I have secret powers. No, I'm serious. Well, really, I have one secret power, and an odd one at that. Let me tell you how it happened. It was Halloween and I was eleven years old. My best friend Amy and I had just gotten back from trick-or-treating and we were sorting through our loot, dumped out on the living room carpet. I was a gypsy but had stripped off my bracelets and bangles so that nothing would get in my way. "Do you want my Mounds, Lynne?" Amy asked. She was Raggedy Ann and she didn't like coconut. "Sure. Do you want my Tootsie Rolls?" "OK." We made little piles of different kinds of candy, threw away boxes of raisins, and counted pennies. We unwrapped Peppermint Patties and popped them into our makeup-smeared mouths. Then, among the pennies, I saw a ring. "Lookit this," I said, picking it up. It looked like copper and was bendy, like a ring from a bubblegum machine. It was a simple band with a pattern of X's around it. "Is it yours?" "No." "Huh. Cool." I tried it on. It was loose on my index finger but didn't fit my thumb. I took it off. "Did you get one?" Amy looked. "No. No fair. I wonder who gave it?" "I don't know." So we went back to our trading.
I sighed and rolled over. What a good dream. It was too bad real life didn't work that way. I wished I could just make people catch colds whenever I wanted. "Ow!" I cried out. My ring was suddenly burning hot. And before I could look at it, a wave of-something-traveled through me. When I held my hand before me, the ring was gone. And I knew what had happened. Of course, I told myself I was being ridiculous. I was eleven, after all, not four, and I knew there was no such thing as magic. But something had happened, and there was a faint burn on my finger where the ring had been. And somehow I knew, in a way I could not explain, that my wish had been granted. There was nothing I could do about it that night. The idea of making anyone in my family catch a cold was unbearably icky. I had to wait until tomorrow to find out whether or not I was crazy. So the next morning when I met Amy to walk to school together, I did it to her. At first I couldn't concentrate because we started talking about homework and Mrs. Bott's atrocious breath, but when a silence came, I looked covertly at her and thought, I want you to catch a cold. As soon as I did, her nose wrinkled a bit, and she rubbed it with the back of her hand as if it tickled. My heart raced. Had I really done it? Nothing else happened for the next agonizing minute, but then- "Etch-CHOO!" Oh my God. Maybe I did it. I acted completely strange the rest of the walk, as I was ashamed and excited and pretty freaked out. Of course I still couldn't be sure. But she sneezed another sneeze just as we approached school, this time accompanied by a definite sniffle. "Do you have any tissues?" she asked. Oh, God, I couldn't stand it.
I wish I could say I enjoyed this, but I couldn't. It was too embarrassing, too real, and I was too ashamed of myself. That special feeling was there but I didn't want it to be. I rushed home after school, not wanting to talk to anybody. I was glad to get away from Amy and her cold. At home I felt yucky and bad and tried to forget what had happened. But late that night, as I lay in my bed, alone and safe from all the people I was sure could read my mind, I was finally, slowly able to let it feel good. I wrapped my arms around Frenchy. Here, with the lights turned out, I replayed that morning's events in my mind as I pressed up against Frenchy's pink fur. I remembered the moment I did it, the moment I thought, I want you to catch a cold. Her wrinkled, tickly nose. Her slowly worsening symptoms. The tissues she pulled from the box on the teacher's desk. And every last "Huhhh-TCHOOO!" I moved faster, my cheeks flushed, and it felt very good, better than ever before. As I made her sneeze in my mind, utterly helpless, over and over again, something about the rocking and her sneezing mixed and joined like two waves becoming one and- OH! I lay panting and flushed on the bed, eyes wide as dinner plates. What had just happened to me?! I had no idea-I only knew I wanted it to happen again and again. I still wasn't sure if I really had magical powers. It could have been a coincidence. To be really certain I had to test it out some more. So in gym class the next day I did it to my teacher, Mr. Napier. He came out amid the sneaker squeaks and echoes of the gymnasium and told us to pick partners. But Amy was out sick with her cold and I didn't get a partner, so I had to be partners with Mr. Napier. So I had a good chance to look at him and think, "I want you to catch a cold." In a few minutes I saw him rubbing his nose. The next day proved I had done it, because his nose was red and swollen and he kept blowing into a handkerchief. I didn't like Mr. Napier, so I didn't feel quite so guilty. I liked hearing him sneeze, though. I thought that would be enough to convince me but I still had nagging doubts. What if it was two coincidences? What if there was just a cold going around and both Amy and Mr. Napier got it? So a week later I devised a plan: I would give a cold to every student in the first row of my class. I did it in the morning and I got to see each one of them rub their nose, sniffle, and slowly come down with a cold that whole day. It might not have been obvious to anyone but me, but by the next day, everyone noticed. It was horrible because people exclaimed and commented on it all week long, calling it 'the first-row syndrome' as I blushed and squirmed and wanted to disappear. But at last I was truly convinced.
The other thing was, when I thought about what I'd had in my hand without knowing it, I could have kicked myself. Why couldn't I have wished for something better? I mean my special power was cool and all, but it wasn't at all helpful and it was mean to use it! I could have wished for money, or world peace, or to be really pretty, or to have lots of friends. I could have wished that my mom would stop drinking, which I did often enough. But then, I thought how it could have been worse. I might have done something awful like wishing that my sister would drop dead, or more likely something stupid like wishing we didn't have a test the next day! So I guess I didn't do too badly.
"I dided' bead id!" I wailed the next day." Ehhhh…ehhh…AAACHOOO!" I sneezed into a tissue. My nose tickled relentlessly and I sneezed again and again: "Aaaaaatchooo! AH-CHOOO!!!" I pulled more tissues and blew my red, sore nose. I had the worst cold ever. Was this revenge for all the misery I had caused? If so, I couldn't deny that I richly deserved it. My nose was both stuffed and runny, and I had to blow it constantly. My throat hurt and I had a fever of 100.3. I knew because my mom had taken my temperature. Usually I hid it when I was sick-I hated that overwhelmed, helpless look my mom got-but there was no hiding it this time. I had to put up with her sticking a thermometer in my mouth and giving me cold medicine. I stayed home from school for three whole days, sneezing my way through boxes of tissues. As miserable as it was, though, I have to admit-as I doubled over with one wet tickly sneezing fit after the next-that it had its pleasant side. My hand, which had replaced Frenchy, slipped under the covers more than once.
That year, when I turned 18, I left home and went traveling with my friend Leah. We had this old green station wagon and we'd just pick a place and go. It was wonderful. As you may have gathered, my home life wasn't ideal. On the road, for the first time, I felt truly free. We saw some amazing places, from New York City to the Grand Tetons, but one of the coolest was a commune in Virginia called Twin Oaks. There's about 100 people there and they all run the place together; farming, working, and raising children. No religion or leader, just community. On our first day in the visitor program, we walked through the courtyard where people were weaving hammocks, the community's main source of income. There, weaving in the sunlight, was this beautiful man with pale skin and long black hair. He was as beautiful as a girl. He was dressed in worn overalls with no shirt underneath, and I could see his rosy pink nipples peeking out from underneath the straps. He looked at me and smiled. I fell in love. Oh, my sweet Raven. He woke me up, he lit me up from the inside out. Leah moved on, wishing me well, and I stayed with my sweet, strange siren. I had never felt true passion before and he loved me just as deeply. I was a virgin and he slowly removed the veil. He wanted me to feel everything. On those hot Virginia nights when we made love, he knew that I held something back. He knew that there was a place behind my eyes that he could not see. One night, in his gothic-hippie bedroom with its candles and velvet and Grateful Dead albums, he asked me why. I said there was something that had always been with me but that I could not tell him. He was loving and patient and curious and absolutely refused to take no for an answer. It took me all night but I finally told him about my fetish. And that was all. That was enough! He wanted melting and perfect trust and no secrets, but I could not tell him the part about my power. That was mine, separate, private. But oh, the relief of telling someone how I feel about colds and sneezes! And he was just so sweet about it. Puzzled, amused, but in fact delighted. And honored to be the first in this as well. Another veil lifted. He offered to pretend to be sick, to fake sneezing, but no! I couldn't take that, somehow. It needed to be real. We settled for him describing his colds to me as he touched me. And secretly, I planned to make it real. I waited. Two and a half weeks would be enough, I decided, not to arouse any suspicions. I was utterly paranoid, but still determined. The evening finally arrived and as we kissed on my futon, I opened my eyes. I want you to catch a cold. A very sneezy, stuffy, sniffly cold. Wake up with it tomorrow. His brow furrowed and he pulled away for a moment, mouth half opened and eyes half closed. Then the look faded and he shook his head. "Sorry, I thought I was going to sneeze." He gave me a sly smile. "That would have been lovely," I murmured, and kissed him again.
He stirred and rubbed at his nose as he began to wake. There was a little trail of wetness on the back of his hand when he pulled it away. He blinked. Oh, how I savor that look to this day! That blank, confused look as he awoke and realized something was not right. He swallowed uncomfortably, sniffed wetly. Understanding dawned on his face with a look of dismay. Then he remembered me. "Good morning," I yawned, as if I had just woken up. "Good morning," he said, suppressing a smile, and snuggled into my embrace. I could tell he was just savoring the moment, considering the best way, the sexiest way, to tell me he was sick. I cuddled him, his cheek pressed against my breast. I heard a little sniffle. A moment later he backed off and sat up, blinking. "Cou-could you hand be the tiss-" he motioned urgently with his hands, "-the tissues?" "Sure," I said and grabbed them quickly, keeping my eyes on him so as not to miss anything. He pulled out a couple and held them up to his face. Eyes half closed, a long, slow breath in… "Huh…CHHMPH! KSHUMMPHH! Eh…CHHHHuh!" Then he blew his nose hard. "God bless you!" I exclaimed through waves of hidden pleasure. I gave him a quizzical look. "Are you OK?" "No," he lamented, and flopped back down to the pillows theatrically. "I think I've got a cold." Although he tried to look aggrieved, he couldn't keep one corner of his mouth from turning up, and he snuck a look at me to see my reaction. I was blushing and my pulse began to race. "A cold? Really?" He nodded, and I kissed his nose. "You poor thing, did you just wake up with it?" "Yeah…although, come to think of it, my nose was feeling tickly last night. Didn't think anything of it, though." Suddenly his brow creased again- "HehTSHOO!" he sneezed convulsively, right in front of me. The distressed look he gave me was exaggerated, but there was something genuine behind it that made my heart melt. "Are you gonna take care of me?" he sniffled. He held me tighter and stroked his hand slowly down my back. "Oh Raven," I purred, "I am going to take very good care of you." And I did. I took such good care of him that I nearly wore us both out. Oh, but I was nice to him too, brought him soup from the dining hall and Hildegarde's home grown cold and flu tea. I gave him backrubs and endless cuddles and kisses, and it really was a dream come true. It was sweet and romantic and when we made love, there was no hidden place behind my eyes.
"100.9, down a little," I said. "What are you thinking, sweetie?" "Oh, I'm just thinking how you're always so nice to me when I'm sick, always taking care of me." "Well, it's not like I don't get anything out of it." I smiled. "Yeah, but still…sometimes I wish I could return the favor, you know? But you never get sick." "That's sweet. But I do get sick sometimes, and believe me, when I do, you'll be the first to know."
That was a very hard semester. I was taking Physics, Microbiology, Organic Chemistry, and Calculus. So I waited a month, until my last final was over. I handed in my exam, ending four months of torment, and as I walked out, I worked my magic. My nose immediately began to tickle. I reveled in the curious tension between resisting and regretting my oncoming cold, and welcoming its erotic embrace. I was like a heroine in a Victorian bodice-ripper-"No, stop! I don't want you to….ohhhhh….No, I mean it, stop! Mmmmm…" Maybe that was part of the appeal. Walking down the hallway, the tickle built and built until-"AtschOOOOO!" I doubled over in a violent sneeze. It was only the beginning. "Hey, how'd it go?" I asked. " Well, I think I got an A. I don't know-there was one essay question I really guessed on. But at least it's over. How about you?" "I swear, I never know how I do on those chemistry tests. I didn't quite finish, but no one ever does. I think I did OK." "Oh, please, you probably got an A. So, you want to go out and celebrate?" "Ummm…I don't know. I kind of don't feel very good." "Yeah? What's wrong?" The concern in his voice made my heart skip. "I guess I'm getting a cold. My nose is running, my throat's scratchy, I'm sneezing…" "Awww, poor thing. Sounds like you got one all right. You sure timed it well, now that finals are over." He paused. Then, in a low conspirational voice, "So, are you all excited?" "Sort of, yeah," I laughed. "You are the strangest girl. Well, do you think if I came over I might be able to make you feel better?" "I think-AH-TCHOOO! sniff…you might." "I'll be over in hour. And, bless you." So he came over, bringing me tissues and Campbell's chicken soup. "Awwww, my girl's sick," he said, kissing me. "I hope you don't catch it," I said. "Are you kidding? Of course I'll catch it, I catch everything. But I don't care." He was very sweet to me, feeling my forehead, making sympathetic noises, and blessing me when I sneezed. He liked being the caretaker for once. I liked it too and liked his kisses even more. We wound up in bed, our lovemaking peppered by my sneezes and blows. "I have never heard anyone sneeze so much from a cold," he marveled. What can I say, I'm talented. His eyes lit up with mischief. "Have you ever tried to sneeze while coming?" "Yes," I laughed. "Hasn't worked, though. I'm not sure it's possible." "Well, maybe you need help." And he slowly left a trail of wet kisses down my body, to nestle between my legs. He softly kissed my inner thighs, gently touched my clit and circled it with the tip of his tongue. I felt warm fingers slip inside me. "Mmmmm, Alan…ohhh, oh-I'm going to…ahhh…AHHATTCHHOOO! ETCHOO! Oh God…" I reached for a tissue and blew my running nose. It was incredible. He didn't stop. His tongue licked me all over as I sniffled and moaned and dabbed at my nose with tissues. Slowly he settled into a rhythm that threatened to bring me over the edge. Then he backed off. "Got any sneezes coming?" "I don't know…mmmm, don't stop…" "We have to, it's for science. We have to find out if it's possible to sneeze and have an orgasm at the same time." "Are you going to write a paper?" "Absolutely…with detailed documentation of our methods. Your name will be on it too." "Ah…Alan…I…" He knew what was coming and began his exquisite methodology anew. I tried to hold back, but my self-inflicted cold was too severe. "AAAAHHHHTCHHHISH! Ohhh…God, please keep going…" This time he backed off only slightly, keeping me close to the edge with delicate petal-soft licks and kisses. His tongue darted inside me, he nibbled my wet skin…oh, I was coming close…I prayed for another tickle in my nose and soon my prayers were answered. It rose gently like a feather caressing me on the inside. "Oh…I have to…have to sneeze…Ahhhh…" it was hard to stay focused on both sensations…when I focused on my sneezy nose, the climax seemed to fade, and vice versa. Finally, I just let my head cold take over, let the tickle build… "Ah… uhh… hehhh… HEH… HETCHHOOOO! Mmmm….oh God, oh…GOD! OH!" I writhed and dug my nails into the sheets. I felt him crawl up next to me and put his arms around my spent body. He pulled the covers up around us and held me. When I opened my eyes, he smiled, looking pleased with himself, and handed me a tissue. I blew my nose yet again. "So?" he asked. "It was incredible, sweetheart…" "Yes, but was it simultaneous?" I laughed. "Well, no, not exactly. I came like a couple of seconds later." "Hmmm…obviously, we'll have to do more research."
Although I got familiar with computers in college I didn't have one of my own. I used the ones in the library, which limited my Internet explorations. But when I finished school and started working at an environmental consulting firm, I bought my very own. Before long it occurred to me to look up sneeze related stuff on the web. That's when I found I was not alone. God, what an amazing revelation! I was so excited-no one I'd ever told had ever heard of such a thing. I was convinced that I was alone. And hey, pornography! Here was porn that actually turned me on! Now, I was a full-on Internet pervert, masturbating compulsively to the flickering blue light of the computer at 3 AM. What a transformation! Ah, those heady days are gone. Eventually I calmed down and returned to a more balanced existence. And I have to say, finding this wealth of erotic material has made me less sensitive. Anyone else noticed this? I used to get massively turned on by just looking up "sneeze" or "cold" in the dictionary. No longer-now I require stronger, finer stuff. But of course the most tantalizing prospect was the idea of actually meeting someone with similar tastes. I'm proud to say I have done this. It wasn't easy, though. You see, I am more into colds in general than just sneezing. Allergies don't really do it for me. I mean, sneezing is the best part of a cold, but it's the whole thing-the sniffles, the blowing, the weakness, the caretaking, and even the contagiousness-that is appealing. I think this is something of a minority opinion. It definitely seems to be among the men, and alas, I am basically straight. Happily, there are a few men out there who do share my tastes. The one I hooked up with is named Steve. He saw a posting of mine and we started chatting. He liked colds, he seemed nice, and to top it all off, he could spell! Things were looking promising. Further chats revealed that we only lived 6 hours drive apart, which made meeting a real possibility. Then came the clincher:
I was, but I was stopped in my tracks. After another moment I did what only the anonymity of the Internet would allow me to do.
We traded wavs, fantasies, photos. He was pretty cute, but not really my type. I usually like quirky, effeminate men, and he was big and macho looking. Not only that but it turned out he was a Republican and worked in advertising-ugh. It was obvious we weren't each other's soul mates. But we were not in the least bit deterred. We traded phone numbers. We called each other. Pretty soon he had a weekend business meeting in my area, and we took the plunge. We met.
"Are you sure you want me to?" "You just look at me?" "Pretty much. And say, or think, what I want to happen." He laughed, and shrugged. "All right then…go ahead." I smiled. I leaned over the table and looked into his eyes. "Steve," I said, slow and deliberate, "I want you to catch a cold." I leaned back as the bemusement faded from his face and his brow wrinkled. "Feel that?" "I feel something, but…no way." He shook his head. I laughed. "Better get some tissues on the way to that meeting. You're going to need them."
"I can't believe this," he said finally. "I'm sick. I'm really sick." "Poor dear. Did I really get you?" "I've been sneezing all day!" "Told you." "But how?" "It's magic. I don't know how else to explain it. So…does it feel good?" "Yes and no…" "Yeah, you probably feel all tired and achy, and I bet your throat is sore." He nodded and wiped his nose with a handkerchief. "But those sniffles feel good, don't they? You like having the sneezes." "Yes…" "Well I like it too. I can't wait to see you sneeze. I like how your nose is all stuffed up and runny and that I made it happen. Soon it's going to get all red…" I traced a finger down the bridge of his nose. "No…nuhh…HusshhURCHHH! HISHCHHHH! Oh, Jesus, girl…" He blushed and lifted his handkerchief to his nose to blow. He hadn't covered his mouth when he sneezed, which got me ever hotter. I leaned over and kissed him warmly on the mouth. He looked at me. My hand rested lightly on his leg. "Do you…uh, do you want to come up to my room?" he managed. "I would love to."
"You're a witch," he breathed, as he kissed my neck and unbuttoned my blouse. "I can't believe you did this to me." "You wanted it. You're loving every minute." He laughed. "I do love it. You gave me a really bad cold in my nose and I love it." We tumbled to the bed. We kissed hungrily, and I could feel his hard cock pressed up against my belly. His wet little sniffles drove me crazy. He rolled on top and we played with the edge of how close we could get without latex. He was muscular, warm and heavy; his strong hands caressed and kneaded me. Then he paused and rose up a bit. "Oh…Jesus (sniff)…this cold…I…I have to…HASHHURCHSH! HITCHHRSSCH! uh…uhhh…HURSSSHHHISH!" He sneezed freely, all over me. I could feel his cock jump with each release, feel it grow even harder. I wanted him so bad. "Poor Steve, you need some tissues…." I said, while pressing up against him. I grabbed several from the nightstand and held them to his nose. He blew and blew. "Oh, baby, you gave be the worst cold… I cad't stop sdeezig… HIRSCHHHUH!!" I couldn't wait any longer. I found a condom, slipped it on him and let him fuck me until I screamed.
"sniff…What are you doig?" he asked. "I brought some Nyquil," I replied, producing the bottle. "I dod't deed that. I dever get sick, I bight as well edjoy by symptobs. What's the point of doig this otherwise?" "The point is that you need to rest. You'll be miserable if you're up coughing and sniffling all night," I said, pouring out a dose. "Come on, tough guy, take your medicine-you'll still have a cold tomorrow." With a show of reluctance, he did as he was told. Soon we both fell asleep.
"Still enjoying yourself?" I asked as he emptied his nose into a tissue yet again. "Yeah," he laughed, and finished buttoning his shirt. "Pretty twisted, huh? Although if I ever have a chadce to get you back for this, girl, you cad bet I'll do it. Are you sure I cad't give you this cold?" he asked, and he kissed me and rubbed his nose against mine. I laughed and tried to push him away, but he pinned me down playfully on the bed. He looked at the bedside lamp until a tickle arose… "Hursssschhih! HCHHHSHISH! Sniff…HARSSHCHHH!" "Hey!" I cried out, laughing and protesting. "That's not going to work anyway. It's a magic cold, it's not contagious." "I dod't know…it's still so hard to believe. Be hodnest, you did'ed, like…idfect be sobehow?" "All I did, I did with my mind. I am a witch. With very limited powers." "It just dosed't bake sedse. Hey! Cad you give yourself a cold?" Oh no. That's what I was hoping he wouldn't ask. "Ha! You cad, cad't you?" "Well…I…" "Yes! Cobe od, let…HAAHSTCHHHishh! Let's see you do it." "No! No, I don't want to." "Oh, yes you do. I kdow what's idside your kinky little soul. Besides, if I've got to have a cold id by head, so do you." "No…" I protested weakly. "Yes," he whispered in my ear, kissing me. "You kdow you want it…you kdow you want to catch a bad case of the sneezes." He brushed his hand down my side and touched my pussy. "You're getting wet just thinking about it…" "No…I mean, yes, but…" "But?" "Well, it's just that…I always feel a little…vulnerable when I get sick." "Awww," he cooed, "I'll be good to you. I promise." He kissed me very softly, but was still holding me down on the bed. "Go ahead. Do it." I sighed and gave in. "All right." A mild but extremely sneezy cold-I thought-with sniffles, that comes on all day, is worst by tonight, and gone in a couple of days. I want to catch a cold like that. The wish sealed my fate. "Did you do it?" he asked. "Yes, my nose tickles already." I tried to rub it but he wouldn't let me. "Let it come…" The feeling rose in waves. "Ahhh…" I breathed in, my breasts rising, my wrists gently pinned above my head. I was helpless… "Ahhhh…ah…AH-TICHOOO! Ohhh…now look what you've done," I pouted, sniffling seductively. "Now I'm catching a cold!" It was too much for him. He was late to his meeting.
"Hello?" he answered. "Hi, it's Lynne. Are you in a meeting?" "Yes, I'm with Pincus' and Mitchell's people right now." He was trying to sound as if he was speaking to a colleague. What, ashamed of his kinky little liaison? I rolled up the corner of a tissue between my thumb and forefinger. "I'm sorry to bother you (sniff), it's just that I'm co…com…ohhh…oh, no… ATCHHISH! ATCHHUSHHH! ATCHHOOO! Hah…HATCHOOO! Oh, I'be sorry…" I blew my nose and rolled up another corner. "It's just that I'be cobig dowd with such a bad cold…ATCHSHHH! Huh…CHOOOO!! I keep od sdeezig ad sdeezig…" "Ah…I…" "HITSHOOO!" "I think (cough), I think I, I should be done here pretty soon." "I was hopig you'd say that." "I'll bet. I'll get back to you as soon as I'm done." "I'll be waiting."
"Were you?" "Very funny." He paused to sneeze, "HUSHTCHOO! Snif…Thank God I had by laptop." "I'b sorry," I laughed. He took my chin in his hand and kissed me. "Dod't be. No one's ever been able to get to me like this before. You know…I've never told anyone about this." "I know…haTCHOO!" "Awww, bless you…you really have a cold now, huh?" I nodded and blew my nose to show it. He started kissing me, beginning to breathe hard. I could see his cock rising in his trousers. "Well, I'll be damned. Your cute little nose is all stuffed up…and it's all my fault. Have you been sniffling and sneezing all day?" "Uh-huh. And you?" "Some, but not so much. This cold medicine is good stuff. It's wearing off, though." "I could tell. Steve, you look really tired. What do you think about some cuddling and a nap before we have more sex?" He laughed and embraced me. "I think that sounds perfect. Except we should have sex first, then cuddling, then a nap, and then-ah…HARSCHHHHish!-more sex."
But we couldn't keep up that sexual intensity forever. As it wore off, our lack of any deeper connection became obvious, and the relationship felt increasingly empty. We saw each other less, and eventually he called to tell me that he'd started seeing someone else. I couldn't help feeling jealous-but only that he'd found someone before I did. I genuinely wished him well. To my surprise, given our differences, we've remained friends. I gave him support and encouragement when he wanted to tell his girlfriend about his kink. She handled it just fine and when they got engaged, I made a trip to his town to secretly give them a little engagement present. It was his idea, and I was glad to help-he and his fiancée spent a wonderful weekend in bed with terrible, sneezy head colds. Steve was all paired up and happy, but I had no similar luck. I didn't meet anyone else from the Internet and I didn't tell any of the men I did date about my special power. But I wanted to. Somehow it began to bother me that I had this part of me I kept hidden. But when I looked into their eyes I knew I couldn't do it, couldn't tell them the truth. And none of them lasted. About when I hit 30, my life changed. I was feeling dissatisfied with my work; I didn't like the increasingly corporate direction my company was taking, and there was little chance I could get a better job with only a Bachelor of Science degree. So I applied to grad school and got accepted. And then I got a call from my sister-mom had been diagnosed with cirrhosis. Her years of alcoholism had caught up with her, and by the time she'd gone to a doctor, it was pretty bad. I abandoned my grad school plans and moved back to Baltimore to take care of her. It was an awful time. My sister helped as much as she could, but she'd just had her second baby, and had her hands full. I had to deal with doctors, insurance, and my mother's run-down, filthy house. I had to face my mother, who I had abandoned so long ago. And I had to face my guilt and pain and helplessness as she continued to get worse. She told me she just didn't care anymore. One afternoon, I came home to find her passed out on the bathroom floor, an empty bottle of scotch in the bedroom. Where she got it I have no idea; apparently she drank the whole goddamned thing. The ambulance came quickly, but she still died. I grieved a great deal, both for the mother I'd had and for the one I'd always wanted. And along with the grief and anger I felt tremendous guilt. As soon as I turned 18, I was out of that house as fast as I could go and didn't look back. I rarely visited or called. I'd thought I had every right, because she was honestly a pretty bad mother. But it wasn't her fault. She'd had an awful life, and when her husband died, leaving her with two children to raise on her own, she'd done the best she could and I couldn't say I'd have done any better. And all I'd done was to cause her more pain. I stayed in my mother's house, which my sister and I had inherited. Although it had been in the family for three generations, neither of us wanted to live there, and we decided to sell it. I cleaned and fixed and painted it, and hauled away junk. I was determined to restore it, to rescue this house from dirt and sadness and neglect-in the way, I suppose, that I could not rescue my mother. I could not pass it on before I had done that. It was during this time, when I felt more depressed and lonely than ever before, that I met Howard. I met him at the new occult shop downtown, Cerridwen's Cauldron. I stopped by to check it out-I'd had a fascination with magic ever since my experience with the ring. I knew magic existed, I knew it must be out there somewhere, but I never managed to find anything real, no matter how I tried. By this time I had pretty much given up, but still found myself drawn to places like Cerridwen's Cauldron, with its clutter of incense and charms and pentacles. They were offering tarot readings and, feeling more than a little lost, I decided to get one. Howard, the card reader, was blond yet a bit gothic looking-pale, dressed in black, and wearing a silver ankh. He was handsome and, I couldn't help but notice, sounded a bit congested. He laid out the cards. Death was at the center. "It means a great change, transformation," he assured me. "Not physical death." "Maybe both," I replied. "My mother died last month." "Oh-oh, I'm sorry," he blushed. "The cards aren't usually that literal." "That's all right." He went on, giving me a very good, very sensitive reading. He turned over the Nine of Swords and told me I needed to forgive myself. I started to cry, I couldn't help it. He was very kind and gave me tissues. The King of Cups was the coming influence and the final card was The Lovers. "Are you in love?" he asked me. "No." "I think you may be soon." "The Lovers isn't always literally love, is it?" "No, but I think it is this time." Fortune tellers will always tell you that you're going to fall in love. It's what everyone wants to hear.
"Bless you." "Thanks," he said, pulling a tissue from his pocket and blowing. "Do you have a cold?" "Just a little one," he said with a smile. "Seems like it's going around." "Yes, it's the change in the weather." I wanted to continue my favorite topic of conversation, but couldn't think of how to do so without appearing odd. "Well, take care of yourself-and thank you."
"Lynne?" he asked, surprising me as I picked up some ibuprofen. "Oh-Howard! Hi!" I was glad I remembered his name, and surprised he remembered mine. "How are you?" he asked. "Fine, how are you?" "I'm (cough) fine-" he turned away as a coughing fit took him. I raised my eyebrow. Recovering, he laughed. "Well, except for this cold I'm trying to get over. It wasn't so bad, but now it's turned into a cough that's just driving me crazy." "That dry, constant tickle in your throat kind of cough?" "That's the one." He turned to the rows of cough syrup. "I usually just take echinacea and vitamin C, but I'm getting desperate. Do you know the difference between all of these?" "I have some idea…" I was in my element. I quizzed him thoroughly about his symptoms and helped him pick out a bottle of cough suppressant. I suggested lozenges and recommended tea with honey and lemon. He seemed charmed by the attention. Then he was done and I had more shopping to do, so we said goodbye. I wanted to ask him for his number but was too shy. Soon I finished up my own shopping and started the drive home. It was beginning to rain. It was dark by that time, so when I pulled up to a stoplight I didn't see him at first, waiting to cross. But then I heard a sneeze, followed by coughing, and of course turned to see where it came from. "Howard?" I called out the window. He looked, squinted into the darkness. Then he laughed. "Lynne?" "I swear I'm not stalking you. Would you like a ride?" "I'm going to Maple and Wilshire. Are you heading that way?" "No, but hop in anyway. You're getting soaked." He did, and I turned up the heat. "Thank you. I didn't know it was going to rain." "Don't you have a car?" "I do, but I like walking. Actually, I like walking in the rain too, but I suppose it's not the best (cough) thing for a cold." "Definitely not," I agreed. We chatted and soon arrived at his apartment. "Thank you Lynne, I really appreciate it." There was a slightly awkward silence. Somebody had to say it. "Well, this is the third time we've met in as many days," I finally said. "Maybe we should get together for coffee." "That sounds great," he said, a smile brightening his face. So we traded numbers, and he called me the next day. In a very short time, Howard's prediction came to pass. He was my King of Cups and we became The Lovers.
I felt closer to Howard than I had ever felt to any man. It was easy to tell him about my fetish and he responded very well-although he did tease me about my ulterior motives in the medicine aisle. We had a lot of opportunities to play with it, because I caught one cold after another that winter. My sister blamed it on the decades of dust and cat hair I was sifting through as I cleaned. Howard said it was grief. Howard was a Witch. He practiced Wicca, a religion based on pre-Christian European beliefs. I had run into this in my search for magic, as witches, or Wiccans, do cast spells. But their spells are of the "light a candle, chant, and maybe you'll get a job in a few months" sort, and who's to say you wouldn't have anyway? So I wasn't impressed. Howard believed magic was subtle. But I knew it was not-not always. And I knew the time had come to tell someone I loved what I really was.
"All right," he said simply. But he knew it was serious. He put down the cat he'd been petting. "Is it bad?" "Yes and no. I mean, I hope it won't be bad. The thing is…you won't believe me." "Try me." I took a deep breath. My palms were sweating. Why was it so hard? you may wonder. I had told Steve. But Steve wanted what I could do, and at the time I told him, he was only words on a screen. This was different. How could I tell the man I loved that I could make people sick with a thought-and did-for my own pleasure? "It's…it's that…" But I couldn't do it, and I burst into tears. "Honey…honey, it's ok," he told me as he gathered me in his arms and kissed my hair. He was worried and bewildered. I hadn't planned on crying, didn't really know why I was. But I loved Howard and was terrified of losing him. Maybe you know what it feels like to keep something secret, the way it grows and becomes monstrous inside with the very force of keeping it hidden. At that moment I felt that if he knew the awful truth, he'd leave. But I couldn't go on hiding it. I blew my nose and tried to compose myself. "Howard, you-you believe in magic, right?" "Yes." "And because I've been skeptical about Wicca, you probably think I don't believe in magic. But I do. Because I've experienced it, and-and I can do it. I have this…power. But it's not exactly a force for good." Howard kept listening, kept holding me. Whatever he had expected, it was not this. "It started when I was eleven. I found a ring in my trick-or-treat bag on Halloween. I didn't know where it came from. And the first time I wore it, I, I was thinking about my fetish, and I made a wish." I was keenly aware of how ridiculous it sounded. "I wished I could make people catch colds whenever I wanted them to. And…and the ring got hot and then it disappeared. It just vanished. And I got my wish. It was magic, like a genie in a lamp, and I didn't know it. I know it sounds stupid but it really happened. I was wearing the ring, I had this passing thought, and now-and ever since-I can make anyone catch a cold by just looking at them." Howard was silent for a bit, taking it all in. "Lynne, are you serious?" "Yes. It's true. I know it sounds hard to believe…" "Well, I'm sort of suspending my disbelief right now. What matters is that it's real to you." "No! That's only what matters if I'm delusional. But I'm not. It's true, it's real, and I can prove it to you any way that you want. I can do it to you, to me, to anyone we know, or to all of us at once. Just tell me and I'll prove it to you." "You don't have to-" "Yes I do. I need you to believe me." He looked at me, eyes dark and thoughtful. "All right. Do it to me." "Are you sure?" "Yes," he smiled. "It's only a cold, right?" "Yes." "Does it happen instantly?" "You'll start to feel it right away." Was he humoring me? "It takes time to build, like a normal cold. I can make it come on pretty fast, though. I can also control the kind of symptoms you get. What's your least favorite cold symptom?" "My least favorite? Uh…sore throat, I guess. And coughing." "Ok. Minimal sore throat and coughing. But…sneezes ok?" "Yes," he laughed, "Sneezing is ok." "All right then." I want you to catch a cold, I thought, with no coughing or sore throat but lots and lots of sneezes and it should come on as fast as humanly possible because I can't wait. He blinked and wrinkled his nose. He looked at me in wonderment and opened his mouth to speak, but… "Hesschhh! Hichhhsh! Etchhishh!" he sneezed into the crook of his elbow. "Jesus…" He looked a bit shaken. "That's how it starts. I'm sorry, honey, I'm really sorry…but soon you'll know I'm telling the truth." "I'm already wondering…" he shook his head. "But while we're waiting for me to be convinced, you can keep talking to me about it. Like, why are you so upset?" "Why? Because…I don't want you to hate me or be scared of me." "Why would I?" "Because-because I have evil powers!" He burst out laughing. "Honey, you can be so melodramatic sometimes." "But it's true! I can make people sick. And I do! Just for fun. I've done it to just about every boyfriend I've ever had. But not to you. I've never done it to you." "And why not?" "Well…I knew I was going to tell you." "Ah ha. No altruistic impulse, then." "No…" I was ashamed. "Oh, honey…" he murmured affectionately, seeing my torment. He hugged me. "And you've never told anyone else about this?" "Just one. Steve, that I met online." "Ah. So he knew. Did you give him a cold?" "Yeah," I blushed. "Lots of times. And I did it to me, too. But he wanted it, he liked it." "So it wasn't evil?" "No…are you making fun of me?" "A little. It's just…hehh..hetcshhISH! sniff…I don't know what to make of this, but let's say it is true. If so, you're being awfully hard on yourself. It's not an evil power, it's just…mischievous. How often do you use it?" "Maybe…once or twice a year." "See? How evil is that? If you really can do magic, one special kind of magic that really turns you on, well, who wouldn't use it once in a while? Baby…" he said, when I started crying again, "You're not evil." We kept on talking for hours. He encouraged me to tell him everything, and listened patiently, fascinated. We also talked about what it meant, that spells like this existed. Far from being frightened, Howard was enchanted. He wanted to believe. And as his sneezing multiplied, and the occasional wiping of his nose turned to near-constant blowing-he was at last truly convinced. "I've really got a cold," he marveled. "I-ESCHHISH! I've never come down with anything so fast in my life. And I've never sneezed so much." "I'm sorry." "No, don't be…I asked for it." He blew his suffering nose into a handful of tissues, then shook his head and smiled. "You really are magic, aren't you?" "You believe me?" "Yes, I think I do. No, don't be shy…I've always believed in magic, but this-this is amazing. It's (sniff) wonderful." "You don't feel wonderful, do you?" "Ha! No, not really. But I bet I can make you feel wonderful." He kissed me softly, just his mouth pressed gently to mine…the tip of his tongue slightly moistening my lip. I could hear him sniffle from his cold. I'd been too upset to feel turned on before, but now…he pulled me closer. "And if I'm a little-ah-Hisschhh! (sniff) under the weather…" he said, stroking my cheek, "Well, I have a feeling you'll make it up to me." "Oh, I will…I love you so much." "I…ah…hisschhh! I love you too, Lynne. Always."
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