Priceless (standard:mystery, 2398 words)
Author: Hulsey	Added: Jul 20 2002	Views/Reads: 4723/2864	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Gemma a fifteen year-old schoolgirl goes to desperate measures to get attention from her teacher unaware of the tragic consequences that lay ahead.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

the riding are you?” 

Y...y...yes, Mr Wagstaffe.” 

“Good... Is there something wrong, Gemma?” 

She blushed and fought for the words that she knew would never be
delivered to the object of her infatuation. “No, Mr Wagstaffe.” 

“Well run along child. Breakfast is almost ready.” 

“I'm not a child!” 

The teacher frowned and he peered down at the girl. “Of course you're
not, Gemma. It was just a figure of speech. Are you sure there's 
nothing wrong?” 

She shook her head, turned and ran towards the campfire. She tucked into
her breakfast of eggs and bacon and watched with lustful eyes, when Mr 
Wagstaffe approached, looking pristine in his white shirt and jeans. He 
ignored her and headed for Miss Sayer, a pretty, petite teacher with 
short, dark hair, who was standing besides a tree, and smoking a 
cigarette. Wagstaffe whispered something in her ear, and she punched 
his arm playfully, much to the annoyance of the watching Gemma. 

“Do you think he's shagging her?” 

Gemma turned her head abruptly to see who had made the offending remark.


“No! He most certainly is not. Mr Wagstaffe's not like that, Mandy.” 

“Hmm, he's quite dishy in a certain kind of way. I wouldn't say no to
getting my tonsils tickled by him... I wonder why he isn‘t married?” 

“Mr Wagstaffe's waiting for the right girl to come along,” said a
starry-eyed Gemma. 

“He's all over her, look. He's definitely giving snotty Sayer one.” 

“You know nothing you, Mandy Tyler.” Gemma sprang to her feet and walked
away from the rebellious girl, her hormones in turmoil. 

Gemma was lost in a dream when she felt the refreshing breeze, caress
her sun-baked face. She had disobeyed the orders of the riding 
instructor, and urged on her mount, as it galloped across the lush, 
green meadow. The feel of the magnificent beast beneath her and the 
odour it generated, pleased her greatly. She leant over and tweaked its 
ear, resting her head against the soft, black mane. 

Only the rumble of the hooves interrupted the quiet, serene ambience of
the gentle countryside, with its undulating hills. The pleas from 
behind went ignored, as she kicked her mounts quarters, generating 
every ounce of strength out of the stallion. The perimeter fence 
approached rapidly and Gemma prepared to hurdle the barrier, but the 
horse had other ideas. It dug its hooves into the turf and Gemma was 
catapulted across the fence, landing forcefully, face down. 

Gemma lifted her head and a blurred face appeared before her. 

“Gemma, are you all right?” 

She smiled when she recognised the voice. “Mr Wagstaffe, you do care.” 

“Of course, I bloody care. Whatever were you thinking of, galloping off
like that? You could have been killed.” 

“Do you like me, Mr Wagstaffe?” 

“Yes, of course I do. You're a fine pupil.” 

“No, I mean, like me in a...You know, sexual way?” 

“Good god, girl. You've taken quite a fall and don't know what you're
saying. I'll get you to a hospital.” 

“No! I'm fine.” 

The sound of several hooves interrupted them, and Gemma looked towards
the approaching riders. She held the hands of her teacher and pulled 
them towards her breasts, holding them there as she closed her eyes. 
Wagstaffe tried to release the girl's grip, but she was determined, and 
pulled on his hands powerfully. She opened one eye, to see Miss Sayer 
sitting astride her mount, a look of shock adorning her smug face. 
Mandy, Kirsty and Lorna covered their mouths, attempting to stifle 
their giggles; a mixture of surprise and incredibility astonishing each 
of them. 

Wagstaffe managed to wrestle his hands free and was now standing, his
face reddened and his breathing rapid. He faced his colleague and words 
were not needed. 

“It's not what you think, Susan. The girl's delirious.” 

Mrs Sayer pulled on her reins and turned her steed back towards the
green meadow, a look of rejection and disgust on her face. She gave her 
horse a slap and they cantered back towards the campsite. 

Wagstaffe angrily addressed his pupils. “What are you three looking at?
Give me a hand here.” 

Gemma was not seriously injured and was released from hospital that same
day. The atmosphere amongst the school party was one of rumours, and 
Gemma bathed in the notoriety that had presented itself. Several of the 
girls, and even some boys, had quizzed her on her relationship with Mr 
Wagstaffe. Her reply was always the same. We were an item, but we're 
cooling it.” 

The teacher had withdrawn from any liaison with Gemma, and loud
arguments between him and Miss Sayer were now commonplace and a source 
of amusement. 

That evening, as Gemma made her way to the shower room with her head
held high, she sensed someone approaching from behind. She swivelled on 
her heels and faced the irate looking teacher. 

“Gemma! Whatever has come over you? You must tell the others that
there's nothing going on between us.” 

She shrugged him aside and continued her progress into the shower room.
A strong hand grasped her arm. 

“Listen, you little brat! Don't you realise what you're doing? My career
is on the line here, not to mention my reputation.” 

“Then why did you do it, David? If you want to end our affair, then so
be it; that's your decision.” 

“What fucking affair? You little minx you. Why are you doing this?” 

She proceeded to undress, and he shook her by the shoulders. “You evil
bitch. I've done nothing to warrant this.” 

“No, David, I'm too young for you.” 

“What?” 

He followed Gemma's line of sight, to see Susan Sayer standing tearful,
her head shaking from side to side.” 

“No, Susan, come back,” pleaded Wagstaffe. 

“Leave me alone, you pervert. I'm reporting you, just as soon as we
arrive back in England. If I see you talking to this poor girl again, 
then I'll contact the French authorities immediately.” 

“But...” 

Gemma followed Mrs Sayer out of the shower room, looking back at the
broken man with mixed feelings. 

The tears rolled down Gemma's cheeks when she cycled to the local
village. She had been nominated to call at the bakers for the daily 
supply of bread. It was a fine, sunny morning, and Gemma should have 
relished such a wonderful holiday, but her heart was heavy. Yes, her 
popularity had prospered, and she was the talk of the camp, after her 
assumed affair with Mr Wagstaffe had reached all, but she was in 
conflict with her emotions. 

She had not slept that morning, and had made up her mind to reveal the
truth. No longer could she watch the demise of this fine teacher, who 
had only showered her with kindness. She would reveal herself as a 
charlatan, just as soon as she returned to the campsite. Her thoughts 
for her own welfare had long since diminished; besides, she only had a 
few more months before she left school. 

She cycled through the village square, smiling at the locals who waved
at her from the benches. Her bicycle, she parked outside the bakers, 
and entered, inhaling the aroma of freshly made bread. The portly baker 
who had a few strands of hair combed across his head, grinned at her 
unnaturally. His yellow teeth repulsed her, but like the polite girl 
she was, she approached with a smile. 

“Do you speak English?” 

“Why of course. What can I do for you, little girl?” 

Her smile turned to a grimace when the annoying words reached her ears.
“I'm almost sixteen.” 

“With a queue of boyfriends, I bet eh?” He winked at her. 

“As a matter of fact, I have one. His name's David.” 

“So what can I do for you, Madam?” 

“I would like six loaves of bread please.” 

“You're from the campsite aren't you?” 

“Yes... The bread please.” 

“But of course. You've distracted me with your beauty.” 

She blushed and handed over the money. His grubby hands purposefully
touched hers, and he leered at her, the spittle hanging from his thick 
lips. Gemma was glad to leave the bakers, and made a mental note not to 
visit the village again. 

She cycled past the woods, the whistling birds and the bounding rabbit
making her feel good. After her confession, a great burden would be 
lifted from her tiny shoulders. 

The sound of an approaching vehicle forced her to hug the inside of the
narrow road. The vehicle slowed down, and she tried to look over her 
shoulder, motioning for it to pass. 

The green van pulled up alongside, her and kept pace with the motion of
her bicycle. She peered through the window, to see the hideous, smiling 
face of the baker. The van veered violently into her, forcing her from 
the road. She crashed to the ground, rolling down the grassy bank 
towards the woods. 

Her attempted recovery was met with a cold feeling between her legs. The
drooling baker was groping her, and she tried to roll over, but he was 
on her instantly, pinning her to the ground. Gemma had difficulty 
breathing, as she looked up at her attacker, his manic stare and 
drooling lips surely a faction of her imagination. She would wake up at 
any time now. 

She turned her head away, trying not to inhale the fumes from his garlic
breath. He reached down towards his zip and she struggled fiercely, 
trying in vain to dislodge the baker. He punched her powerfully in the 
face and she lay dazed, feeling the warm trickle of urine running down 
her legs. Again, he punched her, and she tasted the salty blood, 
merging with her dislodged teeth. 

Gemma felt herself being dragged towards the woods, helpless against the
much stronger man. She pleaded in vain, her words muffled by the blood 
and teeth. The hands around her throat were surprisingly cold; the 
sounds of the birds abating, as she felt her windpipe being crushed. 
She kicked her legs, but this only made her attacker more determined. 
He watched the tongue of Gemma, protruding from her young mouth, her 
frightened eyes bulging out of their sockets. Then there was blackness. 


Three days after Gemma had gone missing; the police turned up at the
campsite. Wagstaffe observed from the shadow of his tent, Susan Sayer 
breaking down in tears. The conversation between the detectives and the 
teacher was intense, and he watched, when Susan's finger pointed him 
out. The policemen looked sternly towards him, before approaching. 

The watching schoolgirls huddled together, sensing something was not
right, as Mr Wagstaffe was led away. Miss Sayer shuffled towards them 
and gave them the bad news. The distraught girls wept and consoled each 
other. 

Gemma had died, ravaged by an evil man, who had indeed bestowed on her
the so-called wonderful and priceless act that Mandy had mentioned. 

David Wagstaffe would see out the rest of his days in a French prison;
his crime, kindness and trust. Gemma's confession was never to be 
heard. 


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