By JANE LOTTER

It's the annual history issue. So gather round children, and I'll tell you another fascinating incident from my checkered past.

This is the story of how, way back in 1980, I was one of the first among hip Seattleites to purchase a telephone answering machine. (Now I realize in these modern days of cell phones, voice mail, and Caller ID, it's hard for some of you to believe there was ever a time when an answering machine was a novelty. But it was.)

Cheerfully, I took the shiny new Record-A-Call out of its box, knowing I'd never again miss an important call from an editor, a friend in need, or my boyfriend Bob. (Yes, yes, we were dating even then. It's a love eternal.)

About a month after I bought my Record-A-Call, I returned home one day to find the red light blinking, indicating I had a message.

Innocently, I turned the knob to playback. It was then I first heard the voice of Jessica. Jessica sounded about 12 years old. This is what she said: "Hi, this is Jessica." (Giggle.) "I'm leaving a message for John Stetney." (Giggle.) "Hi, John. This is Jessica. John Stetney, John Stetney, John Stetney." (Giggle.)

Then she hung up.

But Jessica's relationship with my answering machine was far from over. In fact, it was just beginning. For weeks, I came home to my Capitol Hill apartment and faced the blinking red light with increasing anxiety. Yes, there were messages from business associates and loved ones. But there was also an endless stream of calls from Jessica, all concerning John Stetney. By now, I'd deduced three important facts about Jessica: She was psychotic; she had a crush on someone named John Stetney; she had access to a phone.

Somehow Jessica had stumbled on my telephone number. Perhaps it was similar to the number of one of her friends. It didn't matter. What brought her back was the lure of talking into my answering machine.

As I say, in those days a telephone answering machine was a new wrinkle. Grownup men and women would hang up the minute they reached such a device; they had to compose themselves before they could muster the courage to call back and leave a message.

But not young Jessica.

Jessica wasn't the least bit intimidated at the thought of being recorded. She was thrilled. "John Stetney," she'd croon. "John, this is Jessica. John, John, John." (Pause.) "John." Occasionally she was a bit more lyrical. "John, I saw you at lunch. I had pizza. John Stetney, John Stetney, John Stetney. Ooh, ooh, ooh. This is Jessica." Then she'd hang up, only to call back and leave more messages.

Just when I was about to change my outgoing message from, "When you hear the tone, please leave your name and number" to "When you hear the tone, please leave a message for John Stetney," I got yet another incoming message from Jessica. As usual, she prattled on about John Stetney. But then, surprisingly, a second adolescent female voice came on the line.

"This is Carla," the voice said. "Carla, Carla, Carla. I'm with Jessica. The number here is, um, 555-3773."

Then she hung up.

I was dumbfounded. Could it be that easy? Had Carla really left me Jessica's phone number? I dialed immediately. A woman - Jessica's mother? - answered. My pulse was racing. "May I speak with Jessica?" I asked politely.

"JESSICA!" she bellowed. "PHONE CALL!"

There was a brief wait and then an all-too-familiar voice was on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Jessica," I said, "my name is Jane. You've been calling my answering machine."

"Um, yeah. I guess."

"And now, Jessica, I have YOUR number. And if you EVER call me again, I will notify the Seattle Police Department, the King County Sheriff's Department, the FBI, and quite possibly the CIA. Do you understand, Jessica? I'm talking criminal prosecution. I'm talking juvenile court. I'm talking jail for you and your little Princess phone."

In an instant it was over. She never called again. I kept the Record-A-Call for several years, eventually trading up to a more sophisticated system. Nowadays even my 80-year-old aunt has voice mail.

But from time to time (like when I have to turn in something for the history issue), I reflect on Jessica and her fascination with what was once a cutting-edge technology. She's grown up now, of course. I like to think she channeled her interests in a more positive direction. I like to think she found a career in telemarketing.

I like to think she even got married.

Most likely to John - John, John, John - Stetney.