People are arriving at the Ashmore Lodge Hotel for a weekend of transgender fun. A body is discovered. Jasmine Frame is asked to join the gathering, incognito, to seek out the killer. Time is short and she finds she has to face her own gender prejudices as well as a host of motives for murder.
The 3rd Jasmine Frame novel, The Brides’ Club Murder is now available on Amazon Kindle (if you’re in the UK go here). It’s a classic murder mystery with a transgender slant.
The paperback version will be available very soon (in the UK) at £9.99 (inc. p&p). Send your order to firstname.lastname@example.org . Details of payment methods will be made by reply (cheque, Paypal or bank transfer).
For 48 hours from 8 a.m. Sat. 4th March, the 2nd Jasmine Frame novel, Bodies By Design is for sale at under half price in the UK and US. (here for UK buyers)
Purchasers of the paperback version of The Brides’ Club Murder will receive a free copy of Painted Ladies, the 1st in the series. (or have £1 off if you say you do not need another copy).
Don’t forget that there are also two novellas available as e-books – Discovering Jasmine and Murder In Doubt.
And so on with the current Jasmine Frame story, Darkroom. We’ve reached episode 6. Warning – this passage contains violent scenes.
Darkroom: Part 6
‘Cry all you like,’ the voice said from behind her head. ‘You can’t be heard with all that row outside.’ With an extra shove into the sofa she was released from the weight. She shuffled her legs around until she could sit up with her arms bound behind her. The figure in the shadows holding the torch was returning from the door to the room. Jasmine guessed that she was now locked in with him. She trembled but made herself breathe slowly and deeply to calm her fear. The light approached again, the bearer lost in the darkness. The focus of the torch moved away from her eyes, travelling down her body. It passed up and down as if scanning her as his eyes no doubt were.
‘A pretty thing, aren’t you,’ he said in that same soft, confident voice. ‘Quite the fashion kitten too with that dress. But I bet underneath it all there’s a cock. After all, why else would you be here.’
The light came closer, dazzling her eyes again. A hand gleamed pinkly as it reached out towards her legs. He was wearing latex gloves. Jasmine tried to wriggle herself further back onto the sofa, squeezing her knees together. The hand landed on her right knee, gripping it, then pushing between her thighs. She resisted, clamping her muscles against the questing fingers.
‘Now darling, there’s no point resisting,’ he said. ‘You can make this easy for yourself or you can get hurt.’
She half relaxed, as if accepting his reasoning. She was thinking hard but unsure what to do. She wasn’t going to let him do to her what he did to Diana. The hand moved higher up her thigh. The torch was lowered to the floor and the right hand joined the left between her legs. Jasmine allowed herself a smile. Through the red spots in front of her eyes, she now could see the silhouette of the man bending over her, inching closer as his hands continued their exploration of her smooth thighs.
‘Oh, that’s a pity,’ he said in a voice that oozed disappointment. ‘Why aren’t you wearing stockings? Don’t all you trannies like sexy undies?’
Both hands progressed up the legs of her tights. Now he was astride her, leaning over her. She could feel his breath on her face and a smell of mint. The hands reached her groin.
‘All tucked away are we? You’re making life difficult. Oh well, if needs must.’
The hands withdrew from her private place and parted, moving over the top of her thighs. They slid around her hips reaching up for the waistband of her tights. Jasmine waited, holding her breath. His fingers slipped inside the stretched elastic. For a moment he was trapped. This was her moment.
She raised her left knee, fast. It made contact between his legs, encountering something soft. He let out a gasp and his head lowered. Pushing against her bound arms with all the force she could summon, Jasmine swung her head forward. Her forehead contacted his nose. She heard it crack, as he let out a cry and fell forward. She twisted to the side and they rolled together along the sofa, his hands still locked in her knickers; but she was on top now. In the dim light cast from the torch that lay on the floor, she saw his head below her. She arched her back and brought her forehead down on his nose again. This time there was a satisfying squishy noise of bone and tissue being mashed together. He grunted.
Jasmine brought her right knee up between them and forced herself away from him. His hands were dragged from her hips. She slipped onto the floor, rolled away and rose to her feet. She was panting and her forehead felt sore. He was struggling up from the sofa, one hand protecting his battered face, the other reaching out for her.
‘You’ve had it now.’ His voice was different now. Speaking nasally through the pain of his ruined nose, he was angry. He lurched to his feet.
Jasmine kicked the torch away. It spun around illuminating the floor and bottoms of the furniture. It was light enough to see her attacker staggering, zombie-like towards her. She took a step back out of his reach and launched a kick. The pointed toe of her shoe stabbed into his groin. As her foot withdrew, he groaned again and fell forward. She helped him down with a stamp to his back with her narrow heel. He hit the hard, rubber floor with his ruined face. Jasmine swung and launched a final kick at his head. There was a final groan and he lay still.
Jasmine stood still breathing heavily, looking down at him.
‘That’s for what you did to Diana,’ she muttered. She turned and walked towards the door. Turning her back she felt for the door handle with her tied-together hands. Below the knob was the key which he had not had the foresight to remove. She had to twist her body until she could get the leverage to unlock the door and then turn the handle. She pulled the door open and ran into the next room.
‘Help me,’ she cried, ‘I’ve been attacked.’
Several bodies stirred in the shadows. Movement revealed naked limbs, buttocks, faces and other parts of bodies. Eyes widened as their owners observed her.
‘What’s that, love?’ a deep voice said. It was owned by a tall, slim figure in a sparkling silver dress that just about covered her genitalia.
‘Help me, please,’ Jasmine repeated. ‘My hands are tied.’ She turned to reveal her bound wrists.
‘What the fuck?’ the TV said approaching her. She bent down and fiddled ineffectually with the knots. Others joined her, leaning in to examine her. A few knives of various types and sizes appeared from handbags. One was used to start sawing at her bonds.
‘What happened, darling?’
‘Is that your blood on your face?’
‘Where is he?’
‘Is there BDSM in that room?’
The voices were all round her. She strained against the bindings.
‘Quickly please. He’s in there.’
Her hands came free. She felt her shoulders relax as she brought her hands to her front and she rubbed the wrists. She pushed herself through the crowd around her and ran back to the door to the room where she had been attacked. Taking the key from the lock, she closed the door and turned the key on the other side, locking the room with him still in it.
Jasmine held the key between her fingers thinking she would drop it into her bag, then realised that she didn’t have it, or her phone. It must be somewhere inside the room with the sex maniac.
She turned and ran across the room. The occupants stood and stared.
‘I’ve got to find Angela and Debs,’ she said to no-one in particular. She found a door that opened onto the dance hall. The noise of the music knocked her back but she saw a figure in a long gown and towering wig standing on the stage roaring into a microphone – the live entertainment. The floor around the stage was packed. Jasmine forced her way between the hot, sweaty bodies of the clubbers dancing and swaying to the singing and hollering their appreciation of the drag artiste.
She reached the stage and saw the golden silhouette of Debs standing beside a tower of loudspeakers. She pushed through the crowd until she was at Debs’ side. The compere stared at her.
‘I’ve got him,’ Jasmine bellowed at her.
‘What?’ Debs roared back.
‘Diana’s attacker. He attacked me. I’ve locked him in one of the rooms.’
Jasmine leaned towards Debs and shouted directly into her ear.
‘The guy who attacked Diana is locked in a room.’
Debs mouth opened, stayed open for seconds then closed. She turned so her lips were against Jasmine’s ear.
‘Let’s deal with him.’ She grabbed Jasmine’s hand and dragged her off through the dancers. The crowd parted to let them through but they were heading towards the entrance and away from the quiet rooms.
‘Where are we going?’ Jasmine cried out.
‘To collect my security guys.’