You make it into the stall before someone with authority comes in to confront the boys

With wide eyes you lunge into the stall, jumping onto the toilet to hide your feet, and pray that the newcomer hadn't seen you.

"What are you lot doing in here?" a voice booms, echoing in the washroom. His shoes squeak on the tiles as he steps into the room.

"Just going to the washroom, sir," one of the boys answers respectfully, making you wonder if it might be security, management, or maybe even a policeman.

"As a group? I don't see any of you near the stalls, urinals or even the sink. And what's that? A lady's purse?"

"Oh, that was already here," the boys answer casually.

Silence ensues, and as their feet shuffle you can all but see the man glaring suspiciously at them.

"Get out. I'm confiscating this." The newcomer's shoes squeak across the floor, coming closer to your hiding place.

A jet of pee squirts out of you in your alarm, sounding loud as it splashes into the water below. You clamp your hand over you pussy as it you could stop yourself from releasing anymore by plugging your urethra.

"Someone else in here?" the man asks the boys as they shuffle toward the door. They mutter, but you can't tell what they're saying. Maybe the newcomer can't either as he squeaks over to the stall next to you, knocking on the stall and then pushing it open.

The feet squeak towards your own stall, and you see a pair of large black shoes pause outside.

It's then you realize you forgot to lock the door.