Farewell To The Dancing Man Ch 25 29

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

Cynthia's Story

Dinner turned out to be a pleasant but uneventful occasion, the talk centred on what each of us had done during the day. Rebecca's of course was heavily censored, but Peter's account of his day had both children interested and for the first time in I don't know how long I felt that we were close as a family.

After dinner we sat around continuing the conversation without the benefit of the TV blaring in the background. Peter and I went to bed not long after the children. "Darling." I said softly to him as he lay beside me caressing my body. "Before you get too carried away, I have a confession to make."

"Can't it wait?" There was a note of urgency in his voice.

"No. Now stop that." I slapped his hand, not too hard mind you, as it crept between my legs. "I have a confession to make."

Somewhere from my hair came a muffled voice. "I suppose that you're going to tell me that you've been having an affair with that policeman."

I recoiled in shock. "How did you know?" How did he know?

"I didn't know for sure, but I had my suspicions. Now that you've confirmed my suspicions, I guess I'll have to tell you that I'm not overjoyed with the news, but in fairness to you I asked for it, I haven't been much of a husband to you for some time. I might be disappointed, and a touch jealous, but I can't really blame you. I must say that you having decided that our marriage was worth fighting for and making the effort to get it through my thick skull was the best thing that could have happened to me. Now I'm going to concentrate on being the best husband in the world so that you won't be tempted to jump into bed with the first muscle bound hulk that comes along." His hand resumed its exploration. "Now where was I?"

"As far as affairs go it was something of a disappointment to me so I've ended it, it brought back memories of my first love affair both of the men were athletic, passably handsome but totally self obsessed." I would have kissed him but his mouth was otherwise occupied so I opened my legs and enjoyed the best loving yet.

We lay in each other's arms in the afterglow of our very satisfactory love making. "Darling."

"What is it this time, another confession?" He sounded tired, understandably.

"It's Rebecca, she's got a problem and needs our guidance."

"What is it, school?" He was awake now.

"Yes and no. It's her friend Samantha, it seems that they have been experimenting with sex."

"You don't mean to tell me that she's pregnant."

"No, it's nothing like that. They've been doing it with each other, Rebecca and Samantha, but that's not the worst part."

"It gets worse?"

"Yes, well almost. It seems as though Samantha's mother has a set up at their house that enables her to have film and photographs taken of what people are doing in the next room without them knowing. She put a proposition to Rebecca and Samantha that they should indulge in girl to girl sex for the camera."

"Bloody hell! I hope Rebecca didn't go along with this scheme?"

"No, she came straight home and told me after she found out about it. What do we do now?"

"My first reaction is to go to the police, but by the time that they get around to investigating she will probably have had the evidence removed. I could always go to see her and confront her and order her to leave Rebecca alone and not involve her in this filth."

"Would you? That would probably be the best solution. If she is aware that Rebecca has told us what happened and she understands that there are secrets between us she will probably stop."

The next morning, while I made breakfast, Peter rang Samantha's mother to arrange to have a talk with her on his way to work. We told Rebecca what we planned to do and gave her our reassurances the we understood what she had been going through.

I held Peter at the door as he was leaving. "Be careful. I hear she eats men up and spits them out when she's finished with them."

"Don't worry about me, I can handle her." He bent and gave me a kiss that told me that he was very much my love again.

A few minutes after he'd left there was a knock on the door. I opened it to find Brownlow standing there. "What do you want?"

"Can I come in?"

I stood back to make way for him but as he moved past me his hand grabbed me around the waist and he tried to pull me close. "Stop that! Now!"

"Why?" His hand only slightly relaxed its grip.

"Because I don't want you to touch me anymore and if you continue to do so I will contact your superiors."

"What I do in my own time is of no concern to them."

"Your own time?"

"Yes. Officially I'm on leave."

"Does this mean that you are no longer investigating this case?"

"Officially, yes."

"Then get out of my house, you've no right being here!"

"I'll go, but I want you to think about something. I know that the body is that of Paul Thomas. I have proof of that. The Department wouldn't give me the time that I need to confirm the cause of death so I've taken some leave that was owing to me so that I can continue the investigation."

"What has that to do with me? Why are you persecuting me?"

"I don't like being rejected."

"Oh, so that's what this is all about. If I was to continue to allow you to have sex with me you wouldn't bother me?"

"Well."

"I bet that I'm the first woman to break off a relationship with you?"

"Yes, you are the first. In my previous affairs it has been me that has broken it off."

"So because I've had the hide to call it off, you're going to harass me?"

"If you put it that way, yes."

"And if I were to allow you to continue this affair you'll stop?"

"Maybe."

"You're not making any guarantees then. I suppose you're planning that when you get tired of me you'll discard me like all of the others?"

"If it happens that way, most likely."

"How dare you come in here and put forward this preposterous scheme that in return for my continuing to allow you to have sex with me, I wouldn't honour this by calling it 'make love', and to risk my marriage and my family you will stop harassing me. You have the gall to sit there and think that, under those circumstances I would actually get some pleasure from that? I'll tell you right now that the very thought of you touching my body makes me flesh creep. Now do you really want to make love to me?" I shouted the question at him, my face no more than six inches from his.

"Well." He was at a loss for words, this was a new experience for him.

"Go to hell! If I so much as see you hanging around here I'll take out a restraining order to prevent you making contact with me or any member of my family. I'm not afraid of you or anything that you can do to me. I've told Peter everything that happened between us and he has given me his total support. Now get out! I held the door for him and, as he turned to say something I pushed it closed as hard as I could with my foot. The cry of pain from the other side told me that he hadn't quite managed to get out of the way before being hit. I watched through the front window as, handkerchief covering his bleeding nose, he walked to his car.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

Peter's Story.

I arrived at Samantha's house shortly after she had left for school. I was deep in thought as I walked up the path to the front door, what would I say? The door opened and I was confronted by an apparition. She was about my age, but who can tell these days, blonde, probably not natural but again, who can tell, wearing a filmy housecoat, if you could call it that, over a filmy nightdress, if you could call it that, that left nothing to the imagination. I swallowed hard. "I'm Peter Swain, Rebecca's father and I think that we have something that we need to discuss."

"Come in won't you." The voice was husky, she stood back, but not far enough so that as I walked into the room I was forced to brush past her. "Have a seat." She indicated a two seater lounge. I chose a chair. "Now how may I help you?"

"I don't really know how to put this, I've been rehearsing it on the way over and it isn't an easy topic to discuss, so here goes. I am led to believe that Rebecca and Samantha have been indulging in what can only be described as sexual activities."

"So what?"

"You don't find this disturbing?"

"Should I?" She was seated opposite me and as we spoke she drew her legs up under her, causing her housecoat to fall open leaving a clear line of sight, which, combined with the short nightdress, had the effect of revealing vast quantities of her to me. If she had anything on under the nightdress it wasn't obvious whereas my agitation was. She smiled at my discomfort. "Look Mr Swain, may I call you Peter? You must call me Rhonda, I find nothing to do with sex or lovemaking disturbing."

"But it isn't natural."

"Who is to say what is natural and what isn't? Are you being dictated to by some elderly celibate in Rome? Are you being dictated to by what some wowser in parliament says should or should not happen between to people? Let me tell you right here and now, some of those who protest the loudest have the strangest perversions."

"But what they are doing is wrong."

"What you mean is that it doesn't fit into your idea of what is right. Is it because it is not heterosexual, or do you have some other hang-up?"

"Partly. They are too young to know their own minds, and in the eyes of the law any homosexual act is illegal."

"Did you ever masturbate before you reached the age of consent?"

"What does that have to do with this?"

"In some circles masturbation is condemned as an indecent act, and it is a form of sexual activity."

"But that's completely different."

"In what way? By the way, would you like something to drink?"

"It doesn't involve another person. I'll have a cup of coffee thank you."

"That's not what I had in mind."

"I know, but it's much too early to be drinking anything stronger."

"Rubbish! That's your conservative upbringing talking, let yourself go for a change, it's never too early or too late for a drink, or sex."

"I can see that we'll have to agree to disagree on our attitudes to this subject."

"I don't know why?" She asked over her shoulder as she wafted off to make some coffee. When she returned she had changed, a little. She was carrying a tray on which were two cups of coffee and a plate of small caked. She had taken off her housecoat and was wearing only her short nightdress. She had large breasts that swayed as she walked, her nipples clearly visible through the sheer material. The tray was held in such a way as to obscure her from the groin to the waist but, as he put it down on the coffee table, I could see that she was now wearing no panties. She was not a real blonde.

She leaned forward to pass me the cup, allowing the neckline of her nightdress to droop open, allowing me to see most of her breasts. "Do help yourself, to cake that is." There was an even huskier sensuality to her voice and the distraction was causing me a great deal of trouble focussing on what I'd come here for.

"No thank you. I really can't stay, thank you all the same." I got up to leave.

"Don't rush off just yet, we have so much more to discuss." She stood in front of me. I tried to step around her but she stood her ground and refused to let me pass.

I reached out to move her aside, "If you don't mind, I would like to leave."

"Oh but I do mind. I'm feeling most offended by your coming here to inflict your puritanical views on me and now you're wanting to leave." Her arms moved towards me and I tried to duck under them. As it turned out this was not a good move on my part. She was quick, and before I could get out of the way I found myself on the floor being pinned down by her body and being examined by her hands. Her mouth moved swiftly to smother any attempt at protest. She'd straddled me with her legs and was rocking back and forth as if she was riding a horse. "Come on, admit it, admit that you want me, admit that you find me attractive and haven't been able to take your eyes off me since you arrived. Come on lover, come on, come on." Her rhythmic chant matched her movements and I was being betrayed by my penis.

It was time for action. I heaved her off me and stood up. The look that she gave me was a mixture of surprise and hatred, I don't think that she was used to being defied.

"Thank you very much for your hospitality." I said with what I hoped was a degree of politeness and finality.

She scrambled to her feet. "Before you go I have something to show you." She left the room to return a few seconds later with a photo album. She held it open for me to look at. I was shocked at being confronted by photos of Rebecca and Samantha in what could only be called compromising positions. I had to admit to myself that they were well done and of good quality, but the emotion of seeing my own daughter removed any feelings of voyeurism.

"What are you planning to do with these?"t depends on you. If you do as I say I will destroy them, if you don't, there are several underground publications that will be only too happy to use them. It's up to you."

"Can I get back to you on this? I'll need to discuss with my wife and Rebecca."

"What's the matter Lover, can't think for yourself?" She taunted me.

"If it was just myself I had to think about, yes. But there are other people involved in this and I need to talk to them about it."

"Do you want me to come with you, I'm sure that I can talk your wife into my way of thinking."

"No! You keep right away from Cynthia and Rebecca. If I hear of you talking to them I will take my own action."

"That sounds very much like a threat."

"You can take however you like. The fact remains that there are certain actions that I have at my disposal that will make life very uncomfortable for you."

"If you have any thoughts about going to my husband I would suggest that you look a little further into the album."

I flicked through pages of couples coupling, women and men, men and men, two men and one woman, women and women until I came upon a series of photos of two women and one man. Samantha and her mother were featured in several photographs in several positions with a man. "I suppose this is your husband?"

"Of course, we are a close family."

"But this is illegal, it's, it's incest."

"Don't tell me that you've never had sexual thoughts about Rebecca?"

"No!" That wasn't entirely correct, I had seen her in her bikini and wondered what she would look like without it, but had banished the thought from my mind just as quickly as it had entered it.

"Actually, technically it's not incest because my husband is not Samantha's father although he doesn't know that. I'm taking a risk showing you these photos, but you will never be able to use them because I can destroy the only copies of these if you go to the police. It would be a pity to have to do that though, they are great photos."

"What about the negatives?"

"Ah the negatives. They are well out of your reach."

"This is blackmail."

"Of course. Now run along and talk it over with your little wifey and let me know what you decide."

I would have liked to have had the final word but I couldn't think of anything appropriate, so I left. I was deeply disturbed what I'd seen and her attitude to the whole affair, I felt that relationships meant little to her and that sex and her sexuality were merely tools to be used to achieve her goals, whatever they were.

I also felt pity for Samantha, she was being brought up in an atmosphere where so little value was put on friendships and relationships that she would find it difficult to make a commitment to any one person. In a may I was pleased that Rebecca was Samantha's friend because through her she could see the other side of the story. But then I was uneasy about the relationship between the two of them, it could go either way. It was up to Cynthia and I to continue to reinforce our values and support Rebecca on what she's going through. I also felt guilty, I blamed myself for not being available to guide her through the difficult transition from childhood to womanhood. I rationalised that there was probably little that I could have done under the circumstances but that didn't soften the guilt.

Deciding what to do next took up the remainder of the drive into the city. I couldn't remember much of the trip, I hoped that I paid the bridge toll, I can't remember doing it, or being shouted at by the toll collector, but I wasn't paying much attention to what was going on around me. What would Cynthia and Rebecca say? Had I let them down? Had I failed in my role as a father in this situation?

By the time I reached the office I was starting to put together a plan to counter someone so totally amoral, so immoral, so lacking in the basic human decencies. She had left me with the feeling that she would not hesitate to use any means at her disposal to not only prevent me going to the police, but that she would press Rebecca into complying with her demands to pose for more of those photos and, presumably, films.

I rang Cynthia from the office to tell her about my unsuccessful meeting. "She has this album of some of the most depraved photographs I have ever seen. They include pictures of Rebecca and Samantha in some compromising positions. She has threatened to have them published if we make trouble for her."

"Can't we stop her?"

"Not without creating a lot of publicity for Rebecca that could affect her for the rest of her life. I feel, for the moment at least, that we should let things stand as they are until we have had time to collect our thoughts. I know that if I was to try to act now I would do something that all of us would regret for the rest of our lives."

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

Brownlow's Story.

My day had begun badly. Cynthia's reaction to my ultimatum wasn't what I'd expected and my nose didn't stop bleeding for some time. She's going to pay for that let me tell you.

I had the idea of tracing Thomas' business associates in the hope of finding out why none of them had reported him missing. I had thought the police archives a tedious place to search, but it had nothing on the Companies Office. For a start I didn't know the name of his business so I had to look through the list of motor dealerships before I found it. To confuse matters further, the two people listed as Directors of the company at the time in question were him and his wife. If I had to go and talk to her again I'd probably end up blowing my brains out, or hers.

I took a punt and looked at the records of seven years after he had disappeared to see what had happened after he had been declared dead I found that up until that time Paul Thomas was still listed as a Director. Shortly after he was declared dead the business was sold. The amount for which it changed hands led me to believe that there was something not entirely right about the transaction. This was confirmed when I found that the person to whom it was sold was an employee of the company. The business still operated from the same location so I decided to pay it a visit.

Car dealers are notoriously reticent about discussing their business de4alings with the police. Nigel Thornton was no exception. "You bought this business from the estate of one Paul Lester Thomas for what could only be described as a pittance. Did you happen to work with him prior to that time?"

"Why are you asking these questions, there was nothing illegal about that transaction."

"Did I say there was? The reason that I'm interested is that we have located the body of Paul Thomas and there are some unanswered questions surrounding his death."

"Oh." He was visibly relieved. "So, in what way can I help you. It's been at least twenty years you know."

"Why didn't you report him missing? I've gone back through the missing persons files and he has never been declared a missing person."