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Messaging
> Craig earnestly tries to capture the kinky end of the Ascii and ye shall receive (assuming you have AUTO-ZMODEM enabled) ... ... She was startled out of her reverie by a loud beep - the modem had connected. She pressed RETURN and felt, as always, that nervous anticipation before the BBS responded, wondering if it had hung or not. But, no, it was awake, and sent the now-familiar message ... one day (she was sure!) she would know what EMSI was. She pressed ESCAPE twice, and was in. She read the login screens religiously, but this time there was no news she hadn't read previously. The main menu appeared, with just enough delay for her to wonder if the sysop was lurking in the background, watching everything she did. On the few occasions when she had recourse to writing messages online, she fantasised about the sysop watching her as she typed ... it made her feel terribly self-conscious, but it was an added thrill, also. Sometimes when this happened, she typed things that she would never have ordinarily said; but so far, the sysop had never broken in to chat. She didn't bother to check if there were messages waiting; there always were. Instead, she went straight for the qwkmail menu and started to download. She felt the usual tense excitement as the message counter climbed towards the hundreds; it stopped at one hundred and ninety-four, and began packing. Her left hand drifted down to her crotch and settled there; with her right, she typed Z for 'zmodem download' and pressed RETURN, to start it off. The download took almost three minutes ... there must be some really big messages in there, she thought longingly. As the byte counter incremented and the 'time remaining' counter decremented, she rubbed herself with her left hand, feeling her crotch growing warm; her eyes glazed slightly and her mouth hung open slightly as her breathing-rate increased. Suddenly, another beep - the download had finished. She didn't wait for the QWK menu to display again; she knew the hot-key functions off by heart. She pressed Y (yes, of COURSE she wanted her last-read pointers updated!), U, then Z, and started uploading her .REP file. It was almost two hundred kilobytes, each message lovingly crafted and formatted to a line length of sixty-nine characters (she hoped that, one day, someone might comment lewdly on this; she had a fantastic reply ready for them when they did!). Again, her left hand moved slowly, her thighs clamped around her wrist as she slowly rocked back and forth in her chair. Unconsciously, her right hand crept over to the lower hem of her t-shirt and climbed up inside; she tweaked her left nipple insistently, her breathing growing deeper, and all too soon, the upload was finished. Quickly, she returned to the main menu and entered the EXTRAS sub-menu. She sat there, face flushed, and regarded the statistical options; her right hand, once more at the keyboard, hovered over the M key. She hesitated only for a moment, and then decisively, she pressed it, displaying a list of the top ten message writers. The sysop had arranged it, the damned tease, to be displayed from the lowest upwards; as the names scrolled past, the BBS seemed to slow down. She knew, then, that the sysop was watching, and that he was playing with her. Her left hand moved back and forth rapidly, her bunched fingers pressing into her warm flesh, her legs pressed together, as the last few names appeared ... Her name was at the top. With a gasp, she came. |
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