Georgia's English Rose Read online

  Georgia and I were glad to get a break, even if only for a few days. Studying that glowing green line running across the round screen gave me headaches, made worse because so much depended on our identifying the height and track of approaching aircraft. Our hushed instructions, passed on, might result in the death of pilots on both sides, ours and theirs, the deaths of young men no older than Georgia and I.

  The train pulled into our station and we pushed our way through the soldiers lining the corridor, expecting, and receiving, many inappropriate helping hands before we could step down onto the platform.

  Georgia readjusted her uniform and did up the buttons that had been loosened. “Goddam troops,” she said. “My fanny’s got so many bruises I don’t think it’s ever gonna be the same.”

  I giggled, amused at Georgia’s use of the word fanny. In England it meant something else. Georgia was referring to what she called her butt. But my fanny was at the front, and luckily no one had pinched that. However, my bum, like Georgia’s, had attracted the attention of a dozen hands. It seemed the troops were equally considerate when it came to backsides. Round or skinny, large or small, all were equally worth a fondle. Men were such pigs, but I couldn’t blame them. At any moment they might be ordered back onto boats and sent to die.

  We caught our breath as the train whistled loudly and pulled away in a cloud of steam.

  “I think we may have to walk,” I said. “Daddy said they don’t have much petrol, what with rationing and everything.”

  “Gas?” Georgia asked.

  “Yes, gas,” I said. I was slowly becoming bilingual, and now almost never misunderstood what Georgia meant. I think she was getting to be the same, but she still enjoyed teasing me.

  “Is it far?”

  “About three miles, I’m afraid,” I said.

  “Let’s get marching then. Lead the way, girlfriend.”

  A shiver run through me when Georgia called me girlfriend, even though she meant nothing by it. We picked up our small cardboard suitcases and I led the way from the station and along the narrow main street of the village. It was mid afternoon and the single pub was closed. The village dozed, still and peaceful. It was difficult to imagine there was a war on, but if you looked indications lay everywhere. The butcher’s shop had little on display in the window, a sign on the door stating meat could only be purchased with a ration book. The windows of all the houses were criss-crossed with tape to alleviate the effects of bombing, although if the Nazis started bombing this far out we were all pretty well lost.

  Georgia took everything in and said, “When we get to your folks place are we going to get anything to eat?”

  I laughed. “Of course. Daddy runs a farm. There’s always a little extra no one knows about.”

  “Good. ’Cause I’m starving.” Georgia linked her arm through mine as we left the village and started into the countryside. I liked the way Georgia’s arm felt, the way her shoulder brushed mine as we fell out of step and then came back together.

  We walked a half mile before turning onto a smaller road. After a hundred yards we heard an engine, and a moment later a motorcycle and sidecar came over a rise ahead and slowed suddenly, skidding to a halt beside us.

  “Nutkin!” a voice called and I screwed my eyes up to see the tall figure more clearly.

  “Michael?”

  He swung off the motorcycle and closed the gap, lifted me off my feet and swung me around, gave me a big kiss and then deposited me back on the ground.

  “Who’s your friend, Nutkin?” he said, openly taking in Georgia’s pneumatic figure. “Introduce me, quick, before I die of unrequited love.”

  I laughed. “Georgia, this is my brother Michael.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Georgia said, and offered her hand. Michael shook it, looking disappointed nothing else was on offer.

  “A Yank!” Michael said, delighted. “Pleased to meet you back, Georgia. Really pleased.”

  I rolled my eyes. My brother had grown up a lot since I had last seen him only four months earlier. I guessed the war did that to people.

  “Dad sent me to pick you up. I’m here on leave and as the RAF is paying for my fuel I thought I’d lend a hand. Hop aboard, girls.” He took our suitcases and stacked them in the space at the back of the open sidecar.

  Georgia and I looked at each other.

  “You take the sidecar,” I said. “I’ll ride pillion.”

  “Suits me.”

  Michael offered his hand to steady Georgia as she stepped into the narrow sidecar, openly watching as her skirt rode up to show a length of creamy thigh. Although Georgia tried to sit elegantly she ended up with her skirt riding even higher. Michael made no attempt at gallantry and grinned as he caught a flash of her white panties.

  “Are you always going to be this much of a gentleman, Michael?” Georgia said.

  “I expect so,” he said, then, “Climb on, sis,” as he straddled the seat and fired up the engine.

  There was no easy way so I tugged up my skirt and climbed onto the seat. Fortunately Michael was looking forward, but Georgia got a good eyeful. I experienced that tingle again, wondered what I was going to do about it. I imagined tonight I would have to give in and use my fingers on myself before I exploded or melted.

  Michael swung the motorcycle across the narrow road and I had to grab him tight around the waist as he roared off. My feet lifted free of the rests and I felt myself tipping back. Michael laughed at the top of his voice, his hair flicking back as wind rushed past.

  He rode too fast, of course, the same way he did everything. Michael was training to be a fighter pilot and I just hoped the Nazis were ready for him. A wave of deep sadness rolled through me because despite Michael’s bravado, despite the spirit the whole country showed, deep inside we all feared the worst. One small nation perched on the edge of Europe while Hitler’s army sat encamped across the rest. From the Russian border to the French coast, from Norway to the tip of Italy, fascism held sway. So I would let Michael look at Georgia’s panties, let him play the fool, because we might all be dead before the year ended.

  I leaned forward and rested my head against Michael’s broad shoulder, broader and stronger than I remembered, and smiled into the coarse material of his uniform as I hugged him around the waist.

  Mother was waiting when Michael drew up in front of the house. I climbed from the pillion and Michael offered a hand to Georgia, who took it and let him pull her up and steady her as she stepped out. Her hair was tangled and unruly from the journey, but she was grinning.

  “That was some journey, Michael. Thanks.”

  “My pleasure,” he grinned back.

  “Squirrel,” my mother said as we hugged. “And this must be Georgia. Welcome.” She hugged Georgia as well.

  “Do I get one of those?” Michael asked.

  “You had your hug yesterday,” Mummy said, but she kissed him on the cheek.

  “I was thinking of Georgia,” he said.

  “You behave with our guest, Mikey, or you’ll be going back to camp sooner than you thought.”

  We chatted as we went indoors and Georgia said, “This doesn’t look much like the kind of farm we have in the States. Where are all the steers?”

  I laughed. “We’re mostly arable. We have some beef cattle but they’re in the top field. Daddy has barns near the river, but he likes to come home to a real house.”

  “What an amazing place,” Georgia said. “Are you rich, Lil?”

  I looked down and shrugged my narrow shoulders. “We’re comfortable, I suppose.”

  Georgia laughed. “You English and your understatement.”

  In the big kitchen we drank tea and ate freshly baked cake and then Mummy said, “You had better call me Alice, Georgia. Mrs. Delamere sounds rather formal, don’t you think?”

  “Sure, Alice,” Georgia said.

  “I thought you girls might want to clean up,” my mother said. “I put the immersion heater on so you can have a bath. But do you mind
sharing the water?”

  “Of course, Mummy,” I said. I was used to sharing bathwater with Michael, taking turns to go first. “I’ll show Georgia the bathroom. Are we in my old room?”

  “I’ve put you in the guest room if that’s alright with you two. I thought you might like to double up together and there’s only your old single bed in your room. Is that fine with you, Georgia?”

  “I’m very grateful for the hospitality, Alice,” Georgia said. “We were both going stir crazy in that hut. I was thinking England was nothing but damp beds and cold sinks.”

  “I think we can probably improve a little on that,” Mummy said.

  I led the way up the wide staircase and along an upper hallway. The guest room contained a large four poster bed with a deep feather mattress, and the family bathroom was directly next door.

  Georgia dropped her suitcase and jumped on the bed, the thick mattress closing around her. I remembered how that felt, how difficult to extricate myself from the comforting warmth in the morning.

  “Oh my God, I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Georgia said, her arms flung out at her sides, navy skirt pulled above her knees. “But what’s this about sharing a bath?”

  “Bath water,” I said. “So we can save the hot water. You go first, I’ll jump in when you’ve finished.”

  Georgia looked disappointed at the explanation, but bounced back with, “And what the hell is this Squirrel Nutkin thing going on?”

  I felt myself blush. Georgia rolled off the bed and opened her suitcase, rummaged around and pulled out fresh underclothes and a simple dress.

  “Come and tell while me I take this bath.”

  “Oh.”

  Georgia grinned. “Come on, I’ve seen your skinny body before, and you’ve seen mine. We don’t have many secrets left Squirrel Nutkin, so come and talk to me.”

  She didn’t wait for my agreement. I followed her after opening my own suitcase and choosing something to wear. I ran the bath, letting far more hot water run than we were used to. Mummy had left bath salts and a huge natural sponge for us.

  Georgia stripped out of her uniform, folding each item neatly on the wide windowsill while I attended to the bath. The curtains were pulled back but the glass in the window was dimpled. It might be possible to make out her shape from the other side, but no detail. Besides, I knew there was no one in that direction for half a mile.

  I turned off the taps and stood back just as Georgia unclipped her bra and let it drop from her breasts. My breath stopped as I caught sight of Georgia’s deep globes, so much larger than my own. Every time I saw her naked she drew the breath from my lungs. Her breasts stood proud, self supporting, swaying gently as Georgia leaned over and slid her white cotton panties down. I envied Georgia the ease she had with her own body, wishing I wasn’t quite so prudish.

  Georgia stepped into the water and grinned. “Oh my God!”

  She lowered herself into the water and lay back. “So, tell me everything. And you might as well get undressed and come in here with me. There’s plenty of room.”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “Ah, don’t be a sissy, Lil. Get that God-awful uniform off and dive in, honey.”

  As always when Georgia suggested something my objections were weak, and what Georgia wanted was exactly what I wanted too.

  I turned partly away as I undressed. When I was down to my bra and panties I hesitated, turning all the way around so my back was to the bath before unclipping my bra, then bending and slipping my panties off. I took a deep breath before turning back and stepping into the other end of the bath. Georgia watched me openly, her eyes lingering on my reddish pubic patch, rising to my small breasts and staying there. I hunched forward, self conscious.

  “I don’t know why you do that, Lil,” Georgia said. “You’ve got great tits, girl, show ’em off.”

  I smiled uneasily. “You’ve got great… tits.” I finished with my voice barely a whisper. “Mine are just ordinary.”

  “Yeah. But when I’m fifty mine are gonna be around my ankles. Yours will still be pert and gorgeous.”

  Georgia wriggled until her back was to me.

  “Wash my back, honey, and tell me about this nickname.”

  I soaped the sponge and wiped Georgia’s beautiful back as I told her how, because of my tawny red hair, my father called me Squirrel Nutkin and it stuck. I hardly remembered a time when my father or brother called me anything else. My mother tried to remember to call me Lillian but she often forgot as well.

  “I don’t get it,” Georgia said. “Squirrels are gray, aren’t they?”

  I laughed. “Your squirrels, maybe. Over here they’re red. Well, most of them, though we’ve got some of your gray ones now too. I’ll take you through the woods tomorrow and we might see some of our reds.”

  I dropped the sponge and started to wash Georgia’s back with my hands.

  Georgia purred deep in her throat. “That’s so good, honey,” she said. “I think I need a lot of that kind of attention.”

  I smiled, pressing harder, aware of the effect touching Georgia’s soapy skin was having on me and not caring. My legs spread either side of Georgia’s back, and due to the narrowness of the bathtub I needed to lift them so my knees rested against her waist. There was no space to do anything other than rest them on Georgia, my toes dangling in the water between her thighs.

  I lathered more soap on my hands and worked my way up from Georgia’s waist to her shoulders, then daringly down her sides. I was convinced I felt the swell of her breasts, but it may only have been wishful thinking.

  “Mm, that’s so damn good, Lil. Turn around and let me do you as well.”

  “You don’t mind?” I asked.

  “Hell no. Turn around, honey.”

  There was much splashing of water and then I was facing the taps, Georgia sitting behind me. She pushed her feet around my sides and I helped them along. She seemed to sit much closer to me than I had to her, knees tucked around my middle, heels pressing high up against my thighs.

  Georgia soaped her hands and placed them on my back and the touch was electric, tingling all down my spine and beyond, lodging between my legs. I bit my lip to stifle a cry, not wanting to scare Georgia off.

  She rubbed her hands all over my back, down to my waist, a little further down than I had gone and I felt her palms slide across the start of my backside. Then she moved back up, washed my neck, no need to push up my short hair. Her fingers looped over and dug into my shoulders and I leaned back involuntarily. As I moved Georgia came close too, and I felt her nipples touch my back. I stopped suddenly, prepared to move forward, but Georgia’s fingers dug deeper into my shoulders and she pulled me back. Her nipples pushed against my skin as her large breasts flattened on my back. She pressed close to me, the silky patch of her pubic hair brushing against my backside. I was in a dream, totally at her command, ready to do anything she wanted.

  Georgia lathered more soap on her hands and reached around to wash the front of my shoulders. Her hands moved down and I knew, hoped I knew, where they were going. Her hands teased the top curve of my small breasts, and I wished I was bigger, big like Georgia so there was something worth touching. My nipples were hard, a peaked pressure of arousal on the tips of my breasts. My head started to roll back and in a moment would be resting on Georgia’s shoulder. I knew once my head laid against her I would turn my face to hers, and if she wanted she could kiss me.

  That was the moment Mummy came bustling into the bathroom with an armful of towels.

  “Oh,” she said, surprised, then laughed. “What a grand idea, girls. That’s so much more sensible than taking turns, and it saves the water getting cold before the second one gets in. I’ve brought you some nice clean towels. I’ll put them on the tank here so they’re warm when you get out.” She opened the door of the airing cupboard and laid the towels across the copper tank.

  She turned back to us, smiling, looking openly at our wet bodies. I suppose she had seen me like
this many times, but never Georgia. I had jerked forward as she came in, away from Georgia, and was now leaning toward the taps, a good foot between us.

  “Dinner will be ready in about an hour. You can use some more hot and luxuriate a little longer if you want. I think I’m quite jealous, you two look so cozy in the bath. See you downstairs for dinner.”

  With that she was gone, swirling away and closing the door behind her.

  “I like your Mom,” Georgia said from behind me. “She’s great.”

  “Yes, I suppose she is.” A flame trembled deep inside my stomach and I tried to bank it down.

  “You wanna run some more hot water in like she said, Lil?”

  I turned the tap and felt the water wash hot around my legs. I knelt up and swished it back around me with my hands and Georgia laughed and I heard her hands working too.

  “Go for it, honey, let’s see how far we can row this thing.”

  I laughed. I knew I was falling head over heels for Georgia and wondered how to keep my secret from her. It was lucky my mother had interrupted us, because I had been about to ruin everything.

  I stopped the tap when the water was three inches deeper and significantly hotter, then stayed where I was.

  “Don’t be a spoilsport, Lil, turn around so I can see you, honey. I like looking at you when you’re naked.”

  I looked down at my hands and took a deep breath, then worked my way around. It was difficult in the narrow bath and I had to half stand, and when I sat my legs got tangled with Georgia’s and neither of us knew where to put them and we ended up laughing.

  Georgia grabbed my ankles and put my feet around her, lifted her own so they slid either side of my waist and we both managed to half lie in the bath. The water covered our pussies but I clearly saw the dark patch of hair around Georgia’s, and I suppose she could see mine as well. Georgia’s breasts lay above the water, as did mine, and I couldn’t take my eyes from hers. I had never seen her nipples hard like they were now.

  “I think we nearly got caught then,” Georgia said.

  “Caught?”

  “You know… I was working myself up to give your front a wash, Lil. Your boobies. You did want me to, didn’t you?”