Prologue
I am ninety-nine years old and tomorrow is my birthday, so I will be a hundred years old in the morning. The big ten-0!
I have all my faculties and even my own teeth! What I don't have is all the dear ones I have known in my life. My daughter Polly is now gone and her daughter Jenny too. As for her daughter, my great granddaughter Polly, she is now in a happier place than she has been for most of her life and for that I am truly thankful. It is hard to lose children, who should outlive their parents.
Jenny is my name, too. Jenny Prosser I was born and Jenny Tatt I am now. What a pair of names to have had! I can tell you I was called all sorts of rude things at school, and then later always embarrassed by my married name! Went from Prosser to Tatt! Tom Tatt, the old bastard, died 30 years ago. Oh well, things like that don't bother me now.
I am able to write because of a young male friend, a lad of 35, who is a computer expert and has given me a programme which allows me to speak and then makes the words appear on the computer screen. It works well even though I mumble and slur my words a bit. He is a clever lad, although he has a rather silly-looking beard, and he has helped me to find people and information on the internet.
I have written a story. It is a true story, although much imagination has been required to flesh out the bare bones of fact and make it readable. I really had to try hard to get into the mind of the leading male character, and that was very difficult, but I tried because I wanted to be fair, and I hope you will agree that I have been. I have never written anything like this before, but in my old age I find I have a good recollection of past events and a good imagination too. Since I am more or less bedridden and encumbered by tubes and other medical gadgets, I don't get out and about any more. So, I have taken to visiting a "chat room", for amusement and company. I have "met" some strange people there, and one of the strangest "meetings" was with someone I once knew; someone I only met once long ago, but who had a big impact on my life. Thanks to my young male friend I have even been able to trace the someone I once knew, address, e-mail, the lot! I have also been able to eavesdrop on other people's chatting and to record them, too. And to chat a bit myself, as you shall see.
As I work on this story I do a bit, then painfully re-read everything I have written and re-speak any mistakes. It is laborious, but I don't feel I need to rush despite my age. It works very well, I think you will agree.
I think I shall try to write a bit more "literary" now, to make this seem more like a real novel and not just some old woman's ramblings. Mind you, the main part of the novel won't be literary! People in chat rooms don't write literature. Lol! (That is chat slang for "Laugh out Loud"!)
The story that follows will contain strange material come from the depths of people's hearts, bodies and souls. There will be truth and lies; love and lust; hatred and affection; openness and deception. The anonymity of pure chatting (as opposed to chatting with cameras and microphones) means that there is never certainty as to the true nature of those you chat with. Men can be women and vice-versa. Young can be old, and old young. Fat can be thin, ugly can be beautiful, tall can be short, 36FF can be 32A. And so the list goes on. There will be foul language, loving language, dirty talk, sweet talk, clean friendly talk and abusive obsessive talk. If you are hoping for sexual stimulation and sluttish carryings-on, you will find plenty of it here. If you are looking for a story of love and tragedy and revenge, then you will find it here too, god help you!.
Some of my "research" has been painful to me. I am not used to the way modern people talk about sexual matters. But I have forced myself to become acclimatised and immune to dirty talk and the sluttish ways of some women and the bestial ways of some men. I tell myself that these people are in the minority, but in the chat room they seem to be the rule rather than the exception. I have had to learn many strange terms and abbreviations, and the language of sexual depravity. But despite my distaste for all this I have tried to write a fair account, not a biased and bitter tale.
And it's all in a good cause!
Chapter One: Day 1, Saturday.
11:00
Tim (59) Hello. How are you? I love your name. Couldn't resist telling you!
Velvet cream (36) thx
Tim (59) And are you well?
Velvet cream (36) ok u
Tim (59) Fine, thank you, but a bit lonely. My wife has left me and I still miss her!
Tim (59) Not to worry! I mustn't burden you with my problems! Lol.
Tim (59) We didn't get on well for a long time, so it's probably all foot the best!
Tim (59) for the best! Lol.
Velvet cream (36) ok
Tim (59) And why are you here in the chatroom?
Velvet cream (36) bored
Tim (59) Sweetie, there's someone phoning me, I really have to take the call, sorry! Bye. X
God! That was hard work. What is a person like that doing in a chat room? Grunt room would be more appropriate. Hard to imagine what two of those would say to each other if they met. However, It had been him who started the chat and Velvet might have been terse because he was too old, or not her type. Best to give people the benefit of the doubt.
Such was Tim Bloomfield's introduction to online chatting.
There was a startling little Pinggg! He looked at the screen. Someone had actually chosen to speak to him. Skye (41)
UK
.
11:05
Skye (41) Good morning.
Tim (59) Good morning. How are you?
Skye (41) Fit and well. What about you? Oh, first: I get a lot of trouble from peddoes or perverts whatever. You aren't one are you?
Tim (59) No!
Skye (41) Good. What do you do? What are you like? Are you married?
Tim (59) I'm an architect. I am 6ft 2, greying, slim, brown eyes. Just divorced.
Skye (41) Why? Infidelity?
Tim (59) Not on my part! Are you Scottish?
Skye (41) No!! Why?? Oh I see. No, my parents just saw fit to commemorate the site of their first fuck by bestowing its name on me for life!
Tim (59) Oh. How interesting. And what do you do? And what are you like?
Skye (41) I thought you weren't a peddoe!
Tim (59) I'm not!
Skye (41) Well you're asking personal questions!
Tim (59) But, you asked me first!
Skye (41) That's quite different, I'm not a peddoe!
Tim (59) I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. I should respect your reserve and privacy. It's best not to give too much away here, I guess.
Skye (41) That's very true. I'm black-haired, size 12, 5ft 10, brown eyes, 34C, and half Chinese on my mother's side. I am a sculptor and poet, and connoisseur of refined sex. But it has to be adult and consensual. I don't hold with pedantry!! My home is in Chelsea and my studio too.
Tim (59) Oh I like tall women!
Skye (41) I'm not tall! I'm 4 inches shorter than you. I prefer short men. They are usually more successful. My mother always told me to marry a short fat man with soft hands, for obvious reasons!
Tim (59) And are you married?
Skye (41) Not any more, he died. And my mother's advice paid off. I am now rich.
Skye (41) But I am not susceptible to fortune hunters, so you can forget any plans you might have had for targeting me as prey and grooming!
Tim (59) I haven't got any plans for targeting or grooming. You are the one who said hello to me in the first place!
Tim (59) I'm sorry to hear about your loss.
Skye (41) Do you miss the sex?
Tim (59)???
Skye (41) Your wife! She's left you!!
Tim (59) Well, yes and no, to be honest. Difficult to explain.
Skye (41) I have been devastated since hubby died. He was a tiger in bed, despite his physical shortcomings. I need a man! Are you a tiger in bed?
Tim (59) Well my wife didn't think so. Not for a long time anyway!
Skye (41) You sound like a tiger to me. You have the talk of a tiger.
Tim (59) Really?
Skye (41) Yes, despite your obvious reticence I sense an animal lurking in there. I need to sculpt you! Will you sit for me?
Tim (59) I'm sitting now.
Skye (41) No you silly man. Pose for me so that I can recreate you in clay; mould you, squeeze and tease the living slime and pull you into shape and form your image in the round.
Tim (59) Well I'm very flattered, but...
Skye (41) Flattered? I see you as an animal whose form I need to capture, not as a sexual replacement for hubby. He made my rudies tingle as you never could! You are despicable and a pervo!! Go away! Fuck OFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You are not a tiger. I need a strong tiger in his fifties, but you're only half qualified!!
Was Skye real? If not, she was a bloody good improvisation. Will they all be inventing themselves as they go along? Will any of them be trustworthy? He knew he was trustworthy; he was logged in under his own name although his age was a bit understated. He had misrepresented himself just a little bit. He was finding the chatroom could be interesting. He wondered if he might encounter a woman who would be amenable to flirting. Friendly, no-strings-attached flirting just for the fun of it. He might even use a naughty word or two: Skye had said "fuck" after all, and nowadays that sort of language was more or less acceptable, especially with young people. He chose a name at random, Binomen (30)
UK
, and improvised an opening line.
11:15
