Immediately, my stomach does a flip.
Now is not the time…
Little droid’s presence has caused two major changes in my body:
1. The nausea has been crippling.
2. I’m always horny.
And I cannot overstate the choice of word: always. Not a moment goes by that I’m not tormented. Even when I want to retch, I’m leaking into my panties like a goddamn slut for?—
Don’t go there. He’s just the droid daddy.
I force a smile to my lips, hoping Carmen vacates the room quickly.
And because my luck is shit, she starts tidying behind my desk.
For droid’s sake, why must she be so goddamn good at your job?
“It’s fine, Carmen. Don’t worry about—” I pause as a splash of acid rises in my throat.
Carmen holds up a box, slowly turning it from side to side. “Have you forgotten about these packages I brought in the other day?”
My stomach roils a threat, promising to expel its contents the moment I open my mouth.
Closing my eyes, I bring the heel of my hand to my forehead, pressing into it while leaning forward.
“Oh, dear,” Carmen says, shuffling to attend to me. “Is it a migraine?”
I nod slowly, hoping she takes the hint and leaves.
The lights flicker off and the door closes.
I exhale a jagged breath, wincing at its scent.
Up until now, the warnings have been weak, with my stomach returning to normal without issue.
That just changed.
“I thought we were on good terms,” I snap at little droid.
In response, all hell breaks loose.
My stomach clenches. I try to lengthen my back so the acid has farther to travel, but there’s no stopping it. One wrong move, and I’m painting the room in whatever I ate last night.
I look over at the waste receptacle, wondering if the lining will be able to handle the fiery contents of my stomach.
You got this.
I use my tiptoes to roll my chair closer to the trash, taking great care not to cause it to further upset. But in order to make it in the bin, I’ll have to bend over.
There are only a few crumpled pieces of paper in the trash, so it’s not in danger of overflowing. Still, I’m not looking forward to the smell that will undoubtedly accompany the expulsion.
I suck in a deep breath and feel my stomach settle.
Thank-fucking-God?—
“Miss Weston!” Carmen charges into the room with a bottle of ibuprofen extended toward me.
