God she was tired. She had settled into her chair the moment she had arrived at the office and she had not moved since. Thankfully, one of the mailroom boys she fancied had been producing coffee at regular internals, and a few handfuls of chocolate had boosted her energy levels to the point where she had not nodded off. It had been a close thing at 10:15 but she was still awake at lunchtime, and she thought this a moderate successful day.
She had to stop drinking on a school night. Well she had to stop drinking so much on a school night anyway. She couldn't bear the thought of not drinking something every night, she had to have something to do on the long evenings at home; her partner gave her nothing else to be interested in so booze it was.
In the last few months, she had been out with 'work' at least three nights a week and every Friday. When she said 'work', she meant anybody really as the people she mixed with changed based on who was going out with who and thankfully men drifted in and out of the group regularly. And it wasn't far from the truth to call it a work do, because she certainly put plenty of effort in some nights; although she was sure her partner wouldn't have been too happy if he knew exactly who and what she was working on.
Last night had been drink and no sex; well she did not think she had indulged in full sex. There was always a good chance that her hand had wanked off the odd cock or that her tongue had been exploring somebody's mouth, but she was certain nothing more formal had taken place. None of the girls from work had said anything yet so all must be well on that front.
The computer screen was glowing in front of her. Thankfully, nothing was moving much on the screen, the flickering had nearly sent her running for the lavatories earlier in the day, and her inbox was calm and peaceful. She liked that.
Lunchtime was nearly here, and she was trying to think what she could eat to boost her energy levels and not make her want to throw up at the same time.
McDonalds was a great hangover option, but the immediate boost of meat and fat soon subsided into a feeling of dreadfulness far greater than the cure had momentarily delivered. Perhaps today was the day for a simple soup and sandwich; or maybe just a large bottle of still mineral water and some more aspirin.
Bugger it, some fresh air would probably do.
Her inbox moved down a line and a new un-read message popped up at the top of the screen.
No subject line; and the preview window open was not open at the right hand side; she was going to have to move her hand at least six inches and click on the damn thing to read it. Did the person sending it have no consideration to her present state of hung-over'ness?
Amanda's brain physically hurt as it sent the signals to her hand to move the mouse across the desk; fucking hell she thought, how did alcohol know exactly where to hurt you the most the day after?
She clicked on the email and the screen changed immediately, the message displayed across her screen, her eyes now moving across the text in an attempt to understand its meaning. She only got past the first line when her stomach felt immediately nauseous; she had read this email before, nearly a year ago now, so why the fuck had it arrived again in her inbox? Amanda's hangover cleared in the time it took for her brain to remember the last time she had seen this email.
She read it again word for word, and it worried her as much this time as it did the first time she had seen it; more in fact.
The first time the email had arrived, she had at least done something to warrant it. Amanda had not expected to receive it that was for sure, but she could at least assimilate it with something she had done and while she was nervous as hell when it appeared she could at least reason why it was there.
OK, it was not ever day that you got an email from a woman you had not met threatening that if you ever fucked her boyfriend again that there would be serious trouble. And OK, she didn't like being called a slut and a whore but at least she could understand where the emotion was coming from. It had been damn stupid of her to let him take her picture coming out of the shower the morning after they had fucked. But he hadn't told her he had a girlfriend living away at the time; it wouldn't have mattered if he had she would still have slept with him but that was a point of detail, so sending him an email afterwards hadn't seemed such a terrible idea.
When the email from his girlfriend had arrived, she had therefore been a little concerned; but it hadn't come to her work email account and she hadn't seemed to know her name so the nastiness and the threats couldn't come to much could they.
She had thought of sending an email back to say 'fuck you, you stupid bitch' but had decided against it; no point in drawing the whole situation out was there.
A year had passed and nothing had happened. She had stopped emailing the 'fuck' soon afterwards; she had not fancied him that much anyway, and life had returned to normal.
Today's email had therefore come as a huge shock.
She looked at the email address it had come from; yourworstnightmare@yahoo.co.uk
Somebody had put some thought into that one; you could not beat somebody who was sending you nasty emails from a nasty email address could you.
It was not the same address as last time but the message was the same as last time, it had stuck in her mind and she believed it to be an exact copy.
So, why send it again and why send it from a different email address to her work address? That did not make any sense at all did it? Had the girlfriend done some digging and found her place of work? Christ she hoped not, that would really be a fucker.
Amanda sat their trying to think has hard as she could as to why and how this new email had been sent? Perhaps the girlfriend was just having a bit of fun a year later on. Perhaps she had been dumped and was just reeking some revenge on a countless number of conquests her boyfriend had been through during their relationship. That would be the best explanation all ways round.
She had just pigeon holed the experience under 'mad fucking ex-girlfriend arsing around', when a new email appeared in the inbox with no subject; ah fuck.
Amanda clicked on the subject line and the new email opened in front of her.
"I thought you would enjoy seeing that again! Got bored so I decided to remind of your past misdemeanours in Bristol! Sorry, didn't I tell you I had access to your private email account? Ah well, unless you want more details emerging into your work account then I think we better meet."
She looked at the screen. Who would have access to her old email account? Who knew that this email had been sent to her from somebody in Bristol? She had met and fucked the guy in Bristol but the email didn't mention that town so how would anybody but the girlfriend know about it? She had obviously told the girls from work about it but that was it? She had only mentioned it to one person at the time outside of work, to see if there was anything, she could do to block the email or trace where it had come from, but that did not make any sense did it? It couldn't be him!!
Before the thought had left her mind another email appeared.
She opened it.
"Oh yes, it is from me. Just decided that it was time for you to re-pay some old debts. Call it blackmail if you like, but the contents of your old inbox make fantastic BLOG. You shouldn't really have used your old car registration as your password check (so easy to find out). Anyway, you have till 1:00 to get over to my office. Email me to let me know your coming!"
The absolute and utter fucker; why the fuck had she told him what she used as a password check phrase on her Yahoo account! Bollocks.
Amanda felt terrible again Her old email account had been used for anything and everything you could call dodgy. She had used it as a cover for sex chat bulletins, online sex contacts, casual fucks, to communicate with regular fucks, to tell girlfriends about fucks. Her email logs from yahoo would lay out her sexual history for the last 3 years, in a level of detail that would identify her and a good number of her fuck buddies; Amanda wasn't pleased.
She opened up a new email and started to type; sending this email to his work address to make sure her assumption about who this was coming from was correct?
"You mean you think I am going to come to Piccadilly at lunch time today?"
That was all she put; if it was him then he would know what she meant, and it was not she could pass it off as an email sent in error.
A response appeared within seconds; she knew it was him now.
"Of course I do; you know it makes sense!"
Amanda looked at the screen and sighed. She was too hung-over to think of anything to say back. She was too hung-over to think about trying to wriggle out of it. She didn't even know what he wanted her to go there for; although she could guess. Perhaps she could go over and then bluff her way out of doing anything she might regret. What she wanted to do most was to make sure her email account was closed for the final time and that anything he might have from it was deleted; she could never be sure it would be but she had to see if he had anything more than one email for her to worry about. She had been careful to delete everything regularly so if he only had snippets of information then she might just tell him to fuck right off.
She move her mouse over the red cross at the top right hand of the screen and clicked. It was time to get a taxi.
Amanda arrived at the reception within 5 minutes; it was only a quick ride away.
The doorman smiled, asked her name, and directed her up to the 3rd floor board room. It was a shared office so he must have taken the time too book a meeting room. Fuck it, he must be confident of something she thought as she rode the lift up the three floors.
A female receptionist welcomed her at the lift and showed her to a large set of double doors, opening the left hand door and standing aside so she could enter.
He sat opposite her behind a large oval desk, seats laid out for 15 plus people.
He smiled and waved his hand to a chair opposite, 'Please sit down,' he thanked the receptionist who was still standing at the doorway. 'Thanks Jenny,' he was looking past her, 'could you make sure we are not disturbed for thirty minutes.' Jenny nodded and smiled back as she closed the door and flicked the sign on the outside of the door to Meeting Room In Use, DO NOT DISTURB.
