Thanks for the reviews, and keep writing them, because I learn from them. And yes, "makingtea" I did not look up the specifics about Viagra before using it. (In my fic I mean, ^_^). But I guess the results show what Kirika was thinking even before she was drugged! Merophoxyll is made up, and I'm sorry if it is the name of a real drug, or person. To understand a sex-driven maniac. Mireille busied herself. There was no reason to it, no method. She just knew she had to be busy. First she washed the dishes, then she dried them. Put them away. Made herself and Kirika some tea. Washed the teacups, dried them, put them away. Her nerves were fraying, and she was running out of things to do. More often now she did not see Kirika's entranced gaze. The girl seemed confused and shy. Instead, now she just felt the eyes watching her when she wasn't looking. Raking her body. It felt like she was being stalked. Mireille had decided somewhat quickly to hide the contents of the e-mail from Kirika. She wasn't exactly sure why, but the thought of having Kirika know what she was doing. Letting Kirika know that she was acting so, seemed needlessly cruel. It would embarrass her, and perhaps even shame her. Instead she'd made light and covertly sent another message to their client asking, begging, for a cure. Nigh permanent. The words repeated in her head. There had to be a cure! She felt Kirika's eyes on her again. Seeming to trail along her body. From a man she'd ignore it, perhaps act haughtily and turn up her nose at him. But from Kirika? From her reserved, quiet, innocent partner? The behaviour simply made her embarrassed, and perhaps a little frightened. After all the girl was an accomplished martial artist. If her urges became too much to control.... Mireille found herself praying for her computer to sound the e-mail. Kirika inspected her hands in her lap for a little bit. Trying to keep her gaze down. Why was she so warm? She had lived in this apartment with Mireille for perhaps three years. Why was she feeling so out of place now? Inside she was embarrassed. She knew what she had subconsciously done in the bed last night. And having done it on Mireille's thigh... Her cheeks flamed and her head dipped, trying to hide her face under her hair. Mortified was not strong enough for the feeling she felt. At least Mireille wasn't mentioning it, which was a blessing. What would she have said? Whoops, sorry. Oh... God, I hope that never happens again. She'd never live it down. She opened her eyes when she heard a small beep. Her gaze switching to the computer that had made the noise. But on the way something snagged it. Someone. There she was, leaning over the stool and staring at the computer screen, her body curved over the back of the chair. Her arms supporting her weight on the desk, even as her bright blue eyes surveyed the message. Kirika swallowed on the third attempt. Snap out of it! She commanded herself shaking her head, You've seen her a thousand times before, in less than this and it has never affected you. It was true, even though she had always known that Mireille was very beautiful, she'd never looked at her so before. Or thought about what that beauty meant in relation to her. Mireille was currently wearing her loose shirt, but had slipped on some light blue jeans over her legs. Kirika found that she was somewhat disappointed by that, although the tight denim did hug her posterior most nicely. She lowered her head, shaking it wildly. WHAT! Her mind screeched at her. Since when do I care what her rear-end looks like? Why am I staring at her? Why am I warm, why am I finding it hard to breathe!? And why, oh gods why, do I want to go and touch her? Her mind exploded at the last comment. She was very thankful that Mireille was too engrossed in her message to notice Kirika banging her head on the wall. The effects will not wear off in time, if your friend has been infected then she must come to us to receive the antidote. Bring her to our company at this address. Mireille read it. "America!" She cried out in dismay. "What?" Kirika asked curiously. Mireille noticed with some relief that Kirika was no longer acting so blatantly... sex-driven. Her gaze was now confused and curious. Thank the stars. "We're going to America." Mireille replied with an air of finality, suggesting that argument was unwise if not fatal. Kirika wisely nodded and made a peep of approval. At least she isn't asking why. "When do we go?" "In two days. Now hush, I have to read the rest of this. Why don't you go get us some milk from the shop?" Kirika nodded happily and bounded away. Mireille sighed as the girl left and turned back to the message. The effects of Merophoxyll will begin to take effect slowly, the changes being somewhat unnoticeable. But as time progresses so the power of the drug will multiply exponentially. Side effects include over-optimism and a tendency to send the taker hyper. "Heh, Over-optimistic and hyper. Two words I would defenitely not use to describe Kirika." Then again... she had seemed a little too happy about going to the shop. "Great." She moaned to anyone listening. This was going to be the most trying time of her life. She could already see it coming. What would Althena think? Her greatest work, the ultimate assassin, turned into a sex-starved, over-optimistic, hyper teenager. Gods,... turned... normal. (Well, at least into a normal teenager anyway.) Mireille sighed and rested her head on her arms. Something told her she wasn't going to get much sleep tonight. Sorry that's all I wrote in 3 minutes. I only wrote it so I could tell you all that I will be continuing it, and will update at weekends. So if it isn't very good. Shoot me! By the way the humour is likely to be more situational than slapstick. The humour being in how Mireille has to try and cope with Kirika. P.s. As the drug becomes stronger I will write from K's POV less and less. Someone tell me, roughly how long would it take to fly from Paris to America. Say....to New York. Any rough ideas? Please tell me. Either e-mail or write it in a review, thanks.
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