by Jaye Peaches
I looked at Jason and he held my hand as the needle slipped into my arm. Then the lights gradually went dim and the screaming faded.
Sunday proceeded to wash away in a haze. I stayed in bed all day while Jason watched me like a hawk. He insisted I had soup and juice to combat my nausea. I then swallowed the tablets he gave me and lay there floating in a dream like trance, never fully awake or deeply asleep. I suspected the tablets were valium or something similar. Occasionally I would hear his voice on the phone or his fingers tapping on the keyboard of his laptop, perched on his knee next to me in bed.
The Sunday ended with the winter frost forming on the sash window. I slept an unnaturally deep dreamless sleep.
***
Monday morning I felt better and I was sitting up sipping the sweet tea Jason had left for me. My head was clear and my thoughts rational. No calming tablet was necessary and I was waiting for Dr. Mead to return to check up on me. Jason had left instructions for Mr Brooks to let her in to see me. The doorbell rang and I heard her greet Mr Brooks below in the hallway. There was a knock on the bedroom door and without waiting, she came in, medical bag in hand.
“Hi, Gemma. Oh, you’re looking so much better this morning. The colour is back in your cheeks. Good.”
She placed the bag on the end of the bed and propped herself on the edge next to me. She was in a smart grey trouser suit with her hair tied back behind her head. I did not recollect what she had worn in the middle of Saturday night. A very attractive woman and probably in her mid-thirties. She took my pulse and flashed a light in my eyes. Then she inspected my knife wound, removing the dressing careful so I barely noticed her do it.
“That’s healing nicely. You won’t need a dressing anymore and you can shower or bathe, the water won’t do it any harm. Any pus, blood or a fever and you will need to seek medical help. Understand?”
I nodded, hoping none of what she said would be necessary.
“I’ve brought you more antibiotics, a short course as a precaution against infection. When was your last tetanus booster? Less than ten years ago?”
I thought hard and recollected one at the end of my last year of university. “I’m pretty sure I’m covered at the moment, thank you, Dr. Mead.”
She smiled at my politeness. “Well I best be off. You’re free to get back to normal activities.” She paused looking at me carefully. “If you need counselling I am sure Jason can arrange it for you. Don’t let things get bottled up inside, it is dangerous for your health.” She patted my hand and started to pack her bag leaving the tablets on my bedside table.
I could not help notice that she called him Jason. She also came out in the middle of the night without any fuss. I was curious about her; I needed to know why she came. Was I jealous of her?
“It is very kind of you to come out in the night, are you an on call doctor?” I sat up a bit more in bed. She shut her bag and smiled at me in an oh-here-we-go sort of way.
“No. I’m a hospital registrar. I wasn’t on duty at the weekend. I’m back on shift this afternoon. No. I owe Jason a favour and we’re old friends. We go back to university. We met when he was an undergraduate and I was finishing off my PhD. I then went on to start practising medicine.”
Oh! The penny dropped. I knew precisely who she was. We held each other’s gaze for a minute, as if acknowledging the significance of her statement.
She hesitated, then as if as an afterthought she added. “I studied medicine with someone you know. I believe she helped you recently, a few months back. I remember her concern over what had happened to you. I hope these unfortunate incidences don’t mar your happiness, Gemma.”
Nothing more needed to be said. She said goodbye and good luck to me before heading downstairs. At last, I knew how Jason had been given my name as a potential submissive for him. The chain of people has been connected together.
I smiled. He had kept that quiet!
I heard more voices downstairs. Jason was back. There was a brief conversation with Dr. Mead and then she was gone. I carefully climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom. I was desperate for a shower, fresh clothes and something more substantial to eat. Jason would be pleased with me.
***
The rest of the day was subdued. I was up and in the drawing room. Jason was not forthcoming about his police interview. I asked when I would have to do mine. The thought filled me with trepidation.
“In a few days. Don’t worry about it. It is an open and shut case.” He tossed the newspaper on the coffee table. He was staying at home with me, though I suspected he would work most of the time in his study.
“Do I tell them about the previous attack, what he did to me? I don’t want them to know the nature of my relationship with him.”
I rubbed my hands up and down my thighs. I had a sense of dread at the thought of dealing with unpleasant memories.
“I don’t think it serves any purpose. The police are happy that he was a possessive ex-boyfriend with a grudge. They have enough forensic evidence to link him to Trudy’s assault. Though there won’t be any criminal proceedings, she can be assured that he’s not coming back. You need to find a way to put it all behind you.” He reached over and stopped my trembling hands, holding them steady with his own.
“How though did he track me down to the ball?” I asked.
His hands withdrew.
“I want to know!”
“Babe...”
“Please,” I implored.
Jason sighed. “Martinson has speculated much. What we do know is he found out about your internship from one of your old work colleagues - someone called Nigel?”
I leaned back in my seat. Nigel had been my cubicle neighbour in my previous job, before I had joined Jason’s company. Unimaginative, very literal and occasionally imprudent when it came to social nuances. I had been convinced he had Asperger’s. On the other hand, he was kind and unassuming of the worse aspects of human nature.
“I contacted Nigel about references for my CV. Told him about the application for the internship at your company. Nigel would have blabbered to him. The poor man isn’t blessed with a sense of discrimination. How did he meet Libby?”
“Libby has not provided any details of how he contacted her,” continued Jason. “She’s not subtle about her connections to me via her father and boasts outside of work. It’s possible he hung out around the office hoping to catch you. You were working your notice. Instead he came across Libby and her big mouth....”
“And took her to bed. He knew how to get women into bed...”
“Stop with the recriminations, babe. That wasn’t the weak link in all of this.”
“What do you mean?”
“I found out about his desire for retribution. The evening I came to your flat, I took a call and then left – remember? I lied to you about needing to work. I had to be sure that the threat was real and I met with Martinson to discuss what I had been told by my contact. That was when I found out that he was after you. You’d left the company by the time he wrapped Libby around his finger. Well, they both were manipulative. She’s not stupid. She suspected the rumours about us were true; your sudden departure and me being seen at the same nightclub as you.”
“He was there?”
“Outside the Jinx club on the Wednesday? Probably close by and waiting to see who came and went. He must have seen you arrive with Trudy and guessed you two were together. It was a familiar haunt of yours for vanilla nights out. Might Libby have overheard you planning?”
I groaned, I had definitely mentioned my night out to the others in the office. A last ditch attempt to impress them with my virtually absence social life. “He didn’t get me there though.”
“Martinson escorted you to the car, remember?”
“Christ. That close? She brought cakes in! The last day of my job, Libby fucking brought me cakes knowing he was after me!” I went to stand up in fury but Jason’s hand pressed me back down. My fingers
clenched with anger.
“He went after Trudy to get your contact details. Libby didn’t know where you had gone. No forwarding address for work and no proof you were with me. He hung about the Jinx hoping to catch you there and on Saturday found Trudy. You hadn’t told Trudy about me, so still no location for you and all he gained was your mobile number.”
“They asked, in the office, where I was going, but of course I couldn’t tell them anything. I made up a fib about going to my parents.” I hung my head. “The ball?” I went back to my original question.
“Ah. As I said, she’s not an idiot. She had her invite to the ball, via her father and she guessed you might be there too. She approached somebody in my hospitality group; they organise the ball along with the foundation and obtained a copy of the guest list.”
“What!”
“Your name was next to mine. Proof we were together and she told him. After that she was used to force you out.”
“Who gave her the list?” I probed. He had mentioned a weak link.
“Somebody who used to work in the hospitality division. Libby pretended to ring from the hotel, liaising over security. Issues normally dealt with by Martinson’s team and not by anyone else. The list should not have been released.”
“You fired someone?”
“Yes. Protocols were not followed, Gemma. They were put in place for a reason, not just to protect you. There are others working for my charities who require protection from publicity.”
“Is that why they’re masks?” I asked.
Jason laughed. “No, babe. That’s just a gimmick. Some of the lawyers at the ball compile legal evidence against some nasty pieces of shit. I invite them and they don’t seek publicity for their pro bono work.”
“Oh. So, he used Libby. Nobody else?”
“Nobody else was involved. It’s over now, babe. You’re safe.”
“I get to drive my beamer again?” I perked up.
Jason chuckled.
“I’ll go to work tomorrow,” I said.
My mood was shifting upwards. I decided I needed a major distraction from the weekend.
“Is that wise?” his voice hardened.
“What else, I can’t sit here. I start to hear imaginary things. I’m physically alright. Your very nice Dr. Mead has given me the all clear,” I risked a dig.
“My very nice Dr. Mead. I see,” Jason’s lips curled up a little. He patted my leg and stood up.
“Oh, Thursday night are you up to a night out? Glamorous Miss Marshall is needed to go on show again.” He crossed his arms and looked down at me. I was intrigued.
“I’m yours, whatever you wish,” I said humbly as possible.
“I’m taking you to a movie premier. Red carpets, everything.” My mouth dropped open. I had no idea Jason was into the movies that much.
“Don’t go thinking Hollywood or anything. An old school friend of mine has been doing well as a director. Making small budget films that have received critical acclaim. I offered to invest in a new big budget movie for him, bigger stars and expensive sets. The effort has paid off. The studio and distributors are pushing it hard. I am a silent partner. I’ll get a cut from the ticket sales, so I am expected to be there for the opening night.”
Wow, this was going to be exciting. My mind raced as I thought of another new dress, a date with a hairdresser and high heels to go with the red carpet.
“Well, I can see that’s captured your imagination. I’m off to earn some more money.” He was about to leave when he caught sight of my face. An unpleasant thought had crossed my mind.
“What?” he snapped impatiently.
“The press will be there. My name, last Saturday ....” My voice trailed off. Suddenly Thursday evening did not sound as appealing.
“Don’t concern yourself. I’ve issued an injunction on Sunday preventing your name being published in the press. Most of the attention is around Libby anyway.” He picked up the newspaper and unfolded it. Reading a passage out to me, “‘Attempted abduction of an unnamed woman, which went wrong’ blah.” He folded the paper back up again and slotted it under his arm. He had no intention of letting me read it.
During the night, I woke myself up screaming. Jerking up in bed, I pressed my hands to my ears and tried to block out the encroaching sounds - metallic rattling sounds.
What am I hearing in my head?
“Babe?” Jason sat up alongside me and put an arm about me.
“Noises,” I said wiping the sweat from my upper lip. “Shit, nightmares. More fucking nightmares.”
“Do you want a sleeping pill?”
“No!” I exclaimed quickly.
Drugs did not appeal to me and I had to find my own way to deal with my fears. New fears.
“I thought, with him being dead, things would get easier. Sorry,” I murmured.
“Don’t apologise. Saturday was traumatic in its own right. You’ve got to give yourself time. What noise?” he asked helping me lie back in bed.
“Handcuffs. He jangled them in his hand. Don’t ever show me handcuffs again will you?”
“No, Gem. Handcuffs are a hard limit from now on, OK?” he spooned his body around mine. “Try to sleep. Think about red carpets and glamorous Hollywood.”
I closed my eyes and snuggled back against him. I matched my breaths to his and the steady pace sent me back into sleep.
Chapter 20
If ever there was a therapy for the trauma I had suffered then I had been gifted it by Jason: a brand new job and planning a night out. My personal shopper reeled off a list of dress designers’ names and recommended a top hair stylist for me to visit on Thursday afternoon. Thank goodness I was part-time. Jason had good foresight with that idea.
When Martinson opened the car door on Thursday evening, I was wearing a long black gown, resting off my shoulders and my hair was braided up into a high bun. Jason was there to take my hand. He was dressed again in a black bowtie and suit, slightly different fabric and cut, not the same tuxedo as Saturday. He paraded me up the red carpet, camera lights flashing and names been shouted out, thankfully not mine. I was introduced to various people connected with the making of the film including Jason’s director friend, who was visibly appreciative of Jason’s generosity.
The film was quite good, a balance of drama, humour and action based in London. Jason sat through the movie holding my hand gently and the familiar thumb caressed me now and again. I had the temptation to snuggle up to him as if we were teenagers in the local cinema. I kept glancing across at him, trying to catch his eyes, but he was impervious to me and his blue eyes were fixed on the screen. Perhaps he was mentally totting up his profits from this adventure into the world of film making.
After the film credits had finished, Jason led me into the bar at the top of the cinema theatre. The cramped bar was crowded with people, gorgeous women swishing by in their frocks and posing with their suited men. I started to be aware of how uncomfortable I was - a fish out of water. Jason never stepped more than a few paces away from me and I had to deal with an impending visit to the toilet.
“Jason,” I whispered in his ear. “I have to go the ladies room.”
He nodded and let go of my hand.
I walked over to the door, my heart was beating fast. Memories of a fierce slap across the face were returning to me. I breathed a sigh of relief, the room was busy with women, reapplying makeup and congratulating each other on the success of the film. I was completely anonymous to them and I avoided all eye contact. Once done I returned to Jason’s side. He quickly took my hand in his again, offering me a glass of wine. I smiled a thank you.
Time moved forward quickly and the wine must have had an effect on me rather more than I would have wished. The throng of the crowd in their extravagant clothes was casting my mind back to a mirror lined ballroom. I could see the chandelier above my head and the movement of the people around me. The panic started to rise in my throat and the nauseo
us sensation returned. I swayed a fraction and shut my eyes.
“Gemma. We’re leaving now. I’m taking you home,” Jason’s words were clear and softly spoken but full of intent.
I opened my eyes, the panic dissipated. Jason was with me and I was safe.
***
Jason was standing behind me, kissing my neck. He sighed gently and his breath was warm across my skin.
“You smell incredible and taste delicious,” he said. “My gorgeous thing, my delightful toy.”
Did I mind being called his thing or toy? Not in the slightest. It was what I wanted to be feel. The way his words made me wanted and desired drove a fiery furnace inside my belly that was my physical submission.
I squirmed. He was almost tickling me as he licked the back of my neck. His hand slowly began to lower my dress zipper. Down it went to my waist, my hips and then he slipped it off my shoulders, so it dropped to the floor at my feet. I was left in my knickers, stockings and heels. He knelt down and slipped off my shoes, then peeled down my stockings before removing my knickers, allowing me to slip my feet out of them with grace. I turned to face him. He looked smouldering, I reached up and pulled his bowtie lose then flicked it over my shoulder with a small smile.
“Undress me,” he commanded quietly.
I did so slowly. First, his jacket, then unbuttoning his silk shirt and sliding it down his muscular arms. I knelt at his feet and with slightly trembling hands, I undid his trouser zipper and solitary button. A hand gripped my hair, winding his fingers in the loose strands, making my scalp tingled. His clothes fell alongside my dress and looking up at his blue eyes, I passed his boxer shorts, over his upright erection and down on to the floor.
In a few swift moves, we were on the bed and he was on top of me. My legs parted and wrapped around him. I stretched my arms up and held the bed rails, gripping them tightly. We did not say anything, there was nothing to say. I was all his.
***
