my bikini and attaching it to a fire hydrant, and then opening the fire hydrant all the way.--Oh, and once it starts, it's not going to be like when I laughed. This time it won't stop.”

	The sudden tension those words inspired in me was so great that I felt dizzy for a moment. I couldn't think straight any longer, but thankfully, the words kept flowing, seemingly out of instinct.

	“So you're saying if you keep your legs open you're going to piss a high powered jet of urine at me?”

	She pursed her lips and paused for a moment. “Jacob, seriously. Don't make me laugh.”

	“Or what?”

	“You already know what.” She closed her legs and sat up on her knees. A moment later she shifted one ankle over the other and pressed the heel of her foot into her crotch.

	“Dang. I really shouldn't have made you laugh. That leak really did you in.....”

	She squirmed and for the shortest of seconds rubbed her pussy against her foot to help fight off the desperation. “If I'm being honest, I was kinda at my limit already. The leak just kinda brought it to my attention. I was really getting close to bursting.”

	[i]Is this real life...?[/i]

[i]	“[/i]T-That close, huh?”

	“Yeah. It's... It's like I have to pee really bad, but the position was making it super, super bad. Like the pee was right on the edge the whole time. I”m really lucky I had my hand there when you made me laugh. “ She smiled shyly and her cheeks burned red. A rare but charming look on her.

	I sat up and crossed my legs and arms. “Hmm, so it was the position then.”

	“Kinda, yeah. But, um, I still have to piss.” She laughed softly, but grimaced a moment later. “Really need to stop doing that....”

	I felt tempted to ask her if she'd leaked again, but held my tongue. Instead, I got to my feet. “Well, I suppose that means you're gonna go, then?”

	She bit her lip and pressed a hand tightly against her dress, pushing it into the crotch of her bikini. She got to her feet with a slow, gentle motion. “Um, no, not yet. I think I can wait a little longer. As long as nothing weird happens I shouldn't have any trouble.”

	I looked at her, a bit shocked. “You can? Er, I mean, you're actually going to? You're going to hold it longer?”

	“Yeah,” she said, showing me a small pee dance. “Why not? I got a few more minutes in me.”

	I looked at her with a blank look, mystification thinly veiled behind it. And then I smiled. “Just like when you were a kid.”

	She blushed and turned away, a shy smile on her face.

	I turned around and looked out over the woods, taking in the beauty and the sweet smells and calm sounds. The closeness to earth and the peace that comes hand and hand with it. I walked toward the stream and stopped right at the edge.

	“Does it feel good to be back?” She asked, walking up to stand by my side.

	“Yeah.” I admitted. “It feels great.”

	We stood there for at least two minutes, just taking in the essence of the forest. I had planned on standing there longer, but I caught Daisy squirming in the corner of my eye. I looked over and found her doing a bold, little pee dance. Her previous shyness was largely gone, replaced with her usual confidence.

	I laughed. “I can't believe you're actually still holding it”

	She made a face like she wanted to laugh but couldn't. “The sound of the creek is making it worse.”

	“Isn't it uncomfortable?” I asked. “If not the feeling, then just knowing I could burst at any moment would be enough to make me give up.”

	“It's not uncomfortable,” she said, shuffling lightly from foot to foot. “It actually... feels kinda good.”

	“It feels good?” I asked, my eyebrows pursed. 

	“Yeah. Like, it's a pleasant sensation. And knowing I could burst at any moment... but knowing I [i]probably [/i]won't.... Well, that's... just kind of a rush.”

	My eyebrows rose and then relaxed. “Wow.”

	“Why wow?” She asked blushing, still going from foot to foot. “Is that weird?”

	“Weird? Maybe, a little....” 

	She frowned at me, looking a bit hurt this time. 

	“...But it's not bad! Weird, but not bad-weird. It's actually kinda... cool.”

	“It's... cool?” She pressed.

	“Yes, I mean, it's kinda lucky? You don't have worry about peeing yourself really cause you enjoy the rush, and you don't have to worry about getting stuck with a painfully full bladder because you enjoy holding it.”

	“I don't exactly like peeing myself. I mean, I'm not... disgusted by it, and I used to do it as a kid cause like, I guess it was warm?” She stopped the pee dance and crossed her legs. “But it's still messy and really embarrassing at the wrong time. So sometimes things don't... really work out great. But, the second is all true. I do kinda like getting caught with a full bladder. Sometimes I'll plan it, but I like it better when I don't.”

	I blinked heavily and swallowed, trying to process everything I'd just heard and decide on an appropriate response. “What do you mean it's messy and embarrassing [i]sometimes[/i]? I mean, I remember you pissing yourself a few times as a kid, but like.... Does it still happen?” I turned to face her, but she kept staring straight ahead.

	“...Sometimes....” It took her a moment to speak and she paused for awhile like she were suddenly embarrassed, but she continued on after a few moments of silence. “I mean, I have a lot of mini-accidents, I guess. Those are pretty common, but I don't usually pee myself completely. That's only occasionally.”

	[i]Accidents are [/i]only [i]occasional? [/i]I thought, astonished.[i] Mini-accidents are 'pretty common?'[/i]

[i]	What have I been missing all these years....[/i]

[i]	[/i]“So accidents do happen then? As in, like, decently often?”

	“I wouldn't call them 'decently often,' but... yes, I do have accidents sometimes. To.. .varying degrees. I'll be sure to tell you about them some time. I'd tell you about one right now, but....” She uncrossed her legs, put a hand to her crotch in dramatic fashion, and did a hip swaying pee dance. “I'm a little distracted.”

	“Sure.” I said, swallowing. “I'll remember to ask about it.”

	She looked over at me for a moment, but I was too amazed to look back. After a few moments of standing there, I started moving forward, toward the bank of the creek. I kicked my shoes off and tore off my socks and stepped into the clear water, wading ankle deep. “Wanna join me?” I asked, extending my hand to Daisy.

	She bit her bottom lip and looked down, as if she were checking with her bladder to make sure it was okay. “Yeah, I think that'll be fine.” She stepped into the water and we went a few steps deeper.

	We stood like that for awhile, Daisy squirming and shuffling back and forth, myself standing still, taking in the ambiance. I took a step forward, and then another. I kept taking steps until I was almost up to my knees in water. I turned around and regarded Daisy.

	She was still dancing, but now she had a hand planted between her legs, pressing tightly into the dress, pulling it up almost high enough to see her bikini. The dance itself had also changed. Before it had seemed like a pattern, a steady back-and-forth, but now it seemed more improvised and necessary. The motions were calculated and gentle, like her legs had shook back when she was still sitting on the ground, yet they were erratic and somewhat unnatural, like her legs lifting and her torso leaning a bit forward to ease the pressure off her bladder.

	“I'm surprised you haven't gone yet,” I said with some amusement. “It looks like it's getting uncomfortable even for you.”

	“Honestly,” she said, her voice tense. “This is the best part.”

	I blinked heavily and swallowed.

	“But, I probably am gonna go soon.” She continued. “It's getting to that point where I'm afraid I might burst.”

	“Why don't you just let go?” I asked “You're already in a bikini, r-right? We can just swim after and wash it off.”

	“About that.... I don't particularly want to get wet.”

	I cocked a brow. “If you don't want to get wet, why wear a bathing suit?”

	“Uh, well, I planned on wearing a bathing suit, but...” I could see her blushing. Blushing harder than she normally did. “I kinda forgot to change my bra? So I'm... in my underwear... kinda?”

	“You... forgot to change your bra?”

	“Yeah,” she smiled shyly. “It just kinda slipped my mind and before I knew it I was already on my way here.”

	[i]She seems surprisingly embarrassed over this.... Which is weird, because it doesn't seem like a very big deal, and I haven't' seen her stop dancing around or remove her hand from her crotch for several minutes.[/i]

[i]	[/i]“Well, what's the big deal? Isn't a bra basically the same thing?”

	She smiled. “I can see which side you argued for in your little school debates about women's underwear.”

	I half-rolled my eyes. “I get panties are a little thinner than a bikini and like, they don't cover things quite as well, I guess, but how is a [i]bra [/i]any different? Aren't all bras padded? Or... at least kinda thick?”

	She bit her lip and moved her butt back and forth in a slow, meticulous moment. “Kinda, but they're usually a little more revealing, and not all bras are thick. Few are thick as a bikini top And... I think it'll sag if it gets filled with water.”

	I nodded slowly, in understanding. “I... see.”

	“You see what?”

	“It's because you don't want me to see you in a bra.”

	She made an indolent expression. “Well, it's more... [i]this [/i]bra in particular. It's kind of revealing.” A mischievous smile crossed her lips. “You may have earned the right to stare at me in bikini bottoms, but you sure haven't earned the right to see most of my bare tits.”

	“This... sounds like one hell of a bra.”

	“It would make you a man.”

	This time it was my turn to laugh. “Alright, fine then, if you're not going to swim with me, then at least wade out a little further.”

	She danced a little more fervently. “I... think I can handle that. I don't want to go far, though, cause my dress might get wet and then it would smack against me on the whole walk back. The only thing worse than being soaking wet is having half your body and clothes soaking wet.” She took a few steps deeper into the surf.

	[i]I'm sure you know something about that... [/i]I thought. [i]Accidents are only [/i]occasional.

[i]	“[/i]Oh, come on, the Daisy I know isn't such a baby.”

	“You're the one crying about not being able to go swimming.”

	I snorted. “Okay, so, what you're telling me is if your dress gets wet you won't have anything left to worry about, right?” I splashed a bit of water in her direction. Her eyes widened with vehemence and stepped back.

	“Don't you dare.”

	I splashed a little more water.”

	“Seriously, Jacob, I'll be really pissed off if you do that.”

	I laughed. “I'm just messing with you; I'm not actually gonna splash you. Just a little revenge for earlier.”

	She frowned. “You're evil.”

	“How about this,” I rubbed my chin contemplatively. “You tie the bottom portion of your dress up past your waist. Then you won't have to worry about it.”

	She looked down at her shuffling body and weaving dress, as if considering the matter. She looked up with suspicion. “Ahh, so this is why you wanted me to go deeper into the water.... You just wanna see my bikini again.”

	I blushed a bit and smiled involuntarily. “You make it sound so bad.”

	She gave me a dead-pan look. This turned to a look of exasperation, and then to a look of amusement. “...Fine. I'll [i]humor[/i] you.” She reached down and pulled up her dress. She bundled it into one mass of fabric, pulled it straight, and then did her best to tie it around her waist.

	My eyes slid down her body. I could see her from the lower belly all the way down to the toes. I could see where her thighs bulged out the slightest bit, and I could see the line of the bikini traveling up the grooves formed by her legs and inner pelvis. The bikini fit her perfectly by my standards, but judging by how it pressed a bit into her skin, it was possibly, technically, the slightest bit too small.

	“Happy?” She said, taking a few steps forward. “You're such a kid.”

	“Oh?” I said, as she moved next to me. “If appreciating this makes me a kid, then so be it.”

	We stood there for a few moments, embracing the calm atmosphere of the woods before I spoke again.

	“Plus,” I began. “Would a kid come up with an idea as good as this?” 

	A moment of silence passed. 

	“What pl-” She began the motion of turning to face me, but my hand moved for her butt. I was too nervous to smack it, so instead I pinched the plump of the right cheek lightly with my whole hand, letting it slide out as I pulled away.

	Her waist pushed forward in shock while the rest of her body remained stationary, though visibly tense. She gasped and reached for her groin out of pure reflex. The other hand, not knowing what to do, pressed tightly against her side. A moment after the pinch, she pulled her waist back and leaned in a bit, grimacing as she struggled to keep control over her bladder.

	“Jacob!” She hissed at me. “What was that for?” There was a lot of surprise on her face, legitimate surprise, but there was also that familiar shock, the sort that looked serious, but needed only a few moments to show it's ultimate, playful nature.

	I just laughed.

	“Wow!” She said, her cheeks flushed. She tried to contain it, but I saw the momentary smile that passed her lips. “You tried to get me to piss myself!”

	“Piss yourself?” I feigned confusion. “No, no, I just wanted to see if I could make you jump forward.... You know, into the water? So we could swim? If your clothes were wet....” My voice trailed off.

	She looked at me with heavy skepticism.

	“Also, you say I [i]tried[/i] to get you to piss yourself—as if you totally just didn't.”

	She looked at me with surprise and mild offense. “I did not piss myself.”

	“I think you did. I saw the way you reacted. That was not how somebody who didn't piss themselves reacts.”

	She blushed and pouted. “I did not.” She reached down with a hand to check her bikini. She then leaned forward, her eyebrows pursed, to inspect the damage. She pulled the bikini up as high and as tight as she could and tried to bend over to see it. After a moment of close inspection, she called out.

	“See! Look! I only lost a couple drops you can't even see a mark.” She turned toward me and partially angled her uplifted crotch in my direction, so I could get a better view.

	I was so shocked by the spectacle it took me a moment to react. I kneeled down, heart pounding against my chest. I looked at the bottoms and found them almost completely dry, with the exception of a faint wet mark about one inch in width and two inches in length. 

	This hastily assumed position involved her half on her toes, her pelvis pointed out, and her legs wide spread. I saw her thighs jiggling haltingly, and when I looked up, I found her holding a tight frown.

	“Hmm,” I said, as coolly as I could manage. “What am I looking for?”

	“The mark....” She said through gritted teeth. “Can you see? It's barely visible! I didn't pee myself.”

	“Are you sure? Are you talking about this mark? Because this looks pretty-”

	“-Ugh!” Daisy went flat on her feet and pulled her pelvis back in. She snapped her legs closed and slid a hand between them to keep herself under control. “Damn, that made me leak more!” She pouted at me, red-faced, embarrassed, and playfully outraged. “You did that on purpose!”

	“Well, you're the one who threw her vagina in my face. I was just making lemonade.”

	“Ugh, damn....”

	“And it looks like I'm not only one making lemonade. You seem to be next in line.”

	“Yeah. If I stay in here any longer I'm gonna pee in my bikini. Especially if I stay near [i]you.”[/i]

[i]	[/i]I laughed. “Alright, fine. Let's get out.”

	“I'm really closing to losing control....” she mumbled, using both hands to squeeze her pussy. “I'm [i]really [/i]lucky I didn't piss myself just then, and kinda surprised too, but... I think I can make it behind a tree. And if I walk carefully, maybe without even having a mini-accident. Maybe a leak or two when I spread my-”

	And then my foot slipped.

	There was the sound of my pitiful, helpless yell, and then the splash of me falling into the water, completely drenching my clothes. I went under the surface for an instant, and when I came back up, I caught sight of Daisy, shocked, turning around look at me. And as I struggled back onto my feet, blinking the water out of my eyes, I watched that shock turn to a sudden fit of laughter.

	It was strange watching involuntary amusement take over her face, and half a second before the initial laugh seeing that look of 'oh no' encroaching up behind it. One hand had involuntarily reached out to grab me, although there'd been no chance of getting me. The other had gone to her mouth, presumably in shock at first, but probably immediately after to help stop the laugh.

	Awe and panic and resistance all crossed her amused face. Her body tightened and a hand jumped to her groin, but stopped at the space where her upper thighs met her crotch, without sliding between her legs. The laughter faded for a moment as a yellow-tinted liquid appeared against her white flesh. Her legs were so tight it pushed forward and ran down the fronts of her thighs. 

	She was staring down at her own legs now, watching her own accident, watching the piss shoot out of her completely independent of her will. Her lips spread in shock, shocked that one moment she'd been mumbling about making it, and next she was actually listening to the hiss of piss surging into her bikini.

	After about three-seconds of full-force pissing herself, Daisy spread her legs, turning the wall of urine running down her thighs and trickling into the water below into a powerful waterfall that splattered down into the creek and ran down her inner legs in rivulets.

	She looked up at me, still open jawed, still mystified. Her look was a little less shocked now and a little more like a kid who had done something they didn't mean to and weren't supposed to, but were secretly excited by the prospect of seeing happen—like accidentally knocking down their dad's painstakingly assembled dominoes and watching them all tumble in order.

	The hissing sound was the most surprising thing. I'd never even known that piss could hiss through clothing like that. The [i]shrshrshrshr [/i]noise had been faint, but audible when she'd first started going—in fact, I'd heard the piss a split second before I saw it—but with her legs spread it was almost louder than the splattering of piss as it poured into the stream. 

	After about 7 seconds, her shock contorted into a sort of relief, and then almost a mild humor.

	“I'm pissing myself...” she mumbled, her face turning red with a mixture of embarrassment and relief. “I said I wasn't going to... but I completely lost control... Oh my god....”

	The power of her stream was impressive, that much could be evidenced by the sheer volume of its splashing and loud hissing. It didn't surprise me when the stream slowed a bit after about ten seconds of powerful pissing, but it did surprise me when it slowed down more and more, until it was just a slow stream, nearly a trickle, running out of her. The actual bulk of her urine had been expelled in under 15 seconds, and most of that in only 10, and that had been a full bladder.

	[i]Not only does she like holding her piss, but she also has a small bladder....[/i]

[i]	Jackpot.[/i]

[i]	[/i]“Well....” She said, turning away from me to look back down at her bikini. She went on her toes and leaned forward to inspect the damage, showing me the damage as well, little bits of piss still dribbling down her legs and straight into the water from the sopping bikini. “I definitely pissed myself.”

	“Yeah....”I said, still taken aback by the suddenness of it all. “I noticed.”

	“And somehow you ended up wetter than me.” She looked back at me and sighed. “What now?”

	“You could... rinse them off.” I suggested. “Otherwise you're gonna have to walk back with piss between your legs.”

	“True. But if I get them any wetter, my dress will rub against them while we walk and get wet. And I don't particularly want to walk through the woods with my whole bottom half exposed.”

	I swallowed. “You could... always just walk like that? It's not that far of a walk.”

	She chuckled. “You wish. You'll have to get me to have a real accident before I'll do that.”

	“That seemed pretty real to me,” I answered back.

	“Nah,” she said, coolly. “I mean like in pants or something. Not in a bikini. Pissing in a bikini doesn't count.”

	“Sure, whatever you say....” My eyes scanned her again, took in her beautiful legs and the perfect bikini with the big wet patch on the bottom. I thought about the difference between a swimsuit and underwear again, and about how in the right light, there wasn't much of a difference at all....

	“I guess I don't have a choice.” She turned around and walked to the shore. Without a word she began to untie her dress from her waist. Before letting the bottom fall back down, she lifted the whole thing up over her head.

	My eyes ran along her back, from the hem of her bikini up past her black bra strap to her exposed neck and shoulders. She walked over to the rock and placed the dress on it, before turning around and approaching me.

	My eyes jumped to her chest. My first thought, from the distance I was at, was that she'd exaggerated the skimpiness of her bra. What I had pictured had been something akin to Leia in Star Wars when she'd been held prisoner by Jabba the Hut, but what I got seemed like a fairly normal bra. It wasn't until she got closer that I was able to make out the fine black lace and I could see that the cups did not hug her entire breasts, but rather sat there and were filled with the ends of her breasts, and even then with some transparent lace on top.

	She got into the water and faced me, blushing the slightest bit. “Looks like you win. You got to see me piss myself and you got to see my bra.”

	“For what it's worth, I don't feel anymore like a man than I did before.”

	She smiled. And then she splashed me.

	“Hey!”

	“Don't cry about it. You're already we-”

	I splashed her back, high enough to get her hair wet, enough to splash her breasts with water.

	She looked at me with mild annoyance. She went forward into the water until she was up to her neck. “I'll get you back for that,” she promised.

	I just smiled and swam into the deep end to join her. We spent a fair amount of time just swimming around, seeing how long we could hold our breaths and seeing how far we could dive down, seeing if we could touch the creek bed.

	After awhile, we somehow worked our way into a game of marco polo. She was smaller and more graceful and a far stronger swimmer, but she would always get too confident. Toward the end of our last game, she got backed against the roots of a felled tree, and even though my eyes were closed, I could tell by feeling my surroundings and recognizing them how to keep her there.

	It's over, I thought. I swam forward, now close enough to feel the ripples in the water when she moved. “Marco!”

	There was stillness and a hesitation. “...Polo.” She said rapidly, trying to swim past me.

	I reached out and grabbed her, one hand on her back the other wrapping around something soft and squishy, yet strangely textured. The bottom part felt like cotton and had most of the intricate texture, while the top part was smooth and warm and gave way under my touch. She gasped and pulled away from me.

	I immediately knew what I'd grabbed.

	I opened my eyes and saw myself releasing her half naked breast. She pushed back away from me blushing intensely. “You pervert!” She called out, sounding half like she were a child again.

	“Not at all. If you hadn't tried escaping, I wouldn't have accidentally grabbed your breast.”

	“'Accidentally,' huh? I bet you peeked.”

	“No.”

	“How else could you have caught me? I'm so much faster than you.”

	“Not fast enough.”

	She frowned. A moment later, she pushed a massive wave of water at me. I covered my eyes.

	“Told ya I'd get you back.” She said, finishing her gloat moments before I retaliated.

	We sent massive swaths of water flying at one each other. At first, it seemed an even match, but it soon became apparent I had the advantage. She started to shield her eyes and her waves got weaker. 

	[i]You may have beaten me in marco polo, but you can't beat me in this.[/i]

[i]	[/i]Finally, she flipped around and swam away, going under the surface and rising back up. I turned away from the huge surges of water her flailing feet had kicked at my face and blinked heavily.

	“Shit!” She called out.

	I turned my head and found her standing there in collar deep water, her bare breasts covered by an arm, the other hand clutching her loose bra.

	“Oh wow.”

	“I told you it wasn't meant for swimming!” She turned around and uncovered herself. She ran for the shore but in her haste her bikini bottoms had fallen a bit too. She stopped when the water was just below her crotch and crossed her legs, in a poor attempt to stop the bikini from falling any further. It had slipped about halfway down her butt, leaving her almost stark naked.

	With deft speed she put on the bra, and when her hands were free again pulled up the renegade bikini. She turned back toward me, blushing heavier than I'd seen in years. “Okay, that's enough of that. I think I'm all clean now. Time to head back.”

	“Aww.” I swam toward the shore.

	She shook her head. “Just like a kid.”

	I watched as she put her dress back on, right over the wet clothes. It was white, so I could see her bra and the back of her bikini plainly through it on the walk back. According to her this was somehow preferable to being half-wet and having it 'smack' against her as she walked. I didn't entirely understand it, but I was more than happy to see her chest through the thin white fabric whenever she turned around.

	I ogled her as we made the long walk back. I felt more than satisfied with how the day had gone, and was more than happy to stare at her butt, thinking it would be the end of things until tomorrow. However, when we got to about the halfway mark, Daisy extended her legs to take a particularly big step to step of a branch. I thought I saw something glimmer between her legs as she did it, but the moment she'd cleared the branch she went completely still.

	“What's wrong?” I asked, looking down at her legs, where I'd seen the glimmer of light.

	“Give me a second.” Before she even finished speaking, urine cascaded down her legs. She grabbed her dress and pulled it up past her legs to protect it from the hissing piss. 

	She spread her legs, at first a bit, and then a bit more. It helped direct some of the urine into a waterfall down the center like during her first accident, but now more was going down her legs, and even before the posture chance, a decent amount had made it onto her thighs. After several seconds of this, she squatted, to protect the still dry parts of her shoes. I watched as urine poured down the bottom of her butt, splattering into the dirt below, hissing against the bikini until the last moment.

	When the urine slowed to a trickle, she stood up, the residual urine in the bikini overflowing and running down the backs of her thighs. “Sorry, couldn't hold it.”

	“Wow...” I said, in shock. “Did you just... piss yourself again?”

	“Kinda, yeah. It was bad.”

	“It was? But... how? How could it have gotten that bad so fast?”

	“Swimming always makes it worse,” she said, beginning to walk again. “And I drank a lot of the creek water while we were in there—you know, since it's clean and fresh.”

	“You must have drank an awful lot.... It looked like that caught you off guard. Was it as bad as it was by the creek? Or did it just sneak up on you?”

	“A little bit of a both?” She said, stepping over another branch, this time doing it without pissing. “Like, I had to go pretty bad. Bad enough to make me leak when I tried to take that step, but I wasn't trying as hard to hold it in.” She paused for a moment, and then continued. “Like I felt it start coming out and just let it. I didn't fight it or anything.”

	“I'm just... surprised. You didn't even try to go for a tree or anything like that....”

	“I could have made a run for it, but I probably would have just wet my socks and shoes more than I already have. Why bother? It's not like I was gonna to pull down a wet bikini just to piss anyway. It's not a big deal; I do it all the time.”

	I just stared at her as we walked, unsure of what to say.

	“Why are you so shocked? It's nothing new. I used to do pretty much the same when we were kids.”

	“Yeah, but... that was a long time ago. Plus, I had no idea you had to piss until you leaked. You weren't showing it at all. And at the creek you were saying how you'd have to have a real accident, or something like that, to walk home in wet clothes. I think I'm in my rights to be a bit shocked.”

	“I was showing it, a bit. You just don't have an eye for the subtle stuff. And like I said, I wasn't really trying very hard. I only do the super obvious stuff when I'm actually trying to keep it from coming out. There was no reason to fidget here. Even if I had wanted to I wouldn't have been able to make it home. And as for the real accident thing, I meant if we're... by the Tree or something and I pee my pants then okay, I don't have a choice, but if we're by the creek and I wet myself it's not really a big deal. I can just wash off. That's all I meant. Plus, I'm already in a wet bikini. I don't even need to wash it out; this is what they're made for.”

	I wasn't so sure on that last point, but I wasn't going to argue with it. I just followed behind, mystified, suddenly unsure of what would happen next. One of half of me was happy watching the outline of bikini sway with every step, now wet with more than just water from the creek, but another half was poised, ready for something unpredictable and entirely 'Daisy' to occur.