Monster Media 1993 #2/Image.iso/magazine/sun9307.zip/FIC1

Text File | 1993-06-15 | 16KB | 342 lines

The Roger and The Dragon
Copyright (c) 1993, Joe DeRouen
All rights reserved



   Logged in at 9600 baud

   Welcome to..

           N A T I O N A L   C H A T !



   <Access Number? N=New>=>83168

   (Welcome Back... Suave Knight)

   <Password please?>=>spells


    Suave Knight 83168 logged on.
    Time: 01:07:02   Level: 8
    Date: 07-22-92   Mailslots: 40

    There are 87 users on-line.
    21 members are in the clubhouse
    chat area.

    You have mail waiting!

    Would you care to read it?


   <Read mail?>=>Y

           MAIL CALL!

  1. From: Sysop 1 08-04-93 06:15:37
    Topic: Re: Out of curiousity..

  2. From: The Barbarian 41453 08-04-93 07:45:22
    Topic: D&D Friday!!!

  3. From: Dragon Lady 83598 08-04-93 11:29:47
    Topic: You..


  Which message (? to list)=>3

  To: Suave Knight 83168
  From: Dragon Lady 83598
  Topic: You..
  Time: 08-04-93 11:29:47

  Suave Knight,

  I noticed your handle and, intrigued, decided to browse your
  account. What I read there intrigues me even more. You and I share many
  similar interests.

  I'm looking forward to chatting with you sometime, and, eventually,
  getting to know you.

       Sincerely,
           Dragon Lady

  <End of message - A to abort, D to delete, R to reply>=>a


    "Damn." Roger muttered under his breath, looking away from the
computer screen. He'd been calling bulletin board systems for nearly three
years now, ever since he'd gotten a modem for his 18th birthday. This was
the first time anyone had ever initiated contact with HIM.
    Roger wiped a bead of sweat from his greasy forehead, in the same motion
knocking a pair of horn-rimmed glasses from his nose.
    "Shit!" The glasses tumbled to the rug below. He couldn't see without
his glasses, not even barely. Momentarily forgetting the computer
(something Roger rarely did) he fumbled about on the floor until, eventually,
his akward hands managed to find his glasses.
    Glasses perched percariously upon his large nose, Roger jumped back in
astonishment as the computer beeped at him, and words swept across the screen.


  <Suave Knight 83168, Dragon Lady 83598 wishes to chat you! Y to chat>=>


    Should I chat with her?, he thought. He'd managed to make many on-line
friends (many more than he had in real life) but, somehow, those friendships
had never developed into anything more.
    He'd met maybe a half a dozen other users in his three years of BBSing,
and, of that half a dozen, only one did he even chat with anymore. None did
he ever see again.
    The one that DID continue to chat with him was nearly as shy as he was
in real life and they had agreed upon mutual consent that they'd probably
get along better on-line than in person.
    It wasn't that he was particulary hideous to look at. He stood an even
six feet tall, weighed nearly 250 lbs., and had short, greasy black hair.
Of course, he wasn't particulary handsome, either. And the thick, nerdy
glasses didn't seem to help matters.
    He had just never learned to get along well with people. Dungeons and
Dragons groups were one thing, to be sure. But actually meeting people and
talking to them in REAL life.. That was something else alltogether.
    Especially women. Even Marjorie, the only girl in his D&D group, made
him nervous. He'd never been able to muster up enough courage to ask a girl
out, and had only been on three dates in his life; they were all set up by
his mother. No, Roger didn't get along at all well with women.
    Roger's thoughts were interrupted as the computer beeped once more.

  <Suave Knight 83168, Dragon Lady 83598 wishes to chat you! Y to chat>=>Y


  Dragon Lady 83598                      Suave Knight 83168
  Single female, 31                      Single male, 22

  Hello!

  Hello. How're you this evening?

  I'm doing just great, thank you. I glanced through your bio this
  evening and found it to be really interesting.

  Thank you. I haven't had the chance to peruse yours yet, but
  I'm sure I'll find it equally as interesting.

  Perhaps. So.. What do you do, Suave Knight? What keeps you awake at nearly
  1 in the morning?

  I'm a science fiction writer and I was working on my latest novel. Decided
  to take a break and see what was happening on here.

  Well, if you're busy..

  No, no. That's allright. I was ready for a break.

  Wellll.. In that case.. Tell me about yourself.


     They had chatted the night through, finally logging off just as dawn
came. They had talked about everything.
     She was from Britain and ran a successful import-export business here
in town. She refused to tell him her age, but she didn't sound a day over 30.
She'd never wed, had been BBSing only a short time, and absolutely LOVED to
read science fiction. .
     This last bit of information had been given because Roger had mentioned
that he was a science fiction writer. Well, who could blame him? If he had
told her he worked at 7-11, would she have continue to chat with him? Of
course not! He'd managed to tell (mostly) the truth throughout the rest of
the conversation, though. Well, except for the fact that he doesn't REALLY
live in a penthouse apartment, nor does he drive a brand new (or even an
old) Jaguar. But those were minor details. She'd probably forget all of that
anyway. At least he'd told her his real name.
     He couldn't get her off his mind. The way she typed. The way he
imagined she talked.
     Roger knew; this time, it was for real! He was in love! Sure, he'd
thought the same thing a few times before, only to realize just before he
made that final step -before he actually met the person- that things couldn't
work out. But this time, this time would be different. They'd meet, she'd
fall in love with him, and they'd live happily ever after. He'd move out
of his parents house shortly after, of course.
     Though only a few hours of sleep could be had before his mid-afternoon
shift at 7-11, Roger slept well. He slept the starry-eyed sleepy of love.


     "Umm.. Er.. Sorry, I must have the wrong number." Roger slammed down
the phone, hands shaking. That was the third time in the last hour he had
dialed her number, only to have his nerve fail him.
     It was only a little over an hour ago that Roger had logged onto the
computer -he always called immediately after work- to find her message
waiting for him. A simple 'Call me' with her phone number. That was it.
Brief, yet compelling.
     And he had called her. Only to hang up when she answered. She had the
most beutiful voice Roger had ever heard. Exotic, deep, and, at the same
time, delicate. The british accent had been there, as promised. He could
almost hear bells as she fatefully intoned 'Hello.'
     Unfortunately, at that instant, that brief pause between her
answering and his being required to speak, he'd clammed up. His heart
began to thunder in his chest, his legs got weak, sweat poured from
his brow, and his eyesight began to fail him. Meekly, he hung up.
     The fourth time, just as his courage was about to fail him again,
he heard his name. "Hello? Roger, is that you?"
     He wanted to answer. He formed the words in his mind. Unfortunately,
his mouth wouldn't cooperate. Defeated, he lowered the phone towards the
cradle.
     "Roger, don't be scared. TALK to me!"
     He froze. She KNEW it was him, for sure. If he didn't say something
now, he'd probably never have the chance again. Drawing up whatever
courage he has accumulated in 21 years, he spoke. "I'm sorry, there's
a bad connection here. Hold on."
     "Allright Roger."
     "There, is that better?" His heart pounded in his chest, threatening
to break out, but he managed to sound calm.
     "Much better, Roger." Her voice resonated over the sprint lines. "I'm
glad you decided to call."
     Silence. "Umm.. Yeah, me too. So.. You've never told me your name."
     Laughter. "How silly of me, Roger. I thought I had. It's Tia." She
seemed to whisper over the phone, causing Roger's thick, hairy skin to
tingle with excitement.
     "Pleased to talk to you, Tia." He tried to laugh, overcoming his
     nervousness a little.

     And so it went on, for three and a half hours. They talked about
everything. What Roger liked to do, where he liked to go, what he did for
a living. (he was even honest with her this time) By the end of the
conversation, Roger was even breathing normally.
     "Roger, we're getting along so well. I have something to ask you, and
I hope you don't think I'm too terribly forward."
     "Go ahead." He choked into the phone. This was it. She was going to ask
what he looked like, or if he'd ever done it with a woman. His hands started
to tremble.
     "Roger, would you like to meet me?"
     Silence.
     "Roger? Are you there, Roger?"
     "I'm here. Umm, what'd you say?"
     "Would you like to meet me?"
     "Of course I would." He did want to, didn't he? Yes, he did. He was done
with being a coward. He wasn't going to blow this one. "Yes, I'd very much
like to meet you Tia."
     She almost seemed to smile over the phone. "Good. How about tomorrow?
What time do you get off work?"
     "Tomorrow's my day off. Umm, what would you like to do?" He was getting
daring.
     "Well, I was thinking you could come over for tea. After that, we'll
see what we feel like doing." She paused, letting her words sink in. "Roger,
I like you very much."
     Roger gulped into the phone, fought not to faint, then responded with
a weak "Thanks."
     "Well, then. How about tomorrow at eight? I'll leave you directions on
the BBS. Sound like a plan?"
     He kicked himself. He'd had the chance to tell her how he felt about her,
and he'd blown it. Sure, she'd caught him off guard. But, still, that was no
excuse. Finally, Roger was really starting to see himself. He was scared.
Scared to take a chance. Her words interrupted his thoughts.
     "Roger? If tomorrow's a problem.."
     This time, his words interrupted hers. "Tomorrow'd be great, Tia. I
like you very much, too. Don't forget to leave me directions in E-mail. Did
I mention I like you a lot?" It all came out in a rush, leaving Roger
breathless.
     Tia purred. "It's a date, then. And, Roger - I'm glad you like me,
too."


     He'd woken early that morning. Actually, there hasn't been much sleep
to wake up from. He'd spent most of the night lying awake in bed, thinking
about what he was going to say to Tia, what she looked like, about where
they might go on their date, and, yes, about making love to her.
     Over and over they'd make love, doing it in the bed, on the washing
machine, with her lying on the kitchen table. Every different way he'd ever
seen, or heard about. Every way he'd ever dreamed about.
     His thoughts (not to mention the bulge in his shorts) were interrupted
by his mother's gruff voice.
     "Roger!" She yelled through his bedroom door, before slamming it open.
"Roger, there's a phone call for you."

     "Roger?" Came the voice from the other end of the phone. "It's me,
Tia. How're you this morning?"
     "Great!" He smiled, as though she could see him. "I'm doing great.
Really looking forward to tonight!"
     "Me too." She purred. "Listen, Roger.. About tonight.."
     That was it. It WAS all too good to be true. She'd changed her
mind, finally realized what a nerd he really was.
     "Roger, the BBS was busy and I didn't want to chance you're missing
my directions. If you don't mind, I'll give them to you over the phone.
Got a pen?"

     Nearly 15 minutes early, his light blue '75 Pinto pulled noisly
into her driveway. The crunch of tires on gravel added to the
ever-present roar of the Pinto, and Roger was sure that he'd probably
scared off the entire neighborhood.
     What there was of it. Tia's house - a beautiful victorian-style
brick home, flanked with amazingly tall trees and bushes - seemed to be
out in the proverbial middle of nowhere. He'd driven nearly a half hour
to reach it, and had never even been this far out of town before.
     It'll be worth the drive, he thought to himself, smiling. If Tia
was even half as beautiful as the mental picture he'd formed, it'd be
worth it.
     Clamboring out of the Pinto, he tried to shut the door with quiet,
calm assurance. Failing that, he DID managed to get it shut without the
usual grinding of metal against metal.
     Slowly, with increasing nervousness, he walked the 10 feet to her
front door. Balling his hand into a fist, he willed it to knock. It
didn't. Trying again, he managed a faint tap against the wood. "C'mon,
Roger. It's now or never." He told himself with a half-smile. This time,
his fist swung hard at the door...
     ...just as the door opened inward. Stumbling with the momentum of
the swing, Roger twisted, turned, and fell head-over-heels at the feet
of the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his life.
     "Tia, I presume?" He asked meekly, staring up at her long, sleek
legs. His eyes carressed her form, following up the tight silken skirt
that wrapped itself around her body, around her taut, firm breasts, and
ended in a face from heaven. Deep, silky hair fell down around her face
and full lips, as the deepest pair of blue eye's he'd ever seen gazed
down at him.
     "Only if you're Roger." She smiled, offering her hand.
     Meekly, Roger shook it.
     "No, silly, I'm helping you up!" She laughed, and the air around
her seemed to tinkle with her laughter. Her hands enveloped Roger's and
she pulled him to his feet with barely an effort.
     "Umm.." Mumbled Roger, and he rubbed the toe of his K-Mart sneakers
into the gravel pathway. "I.."
     She leaned forward, sniffing him. "Roger.. You're a virgin, aren't
you?"
     "What?"
     "I said you're a virgin. You are, aren't you?"
     Roger's face reddened, and he looked away. It was all a trick.
She'd set this whole thing up, to make fun of him. Suddenly, he felt
anger rising in his stomach, up through his throat, and he heard himself
saying: "So what if I am? Why does that matter?"
     "Are you or not, Roger? You see," She smiled, licking her lips. "I
like virgins."
     Roger started to get dizzy. Leaning against the doorway to steady
himself, he smiled back to her. "Well, yes, I am."
     "That's all I needed to know." She purred, pulling Roger to her.
Her lips brushed gently against his, then harder, as her hands began to
trail slowly down his shaking body.
     Never before having been in this situation and not knowing what
else to do, Roger kissed her back. His almost pulled back as her tongue
found it's way into his mouth, probing and seeking out his.
     "Oh, Roger." She mumbled, as their kiss intensified. Her tongue
delved deeper into his mouth..and deeper..and deeper..
     Roger couldn't breathe. Pushing her away, he nearly fell again
as serpent's eyes stared deep into his own. A long, forked tongue
flicked about her razor sharp incisors as her hands clamped firmly
around his arms.
     Suddenly, she began to grow and change. Her body elognated as
bluish-green scales ripped through her designer dress, and her lips
turned to a snout. Roger stared helplessly as Tia held him tight, all
the while turning into a ten-foot-long blue dragon.
     He struggled against her firm grasp as razor-sharp talons dug into
his arms. "Wha.. How? Why?" He managed to get out, as her diamond-hard
teeth edged ever more near his head.
     *Simple*, he seemed to hear a voice echo in his head, and knew it was
her's. *I have special... tastes, Roger. I have a taste for you.*
     Roger flung up an arm into Tia's face, pulling it quickly back
minus three fingers. "HelpOhShitHelp!!" He screamed into the night,
struggling against her steel-like grasp. "WhyTiaWhy??"
     *Roger, my love.* The voice rang inside his head, cutting deep into
his psyche. *I have a taste for virgins. What better place to find a
virgin than on a BBS?*
     His reply was drowned out by the sound of her teeth shredding
Roger's body in two.