Like a Boss (female)

[Chanel_no5]

Hi mysterysneeze, I hope this is something along the lines with your wishes. I got a bit carried away, but I hope you're going to like it!

I usually don't post my trade stories on the forum, but I'll make an exception because I had so very much fun writing this one!! I hope you'll enjoy it.

***

Cassandra Sterlington was certainly a sight for sore eyes; she was probably the most beautiful woman that Ted had ever seen. Oh, you could always dream; but these were the hard facts; Ted was just the janitor and she was the director of this publishing company, she’d never look his way. Besides, he wasn’t sure he wanted her to, as she had a rumour of being something of a bitch. If she got in her mind that she wanted something done, no matter how time-consuming or ridiculous, it should’ve been done yesterday, or else… that kind of woman. Ted had seen people working directly for her exiting her office crying, and that did not just go for the female employees. So far he had avoided getting himself into trouble, but he knew it was only a matter of time.

And it seemed his time had come, he thought as she entered his little utility room. She frowned disapprovingly at being in this disgusting little space, and he was sure she wasn’t even aware she did.

“Janitor!” she called, and when he didn’t answer right away; “Hey, I’m talking to you!”

She had a slight accent that he couldn’t really place, and it became more prominent when she sounded annoyed. Southern accent, he thought.

“Yes ma’am, what can I do for you?” he replied pleasantly as he was taking in her very presence; from the perfectly done shiny hair, to the light makeup, her diamond sharp eyes and the slight curve of her full lips. She had a lovely figure too, but never really flashed it, she wore feminine but very decent suits that signalled clearly that her leading words were elegance, confidence and, above all other things, control.

“This place looks terrible”.

He wasn’t sure if she meant his little room, or the actual office building, so he waited in silence for her to continue, which seemed to be the safest option.

“Make it look more welcoming, I want more glamour, more elegance”.

Office building. It wasn’t likely that she would bother to make the utility room more glamorous.

“Yes, ma’am. Anything in particular?”

She gave him a dismissive wave with her left hand – without a wedding ring, he noticed. Not much of a surprise. Who could possibly survive in a marriage with this woman?

She snapped her fingers impatiently.

“Just make it happen”, she said and left him alone, all that lingered was an aura of arrogance and a whiff of perfume; something flowery and light that probably cost more money per bottle than he earned for a week. But never mind the money, it was the scent that had given him an idea. Flowers. All girls loved flowers, and that would probably earn the office that “glamour and elegance” that she was asking for.

No time to lose, he thought, and went to a flower store, where he was overwhelmed by all the different kinds. He first thought about roses, because that seemed like a safe bet, but roses reminded him too much about weddings, and that probably wasn’t the impression she meant for her clients to get. He finally settled for lilies, and made arrangement with the flower shop lady to have it done by Monday morning, at seven, since he knew Miss Sterlington never arrived before nine. He was delighted at his idea; there was nothing about it that could possibly go wrong.

***

“Hah-aESSCHhuh-aESSCHH! Oh my go-… hah-ESSChuh!”

Cassandra Sterlington was sitting at her breakfast table, suffering through the obligatory morning allergy fit. The pollen count wasn’t too high, but her sensitive nose was protesting wildly nevertheless. She had taken her allergy medications, but they would take some time kicking in. This was the main reason she always took her time in the mornings, always being the last one to enter the office. It was not, as her employees believed, to check up on them, or because she wanted to demonstrate the boss’s privilege of arriving when she wanted to. It was simply a matter of hiding her own personal embarrassment from the people who were supposed to view her as superior – and she would preferably seem superior to the rest of the entire world.

She rubbed her itchy, reddening nose and reached for another Kleenex. Normally, the morning fit would end in time for her to do herself up enough to hide the lingering signs of it from being displayed in front of others. Oh, how she loathed the very thought of appearing vulnerable, and especially in front of her staff, because quite frankly, if she couldn’t keep her authority, who knew what could happen? Potential mutiny!

“Ah-ESSChuh! Hah-iSChuh! Hah-iESCHuh! Huh-AeSSChh!!”

The wetness of the harsh, irritated fit soaked her tissue through, and she could feel the thin paper coming apart between her fingers. It was disgusting, she thought. But it could not be helped. Not for at least another fifteen minutes, when the medication would start working its magic, calming her misguided immune defence enough to stop this absurd reaction. This was the worst time of year for her; it was the time just in between the pollination of the trees and the grass, and both were wrecking havoc with her system. Fortunately, her medication was a strong prescription drug, and as long as she kept inside during the day – kept out of the worst allergy-provoking environment, so to speak – it would make her alright. Not fine, but alright. And the air-conditioned office building, with windows closed and sealed, she might even be okay without the medicine, but she wasn’t going to bet on it. She didn’t take chances with these matters; it was simply far too embarrassing to be mistaken.

Her nasal passages were burning with the intense need to sneeze, and she kept surrendering to it in spite of herself. The explosive allergic outbursts echoed through her empty house, and she didn’t bother covering anymore. She just tilted her head away from the table, which was empty except for a cup of coffee she probably wouldn’t be able to drink, and a newspaper she probably wouldn’t be able to read, and let loose with one throat-ripping sneeze after another.

“AH-ESSCH! HA-ESSCHUH! HAH-ISSCHuhh! Hah-AeSSChh! Huh-uh-AeSCHh!”

She managed to take a few shallow breaths until her itchy nose decided it had to sneeze again.

“Heh-ahh… hah-ISSCH! Ugh… huhh… huh-AH-! AH-ESSCH!”

Eventually, the fit started to die down, and the itch reluctantly softened into a light tickle. She raised another tissue up to her nose, hesitated for a moment, tried to determine whether or not another sneeze would follow… and when she felt certain the worst was over, she started blowing her nose, using tissue after tissue, trying to rid her sinuses of pollen and congestion the best she could. She closed her watery eyes, allowing herself to feel relieved. A few more minutes, and then she would be able to put on her makeup and leave for work.

***

She was later than usual when she entered the doors of the building. The sound of her heels echoed through the hall as her hasty steps took her to the receptionist’s desk – and then she stopped dead in her tracks. She was in fact close to taking a step back in surprised fear, but reminded herself the last moment of where she was before she would give in to it.

“What the hell is this? A florist’s shop?” she spat and made a wide gesture towards the overflowing, lavish bouquet of lilies that covered the receptionist’s desk. The girl gave her a nervous smile.

“It was Ted, ma’am. He said it would…”

Oh god damnit! That janitor!

“It’s fine. Lovely. Do I have any messages?”

“Four, but they’re all from one person. That western-story writer?”

“Joey”. The name was said in something between a sigh and a growl; perfectly showing how she felt about him. “Yes. I know. He wanted me to call, I suppose?”

“Preferably yesterday, ma’am”.

“That is the dumbest man I have ever encountered. Apart from T…”

She bit her lip. The janitor was unaware of her allergies. As were everyone else in here. And none of them would ever have to find out, either. She just had to get through the day and then tell him she had changed her mind about the flowers (and she changed her mind all the time, nothing unusual there); tell him to find something else, bring her the deluge in a paper cup, stars in his pockets, rocks from the moon, anything but these pollen-spewing monsters.

“Ma’am?”

“Never mind. I’ll be in my office”.

She had been so surprised at the sheer sight of the flowers that she hadn’t even noticed if her allergies seemed provoked, but now that she left, she felt a slight tickle starting to form just inside one of her nostrils. She brushed it off as her imagination; she was after all doped up on so many and so strong allergy medications that she should, by God and sonny Jesus, be able to lie on freshly cut grass and be covered in flowers without so much as a sniffle. Besides, it was all about mind over matter. She could stay in complete control of her bodily functions for one damn day.

“Just make it happen”, she told herself firmly; it was her favourite statement above all, although she rarely used it to herself.

But her will-power faltered as she opened the door to her office and found that it was the most decorated spot in the entire building. The bouquets were everywhere, raining pollen from the bookshelves all over her working space, her office was so full of pollen she could actually see it in the air. The flowers, that she more and more thought looked like evil poisonous monsters, seemed to reach for her, sending out incessant puffs of the thin but oh so powerful dust into the air she was supposed to be breathing.

She was terrified of what this could lead to, but she couldn’t back out now. One day, she reminded herself. Anyone can go through one day in hell. Anyone.

She carefully sat down in her chair, grimacing as the layers of pollen that had gathered whirled up around her as she did so. Insane! No flowers could possibly give off so much pollen in only a few hours. She tried not to picture how the flowers above her were sending their awful drizzle down at her head, but the more she tried not to think about it, the clearer the image became.

She picked up the phone and called up Joey, the crazy cowboy who thought he was writing unique stories and was an invaluable source of income for the publishing agency, when in fact Annie Proulx had written his ideas years before he even came up with them, and his books’ ratings were never in the better numbers. But the gay cowboy theme could still make money, so Cassandra wasn’t quite willing to drop him yet.

“Joey, I hear you’ve been trying to reach me”.

“Yes, I have, are you never available?”

“I have a lot of work to do. As do you, I should imagine”.

“So let’s cut to the chase then”.

“Yeah, let’s”.

Her nose was starting to itch and she ran her free hand under it, still clinging to the idea that it was nothing but her imagination. As she listened with growing frustration at the diva author on the phone, her nose put in a higher gear. Now she was rubbing it furiously to keep herself from having to sneeze. She pinched it and rubbed her thumb and forefinger up and down its sides, sniffling quietly as Joey gushed on and finally came to a conclusion

“I don’t want to do that interview with Oprah. I want to do New York Times”.

“I appreciate your concerns”… she began, put a hand over the microphone and sniffed loudly, wetly, before she could continue; “but it’s not negotiable. This interview has been scheduled since January…” she pinched her nose and held her breath for a moment, as the itchy feeling got worse and an oncoming sneeze teased her. It felt like she had a tiny feather deep within her sinuses, fluttering with each breath she took. “Excuse me, I try to find a file on the computer as we speak”, she lied smoothly before continuing: “it’s been scheduled since January and it’s in our contract. You have to do it. And we don’t have any deal that includes any interviews with NY Times”.

When he started protesting, her nose had finally had it. She had to sneeze, and praying it would be just a single, she covered the microphone once again and sneezed silently into the sleeve of her jacket.

“Hhh-mph!”

It didn’t help at all. She had to sneeze again.

“Heh-mptSCH! Heh-nXTh! Heh-iSCHnxgh!”

She rubbed her nose again, trying to regain her composure.

“Yes, I understand that…”

He wasn’t done. Neither was her nose. Sniffling desperately to stem the watery flow of mucous, she was unable to help herself. She stifled another set of tickly sneezes into her sleeve, and was horrified when she saw the damp mess the attack left. Her eyes watered and she blinked a couple of times, hoping the allergic tears wouldn’t smudge her eye makeup. Her nose was really starting to bother her now, and it didn’t make any difference if she tried to pretend it didn’t. The whole turn of events pissed her off beyond reason and she needed to take her annoyance out on somebody. She cut Joey off mid-sentence:

“Joey, listen. You don’t have a say. You only write the books. You are cattle. I am the farmer. I say where you go, who you see and what interviews you do as well as what you don’t do. The only thing I won’t decide for you is what you write. I will, however, decide what of it I will publish. Don’t you get it, Joey? I own you”.

She almost never spoke in that manner to the authors, but she was annoyed, her nose was driving her crazy, and this man thought he was in a position to make demands. No one who had ever written their signature on a deal with Cassandra Sterlington would be in a position to make demands, regardless on how rich and famous they were, and this guy was still a nobody. Still he was making threats about breaking off the deal, as if he could be carried by his own name like Stephen King or J K Rowling.

“If you break the contract, I’ll see you in court. Don’t do it. For your own good. I’ve never lost a case against an author gone rouge before and I sure as hell ain’t gonna start now”, she snapped, and then destroyed the whole image of superior power by sneezing. “HEH-ISSSCHHH!”

Shocked by her own lack of restraint, she hung up the phone and stared at it, as if it was somehow conspiring against her. Of course it wasn’t. It was the flowers and her corrupt immune system working against her, not the phone, but in a sudden outburst of anger, she took it out on the phone anyway; she grabbed it and threw it into the wall with as much force as she could muster. Which wasn’t a lot, because she was overcome by a violent, spraying sneeze just as she threw it.

“Heh-AARRSSCHHHUUH!”

Get yourself together, she encouraged herself. It is not by far as bad as you think it is. Block it out. Period!

She found a fresh tissue in her pocket and blew her nose, sneezed messily just as she was done and had to blow her nose again – hayfever was a gift that just kept on giving, she thought ironically and rolled her bloodshot, itchy eyes as she snatched a handful of Kleenex from the box on her desk. It wasn’t until she brought them up to her nose and took a deep breath in preparation of blowing, that she realised that the tissues were most likely sprinkled with pollen, too. Her reddening nostrils widened as she literally felt the pollen invading her nasal passages, like tiny grains of fire.

It was too late to dispose of the tissues, and besides, she had nothing else to make use of, so she simply surrendered to what would turn out to be a body-bending, harsh and relentless allergic fit. She barely had time to get one sneeze out before the next came over her, and she fought to take control over her nose again, but failing miserably. She tried to keep them as silent as possible, but although she succeeded better in doing that than keeping from sneezing altogether, it wasn’t nearly silent enough. Her vivid imagination tried to convince her that everyone on the same floor could hear her, and even though she knew it was impossible, once the idea got into her head, it stuck. It stuck like the pollen stuck to her tormented mucous membranes.

Oh for crying out loud, enough already!

She thought to herself as she blew her nose with as much force she could assemble, sneezed helplessly again, blew her nose once more and then removed the tissues from her now visibly red, tender nose, holding her breath for a few seconds before carefully releasing it and hoping the next breath wouldn’t be a hitching build-up but an actual breath. Luckily, it was. Her nose was so sore she felt as if she would start sneezing again any second, but for the moment she didn’t.

This storm was impossible to ride out by willpower alone, and she hadn’t brought any medication with her. It was usually enough with the dose she took in the morning, but then again, she usually didn’t have to sit in Pollen Central. She glanced through teary eyes at the digital clock on her laptop, decided to take an early lunch break and head for the pharmacy around the corner to pick up some more medicine.

“Heh-TSChuh! Huh-atSSCHoo!”

And more tissues. Without the added spice of pollen.

**

When she walked through the lobby, as fast as she could in order to avoid anyone’s looks, she called over her shoulder to the receptionist, hoping her voice wouldn’t reveal too much of the allergic distress she was in;

“I’ll go on early lunch break”

“As usual”, the receptionist muttered to herself, but Cassandra heard her. Normally, she would’ve turned around and shot the girl a murderous look and deliver one of her most poisonous lines, but she was afraid that if she opened her mouth all that would come out would be a messy sneeze, so she let it slide. For the time being. Let the girl believe she didn’t hear her; but oh, the revenge would come when she least expected it and it would be merciless.

Cassandra exited the pollen-saturated office building and entered the pollen-saturated outside. The difference was in no way noticeable, and she stifled a quick fit of three sneezes as she walked. Her nose felt like it was in flames, and she rubbed it furiously. The thought of simply giving up, get back home and take the really strong stuff, take a shower and then sleep, occurred in her mind, but she pushed it away. She would get her meds, take as much of them as she could handle, then spend the lunch break inside a café, and once the antihistamines had started to kick in, she could get back and go through yet another two or three hours before going home. She could do it.

The pharmacy was empty – unusually enough, but she wasn’t complaining – so she didn’t have to wait in line. That was the good news. The bad news was that this particular pharmacy did not have her medication in stock.

“What the hell are you saying?” she asked the man behind the counter. Her nose was running, and she had to sniff to keep the mucous from running down onto her upper lip. Allergy tears were prickling the corners of her eyes and threatened to spill over, but she wouldn’t let them, she was afraid it would look as if she was crying.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but we don’t keep that particular brand in our stock”.

“But it’s on prescription!” she bit back, but it did no good.

“I’m sorry ma’am”, the man said.

“Well, give me something equal to it, then”, she said, refusing to surrender. Her nose was tickling like mad again, and she knew she was going to sneeze soon.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, unless you have a prescription for another brand. But there’s a whole shelf with over-the-counter antihistamines”.

“Over-the-counter antihistamines?! That would be like trying to stop a fucking train using a rotten carrot!” she spat before getting hold of herself. To make matters worse, her nose decided now was a good time to unleash its fury upon her, and she sneezed violently into her sleeve. Twice, three times, four, five…

“Bless you, ma’am”.

“That does not help” she hissed through gritted teeth, with emphasis on each word, but as he seemed determined to stick to this non-service, she snatched a box of Claritin from the antihistamine shelf, and a box of Kleenex from the shelf next to it, and threw them carelessly on the counter, paid for them, and then stared into the man’s green eyes, holding them prison with her bloodshot, watery blue, and said:

“This pharmacy is doomed. By this time next year, it will have ceased to exist. Do you understand me?”

“Now, come on lady, you can’t come here making threats…”

“I’m not making threats, I’m making a promise”, she replied, and although he could’ve sworn it was nothing but an empty threat, the conviction in her, admittedly allergy-consumed, voice was real. She held his gaze for a few more moments, to let the message sink in, and then she turned around and left. She sneezed again on her way out, deliberately uncovered, and he could see the cloud of mist as it was lit up by the rays of sun. He started to shake his head, but then he vaguely remembered that the ground on which this building stood, was owned by a female publishing company boss, and while he couldn’t be entirely sure, the lady who just walked out the doors did look like a woman used to being in charge. The threats she had made suddenly felt much more like promises, indeed.

***

She did feel a bit better after stuffing herself with the Claritin, and with a bit of luck, she would be able to get through the afternoon without too many incidents. But she wasn’t pleased with the turn of events, and the little clash with the pharmacist had only made her feel more malicious. Taking out her misery and annoyance on the waitress until the young woman looked like she was about to burst out crying where she stood, that pleased Cassandra a great deal more, and she was in a slightly better mood when she returned to her office. She had to get hold on a few files with manuscripts, and then she would have a discussion with one of the authors in person. Then she could tell Ted, the janitor, that she wasn’t pleased with flower arrangements as office decorations and make sure he came up with something else tomorrow, and then she’d head home. Piece of cake.

***

She was tempted to hold her breath as she walked through the lobby, but what good would it do? She glanced quickly at the receptionist, hoping that she wouldn’t notice the still pinkish tinge around her nostrils and the red that rimmed her eyes. She had washed her face and put on new makeup, so hopefully she wouldn’t look too affected, but she couldn’t hide all traces. Fortunately, the receptionist was involved with a conversation with the janitor. Cassandra wanted to throw something at him, but she simply nodded and walked by, heading for her dreadfully pollen-covered office.

Standing in the doorway for almost a full minute, she was gathering courage to get in and start flicking through the folders – something that risked sending even more pollen up at her.

Careful, she told herself. It wasn’t something that usually went hand in hand with her personality, but she would have to be careful now. The Claritin was nothing compared to her prescription medicine, and she was already feeling her allergy trying to battle the antihistamine. She had no hope of the second winning that battle, and she would have to try and minimise the amount of pollen she inhaled. She took small, shallow breaths and made very gentle movements as she was looking for the manuscript file, but when she found it – in the first heap she looked through – she took a deep breath in relief.

“Oh good God Cassie, how stupid can you be”, she whispered to herself, grabbed the folder and fled the room, pinching her nose shut as to keep the pollen out of it. Luckily, it seemed like she either hadn’t actually gotten her entire nose full of pollen, or that the medicine could hold the defences for a little bit longer. It tickled, a light, feathery tickle, but when she rubbed her nose firmly a couple of times, the tickle subsided. And if she were lucky, there would be no flowers in the conference room, where she was headed.

***

No such luck. It was full of abundant flourishing lilies, sending out puffs of allergy-inducing grains, and if the person she was meeting with hadn’t already been there, she simply would have cancelled or at least moved the meeting to a friendlier place. Ever the trooper, though, she walked into the room without any sign of hesitation, put the folder on the table and shook hands with the author, a somewhat shy young woman who wrote very artistic vampire novels. Ellie was her name. Cassandra always made sure she was on first name basis with her authors, but yet she had an ability to make them feel more comfortable calling her “Miss Sterlington” or “ma’am”, rather than “Cassandra”. Authority, plain and simple.

“Ellie” she said, faking a beautiful smile. “There are some things about this new manuscript that I would like you to clarify. Please, sit down”.

While Ellie started to defend what Cassandra had issues with in the latest story, Cassandra’s focus turned inward. To her sinuses. The tickle had returned, ten times stronger, and she sniffed quietly as she realised her nose was getting runny, too. The tickle kept growing, turning into that relentless itching that was the first sign of an impending, ferocious allergic sneezing fit. She rubbed her nose, desperate to relieve the burning before it was unstoppable, but it was already too late. Her breathing started to hitch, and she rubbed her nose again, sniffling frantically to keep it from running. It was the sniffling that became her doom. It aggravated her already inflamed nasal passages to the point where she no longer had a choice; she had to sneeze. Now.

“Huh… huh-aIESSCHH! Huh-ESSCHHuh! HiiyESSSHHh!”

“Bless you”, Ellie said, looking up from her notes, and then realising that Cassandra was far from finished. The beautiful company boss was tilting her head slightly back, cupping her hands in front of her face, and tears were running from her swelling eyes. Her red, moist nostrils flared and her lips parted in a grimace of excruciating misery. The burning in her nose was so strong it hurt, and the attack that followed was the sound of utter agony.

“Ah-ESSCHH! AH-ESSCHH! HeyISSSCHH! Heh-yIESSSCHH! Heh-yESSCHHuh! AH-ESSCHAH! Hah-ISSCHH! AHH-haASSCHHah! Huh-ayESSCHH!”

She finally gave in and let the sneezes come. And come they did. They exploded from her in spraying clouds, and there was no way she could hold them back or catch all the spray into her hands; a fine mist surrounded her like a halo of saliva droplets as she kept sneezing, and sneezing, and sneezing, the allergic fire in her nose nowhere near extinguished. Ellie looked at her, unbelieving, but Cassandra didn’t care anymore, she didn’t care about anything other than giving in to the never-ending urge to sneeze. At some point Ellie left the room, secretly pleased to get away before Cassandra had trashed her novel to ribbons. At some point later, Ted opened the door to the room. Cassandra was sneezing so hard she didn’t notice, and even if she had, she wasn’t in the condition to even think about making an escape. As Ted saw his beautiful boss caught up in the hurricane of sneezing, her nose red and swollen in her flushed and saliva- snot- and tear-stained face, while the blossoming flowers dripped pollen from every corner of the room, he quickly put two and two together. He gently closed the door, while praying to any God who would be willing to listen, that she hadn’t seen or heard him, and thought:

I had no idea she had allergies.

Then another thought arrived.

Oh my God, what have I done? I am so fucked now.

Little did he know that all will to fight had left Cassandra, she was exhausted and only wanted to get home, and she would take two days off after this torture and have the whole building cleaned before she would set her foot in here again. She was trying to regain control of herself, and in the meanwhile, she went through her options, taking into consideration how much her authority had been damaged by this.

That janitor guy didn’t know I’m allergic. He still doesn’t, he was just trying to impress me. I’ll just tell him it didn’t impress me, tell him I’m not the flower-type of woman. Tell him to do something else to freshen this place up. Nobody other than that vampire writer saw me lose it. Nobody else knows I have allergies, it’s still my secret.

That conclusion made her feel better. Eventually she managed to stop sneezing long enough to get to her office and pick up her things, and then she went home, not bothering to tell the receptionist that she left early. She knew she would be sneezing on and off all evening, but at least she wouldn’t risk to be seen in such a vulnerable state.

***

Epilogue:

Ted stayed at work all night, removing flowers and cleaning. Nobody had to tell him to, he did what he could to make this mistake undone. If anyone asked, he could just say that he realised that actual flowers wouldn’t hold very long and the cost to change them every other day would be way too much. He would admit he made a mistake. He just wouldn’t admit to which mistake. And then he just had to keep his fingers crossed, hoping that he wouldn’t get fired.

The end.

[webmeistro]

Oh, wow...

I don't think any story has captured I-can't-sneeze-but-I-have-to!! like this one!!

great!!!!

[Pearlised]

Ah Chanel, you and your beautiful powerful women!

A lovely (HOT) story, loved it!!!!

[Skiffy]

Brilliant story, thanks for sharing it here. I'm not usually into allergies but this is great.

*hides from Miss Sterlington's wrath*

[Chanel_no5]

Webmeistro: thank you so much! I’m glad you liked it!

Pearly: Heh, yeah, I know… me and my beautiful powerful women… Thank you!

Skiffy: I’m glad you enjoyed! Mhm, being the target of such wrath is not a lot of fun.. (but watching the weakness is…!)

[NoV]

Woah, this is epic! Any fic that contains the phrase 'hurricane of sneezing' will always get my vote Superb as always Chanel

[Chanel_no5]

Thank you so much! Ooh how I love to have fun with that kind of women... Fiction-wise, of course....

[mysterysneeze]

Thank you!!!!!!! I love this story and how you made such a strong woman melt by something like flowers . I can indeed picture a beautiful confident woman all the way throughout this story. You told the events that played out in this story beautifully, the sneezes were amazing (and unfortunate for her XD), and you really know how to do this kind of allergy story

Thank you so so much for this! I should have my part of the trade (well, my original character part anyway) done by the end of today. Sorry to keep you waiting for so long ^^;.

She tried in vain. It wouldn't be the same if she didn't try . You described her resistance very very well Chanel! She definitely isn't afraid to show her power over others...and her level of control! She almost reminds me of a woman like Cleopatra.

Seriously, I can't thank you enough for this. It is a wonderful story and very well written!

[TheCakeIsAlive]

Hmmm... lovely story.

[matilda3948]

Well this is just...umm...

Fantastic!!!

[Chanel_no5]

MysterySneeze: Yay! I'm so glad you liked it!

Siggy: Thank you!

matilda: Hehe, I'm glad you enjoyed...

[floatmyboatt]

i love this! please write more!