Getting Even with Gemma and Jane Ch. 02

Eight

I turned up early outside Gemma's office for my appraisal. She kept me waiting for half an hour, but I didn't care. I was showered and shaved, in my new Jaeger suit and a pair of polished black brogues. I had my briefcase containing documents and a CD and a few other useful bits and pieces, and all was right with the world.

'Sorry to keep you waiting, Jack,' said Gemma, once her secretary had finally led me into her office. Gemma was leaning back in a huge leather swivel-chair, behind a desk large enough to play tennis on. Her jet black hair was sculpted into its usual bob, her lipstick was letterbox-red, her blue eyes wore an expression that was half pity, half amusement. She was wearing her police uniform, her crisply pressed white shirt open to show a hint of cleavage, the Inspector's pips on her epaulettes gleaming in the light from the open window behind her.

'No problems, Gemma,' I said, giving her my brightest smile as I sat down in the visitor's chair. Lower than hers, of course, and less comfortable. Gemma was anything but subtle. I put my briefcase down on the desk and leaned back and crossed my hands behind my head.

Gemma pursed her lips.

'You're looking very cheerful, Jack. Surprisingly so, under the circumstances.'

I shrugged and kept smiling.

'I guess I'm enjoying life at the moment.'

Gemma made a big deal of looking through the pile of papers in front of her.

'I'm afraid you may not enjoy what I'm going to say to you,' she said. 'Though, under the circumstances, I don't see how it can come as any surprise.' She clasped her hands together on the desk in front of her and leaned forwards. The glimpse of extra cleavage she gave me was no accident.

I did her the favour of looking, and her lips twitched slightly. She glanced deliberately at my crotch. Nothing would turn her on more than giving me an erection at the same time she was breaking my balls.

'Let's give it a try, shall we?' I said. 'You say what you've got to say, and I'll see if I'm surprised.'

'I'd advise you to take this seriously, Jack. This is your career we're talking about. You do realise that?'

I pretended to look puzzled.

'What, you mean you're not going to give me a high grade? I was hoping for "Exceptional".'

Gemma stared at me.

'You can't be serious?'

I leaned forwards and tapped my briefcase.

'I think once you see some of the documentary evidence I've brought with me, you'll have no choice but to agree.'

For a second, Gemma's eyes darkened with confusion. Then she leaned back, hear hands on the arms of her chair, and looked me in the face, and launched into a five-minute litany of my failings -- overspent budgets, unmet performance indicators, staffing problems, pretty much everything she could think of. 'Please believe me, Jack,' she said, in conclusion. 'It gives me no pleasure to have to tell you this.' But the silky tone of her voice suggested quite the opposite.

'You left out a couple of my mistakes,' I said. 'How I'm responsible for global warming, and how I haven't yet found a cure for cancer.'

'This isn't a joking matter, Jack.' She pursed her lips. 'I'm afraid I'm going to have to give you a grade of '"Insufficient". This will, of course, have an impact on your pay award. I'll also be instituting a performance management plan -- if you fail, over the next 3 months, to reach the required standard then you will be dismissed.'

She watched my face, eager to drink in my reaction. Maybe she expected anger, or fear; tears, even. Maybe she expected me to beg. What she didn't expect was for me to nod calmly a couple of times and smile.

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

'Jack, do you understand your situation?'

'Completely,' I said. 'I wonder if you understand yours?'

I reached forwards and took out the CD from my briefcase and slid it across to her.

'Whatever it is, Jack, it's not going to change anything.'

'Humour me,' I said.

She sighed, and took the CD out of its case and slipped it into her computer.

'There's only two files on there,' I said. 'Just double-click on the first one for the moment.'

Shaking her head, she did so. There was a pause for a moment or so, then a recording of the phone conversation in which Jane had illegally passed details from the Police National Computer to her sister. I had discounted playing the terrorism angle as Gemma was a whole lot less gullible than her sister.

Gemma's face went white.

'Where did you get this?'

'Does it matter?'

Gemma leaned back in her chair, the colour returning to her face as she steepled her hands in her lap. One thing you had to admire, she recovered quickly. 'I don't quite see the relevance,' she said.

'I think you do.'

She forced a thin smile.

'You think this is evidence of wrong-doing, Jack, is that it? You think you can use this to make me give you a good appraisal?'

'It sounds so ugly when you put it like that,' I said.

Gemma brushed a non-existent strand of hair out of her eyes.

'You're such a loser, Jack,' she said. 'You know that?' Her voice was laced with contempt.

'Maybe if you got to know me better,' I said.

'Like that's going to happen,' she said.

'We'll see,' I said. 'But for the moment, let's talk about my appraisal,' I said.

'I could explain that conversation away,' she said, confidence returning to her voice. 'I'd get a reprimand, maybe, but nothing more. But you, Jack -- blackmail's a pretty serious offence. You could go to jail.'

'Maybe you're right. Maybe you're not,' I said. 'If it'll make things any easier, take a look at the second file.'

Gemma rolled her eyes and shook her head and clicked a couple of times on her mouse. She watched three of four seconds of the video montage of Jane that I'd put together, then clicked it off and launched herself to her feet.

'You little shit!' she hissed. 'If you've hurt her!' She strode round the desk towards me. For a moment I thought she was going to physically attack me.

'You recognise her, then? You really should watch a bit more, though -- I mean, the spanking's quite sexy and everything, but the blow-job is a real triumph.'

'You fucker!' she said, again, glaring down at me. She reached into the inside pocket of her jacket and took out her mobile.

'Don't phone her!' I said.

'Fuck you!' said Gemma, pressing buttons on her phone.

'OK, I'll rephrase that. You phone her, and I leave this room right now, and, within one hour, little sister's tits and arse show is on the internet, mailed to everyone in the department, mailed to everyone you know. Mailed to your mother.'

Gemma stood rooted to the spot, the phone half-way to her ear. For the first time ever, at least as far as I was concerned, she'd lost her poise, her veneer of impregnability.

'And your mother's not too well, so I hear,' I added.

'You wouldn't do it!' hissed Gemma. 'You'd go to jail.'

'Maybe,' I said. 'And maybe Jane wouldn't kill herself or have a nervous breakdown. Maybe your mother wouldn't die of a broken heart.' I shrugged again. 'Depends if you want to play the odds.'

Gemma stared at me, then lowered the phone to her side and went back round the desk and sat down in her chair.

'I guess I'll be getting that "Exceptional" rating after all,' I said, very softly.

Gemma put the mobile down on the desk in front of her, spinning it slowly round and round with nervous fingers. Without looking at me she said:

'On condition that you give me all the copies of this, and give me your word not to broadcast it on the internet, or mail it to anyone, or use it in any way.'

I laughed.

'I'm not sure you're in a position to make conditions, Gemma.'

Gemma took a deep breath and thought for a moment.

'OK, Jack,' she said, flashing me the most friendly smile she could manage. 'Maybe I haven't been quite fair. Maybe you deserve an "Exceptional" rating after all.'

'Thank you,' I said. I took my completed appraisal form out of the folder and slid it over to her for her to grade and sign. After a moment's hesitation, she did so with an extravagant flourish of one of those fountain-pens that costs the same as a small family car.

Still wearing the forced smile, Gemma said: 'And now, if there's nothing else?'

'I'm afraid there is something else, Gemma.'

She went for calm, slightly world-weary.

'I've given you what you wanted,' she said.

'That's for me to decide, wouldn't you say?'

She hesitated, as if not wanting to ask the question:

'So what do you want?'

'I want to own you, Gemma.'

She stared in disgust, like I was something she'd scraped of the heel of her shoe.

'You don't own me, Jack. You'll never own me.'

'Stand up,' I said. 'And come round this side of the desk.'

She hesitated, then got to her feet and walked slowly round the desk and stopped in front of me. Her black-trousers had creases as sharp as knife-blades, and her flat, black shoes somehow managed to look functional and elegant at the same time.

'You want to fuck me, is that it, Jack?'

I shrugged.

'Are you making me an offer?'

She studied me through narrow eyes.

'Is this the only way you can get sex, Jack? By using blackmail? Because if that's the case, I pity you, I really do.'

'One of the ways,' I said. 'Not the only way. I mean, there's rohypnol, and chloroform. Or there's even paying for it.' I stared back up at her from my seat, noting how the material of her trousers clung to her thighs, how her heavy breasts thrust against her blouse. 'But blackmail's my favourite, I think.'

I stood up. We were face to face, barely a foot or so of space between us. I expected her to back away, keep her distance. But Gemma wasn't her sister. She looked me right in the eye, and what was showing in her face wasn't fear, it was anger.

'Take your trousers down,' I said.

Gemma actually laughed. A short, harsh bark of a sound, but a laugh none the less.

'You are kidding,' she said, her hands on her hips, her face hard and cold.

'Let me be more specific. Take your trousers down, or I'll do that thing I said before about e-mailing those pictures of your dear little sister to everyone I can think of.'

Gemma just looked at me. I could see her mind whirring behind her cool blue eyes.

'I'll give you the grade you want in your appraisal,' she said. 'And I could probably run to a couple of grand in cash. But that's all you're getting. Take it, Jack. You don't want me as an enemy, believe me.'

I gestured towards her belt.

'In your own time, Gemma,' I said. 'I'll help you, if you want.'

When she didn't move, I nodded.

'I thought you'd be a harder nut to crack than your sister,' I said. I turned, and clicked my briefcase shut and picked it up and walked to the door.

'You've made the right decision, Jack,' said Gemma.

My hand on the door-handle, I turned back to face her. Columbo would have been proud. I nodded.

'Which of your mum's e-mail accounts should I use? Her Hotmail, or AOL?'

Gemma kept her face blank. She wasn't someone you'd want to play poker with.

'I thought we had a deal, Jack.'

I nodded.

'We do,' I said. 'And it involves you doing what I tell you to do.'

Anger flashed in Gemma's eyes.

'You're bluffing, Jack.'

'About your mother,' I said. 'Office gossip says she's suffering from severe depression. Terrible thing, depression -- I know, believe me. Not sure it's going to be helped by seeing her younger daughter starring in her own porn movie, but who knows?' I nodded towards Gemma's computer. 'You can keep the disk -- I've got plenty of copies.'

My hand moved on the door-handle. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. The door opening towards me, my shoes moving over the faded beige carpet.

'Wait!' said Gemma.

I turned back to her, and time went back to normal.

'Five thousand pounds,' she said. 'I'll give you the grade you want, and five thousand pounds.'

'All I want is for you to do what I tell you,' I said. The door was still ajar, my hand still on the handle.

'Don't do this, Jack,' said Gemma. 'You do this, and I'll make it my life's work to get even. I can hold a grudge, Jack, believe me, and you don't want to be on the receiving end.'

'Trousers down, Gemma,' I said. 'Last time I'm going to ask.'

Gemma stared at me for a moment, contempt radiating from every pore in her body.

'Close the door,' she said.

'Ask nicely.'

'Please close the door.'

I pushed the door shut.

Gemma took a deep breath, then slowly unfastened her wide, black leather belt. She hesitated, her fingers toying with her trouser button.

'Don't do this, Jack,' she said. 'Don't make the biggest mistake of your life.'

I walked over towards her and moved the visitor's chair until it was lined up with her. Then I sat down, my case at my side. She was near enough to touch. I sat there for some moments, saying nothing, watching her as she shifted her position slightly, moving her weight from one foot to the other.

'In your own time, Gemma,' I said.

Her eyes locked unflinchingly on mine, she unbuttoned her trousers and, stooping forward slightly, pulled them down to her knees. She straightened up and stared me right in the eye. She wasn't blushing, or shaking, or doing any of the hundred other things her sister had done. Not yet, anyway.

She was wearing a pair of low-rise bikini briefs. Pale blue satin edged with white lace. I guess she got off on that whole 'business-like on the outside, sexy underneath' kind of thing. It certainly worked for me.

'Very nice panties,' I said. 'Let's see how they look round your knees.'

Just for a second, her composure wobbled. Then, her face devoid of expression, she dipped slightly and slid her panties down to her knees.

I smiled and leaned back in my chair. Tilting my head to one side I studied her neatly trimmed bush for some while.

When I shifted my gaze to her face, her eyes once again met mine.

'If this is your idea of psychological warfare,' she said, her voice unwavering, 'it's not working.'

'Turn round,' I said. 'And bend over your desk.'

She shook her head slightly, then, slightly hampered by the fact that her trousers and panties were round her knees, she shuffled round and leaned forwards until her upper body was bent forwards ninety degrees, her elbows resting on the polished pine of her desk

'Spread your legs as wide as you can,' I said.

She hesitated for a moment, then moved her legs further apart until the material round her knees would allow her to go no further. I moved my chair forwards slightly, I had a perfect view of buttocks and pussy, and she had to know it.

'Reach back, Gemma,' I said. 'One hand on each buttock'

Her hands moved slowly back and came to rest, fingers splayed, on the beautiful cheeks of her arse. Her long, perfectly manicured finger-nails gleamed with pale pink varnish.

She had to know what I was going to ask her to do, but I made her wait.

'How am I doing now, Gemma? On the psychological warfare front?'

She turned her head to look back at me, and her hair fell across her face in a gleaming veil.

'Just do what you're going to do,' she said.

'Actually,' I said. 'It's more a case of what you're going to do. And right now, you're going to spread your arse for me. And you're going to keep looking back at me while you do it.'

I stared at Gemma's long fingers, watching as they tightened slightly over the skin of her buttocks. She hesitated for what seemed like a long time, then, still looking back at me over her shoulder, she slowly pulled her buttocks apart.

I stared into the cleft between her buttocks, at the puckered pink bud of her anus. Then I got up, moved up close behind her. I felt her flinch for a moment before I bent forward and, reaching, swept her hair out of her face. Our eyes locked and, for the first time, she flushed.

I smiled, then stepped back a pace and slipped a finger suddenly into her pussy. Her body spasmed for a second, then grew still. I slid my finger in and out of her a few times, then slipped in a second finger, sawing gently back and forth over the hot, damp heart of her.

'Eyes on mine, Gemma,' I said. 'Keep those buttocks apart.'

She was trying to stop her body reacting, trying to deny me the satisfaction of making her come, against her will, on my prying fingers. But her flesh betrayed her, and she started moving slightly at my touch. I kept working my fingers in and out of her, varying the rhythm, the depth, the pressure. Her finger-nails dug into the flesh of her buttocks, her whole body was rocking back and forth, and all the while her cold blue eyes were locked on mine, until she finally gave a half-stifled groan and fell still.

I walked round the side of the desk and patted her gently on her head, like you would a child, then went over to stand by the window and look out. Not much of a view. A packed car park, and beyond that a building sites where blocks of ugly flats grew higher with each day.

Behind me, I heard her stand up.

'Before you get dressed again,' I said. 'Look in my case. There's an article of clothing I'd like you to put on.'

I turned back to face her and watched her go to my open brief-case. She hesitated for a moment, then took out an article of highly polished leather.

'What is it?' Her face was flushed, her upper leap moist with sweat. She was breathing heavily. Her hair had got that bed-head look. It suited her.

'An early Christmas present,' I said. 'Leather panties.'

She examined the gift, then looked up at me.

'With some kind of built-in dildo,' she said, her lips curling in distaste.

'You're wasted in uniform,' I said. 'You should be a detective.'

She stood there, the leather panties clutched tightly by her side.

'You've had your fun, Jack,' she said. 'You've taught me a lesson, seen my arse, fingered me. Leave it there.'

'Put them on, Gemma,' I said. 'You know you will in the end, so why prolong the agony?' She hesitated for a moment, wiped her face with the back of her free hand, then reached down and removed her trousers and panties. Hesitating for a moment, she pulled the leather panties on. When they were half way up her thighs she paused.

'They're too tight,' she said.

I shook my head and moved towards her.

'They're meant to be tight,' I said. 'I'll help you.'

Gemma shook her head.

'I'll manage.'

She took a firm grip of each side of the panties and edged them upwards. When it got to the stage where she had to steer the dildo up inside her she paused and looked at me, as if hoping against hope that I wouldn't make her go through with it. I said nothing, so, adjusting her position slightly she gave one last tug. She gave a grunt as the panties -- and the dildo -- slid onto place.

I moved towards her, holding up thin metal belt with a built-in lock. She let me thread it through tiny loops round the top of the panties and turn the lock with a tiny silver key which I replaced in my pocket.

'What if I need to go to the toilet?'

'The meeting's only an hour,' I said. 'You'll just have to hold on.'

Her eyes widened as she remembered the meeting with the Superintendent and a group of local councillors.

'I'll be coming along,' I said.

Gemma started to protest, then thought better of it. Reaching down she pulled on her trousers and did up her belt. Every now and then she'd bite her lip, or stifle a groan.

'Looks like your new present's pretty well designed,' I said. 'Apart from the dildo there's some ribbing, or nodules or something, can't quite remember what. Stimulates the clitoris, so it said on the box.'

Gemma stared at me with hate-filled eyes, then did up the buttons on her blouse and pulled on her tunic. Taking a mirror from her bulky, black handbag she touched up her make-up and rearranged her hair.

'Ready?' I said. 'Then let's go and meet the local community.' Gemma and I left her office and walked towards the lift. She was walking gingerly, as if she had injured her foot. By the time we reached the Superintendent's office, she was red in the face and breathing heavily.