The key missed the slot, sliding on the knob and causing her hand to swing down, making her drop the key.
"Dammit!" She stooped to retrieve the key and felt the sharp pain shoot through her leg. She had hit it on her night table this morning, and it had been throbbing all day. She picked up the key, rubbed the sore spot on her leg, and pushed the key into the lock. She eased the door open and set her groceries down in the foyer. She staggered over to the couch and slumped down. It had been a hard day.
Her name was Deanna Bradley, and she was one of those young women who hadn't yet found their place in the order of things. She had a degree in chemistry and a minor in physical fitness. However, rather than being taken on as a researcher for some multi-billion-dollar corporation, she had been forced to resort to her minor and take a job as an aerobics instructor. She made it through her day by repeating her personal mantra: "It's not a career. It's NOT a career." Days like today, though, were particularly bad--even with her sore leg, she'd had a step-exercise class and had to follow through. One of these days, she kept telling herself, I'll get a big job with a big company and leave this tiresome work, which at times seemed absolutely torturous. Or maybe, she thought, I'll win an online lottery or two.
The Internet was her only escape--she was terrible at relationships and didn't have any pets, so she found herself alone most of the time. It wasn't that she was unattractive; far from it. 27 years old, with auburn hair that fell past her shoulders, a face pretty enough to model with, and measurements that some women would kill for (the one and only advantage of her current employment) she was constantly being hit on. However, most of them were jerks, and the rest...well, it just never seemed to work out for her. So, she spent a lot of free time online. Tonight, as was her custom, she would go upstairs to her computer room and log on after a soothing bath. The bath always came first, to relax her tense and aching muscles.
She went into the bathroom and ran the water extra-hot, adding the soapy bubble mixture that soothed her with its sweet scent. While the tub filled up, she stripped off the sweaty workout suit and paused to admire herself in the mirror. While the sports bra somewhat lessened the impressive effect of her 36 C breasts, she still had to admit that she looked good. "Damn good," she said to no one in particular. She reached over and shut off the tub, then removed the sports bra and panties and eased herself into the scalding water. She let the suds and the warmth calm her down. She often placed a special "pillow" at one end of the tub which allowed her to doze off without drowning or waking up with a neck ache. She soaked, and let everything go hazy as she lay back and relaxed.
When she emerged from the tub an hour later, she headed straight for the computer. Her answering machine could wait--most of her friends e-mailed her because they knew she'd be more likely to get the message. She signed on and discovered that she had 21 new messages. With all the newsletters, and all her friends who were at home during the day, she averaged at least 18 a day. She browsed through her inbox, talking to herself. "Delete...delete...hmm...save...delete." She paused when she saw a user name that she didn't recognize. "CP Technologies, Incorporated? Who are they?" Nobody answered--not that she had expected anyone to. She often talked to herself. She supposed it was a symptom of living alone too long. She ignored the message, deciding to check her other mail first.
She suddenly realized that CP Technologies could have gotten her online resume! Maybe they were writing with a job offer! She opened the message, her hands quivering on the mouse from anticipation. Had she finally found her escape? Perhaps her ticket out of her dead-end job? She scanned the message, reading aloud as she read the screen.
"Congratulations! You've been selected to Beta-test our newest product!" She almost hit the delete button out of disgust, but she decided to keep reading anyway. "We here at CP Technologies are excited about our new developments, but we can't sell them on enthusiasm alone. That's why we want the opinions of typical people--and YOU were selected, at random, to test our latest! Our newest development is our XR-SW Series of Digital Cameras. These aren't your typical cameras; they pack a few extra features. But rather than tell you about them now, we'll include a program that will allow you to have an online demonstration!" She briefly wondered why she would want a digital camera, but she read on. "And here's the best part--not only can you KEEP the camera once we've gotten your feedback, but we'll also PAY you $200 just for your participation! If you're interested in helping us out--AND making a little extra cash--simply reply to this email with `Yes' as the subject header! Thanks in advance!"
It was signed "C. Jameson, Team Leader, Project SW-Cam." "What the hell?" she mused. "Can't hurt. And who knows, this might be fun!" Briefly, somewhere in the back of her mind, she recalled seeing those letters-"SW"-somewhere on the `net, but the recollection faded as quickly as it had appeared. "Oh well, I guess I'll find out!"
