Cold caller

Cold caller

Status: Finished

Genre: Horror

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Horror

Summary

A new employee recieves malicious phone calls, but should she confide in her boss?

Summary

A new employee recieves malicious phone calls, but should she confide in her boss?

Content

Submitted: September 29, 2011

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: September 29, 2011

A A A

A A A


She looked nervous, as though this was her first ever job interview, sat further back from the desk she sat in front of at ‘Halligan chartered accountants’. Colin ‘call me Col’ Granger, the manager, sat in his swivel chair staring intently at her CV, nodding to himself. He was in his late thirties, was bald through choice, and bore a diamond stud in his left ear. Despite his profession, he liked to think of himself as quite trendy. When not working, he would sometimes wear a leather jacket and listen to hard rock, and sometimes put four sugars in his coffee.

Chantelle Rowden, 27, with long black hair, a thin frame and an infectious smile had put her best gear on for the interview, which was basically a flowery print dress and a pair of wedge sandals. She was flushed quite red with embarrassment, even though she tried to hide it. Colin didn’t seem to notice. He swivelled to face her, then winked. "Start tomorrow" he said.

"That’s it?" she asked, "No questions?"

"No, you’re more than qualified," he said, holding up the CV.

After she had gone, Colin stood up and stared out of the first floor window of the block of offices he occupied, watching as Chantelle crossed the road and walked to the bus-stop. He looked back down at his desk, at her CV.

He sat down and picked up a cordless telephone, then found and dialled a client’s number. It went straight to answerphone.

"Hi, this is Col from Halligan accountants, ringing to inform you that you need to come into the office again to further discuss your company audit, ok, thanks". He pressed another button.

"Brenda, I’m going to be busy for about five minutes, so no calls ok,"

"What, again?"

"Yes, ok?"

"Ok".

With his computer already on, he didn’t take long to bring up previous client’s details. Leila Brayfield. He dialled her number, and it was soon answered.

"Hello," she said. Colin just grinned. "Hello," she repeated. Colin then started to exhale slowly, and audibly.

"What? Who is this?" she said.

"I know you," he said, "I want to fuck your tits". Leila suddenly hung up.

Colin laughed, then found two other numbers to ring, and basically repeated himself. He would do this a few times every week, sometimes to numbers plucked from the phone book, sometimes ex-clients, sometimes to people he had called before, all untraceable. He got satisfaction from knowing that he was basically anonymous, and that the other person basically feared him. Sometimes he would find himself with an erection during a call.

He soon had Chantelle’s CV in his hand, and he was looking at her personal information. At her mobile telephone number. He decided against it, put it in the drawer, then left his office.

He was estranged from his partner whom he still kept in occasional contact with, who left because of his bizarre fetishes which she had not been aware of in the early stages of their relationship. Sometimes he liked to dress up as an axe murderer when having sex. He often liked her to insult him when out in public. He enjoyed it when she called him ‘stupid bastard’, or a ‘twat’ especially when other people could hear as well. She only tolerated it for a few months until he one day, casually said he would love to rape an old woman. They were pushing a shopping trolley to their Peugeot in a supermarket car-park when he saw an elderly woman bending down to pick up an orange she had dropped. Colin had stood watching and simply said: ‘Look at that, I’d love to go up behind her and rape her wrinkled cunt’. She knew by looking at his face that he was serious, and the very next day, she left him.

"Are you excited?" said Chantelle’s mother offering her a plate of digestives. Chantelle smiled, taking one.

"Yes, absolutely, it’ll be my first proper job". She sipped tea from a fragile cup, daytime tv muted, and dipped the biscuit, eating it before it collapsed.

"I’ll have more money now, and soon be able to afford to move out". Her 68 year-old white haired mother smiled without humour.

"Don’t be daft, you can stay here as long as you like, you know that. Or I could have a word with that hunky scaffolder across the road. You could become his girlfriend and move in with him."

"Mum, you can’t do that"

"Why not? I know you fancy him, and before they all pack up and move away, you’d best be quick about it". The telephone in the hall rang, and she put down her tea and walked across to the living room door and looked back at Chantelle.

"Don’t waste time, love. This might be his last day on the job, and he’s over there now". She walked to the telephone on the gas cupboard and picked it up.

"Hello?" she said.

"Is that Chantelle?"

"No, this is her mother".

"Right, ok, it doesn’t matter. Tell her I’m gonna rape her sweet ass, and maybe I’ll fuck you as well". He then hung up. Chantelle watched as her mother appeared in the doorway, her face pale, and the soaking digestive she held in her hand dropped in her tea.

Three roads away in his deep red Toyota avensis, Colin replaced the phone and smiled. He put her CV on the passenger seat. It held two numbers, a landline and a mobile. He thought maybe about ringing her direct on her mobile, but declined. Perhaps I should send her a text, he thought, but decided against it.

He drove home, to his normal, terraced house which contained barely any evidence of his fetishes except for four bondage DVDs. It had been stripped of a lot of amenities when his girlfriend had moved out two years ago, but since then he had hardly replaced them, so it was basically a house exposed to its bones, containing items that were simply necessary, and a few that were not, such as a television and fish-tank.

Later that evening, the sky was in semi-darkness, and in a dark-blue tracksuit, he closed the front door behind him to begin his five-mile jog he did every other day. Some people he knew whom he would wave at, and it was not always the same route he would take, but he always made sure he stopped in a nearby park where he would sit on a bench to regain his breath and composure, and after approximately 45 minutes, he was sat panting, near the entrance, near a yellow street lamp that barely illuminated him. He always stopped here for a reason, because without fail, as he sat there waiting, a lone woman would usually always take a short cut through the park, no matter how dark it was, and tonight, at 19.06, 15 minutes after he had stopped, and woman in her early fifties entered the park, glanced at him, and continued. Colin smiled, and stood up. He always liked to walk behind them, usually between 5 and 10 metres away. He knew they were terrified inside, and would always walk quicker. Colin would try and match them. The path was virtually a straight line, and was only just short of a hundred metres, but before the women could leave, Colin would begin jogging again, and run past them out of the park, often with a grin on his face, as he jogged all the way home which was only around a mile and a half.

He knew that that was always a perfect opportunity to commit rape if he should ever seriously consider it. Sometimes he wished he could.

The following day, he was in work, early as usual, and Chantelle was two minutes late, but that didn’t matter, she was sat at her new desk next to Brenda who had worked there for 8 years. Colin stood beaming down at her.

"Okay Brenda, you’ll show her the ropes won’t you? I’ve got to go to a meeting".

"Of course I will. There’s no need to rush back". Chantelle smiled up at him, and he turned and left the office.

He came back at midday, and knew not to keep talking to Chantelle. He was after all, her boss, and didn’t want to arouse her and the other workers suspicions by stopping by her all the time. He did a few times, but only to see if she was alright, as would be natural for any boss and a new employee, and he did have a high workload, so at the end of that day, before she went home, he sent her an anonymous text message. ‘Gonna suck your tits’, and stood up from his desk to look through the blinds over the filing cabinets to see her reaction, but her phone mustn’t have been with her. It was either at home, or in her coat. He nodded to himself. Good, he thought, a girl focused on her work. You’ll get it later. Yes, you’ll get it alright.

After he had left for home, and after he had stopped for his tea in a chicken restaurant, he found himself in a telephone box. He called two random numbers, which he often liked to do, not to say anything, but to do the slow, heavy breathing.

Later on that night, he braved driving along Chantelle’s road, and parked around fifty metres from her house on the opposite side. It was a fairly cool night, the sky black at 21.11, but a sickly yellow light bathed him and his car from a nearby street-lamp. He wondered if he should write quick letter or note and post it, telling her what he’d like to do to her. He decided against it, instead, chose to ring her. He felt slightly nervous in doing so, but he didn’t know why. After three rings, she answered.

"Hello,". Silence. "Hello, who’s that?" Silence.

"You’ll suck on my cock", he said, then ended the call. He laughed, then drove away.

He later sent another anonymous text: ‘Gonna cum inside your cunt’, then switched it off, and went to bed with a smile.

As per usual, he was early for work, and scrolling through his emails when he saw that the time was approaching 9am. Chantelle should be almost here by now, he thought, standing up and looking out of his window. After a few minutes, he saw her walking along the road. She stopped to wait for a gap in the traffic to cross. He picked up the phone from the desk, then found her CV in the drawer. He quickly tapped out her mobile number, and it was soon answered:

"Hello?"

"It’s gonna feel so good to fucking rape you". He disconnected the call, and smiled.

A few minutes later, she appeared, looking ashen, and fearful.

"Hi Chantelle," Colin said, offering to take her coat.

"Is everything alright?" She nodded.

"You sure? you look like you’ve got something on your mind".

"No…well, it’s just….I keep getting these weird phone calls from some pervert. I wonder if I should call the police".

"Don’t worry, people like that usually stop after a while when nothing comes of it". He put his arm around her and she smiled up at him.

After a few minutes, he was closing his office door behind him. He leant back against it and sighed. Thoughts of rape entered his mind again, and he knew there and then, she would be his first.

The rest of the day was fairly normal, but Colin didn’t get as much work done as he was constructing scenarios in his mind as to how to go about it. What type of mask will I wear? Where should I get her? Chantelle seemingly forgot about it and focused on work, but still it was always there, on the surface of her conciousness, as though terrified of being forgotten. Colin sent another anonymous text message as she made her way home:

‘Gonna fuck you soon’. As he made his own way home, he stopped off at another phone-box.

He tapped in two random numbers to give them the silence, then breathing treatment. ‘Fackin’ weirdo’ one said, then hung up. The other said nothing but simply put the phone down. He couldn’t, however, stop thinking of Chantelle. He knew that if he put it off, and kept going through it in his mind, he would never do it. He would make excuses and never get round to it. So he decided, tomorrow night. He would keep her doing overtime, send everyone else home, pretend to go the shops, leaving her the place to herself, then come back in with a large coat and mask, wielding a blade.

Adrenalin rushed through him as he thought of it, and he smiled, and left the phone-box.

"I’ve had enough mum," said Chantelle, tears in her eyes. "What am I going to do? I’m just going to have to change my phone, change my number".

"You know he rang here, don’t you? He’ll probably find your number again, and anyway, I think you may already know what to do, but have been avoiding it". She stroked her daughter’s hair, sat as they were on the sofa in the living room, the television off.

"You know exactly what to do, don’t you, because after what, three years? You’ve never deleted his number from your phone, have you?" Chantelle sighed, and swallowed. After a few seconds, she nodded.

"Yes, alright, I’ll call him from the landline". She got up and walked into the hall.

An hour later, she was stood in a cold pub car-park, bathed in sickly orange from a light above a side door. There were two other cars parked there, cars that did not look road worthy, as if they came here to end their days, having driven many miles for many years. However, one car that did look roadworthy, and had not yet driven a fraction of the others mileage, rolled into the car-park and pulled up around ten-feet from Chantelle. The driver’s door opened and a man climbed out who looked as if he should be in a goth, or punk metal band. He bore leather clothes and too many tattoos, as well as an array of studs. He walked around to the passenger side door and leaned back against it, folded his arms and simply looked at Chantelle who stood there looking rather sheepish.

"That a new car?" she asked

"Yes" said Jason ‘Chaos’ Gammer. "It’s my new Lexus". She nodded. There was a few seconds of silence.

"So how have you been?"

"Fine. You suddenly want my help now that you’ve got nowhere else to turn? How does that look on my part?"

"I know," she said, "But I really need it". He opened the passenger side door, and Chantelle slid in.

"….you know it’s just bloody typical," said Chaos, driving to his home, five miles away.

"People think we’re thick. Goths and fucking metal heads. Think we haven’t got a fucking brain. Well, look at me, am I thick? Does being thick get me a lexus? I don’t think so"

"Same old Chaos," said Chantelle, smiling.

The following day, at work, Chantelle was slightly worried, because Chaos had not quite managed to achieve what she had hoped. He was quite a computer whiz, and had three computers set up in his back room, one used specifically for hacking, one with software that could perform all kinds of illegal activities, and one for playing online games. Chantelle had hoped he could discover who had been ringing her. He said he could find out, but discovered it would take much longer than he thought. He needed to hack into her phone company network, install remote undetectable software that could gather the relevant information, route it to another server, install more software there to decode it and have it sent back to him, where he would have his computers siphon through her call logs to discover to relevant number, and then link that number to whomever it belonged to, by matching it with names and addresses already available on the internet. Once one connected to the same name and address, then it could be no-one else. Chaos said he would ring her as soon as he found out. Her phone was at her hand all day on her desk.

She was rather annoyed when asked by Colin to do over-time that evening because she was already starting to not like the job, but the extra money always helped, so she agreed.

Everyone had gone home, and Chantelle sat there, checking the boxes of useless emails for deletion. A shadow loomed over her, and she looked up to see Colin smiling down at her. His face seemed flushed and nervous.

"Will you be alright a for about ten minutes? I’m just going the shop. D’you want anything?"

"Could you pick me up a raspberry yoghurt?" she said.

"Ok," he then went to put on his coat, and left, not closing the door properly.

Out in the corridor, the other establishments had shut up for the night, so he found himself alone, nervous, but psyched up, knowing that if he didn’t do it now, he never would. He made his way down to his car in the private car-park at the back, took out a large coat he hardly ever wore, and a children’s zombie mask used for Halloween. He forgot to lock the car, such was his haste, and made his way back up to the corridor. He thought it best to go in there with an erection, but found himself only partially engorged, so stopped to release his penis to get himself fully hard.

The phone on the desk rang, and Charlotte instinctively snatched it up.

"Chaos?" she said.

"Yes, where are you Charlotte?"

"I’m at work, I’m doing overtime".

"Get out of there. It’s your boss. Colin Granger. He’s the one Charlotte. I’m on my way". She put the phone down and looked towards the entrance.

"Fuck," she said, standing up. She made her way across to the coats, and then the door opened, and Colin came in, wearing his mask and large over-coat. Charlotte screamed. He pointed at her.

"Do as your told and you won’t get hurt. Get into that office," he said pointing to his own. Charlotte staggered back, staring at the abomination before her. His open coat revealed a five-inch erection.

"It’ll be a lot easier if you just let me fuck you," he said, gripping his penis and advancing towards her.

"Get in the office," Despite herself, Charlotte found herself backing towards the room.

"I know who you are," she yelled, "Colin Granger, my fucking boss". Colin stopped, and genuinely seemed unnerved. This wasn’t accounted for. He knew he needed to do some rapid rethinking. Fuck, he thought. I think I’ll have to kill her and hide her body. Rape her first.

He tore off his mask, and then the coat. She backed behind his desk and Colin stood in the doorway, still stroking his penis.

"Get on the desk and take your knickers off,"

"What?"

"I said, get on the fucking desk and take off your knickers. The sooner you do that, the sooner…" he yelled in pain, and collapsed to his knees. Chaos appeared behind him, the pen knife sliding from the small of his back.

"Ahh, what the fuck…?" he was shoved to the floor, and Chaos gestured down to him.

"See, I told you it was him". Charlotte could not find anything to say, but simply walked slowly around the desk. Chaos bunched his fists and was about to step across to Colin to begin attacking him, when Charlotte beat him to it.

"You fucking cunt!" she screamed, and began a volley of punches and kicks aimed at his face. He tried to protect himself, but it had little effect. He was soon a bloody mess, and soon unconscious.

She staggered back against the desk, breathing heavily.

"There you go, there’s the real Charlotte, there’s the Charlotte I waited three years for while she was in prison for attempted murder, only to come out wanting to go straight, wanting to get a proper job, wanting to be a normal member of society. Well it’s not you Charlotte, you’re one of us, and you know it". He stepped across to her and put one hand on the side of her face, his thumb sliding into her mouth. Her toungue slowly rolled over it.

"This is the Charlotte I know. The Charlotte I want back". She smiled, and his hand then stroked down her neck and shoulder.

"Yes," she said. "This is who I am. I cannot pretend to be somebody I am not anymore. I’m just gonna be me. Well, he was gonna rape me, but I want you to fuck me when we get back to your place". Chaos smiled.

"Welcome back," he said. They both turned and walked to the door. Charlotte kicked the still unconscious Colin in the face.

"I fucking quit," she said, as she followed Chaos out of the office.


© Copyright 2018 Lev821. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

Other Content by Lev821

More Great Reading

Popular Tags