Georgia's English Rose by JT Harding Page B

into
knots.
    A troop of soldiers were stationed on the
base for security and many of the girls made clear their
availability, although I never once saw any indication from
Georgia.
    I still clearly recall one particular
evening when I first set eyes on an erect penis. We were
walking back from the NAAFI at dusk, light still holding in the sky
but little reaching the shadowed ground between the huts. We had
stepped around a corner, using a short cut on the way to our hut,
when Georgia grabbed my arm and pulled me back. Her teeth showed
white in the gloom.
    “Hey, look, Lil. Can you see what Gilly
Bates is doing?”
    “I didn’t see her,” I said.
    Georgia pulled me so I could look around the
corner. “There,” she said. “You see now?”
    I peered into the gloom, seeing nothing at
first, then a shape formed in the shadows. Or rather two shapes.
Gilly Bates knelt on the grass in front of a soldier. His uniform
trousers hung loose around his knees, his hard penis jutting out.
Gilly had the end in her mouth as her hand rubbed the base.
    “What on earth is she doing!” I said,
shocked.
    “Giving him the time of his life, honey,”
Georgia said.
    “Is she… is that his… oh my God, Georgia,
she’s got his dick in her mouth!”
    “Yeah,” Georgia nodded. “She’s going for it
too, I’ll give her that.”
    “But… why would she want to do that?”
    “Why do you think, Lil? I guess some girls
like the taste.”
    “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I could
never…”
    Georgia laughed softly, bumping against my
shoulder. “I guess you couldn’t, could you, Lil? That doesn’t
surprise me, honey.”
    “You’ve never… have you…” I stared at her
open mouthed, my head spinning at the idea Georgia’s beautiful
mouth might do something like that.
    “Me? Hell no, Lil. You won’t catch me
anywhere near one of those things.”
    My heart pattered in my breast. “I should
think not,” I said, and the way I sounded sent Georgia off into
another peal of laughter.
    “Hey, who’s there!” a male voice called.
    Georgia pulled me back, but we had been
spotted.
    “Is that you Lil? Georgia?” I heard Gilly’s
voice and she started to laugh. “You want some of him, girls? He’s
got plenty to go around.”
    Georgia grabbed my hand and tugged me back
around the corner and we ran off across the parade ground giggling.
My hand felt cold and lonely when she finally released her
grip.
    We became best friends and, I like to think,
more than friends, although I never gave Georgia any indication of
my true feelings. I found reading Georgia more difficult. She
always appeared relaxed and different, so tactile, thinking nothing
of slipping her arm around my waist in the hut, but never outside,
sometimes resting her hand low down where my skinny backside tried
to fill my uniform skirt. I became, if anything, more reserved
around her, standing at the other end of the shower room, but my
strategy didn’t work because Georgia always strolled down to join
me.
    The other girls were friendly, but there
always seemed a distance between Georgia and I and the rest.
Everyone regarded us as best friends and an unspoken rule existed
we should not be parted. We ate together, rode into town to watch
newsreels and films together, took walks across the downs, ate at
the same table and slept separated by three feet of space between
our beds.
    Four weeks after we met, in the middle of
July, I first heard Georgia when she thought I lay asleep. I
listened to the noises coming from the darkness of her bed for
several nights until I resolved I simply had to confirm my
suspicions.
    The bedroom wasn’t fully dark, it never was.
A night light always burned in case we were called out unexpectedly
and needed to find our way. I lay on my back gazing at the ceiling,
listening to the sounds coming from Georgia’s bed. The metal
springs needed little encouragement to squeak, and I heard them
moving in a gentle rhythm. I had listened to these noises