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“I’ve had this bag for years.” She patted her kit bag and re-took her seat.
“So I can see.” Jason flicked the strap away with a finger.
She unzipped the bag and rummaged near the opening until she found the manufacturers’ label. Written on the label with a laundry-marker pen, clearly legible although somewhat faded: GEMMA MARSHALL.
She showed the label to Martinson and Jason.
The discovery triggered another bout of head scratching from Martinson. “Okay. The culprit searched all the bags in the changing room. Must have taken time, if people were coming and going. Finds your bag and now can put a name to an old photo. The following week, the blackmail note appears. Which makes me think, whoever this person is, they’re not there for a class. They have the time to slip in and out without you seeing or anyone else noticing something suspicious. They’ve come with someone else.”
“Parents arrive with children, after school, and hang about, usually in the dance rooms or the cafe,” she said. An unpleasant thought: the blackmailer was a parent.
“The Facebook page…why would he think Gemma had a Facebook page?” Jason leant back in his chair and handed Joshua another breadstick. His sticky fingers grasped it, and he giggled enthusiastically at his daddy. Jason ruffled Joshua’s blond hair. “Good boy.”
“I checked that out,” said Martinson. “Ignoring the pictures with profile faces that don’t resemble yourself, Mrs Lucas, plus they have to be within the London area, it leaves us with three Gemma Marshalls out there. Two had profile pictures, one of a dog and the other a tree.” Pausing, he shook his head in mock disbelief. “Sorry, my wife uses it, not me. The other was blank,” he continued. “None of the three revealed anything in the public domain to help identify them. Basically, the blackmailer has made an assumption you would have a Facebook page. I don’t think they can do much with a photo if they don’t have access to a person’s page, wall…whatever. The whole thing smacks of an empty threat that plays on your fears rather than the practicalities of publishing a revealing photo of you. That’s the strange thing. Without more personal details about where you live, work, and so on, there isn’t much that they can do with a photo that would seriously cause you embarrassment or problems. That is, if they see you only as Gemma Marshall.”
Jason drummed his fingers on the table. “Gemma Lucas, on the other hand, would be a far better target. But the money asked doesn’t make that connection.”
She could see the frustration in his thrumming digits. A signal of impatience. How would she have handled the situation on her own? “Eight years ago, I would have been brazen. Ignored the threat until I was convinced they could do me serious harm.” She knew it was not her game to play, but they had to have her cooperation. “I can do this.”
Martinson folded his arm across his chest and glanced across at her husband. Jason gave a small nod. “Mrs Lucas, we’re going to play this out. Leave the money on Tuesday. Go about the day as you would normally. Don’t be too secure in appearance; as far as the blackmailer is concerned you’re worried about the threat sufficiently to pay the money. Emma Gibson will observe in the changing area, looking the part of a budding dancer. Dave Johnson will be ready to follow the blackmailer once Emma has identified them. You just pick up your bag and head to the car. If there is another envelope left inside, don’t touch it. We’ll deal with the contents.”
More money! “Another envelope?” Next to her, Joshua gurgled, spitting up crumbs of bread. “Jason—”
Jason took her quivering hand and sandwiched it between his own. “Pay, and they want more. It’s what happens. Don’t worry, once we’ve spotted the blackmailer, you need only help with the identification. I will not put you in any danger. Understand?” He rubbed his thumb along her knuckles and she nodded. “What time does your class finish?”
“Four thirty.”
Jason looked over her shoulder at Martinson. “I’m going to be there to pick you up. You won’t be alone. Okay?”
She ignored Martinson and bowed her head, touching his knuckles with her forehead. “Thank you, Master,” she whispered, not caring if the other man heard.
Jason worked the rest of the afternoon in his study while she entertained Joshua, whose health improved with each passing hour. Clara rang, too, announcing she would be back the next day.
By bedtime, an exhausted Gemma happily crawled under the duvet. Outside, the air was crisp with icy frost and the lack of wind or cloud cover heralded a cold night. She wore nothing in bed, as he liked, so she tossed an extra throw over the duvet, adding a layer of heat.
Gemma dreamt, lying nestled in her own body warmth, that he caressed her bottom, gently squeezing the flesh. She wriggled and moaned. His breath warmed her back, and in that moment she knew she was awake, barely, but not dreaming. The duvet moved, slithering back over her. He’d gone. She settled back down into the pillow, confused, but too tired to query.
His hand returned, but with a difference. There was a coolness to the fingertips, a sleek coldness, which he smeared between her folds, spreading the oil. She tensed. A small rush of adrenaline left her belly and journeyed about her body. She felt its effects immediately. He lifted the duvet off her back. This time, he replaced it with his body.
She inched her arms above her head, sneaking them out into the cool air
, and grabbed her soft pillow drawing it down under her, embracing the fabric in her arms. He parted her thighs farther and pushed his slick cock into her sleepy pussy. His weight bore down on her, and a mist of breath bloomed on her back as he nudged his way into her. She sucked in a lungful of air and relaxed.
Don’t tense, let it go.
She tried to recapture her drowsy state by keeping her eyes shut and her mind closed to waking thoughts.
Do not think of anything. Hold on to nothingness.
The tip of his erection slowly penetrated, and she let out a small cry of exquisite delight at his impending seizure. The pressure continued, edging deeper, without force, but neither gentle.
“Uh,” a silly utterance, and she repeated each time she spread a ring about him. Her nose buried in the pillow and she gave into his occupation. Now, his panting breaths hit her neck.
“Baby,” he crooned into her ear.
An arm looped under her pelvis, lifting her up towards his own thrusting hips. She attempted to bend her knees but, in her sleepy state, she couldn’t support his weight. The gentle lunges continued until he slapped into her buttocks. He pinned her down into the mattress, crushing her and forcing her lungs to work harder.
She gripped the pillow between her teeth. There was no pain, but the intensity of his fucking overwhelmed her. Where did he find the energy to fuck her so vigorously in the middle of the night? She couldn’t help the loud whimper escaping her lips. If he didn’t ease back, it would start to hurt. He grunted, paused, and withdrew. More unction about his cock. The cold gel smoothed the friction caused by his rippling sheath. He began to glide in and out. He didn’t speak words, but his vocal chords were active with sounds of pleasure. Gemma joined in. Although not close to coming, her submission pleased her and, she hoped, enthralled him. She gladly gave him her body, and he took, thrust after thrust.
