Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Humming, I get ready before the mirror. I slip into tight jeans and a silky blouse, knowing that the men love sensuous fabrics. They teased me last week with a pair of my lacy panties, and oh god, but it was amazing when they crammed the lace into my hole before slowly pulling the drenched fabric out. But suddenly, my stomach churns loudly and I double over with panic.
“Ugggh,” I moan, clutching my tummy. With quick feet, I rush to the bathroom, just barely making it to the toilet before throwing up in a loud rush. Green and brown chunks hit the water, making disgusting plopping sounds.
After I’ve emptied the contents of my stomach, I sink to the cool tile, hugging my knees while sweating and panting. Where did that come from? I try to remember if I ate anything weird for lunch, but I just had a regular ham and cheese sandwich. That shouldn’t cause any trouble. Then, another wave of nausea hits me and I throw up again, retching as tears pool in my eyes. This time, I try to stand up afterwards to flush the toilet, but my head isn’t having it. Instead, I crouch back down and pull my phone out of my pocket.
There’s a group text between Braden, Grant, and me. I pull it up and tell them I have to cancel our dinner because I’m not feeling well. Of course, my cell rings immediately.
“Hey sweetheart, are you okay?” comes Braden’s concerned voice. “I’m actually with my dad right now and you’re on speaker. Do you want us to come over?”
I smile weakly into the receiver.
“That’s sweet, but no, it’s not necessary. Besides, I don’t want you guys to see me like this. I probably have vomit spattered on my blouse and in my hair,” I say in a rueful tone.
I hear Grant’s hoarse chuckle. “We’ve seen worse before. It’s no trouble, honey.”
I laugh a little, which makes my stomach churn alarmingly. “No, no, it’s okay. It’s just a minor stomach bug and I just need to get some rest. I’m so sorry for doing this but I’ll let you know when I’m feeling better and we can reschedule, okay?”
“Sure baby girl, but call us if you need anything,” Grant commands. “We’ll be right over.”
“Thanks,” I murmur as a hot flash seizes my frame. Then, I hang up the phone just in time to throw up again.
“Why is this happening?” I moan out loud, my forehead clammy and my cheeks hot. I can’t remember the last time I felt like this. My body is weak and I’m overheating, yet I don’t have a fever. Then again, for the last couple of weeks, I have been a little off. I’d get randomly nauseous, but always managed to chug water to make it go away. But now, I’m wondering if there’s something more serious going on. Do I have some kind of low-level flu that sticks with you for weeks?
Groaning, I manage to hoist myself up and wet a washcloth to press against my forehead before slowly moving to the couch. Then, my stomach groans again and I set my hands on the gurgling pooch. Why is my body betraying me tonight? Ugh, I was really looking forward to my date with Grant and Braden, but now it’s come to this, and I feel all alone. Should I ask Grant and Braden to come over after all? I know they would be here in a jiffy, but I really meant it when I said I don’t want them to see me like this.
Instead, I dial my mom on video chat.
“Hi baby,” Judy says, picking up. Her blonde bob is helmet-like and she’s got perfectly drawn-on pink lips. “My show is on right now, so I can’t talk long.”
I sigh. My mom watches too many sit-coms to keep track of. But at least she has a job again, which means she’s not spending all her time in front of the TV.
“Sorry, I’ll be quick.”
Mom sighs. “What’s wrong, Sarah?”
“I have a stomachache, that’s all. But it’s been going on for a while and I’m fatigued too.”
Judy’s eyes slip sideways, and I can tell she’s glancing at the TV. “Have some soup, then. Chicken noodle always works wonders.”
Come to think of it, that’s not a bad idea, even if I did just throw up. I make myself get up off the couch and head for the kitchenette with Judy’s face still on the screen in front of me.
“Have you had a good week?” I ask just to make conversation. My mom yawns, her eyes still on the TV.
“It was fine. The office was busy. You know I hate being a receptionist, but it’s better than nothing.”
I bite my lip because my parents almost just lost their house, for crying out loud, so you think she’d be a bit more grateful. But at least Judy and Bill have jobs now, even if their salaries are a pittance. As a result, I’m still supporting them by supplementing their income, but they never really ask where the money comes from. I think Judy and Bill suspect, but it’s more convenient for them to turn a blind eye.