In Too Deep Read Free

Librarian, although goodness knows what he can do about it. But they’re mostly one- or two-offs and the pests quickly lose interest.
    This is different, though. I just have a feeling. And this is
my
pervert too, and I don’t want to share him.
    I stare at the Hotmail address at the bottom of the page: [email protected].
    Should I send a message? Tell him to leave me alone? Or maybe give him a shock and answer in kind? Make up the dirtiest fantasy I can imagine, about my lingerie, or some confection of lace and satin I haven’t got and probably couldn’t afford? Or maybe I should concoct an elaborate story about him and
his
masturbation? I was always good at composition at school. Maybe I should tell him what I want
him
to do?
    Before I know what I’m doing, I’ve opened the email client on my terminal.
    Oh, no, no, no … that’s just wilfully stupid and dangerous. But God knows I want to. I think I probably am as perverted and strange as he is and I just didn’t realise it. My fingers hover over the keys, and it’s only the thought that the library’s computer system is subject to random monitoring that stops me. Even so, my heart flutters madly, and down below I feel a stickiness in my knickers. The higher brain functions don’t seem to be working correctly, and my body has turned into an out-of-control mass of hormones.
    Sports-section guy has lost interest now, and is actually reading a book. If it were him, and he’s seen me with Nemesis’s blue writing paper in my hand, his eyes should be out on stalks and he should be moving in. But instead he seems to be engrossed in the history of Yorkshire rugby.
    Who are you, Nemesis, you sick devil? Are you here? Now? Within visual or even touching distance?
    There’s no way to know. I’m not on duty in the main Lending Library all the time, so anyone could come to the box during the course of a day. And this is the Borough Library Headquarters, and we’ve got the Scientific Library, the Audio Visual Library, the Children’s Library, the archives and a variety of specialist collections. Nemesis could be anywhere in what’s a very large and quite rambling building, much of it open to the public. He could be disguised as a bona fide punter.
    Breathless panic wells up again. What if he
is
genuinely dangerous? I need to get out of here, and I release an inner sigh when I spot that the big clock by the entrance reads nearly noon . Thank heavens, I’m on early lunch today. Within minutes I can be out in the fresh air and thinking like a person who’s
not
insane again.
    As if she’s a genie and I’ve summoned her, Tracey arrives promptly for her stint on the desk. It’s not manned all the time, but we get lots of reader enquiries during the busy lunchtime.
    ‘You OK?’ she enquires, and it dawns on me that I must look as flustered and slightly off my head as I feel.
    ‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ I lie, fabricating what I hope is a normal-looking grin. ‘I was checking the catalogue and the system went a bit weird again, and I thought I’d cocked something up … But it seems to be OK now.’
    We chat for a couple of moments on routine library business, and I think I’ve fooled her into believing that this is just another in a never-ending series of mundane and uneventful mornings. I feel guilty not telling her about Nemesis, though. She’s a friend and, under normal circumstances, she’d be the one I’d have a laugh with over all this.
    Two or three minutes later, I’m heading for the back door on my way out to get some air. Clarkey, the building’s maintenance manager, and the visiting techie from Borough Hall who’s supposed to be upgrading the computers were in the lunch room. Is Nemesis either of those two, I wonder? Greg, the computer nerd, is young and bright and cute, but yuk, the thought of Clarkey sending me sex notes makes my stomach curdle. Mind you, I hardly think he’d have ‘greedy famished senses’ for anything other than the enormous