Free Georgia's English Rose by JT Harding Page A

as he watched us as though he
hadn’t a care in the world.
    We darted and bumped, slid and slapped.
Georgia caught my hand and swung me around. My feet left the grass
and I tumbled over. My dress rose and flashed my legs and I didn’t
care. I ran at Georgia, saw where she wanted to grab me and ducked,
caught her around the waist and tipped her over my feet. She landed
on her back, her legs above her head, white panties flashing as she
continued to roll.
    I felt her grab my breast the next time she
caught me. I twisted away, slid behind her and grabbed both of
hers, pulled her back and then ducked aside so she landed on her
backside, her breath rushing out.
    I heard Michael laugh, watching us,
happy.
    We were both sweating and I doubted if
enough hot water remained for another bath tonight and didn’t care.
Sweaty or not, Georgia was wonderful; Georgia was mine.
    Finally we slowed, stopped, and fell onto
the grass. Georgia allowed Michael to look up her dress a moment
longer before tugging the hem down.
    Michael glanced at his watch, a Swiss model
all the pilots wore.
    “It’s nearly dinner time. You two had better
get cleaned up. I’ll see you back downstairs.”
    He bounced up and strode across the grass. I
saw Georgia watch him go. She caught my look and grinned.
    “If I did like men, Lil,” she said, “I think
I might let him fuck me.”
    “Georgia!” I gasped.
    “Don’t worry, honey, it ain’t gonna happen.
I’m just saying. He’s a doll, your brother, if a girl went for that
kind of thing. But it’s his sister I’m after.”
    I grinned foolishly and got up.
     
    After dinner we sat in the
living room until late. Daddy brought a crate of cider from the
cellar and put the bottles in the pantry to keep cool. Tomorrow
Georgia and I would catch the train south. Michael was traveling
east, returning to Suffolk for his first active posting. Daddy knew
this was our last evening together for a while, maybe forever. We
all drank too much cider and at ten o’clock Daddy said he was going
to bed while he still could. We heard him and Mummy laughing as
they climbed the stairs.
    Michael got up and brought another bottle of
cider back, filled his glass and waved the bottle at us. We both
held our glasses out. I knew I had drunk more than was good for me,
too much to care.
    Michael sprawled across the Chesterfield,
dressed in slacks and a white shirt with two buttons undone. He had
slipped his shoes off and showed a hole in his right sock over the
big toe. Georgia and I sat together on the other sofa. Georgia sat
close to me and her hand searched for mine.
    I saw Michael glance down as our fingers
linked and he smiled.
    “I suppose that means I’m sleeping on my own
tonight,” he said, laughter softening his voice. “I’d already
guessed as much.”
    “What did you guess, Mike?” I asked, my
voice slurring a little, using Georgia’s name for him.
    “I know you’ve never had a boyfriend,
Nutkin. I think I’ve always guessed what you were.”
    I looked at him. “What’s that, Michael?” My
voice was firmer now, and I was a little angry. What gave him the
right to pass judgment on me?
    He held up his hands. “Hey. Settle down,
sis. It’s fine. I’m not saying anything’s wrong… There are a few
girls in the WAAFs like you and Georgia. It doesn’t make them bad
people. Not at all.”
    “Really?” Georgia said, leaning forward.
“And what do people think of them?”
    “The girls?”
    “Yeah, the girls.”
    Michael shrugged and drained his glass,
reached over for the bottle and topped it up.
    “Some of the chaps, you know, they laugh
about them. But I think they’re scared, and a little jealous. They
don’t understand. There’s a war on, Georgia, nobody cares what
people do. Take love wherever you find it, with whoever you can
find it with. And besides, there are plenty of other girls left for
the rest of us.”
    Georgia sat back and snuggled against
me.
    “Are there many of these girls? The