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Miss Erotica

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Sammy - Day 1

Nate was in love with Sammy. He wasn’t unsure, he didn’t lust after her, he loved every last drop of that little blonde lady. He loved the overgrown bob that she blew straight and gathered into a messy ponytail. He loved the eyebrows she never bothered to pluck. He loved that she listened to NPR in her car during her breaks. He loved that he caught her feeding the stray cats that hung around the back of the restaurant. He even loved that she’d come to work with a cold. She probably thought she was still fighting it off, that she could pick up some zinc on the way home from work and she’d still be fine. But the dark bags under her eyes and the red skin chapping around her poor button nose said differently.

Nate hated Joe. Joe was Sammy’s boyfriend, of course. Nate hated the flashy BMW that Joe parked in two spaces whenever he came to pick up Sammy. He hated Joe’s intentionally ripped jeans that cost more than Nate’s head waiter salary netted him in a week. He hated the way Sammy would nervously check her phone, like someone was ignoring her texts.

“Hitch - hitch - hichoooo!”

Damn. Nate’s heart melted when he heard Sammy give into her first sneeze of the night. He should send her home - but he couldn’t bring himself to. They were busy. And his heart was fluttering picturing her infecting the customers. Sammy's germs flying around the restaurant, making their way home with unsuspecting patrons, didn’t that sound delicious?

Sammy sniffed deeply from across the restaurant. Nate had almost forgotten he was supposed to be taking someone's order.

“Hitch - achooo!”

Nate wished he could offer her a tissue. He wished he could take her home and put her in bed and rub her feet until she felt better. He wished he could tell her how he felt. He wished Joe would get flattened in some sort of falling piano type incident. But you can’t always get what you want, so he listened to Sammy sniff and hitch and share her cold with the rest of the restaurant.

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Here's part two! 


Michelle - Day One

When Michelle had gotten in the car after dinner out with the partners she hadn’t been thinking about the waitress who’d sneezed on her linguini the night before. She’d been thinking about the brief she had due tomorrow at noon. The McCann case was the biggest she’d had yet in what she hoped was a burgeoning career. She went to sleep worrying about commas - she always felt like she used too many commas. But when she woke the next morning with her chest heavy and her nose itching she was wishing she had sent her pasta back.

Michelle made the quick decision to assume she wasn’t getting sick. She couldn't be getting sick today, that wasn’t really an option. She put on black pumps, she buttoned up her blazer, she blew her nose three times. She wasn’t getting sick.

On her way to work, Michelle pulled into a CVS and bought the largest bottle of Dayquil available. Not because she was getting sick. But, because she had sneezed twice into her cereal and so it might be a good idea, just to be safe - or whatever.

When 11:30 rolled around Michelle found herself standing in the bathroom touching her own, now tender, lymph nodes. She’d had too much of the Dayquil, definitely more than her mother would have recommended, Shed run in here to have her second sneezing fit of the morning and was now trying to assess the damage in the mirror. Her eyes looked glassy but she resolved that there was no way she could have a fever.

“Hich - ahh- ahchoo!” Fuck. She’d thought she was done. On the bright side, there was absolutely no way her nose looked as swollen as it felt. She could solve this. She could put on red lipstick, she could pull her hair up into a bun. She felt fine. But maybe she would have a bit more Dayquil.

At noon Michelle sat across from Lisa Cooper. Lisa was intimidating, there was no other way about it. She had 30 years under her belt here. Last year she took a sabbatical and spent it as a guest professor at Harvard. She lived in the nice end of town, like the really nice end of town. Michelle sat across from Lisa trying not to sniffle as she felt snot filling her nose. She wished she had Lisa’s bone-straight, silver hair, she wished her nose wasn’t tickling so bad.

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6 hours ago, Miss Erotica said:

When Michelle had gotten in the car after dinner out with the partners she hadn’t been thinking about the waitress who’d sneezed on her linguini the night before.

Wow! That must be some cold if it is spreading over night.

Poor Sammy and Michelle! I want more :razz:

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Updated :)


Pete - Day 1

This had to be the thousandth time Pete had sat at the back of the Megabus between his parent’s house in New England and his 500 square feet of bullshit in the city. Do you ever get old enough that they stop expecting you at family events? He’d spent three days eating and drinking and making polite conversation in honor of someone’s birthday. His mom hinted about grandchildren and shafted the waitress who sneezed on their drinks. 

Fuck. He always promised himself he wouldn’t be hungover on the bus and he always was. His head was pounding, his sunglasses were insufficient, and he hadn’t remembered ibuprofen. Not to mention the woman sitting next to him, it’s unfair for people to look that put together at 9:00 am, she had ridiculous cheekbones and her socks probably matched. 

He pressed his palms into his temples and closed his eyes. 

Two hours into the ride Pete woke with his forehead pressed up against the window, he could feel the sweat gathering at the nape of his neck and nausea hitting every fiber of his being all at once. “Hi - h - “ this was going to be embarrassing, “Hi - choo.” Of course, he didn’t have tissues. “Ahh - hi - achoo,” shit. 

“Excuse me,” it was the woman with the matching socks. 

“Sorry. “

“No, I’ve got -”

He knew it was going to happen again. FUCK, FUCK FU- “Achoo!!” 

His head was throbbing and the woman was holding out tissues.

He turned beat red at the gesture, but his hand reached automatically for the purse-sized pack of Kleenex. “Thank you,” his voice was thick with congestion. 

“I’m Emma.” He had bags pooling under his eyes and she had curves like you dream about - so not cool. 

“I’m hungover."


“I’m just saying that’s why.” 

“Who were you drinking with?”

“My mom.” He sniffed, feeling it in the back of his throat. 

“Ok.” She looked like she might smile. 

“Ah - hi,” she probably has a perfect smile, “h- hichoo!”

“I have Advil.” 

“That might be the hottest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“Get ready for this -”


“I have Vitamin C chews too.”

“I’m Pete.”

“Hi Pete.” She was rummaging around in her apparent medicine cabinet of a purse. 

“I’m taking you out for a drink when this ride is over.”

“You are?”

“Yea - ah - hi - achoo!” 

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