Read Online In Too Deep by Portia Da Costa - Free Book Online Page A

to a month or two ago and never did anything with. If Nemesis is obsessed enough with me to leave me erotic love notes in the library’s suggestion box, he’s certainly going to search for me on the likes of MySpace and Facebook, isn’t he?
    Maybe I should just delete it. It might be safer. Even if Daniel and Nemesis
are
the same person, to engage in direct contact with his ‘dark’ side is just getting in too deep. Far too deep.
    I open the email and click the link because I’m just certifiable and far too curious to resist. I find myself in the networking site’s message centre, staring at a link saying ‘Hello, Gwendolynne’, flanked by an avatar that’s just a picture of a quill pen. A historical writing implement for a historian who writes secret notes?
    The ‘online now’ legend is showing. There’s still a chance to step back. I don’t have to click this link either. I can always check the box beside it then click ‘delete’ … can’t I?
    Telling myself ‘No! No! No!’, I open the message. Bracing myself for more of the deliciously purple prose in the letters, I look away from the screen. But when I turn back, I simply see a button to open an instant message system and the ‘N3m3sis’ email address I already know.
    I feel as if there’s a vortex in my chest, whirling madly. I can’t, I just can’t ‘talk’ to him in real time. That really
is
getting in too deep, and far too soon. Well, for me … He’s probably gagging for it!
    I click the email link and Thunderbird springs to life again, a new message open with ‘him’ in the recipient line.
    Hello?
I type, then reach for my wine again, staring at the white expanse of the open message window. I take a few sips, deliberately keeping my hands clear of the touchpad and the keyboard . I can still hold back. But my glass is empty and, taking a deep breath, I click ‘send’. Too late, it dawns on me I’ve sent it from my personal email address, so he’ll
know
it’s from me. If I’d half a brain cell I would have used a more anonymous Hotmail or Google identity. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! I feel like slamming shut my laptop and never opening the bloody thing again. Now I’ve done it.
    Heart fluttering, I shove the lappie to one side on the bed, leap out and run to the bathroom. I’m such a coward. I squat on the loo, pee, blot myself – and instantly feel a keen jolt of pleasure. I’m running a river, I’m so aroused. How the hell did that happen? I wasn’t even aware of it. I consider doing something about it, but I sense the computer waiting. Waiting as if Nemesis is in the room and tapping his fingers, impatient with my craven wimpishness.
    On my return, I find that Thunderbird has automatically checked for new mail and there’s a reply. I hardly dare open it but, when I do, there’s the link for the instant messenger again, and the words.
    Afraid to ‘speak’?
    Not giving myself a chance to falter, I send a reply saying ‘
no
’ and open the IM software in a full-screen window.
    And here’s the quill-pen icon again, and mine, a very unimaginative picture of a book alongside my handle ‘librarygirl’.
    The cursor flashes and flashes. Has he got cold feet? I start to type.
    LIBRARYGIRL: Are you there?
    Still nothing, so I pour more wine. Obviously he’s all talk and no action. I don’t think Nemesis and Daniel can be the same person, after all. Professor Hottie may be a lot of things, but he doesn’t strike me as a coward.
    Then the connection icon starts to flicker … and here it is.
    NEMESIS: Hello, Gwendolynne. How delightful to actually speak to you at last. I’ve been waiting so long for this moment.
    Is this a clue? Is he a library regular who’s been fantasising about me for months and only just escalated to putting pen to paper and fingers to keys? Now that
is
really scary.
    LIBRARYGIRL: How long?
    NEMESIS: Since I first saw you, delicious one. Since I first saw you and my cock stood to attention at the sight of