The Meeting From Hell <Part 1>

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*Vomit Warning*
*Emetophobia Warning*

Friday afternoon. Finally. Ann felt tired and achy, but she didn't care. She'd been looking forward to this meeting for two weeks now. She pulled on a blazer, ran a hand through her hair. Quick look in the mirror – the glimpse of her reflection made her pause. She looked a little pale.

She took a deep breath, stood up straight. It must have been the late night yesterday, grading papers until two AM. Sure, that was it.

It was pouring outside. Ann snagged an umbrella and headed out to her car, stepping around puddles.

Driving to campus, all she could think about was her. How her auburn hair fell in waves past her shoulders, the way her blouse strained just slightly across her bra. The empathy in her green eyes. Her teeth tugging gently on her lip whenever she was deep in thought.

Ann flushed. Kate. Well, technically, Dr. Stori. Why were woman with authority – intellectual and professional, in this case – so hot?

As she passed the campus alumni center, Ann's stomach gurgled audibly. She shifted in the driver's seat, feeling a bit strange. Was she hungry? She'd had plenty for lunch. She shook her head, trying to shake the sense that something was not quite right.

In the parking lot, she checked her hair with her iPhone camera. Her cheeks were still pale, but otherwise she looked presentable.

Butterflies in her stomach, she hopped out of the car and headed toward the Psych building.
On the third floor, she approached Kate's office, fighting to stay calm. Don't be weird, don't be weird. Inhale, exhale. She knocked.

"Come in," a female voice called, sounding distracted. Ann tensed at the sound, heart fluttering. Don't be nervous. Breathe. She turned the door handle and was greeted with the smell of woodfire, which emanated from candles flickering on the desk.

Kate sat on the couch, writing, slightly hunched. She didn't look up as Ann entered. Dressed in a black scoop-neck shirt and long pants, her red hair gleamed in the dim lighting. A spark of light glinted off a gold watch on her wrist.

The old paneled window behind her was streaked with rainwater, gray skies beyond obscuring the prime view of the campus.
Ann could feel her heartbeat pounding in her chest.

She pulled her eyes away from Kate, distracting herself by examining objects strewn across the desk. Books marked with post-its, colored paper clips and pens, journals bookmarked with scraps of paper, a browning half-eaten apple. She glanced at the book case – Women & Power; Inferno: The World at War, 1939-1945; Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind...

Kate shifted. Ann looked over, suddenly confronted with a piercing stare from green eyes. Reflexively, Ann smiled, momentarily forgetting her fatigue. Kate returned the smile, but her eyes narrowed in the seconds she spent studying the PhD student.

Ann's stomach flipped. Was it just butterflies, or...something else? She felt warm all of a sudden. She swallowed and looked down at her hands, anxious. Damn this crush.

"Ann," Kate said, the name rolling off her tongue as she stood. "Thank you for coming."
"Of course. Thanks for making time to meet with me." Ann settled into a chair that looked like it belonged at a nook in an old library, placing her wet umbrella on the floor.

Kate moved behind the desk, perching on a swivel chair. Ann tried not to look at her lips, wanting more than anything to kiss her.

Kate checked something on her computer screen. "How are you doing?"

Ann swallowed, pretending she wasn't imagining making out with her PhD supervisor. "Tired. But managing to keep on top of everything, so that's good."
"I'm glad. But I noticed you look a little pale." Kate looked away from her screen, studied Ann again.

"Oh?" Ann asked, surprised by the blunt observation. "I'm fine," she added quickly, ignoring a nagging feeling in her stomach that was beginning to feel like something less innocent than butterflies. "I just wanted to go over my recent research with you."

"Right," Kate said, sounding unconvinced. Nevertheless, she broke her gaze and moved some files on her desk, shuffling papers until she found a manila folder. "I read through your bibliography earlier, and was quite impressed."

She opened the folder and thumbed through pages, looking for something. "I'm genuinely interested to see what you come up with," she said, smiling as she settled on a page.

"Me too," Ann said, relieved that she was dodging criticism at this stage in the process.

Enthusiasm was always a good sign. She was about to continue speaking when an unexpected wave of heat rushed through her body. Lightheaded, Ann gripped the chair's armrest and shut her eyes for a beat, trying to convince herself she was okay.

Kate looked up, noticing something was off. "Ann, are you feeling ill?" Her expression matched her tone – worried.

Ann's breathing was getting shallower, faster. How was this happening so quickly? And why here?

Ann put a hand over her stomach, nauseated. "I uh – I don't feel good," she said. She hadn't meant to say it, but now she couldn't take it back.

Ann's fingers clutched at her blazer as her brain raced through scenarios: could she make it down the hall to the bathroom? Did the trash can have a plastic liner? Exactly how much time did she have before lunch reappeared?

Kate rose immediately, picking up the trash bin. "There's a bin right here if you need to vomit," she said, kneeling beside Ann's chair with, yep, a plastic-lined trash can. She sounded calm, completely unperturbed that someone might be about to puke in front of her.

Under normal circumstances Ann would have admired Kate's eyes in such close proximity, but at the moment all she could do was swallow thickly and try to plan an escape route. Ughhh, she felt like shit.

Ann eyed the bin, then made her choice: bathroom run. Despite the risk of getting sick in the hall, it was worth a try if it meant not puking in front of the woman she was in love with. Ann rose and walked with a purpose to the door, trying not to stumble as another wave of dizziness crashed over her.

Kate watched, alarmed, as Ann fled the room.

In a blur, Ann rushed down the hall and dashed into the bathroom. Clutching her churning stomach, she locked a stall door (habit) and sank to the floor in front of a toilet.

Overheated, she felt like something was going to come up any second now. Hunched over and breathing heavily through her open mouth, she spat saliva into the bowl. Her stomach lurched, but all that came up was a guttural, sick-sounding burp. More saliva. She moaned, desperate to throw up if it meant she would stop feeling so horrible.

She coughed, trying to get something started. It didn't work. Her stomach was making upsetting noises, but nothing was happening.

She gagged, then retched. A tiny mouthful of puke splashed into the toilet. Ann grimaced at the taste, then burped again. Come on, please. Get it over with. Gently she rubbed her stomach, which felt bloated and unsettlingly full.

She gagged, then finally brought up a wave of partly-digested food. Coughing, she tried to breathe, but hiccupped as her stomach contracted again.

Ann struggled to move her hair out of the way as a thick wave of vomit erupted from her mouth and showered into the toilet. Disgusted, she spat saliva into the bowl, wincing.

Body shuddering and eyes watering, she collapsed back against the stall divider, wiping her mouth inelegantly with the back of her hand.

TO BE CONTINUED...

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