Touch-Me-Not Read Online Free Page A

Jess?”
    “Bucky’s long gone,” she said. “I threw him out a couple of weeks ago.”
    “What’s the problem, then? Sounds like you got rid of a hundred ninety pounds of deadweight,” said Casper.
    Jessica shrugged. “Ever since he left, I’ve been getting these weird phone calls.”
    Alyssa Adams, another of the younger members, dropped a steel needle on the floor. It rolled under the library table and fetched up against a table leg with a metallic clink. Alyssa didn’t move.
    “Are you okay, Alyssa?” asked Elizabeth Trumbull, yet another member of the group.
    “I’m fine.” Alyssa bent down and picked up her needle.
    “Who’s the caller, your ex-boyfriend?” Casper asked.
    “It’s not Bucky,” said Jessica.
    “What kind of calls?” asked Maron.
    “I don’t want to talk about it. Sorry I mentioned it.”
    Maron set her work in her lap. “This is, like, really weird. I’ve been getting creepy phone calls, too. That’s why I’m having trouble concentrating.”
    “From a male or a female?” asked Fran Bacon, one of the founders of the group, a mathematics professor retired from Northeastern University.
    “It’s hard to tell,” said Maron. “I honestly can’t tell whether it’s a man or a woman. A man, I suppose. Heavy breathing, then whoever hangs up.”
    “What about you, Jessica?” asked Fran.
    Jessica sighed. “Could be either a man or a woman. This disgusting sick voice says, ‘Jessica,’ then breathing, like panting, and I hang up. What’s weird is, I have an unlisted phone.”
    “Me, too!” exclaimed Maron. “I started getting these calls about a month and a half ago, so I changed to an unlisted number, and he’s still calling me.”
    “You might get caller ID,” said Casper.
    “I’ve got it,” Jessica said.
    “I do, too,” said Maron. “He’s blocked his number.”
    Jessica added, “I’ve called the telephone company. I’ve called the police. They don’t seem to be able to do anything about it. Apparently, the guy is calling from a disposable cell phone. I’m going crazy!”
    “Disposable phone,” Fran repeated thoughtfully. “The calls are probably from someone you don’t pay much attention to, for example, a grocery store clerk or someone working on the ferry. Are you aware of anyone like that?”
    “Not really,” said Jessica.
    “Me, either,” said Maron.
    Fran continued to knit. “I’ve done quite a bit of research on stalkers,” she said. “At Northeastern, I was the student advisor on ways to deal with the problem. One suggestion was to sit down with the stalker and a third party, a mediator or a member of the clergy, and discuss the situation openly.”
    “But the caller never identifies himself,” said Maron. “How can we discuss anything with him? Someone I may or may not know is watching my every move. It’s creepy.”
    “It’s likely to be someone you’ve had some dealings with,” Fran continued. “Someone you may not even remember.”
    “Now, I almost want Bucky back,” said Jessica. “This phone creep didn’t start calling until after Bucky left. As if he was watching my place or something.”
    Casper spoke up again. “I hate to say this, girls—”
    “Women,” Maron corrected.
    “—but stalkers often get worse with time. They need more and more stimulation to get satisfaction.”
    “How come you know so much about stalkers?” asked Jessica.
    Casper shrugged. “I’m interested, that’s all.”
    Alyssa stood up and put her knitting in her basket. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to leave.” Her face had become so pale, it was almost green.
    “Are you feeling okay?” asked Elizabeth. “Would you like me to drive you home?”
    “No, thanks. I’m fine,” and Alyssa headed toward the library’s front door.
    “She doesn’t look fine to me,” said Casper. He stood up, tugged off his glasses and put them in his pocket, and left his knitting on his chair. “I’ll walk her out to the parking lot, make sure she can