THE QUICKIE
 “Are
you sure you don’t want to come?” Sarah’s mother asked her. “I’m sure
they won’t mind you being there with us. After all, you will be eighteen
next week, won’t you? And we will be regulars, now we’ve moved here.
They’re not going to turn us away.”
“No, really, I’ll be alright. You two go and have a drink. Enjoy
yourselves and say ‘hello’ from me. You deserve it. It’s been a long
day, and there’ll another long day tomorrow. There’s all that unpacking
still to do. Besides I’ve got to set the computer up. I promised Dean
I’d see him on the internet tonight.”
“As long as you’re sure,” her father added, giving her a tight hug
before pulling his coat on. He knew how much she was going to miss her
boyfriend. “We won’t be too long, anyway. And you’re positive those
silly rumours about this house being haunted don’t worry you?”
“Don’t be stupid!” she laughed, pushing them both out the door.
Sarah watched impatiently from the porch of the medieval mansion’s front
door as her parents climbed into the silver Mercedes. With a sharp
‘toot’ on the horn, and a wave from her mother, the car sped away along
the dark driveway then out, turning left towards the village. She pushed
heavily on the creaking great oak door closing it securely before
hurrying up to her room, taking the stairs two at a time.
Sarah’s room was a mess, a complete mess that was unusual for her, she
normally loved tidiness to the extreme, but it was excusable in the
circumstances, all the really essential things had been done. The bed
was made up, enough clothes for a few days unpacked, that would have to
do for now. Setting up the computer was the most important thing now, to
be able to see Dean, to chat with him on Microsoft’s Net-Meeting. She
wondered how well it would work here, it was so annoying that here they
didn’t have broadband. The old phone and modem connection was so slow,
she remembered from those prehistoric days. Pictures from the web cam
would be appalling, but they would have to make do.
It was a full hour before the computer, with all its necessary
peripherals, was ready for testing. Satisfied that it should now all
work, that all the cables had been connected correctly, that the old
external modem was powered up and linked to the phone line, Sarah sat
down in front of it. Logging on she opened the chat program and was
ecstatic to see the words, ‘U there Poppet?’ staring at her. That was
Dean! That was his pet name for her!
‘Yes,’ she excitedly typed the reply, switching the selection to
private, ‘switch the camera on. I luvs u.’
The black rectangle in the corner of the screen pixelated madly. She
could see her own reflection in it more than the picture but there was
something there, some shape she could perceive, the dark outline of
someone, the picture was updating so slowly, large dark squares of
colour erratically forming then fading. It had to be Dean.
‘Can u c me?’ The message came up in their private window.
‘Y but n good,’ she typed back, ‘I wish u were here - could hold me. I
miss u. Wish we could have a quickie!’
“We can,” she heard the voice whisper in her left ear as invisible ice
cold hands began fondling her breasts, tweaking her nipples roughly, and
something enormous, icy and hard pushed forcefully against her groin.
Falling backwards onto the floor, the chair flying away, disintegrating
somewhere behind her, she just managed to see the words in the small box
in the centre of the screen before the giant icicle painfully entered
her.
‘Windows cannot detect your modem. Please make sure you have . . .'
© Michael Knell 2002.
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