Always,
Heather shook her head in amazement. This guy was not only sick, he was delusional. He was definitely a few bricks shy of a full load. Could he honestly believe she actually wanted him to find her? Could he honestly believe she actually wanted him to rape her? It was so bizarre! So utterly bizarre!
Or could it be … could it be that he was only trying to scare her? Maybe that was how he got off. Contact women over Internet and slowly scare them. Build a terror in them over a period of time. Maybe instilling the fear of rape was enough to satisfy his warped desires. That would certainly be easier than actually trying to find someone who might be anywhere in the country. Hell, anywhere in the world, for that matter. Still …
She couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom. Was she just being silly? Worrying about nothing? She wanted to believe that. Wanted to believe that there was nothing to really fear. But she couldn’t.
********************
He spent the better part of a month working on the tracker. Slyguy123 was nothing if not patient. He went over every line of code, tweaking, fine-tuning, and adjusting. Finally, he thought he had worked out the last of the bugs. He typed a short e-mail.
“Jerry,
Did you see ‘Independence Day’ on TV? last night?
Sly”
Once more he attached the tracker program to the e-mail and hit send. Now he only had to wait until Jerry opened the e-mail. That was all it would take, the simple act of opening the e-mail.
If it only worked. He gazed at the poster-sized picture of Heather hanging from the wall. She would be his, to do with as he would. He would use her in every way imaginable, and in some ways most people wouldn’t imagine. He’d had a long time to fantasize about her, to daydream. Every day that went by, every dream he concocted, added to his plans. His imagination was running wild, and the things he planned to do to her … oh, the delicious things he planned to do to her!
And slowly, the things he did to her would become her fantasies, too. She would realize, oh so gradually, that they were really soul mates, destined to share their dark dreams. He would rape her in every way, in every orifice. And then, when he was done, there would be the final dream, the final fantasy. This time, though, it wasn’t his fantasy. It was hers. She had detailed it in one of her stories, and he knew it would be her greatest pleasure. It would be his gift to her.
He lit a cigarette with trembling hands. The thought of her, quivering and squirming beneath him, was racing through his mind. What would her voice sound like? What would it sound like as she begged and pleaded and whimpered? He was only half way through his cigarette when the envelope flashed on the screen. He opened the e-mail and read the message.
“Tracker complete: Address of recipient: 1524 Crestmont Drive, Indianapolis, Indiana.”
Perfect. The tracker was working.
********************
Heather was working on a story when the small envelope in the corner of the screen indicated that she had an incoming e-mail. Not wanting to break her train of thought, she continued typing. Whatever it was could wait. Her thoughts were flowing, and the words were fitting together so well. Her alter ego, the fictional Heather of her stories, was being brutally raped in an alley. Her attacker was reaching his limits, approaching the edge. Heather was squirming, trying to escape, when the rapist let go and flooded her insides with cum. Heather finished writing the scene, concluding the violent rape, and leaned back in her chair.
She took a deep breath to try and calm her. It always seemed strange the she should become so aroused by her own words. Still, she had taken it as her own adage that if the story line didn’t turn her on, it wouldn’t turn on her readers, either. And Heather believed she owed something to her readers. If they were going to take the time to read her stories, then she should make sure the stories were as good as she could make them.
Taking another breath, she glanced at the envelope in the corner of her screen. Maximizing the e-mail program on her screen, she saw the message was from Slyguy123.
Damn! Why didn’t he just leave her alone? Couldn’t he find someone else to torment? She hadn’t answered any of his e-mails in months. You’d think he’d be tired of this one-way conversation by now. What kind of rush could he be getting from this? Was just sending the e-mail enough to get him off? Was he so devoid of life that the mere act of sending an e-mail gave him gratification?
She tapped her fingernail on the table as she stared at the screen. Stupid bastard. Maybe she should answer this one. Maybe she should send him an e-mail that would rip him a new asshole. Let him know just how disgusting and reprehensible she thought he was. Call him every rotten, insulting name she could think of. Question his manhood, his sexual orientation. Insinuate that he was impotent, a eunuch. Maybe that would get him to quit e-mailing her.
Of course, there was always the chance that such a maneuver would backfire on her. It might irritate him and make him even worse than he was now. Maybe she should just delete the damned thing without even opening it. Just ignore him completely, not even read his sick e-mails. How hard would that be? Every time one came in from him, just delete it without opening it or reading it.
The e-mail from Slyguy123 was hi-lighted in blue. Heather moved the cursor to the “X” on the menu bar to delete the message. But if she did that, then she wouldn’t know what he was thinking, what he was planning. That is, if he actually was planning anything. He was probably just full of shit, but could Heather take that chance? It would be much better if she could get him to stop. In the most fateful decision of her life, Heather moved the cursor to the message and double clicked to open it. She sucked in her breath as she read the single line,
“It is time, Heather. I am coming for you.”
********************
It was late at night and Heather was driving home from work. Her eyes kept darting to the rear view mirrors both inside and outside the car, watching for any sign that she was being followed. For the last month, ever since receiving that last, short message from Slyguy123, she had been on pins and needles.
“It is time, Heather. I am coming for you.”
That was the last she had received from him. Not another word of any kind. For some reason, not hearing from him now seemed worse that hearing from him. At least when she was getting his e-mails, she could assume he was at home, wherever that might be. But now, with nothing coming in, where was he? Still at home? Traveling to get here?
Or could he be here already?
Maybe it was nothing. Maybe he was tired of his little game and decided to end it. Maybe that last message was just his swan song, one last stab of fear inflicted on his victim before moving on to someone else. Maybe he was already working on some other woman on the other side of the country. Maybe.
Heather glanced in the rearview mirror again. There was a vehicle several car lengths behind her. A truck or a van, she wasn’t sure. Had she seen it before? Something about it seemed familiar, but what? Yes, that was it. The headlights. The headlight on the passenger side was brighter than the one on the driver’s side. Had she actually noticed that earlier, or was her mind playing tricks on her? Was she being followed or not? One way to find out for sure.
At the next intersection, Heather made a right turn. Staying within the speed limit, she watched her rearview mirror. The vehicle with the mismatched headlights made the turn behind her. Okay, she thought, that’s one.
Heather approached the next intersection and made another right turn. Still within the speed limit, she again saw the other vehicle make the turn. Cool. That’s two. She was starting to feel nervous. Coincidence?
Reaching the next intersection, Heather made her third consecutive right turn. She felt sweat beading on her forehead as she watched the rearview. Once again the vehicle behind her made the turn. That’s three, she thought.
Heather approached the next intersection and once more made a right turn. She had circled the block, and was now back on the road she had been on when she first noticed the vehicle behind her. She watched her rearview. If whoever was back there also made the right turn, she would be sure that she was being followed. If that were the case, she would put the gas pedal to the floorboards and drive like hell to the nearest police station. She watched the rearview. She saw the vehicle approach the intersection and turn … left.
Heather sighed. Okay. Had this just been a case where whoever was driving that vehicle realized they were going in the wrong direction and circled the block to turn around? Or had they actually been following Heather and, realizing what she was doing, broke off? It seemed almost too coincidental that they should circle the same block as Heather unless they were following her. Still, it COULD be a coincidence. Either way, they were no longer behind her. She would stay doubly alert from now on. And she would damn sure watch for those mismatched headlights in the future.
********************
Heather stepped out of the shower and toweled off. It was nearly three months since she had heard from Slyguy123, and over two months since the incident with the vehicle with the mismatched headlights. Every day the memories of his threats had dimmed, receding into a mental distance. She was now convinced she had heard the last of him. The sick bastard had probably found some other woman to terrorize. It was time to get back to normal.
Heather enjoyed going to movies alone. She could relax and get into the stories without interruption or distraction. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her husband. She did. She just needed a little time to herself once in awhile, and going to a movie was certainly harmless enough.
Padding to the bedroom, Heather put on a black satin bra and panties. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she slowly pulled on black thigh-hi nylons. She enjoyed wearing sexy lingerie under her clothes. It made her feel pretty and desirable. It was almost an ego boost for her. Again, harmless enough. Heather put on a light blue silk blouse and buttoned it. She then pulled on a pair of navy blue slacks and pulled up the zipper. She finished the outfit with a pair of navy blue pumps.
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