A New Georgy-Girl Ch. 02 - Georgy and Me

It was no surprise at all to me that none of my fellow troop commanders and their men were re-upping either; they were done too; the enlisted men had done their stint, they were sick of the army's 'hurry-up and wait' bullshit, and the long periods of dusty boredom interspersed with truly terrifying episodes of panicked combat against a fanatic rabble who didn't care if they were killed as long as they could get through our lines and kill us.

*****

Arriving back home was a strange, almost surreal experience. For the first time in my life there was absolutely no sense of dad's presence; before, even if he was with the regiment, or home but out with the estate management people miles away, I always knew he was there, somewhere, I don't know how, I just did, the house just felt like him. Now, nothing, and it was weird, unsettling, wrong. Mother was expecting me, but not for a few more days, I'd told her I was going to spend some time in Gibraltar doing the tourist thing, maybe get around a few beers, and do what everyone does for entertainment and lob fruit at the apes just to watch the little bastards fight over them and knock the paste out of each other, but I changed my mind, so I was about a week early.

Georgy was due home from university that day, so I thought I'd ambush and surprise her, but she knew; somehow she knew I'd pulled a fast one because blow me down if she didn't barge in the door and call out "Mum, Will's here, I know he is, where is he?" So I had to jump out and surprise her and she did her usual frenzied leap on me.

*****

It didn't take long to get bored; I love my home, I never tire of exploring it, but I needed to be doing something, something useful, not just a hobby, and maybe make some real money of my own, not depend on mother and the estate for handouts. I wondered what there was out there for someone who had basically been trained to drive a tank and kill people; not much, I suspected. The thought of managing the business-side of the estate left me entirely cold; we had employees with fancy degrees who liked that stuff and were actually good at it, I saw no reason to step on their toes. I could go and be a mercenary (apologies, 'specialist security contractor') but I have a deep-rooted aversion to killing people just because someone with an axe to grind asked me to, so what to do, what to do?

And then it came to me; I was watching one of those 'fixing-up my perfect house' shows on TV and it struck me that I could do that; it looked kind of doable, and I had enough savings to buy a place, do it up, sell it on, and use the profits to do it again. So, I went looking for what I thought I could reasonably do up, something to get me into that world.

What I found was not quite what I'd been looking for, but it was love at first sight, a beautiful listed Georgian mansion staggering on its last legs, but too beautiful and elegant to let go to waste, and literally going for a song; as soon as I saw it I knew I wanted it, and so, with a little help from Mother, and every last penny I'd saved, I bought the house that the council were shunning and hoping would fall down so they could sell the land in good conscience.

I worked alone on the house; I had a shoestring budget, so I had to do everything myself; I literally taught myself, after much trial and error and outright fails, basic DIY skills like how to plaster and lime-putty, and how to use things like saw tables, chop-saws, milling routers and power-planers, and slowly, carefully worked my way, one room at a time through that magnificent but sadly decayed house, slowly defeating the ravages of time and gradually, carefully putting it back together again.

Georgy thought I was mad to saddle myself with such a huge task, but I really had nothing else to do, and no real-world skills, at least none I wanted to advertise. She couldn't bear to see me working away by myself, alone in that huge shell, so weekends when she was home from university she'd help me, fetch and carry, picnic with me in one of the empty rooms, and generally keep me company as often as she could.

Other things were happening, too, things that were to directly impact on all our lives. It started innocuously enough, when I heard from Mother that she was feeling the strain of managing all the estate business, and she was thinking of engaging a business manager.

"Fair enough," I thought, Mother needed to start slowing down a little, the place wouldn't fall down if she wasn't everywhere at once. I never really wondered anymore about it, until one day I wandered up to the house to get a change of clothes and do some laundry, and there was a strange man sitting at my father's desk. He jumped when I cleared my throat.

"Who are you, and why are you in my father's study?" I asked him, not exactly aggressively but letting him know aggression was an option.

He jumped up and walked around the desk, his face wreathed in smiles that didn't touch his eyes, and when I took his outstretched hand his handshake was the dreaded 'squishy wet-fish', limp and insincere.

"Hello, you must be Tyler; your mother told me you'd be around at some point. Mrs. Lassiter has engaged me to manage the day to day affairs of the estate, sort of take some of the business management burden from her; my name is Max, Max Preece..."

*****

Part 2: A World of Our Own:

Georgy had some very definite ideas about how she wanted the nursery she planned to look, feel, and appear; she wanted a 'cosy' feel, which I didn't get but she knew what she meant, so I followed her lead. We hadn't really talked about children yet, not the nitty-gritty planning side at least, just the definite understanding that we were both on the same page; I wanted kids (note: plural; not one, some) we just hadn't had 'the talk' yet, but that was next.

The thought of Georgy pregnant made me feel very horny, I have to admit, and I wanted little girls who looked like her, black-haired, grey-eyed perfect little copies of my Georgy-Girl; the world could do with more people like her in it, and I intended to ensure it did, which is why we were making sketches of the old dressing room and taking measurements. Watching Georgy bend and shuffle around on all fours was also a sight worth seeing, especially the way her delightfully perfect bottom twinkled at me as she shuffled into corners on her hands and knees with the tape in her hand.

Georgy looked over her shoulder from her tape measuring and smiled at me.

"What are you smiling at, Mister Pop-Eyes?" she teased, knowing full well I was contemplating her sleek bottom, and thinking pleasant thoughts about how it felt when I squeezed it, teased it, and jiggled it when we made out, not to mention bit it when the making-out got more serious. To tease me even further she stood up and shimmied her bottom at me, focusing me even more intently on her perfection. Georgy usually wore either yoga pants or skin-tight jodhpurs that moulded to her every curve and contour, and the sight of her in either was usually enough to get my motor revving.

"I was just thinking 'I wonder what that hot girl would look like all naked and stuff' and you derailed my train of thought, so now I'm going to have to come and see for myself..."

Georgy giggled and dodged out of the way.

"No, bad boy! Down, Will, naughty monkey, don't make me use a rolled-up newspaper!"

It wasn't that big a room, and I was faster than her, so I caught her easily and kissed her enough times to let her know I was serious; there's something about her, but one kiss just isn't enough, and the more I kiss her, the more I want to, and then naked things happen, so she finally sighed and surrendered.

"You are a very bad man, Tyler Wilmot, I hope you know that!" she murmured, kissing me with those soft little butterfly soft kisses she does that drive me wild and always leads somewhere good.

Kissing her was good, and standing and holding her close while we snogged like horny teens was even better, but I wanted more, and by the way she ground against me, so did she; so why were we standing here? Luckily I knew a way to fix that, so over and above her token protests I carried her into our bedroom, handily right next door, wasn't that lucky?

"Willie, put me down no, I haven't finished yet, stop it, no!" she gurgled, but I wasn't going to and she showed no inclination to take her arms from around my neck so she probably didn't mean it; besides I had my hands on her now, two very nice handfuls of soft, warm Georgy, and I was going to enjoy every second of it as I plumped down on the bed with her still in my arms...

"Will stop it, we need to talk, how can we talk when you keep...Oooohhh!" (that was me sliding my hands down her inside her yoga pants and pulling her bottom cheeks apart)

"Naughty Will, bad boy!" she giggled, so I stopped and she nipped the end of my nose with her lips.

"I didn't say I didn't like it, y'know..." she grinned, wriggling on my lap so I did it again, making her sigh as she kissed me. When she'd decided she'd kissed me enough for now she pushed me over backwards and wriggled up to lie next to me.

"Can we talk now, Tyler?" she smiled and I grinned right back at her; Georgy only calls me 'Tyler' when she wants something from me or needs me to do something; poor, simple, deluded thing, thinking she needed to do things like that; she should know by now that I'd give her anything she wanted even if she just gave me a vague hint. I did like it when she used my given name though; it was like a secret only we shared.

"So talk, baby girl, what's so important I have to give up my precious groping-time with you? This better be good."

"Shut up Will, I'm being serious!" she responded, punching me lightly in the arm, then looked super-remorseful at my sudden gasp of agony.

"Owww, right on my war-wound! Georgy, why did you have to... " I moaned theatrically.

"Willie I'm sorry I didn't mean it, show me, baby, I'm sorry!" she gabbled, her eyes big and shiny. She gently slid my sleeve up while I did an Oscar winning turn of mute suffering, and watched her eyes narrow suspiciously as she scanned my arm for any sign of injury.

"Where's this so-called 'War Wound', Tyler Wilmot?" she gritted and I looked innocently at her, all puppy eyes and sorrowful expression.

"I could have had one, the point is you just hitting me at random, after all I've been through, wasn't fair, supposing I'd really been injured, I bet you'd be feeling pretty bad about it round about now, after all..."

I got no further because she punched me lightly in the stomach and grabbed my crotch.

"Eight seconds to apologise, Wilmot, then you're a dead man and this is going in a jar on the mantelpiece!" she murmured dangerously. "One, two..."

I yanked her on top of me and kissed her.

"I apologise, Georgy-Girl, we're even now, so tell me, why did you drag me in here, much against my will, I might add, what do we need to talk about?"

She stared at me open mouthed, lost for words, but I got in there with the tickles before she could go off on one. Georgy is super-ticklish, I know all her weak spots, and the best defence is always a good offence, and soon she was helpless, just beautiful putty in my hands.

After I had her completely helpless I kissed her some more, and jiggled her bottom because A: I like doing it, and B: to focus her attention on me so we could talk.

"Right, Georgy, you enticed me into your den of licentious perversion and depraved sinfulness because you wanted to talk, so when you're ready..."

Georgy pushed me off her so she could roll on top of me.

"I meant what I said about the jar, Will, just shut up and listen for a minute..." she grumbled, so I parked my hands on her delectable bottom so I could hold her close, and assumed my expression of manic attentiveness, sort of like the social worker from Hell mixed with crazed, unfocused, wide-eyed staring that had driven my teachers to drink back in my school days.

"Will! Stop that and listen!" she barked, so I stopped winding her up and squeezed her bottom; then I squeezed it some more because, damn, and just for good measure I squoozed it too, which is like squeezing but much dirtier, and paid attention.

"Finally!" she huffed, "I want to talk about where we're going, Willie, about what comes next...?"

I gave her the eyebrow.

"Floor's yours, Tinkerbelle; what's on your mind?"

She looked pensive for a second, her patented 'Georgy getting her ducks in a row' look.

"It's about that room next door, what it means. I've wanted to have this talk properly for a while, we just had other things to get out of the way first, but now I think it's time. Willie, I love you, you know that, right?"

I nodded.

"And I love you too, Georgy-Girl, very much; I hope you know that."

"So Willie, we have something set aside from the sale of the house, much more than we thought we would, it's made a big difference to how well we can care for this place, a few more like that and we'll be out of the woods and sitting pretty until our trusts are all settled. You know I want that room to be a nursery, I want a baby with you so much, in fact I want babies, little girls I can buy stubby little ponies for, and noisy little boys to go sneaking out and go mad in the woods and go poaching and scrumping like their daddy used to-" I stared at her, how the Hell did she know that?

"-but not right this minute; I want us to keep having our kind of fun just a little longer, please? Just one more time, okay Tyler? I know we said we would, but I wanted to make sure you were still on-board with it. Let's get another project house, do it up and sell it on, and the day we finish it we'll have a dirty weekend and do some serious baby-making, please?"

She paused to check my eyes, and she must have liked what she saw there, because she continued.

"You know that if I thought you wanted it today I'd say let's go, because I so want to have your babies, but I want to have our kind of fun too, and I can't if I'm pregnant, I won't risk anything happening to me or our baby on a building-site, so please can we do it again just, one more time, just you and me, then start filling that nursery for real? Then, while I'm at home being Mummy-Goose you can keep going, get some people who know what they're doing in a team around you, I'll look over your shoulder and tell you how wrong you are, and maybe we can turn having fun into a real money-earner and keep the wolves from the door for real? Please?"

I pulled her to me so I could give her a long, meaningful kiss.

"Sweetheart, It's always been up to you, I'm not going to set you any deadlines or target dates, so we'll do what we said when we sold that place, that we'll find another one somewhere, we can start looking tomorrow if you like, you pick this time, you decide what we're going to do to it, how, and when, have a ton of fun, and when we're done we'll go and have a sexy weekend or ten on the coast and do lots of naked stuff, deal?"

Georgy smiled her brilliant, sunshine smile and nodded.

"Deal!"

"Good, glad that's settled, now come here, you shameless little hottie, I need to remove all this pointless clothing you're wearing, it is necessary to examine you closely, vis-a-vis the imminent lack of underwear situation we shall shortly be addressing..."

"Oh sir, I'm afraid I left all my underwear somewhere else today, I appear to be wearing none; would you care to verify that this is indeed the case?" laughed Georgy, wriggling enticingly.

As I slid her leggings down she giggled that rich tinkle that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on-end. Georgy's bottom is irresistible, all toned and firm and delicious and begging for several large bites, which I duly helped myself to, before letting my tongue and lips wander over the rest of her, sampling as I went.

"Oh dearie, dearie-me, how careless of me, I appear to have been waylaid by a very naughty soldier, what shall I do, what shall I do, oh woe is me...oh yes, right there... like that, Willie...Oooohhh God, yesss..."

My Georgy is such a fun-loving girl...

*****

There were a surprising number of derelict, or semi-derelict mansions and decaying grand houses dotted around the region and begging for an update, from Georgian all the way through to a gigantic Art-Deco mansion that looked like just tons of creepy fun, and the best part was, none of them had been listed, so whatever we bought we would have a blank canvas. I left the selection entirely to Georgy, she wanted to break ground on a new project, and to be honest, if she hadn't joined me on the last one I'd still be staring at it and wondering what to do next and how the Hell I was going to do it when I worked it out, so this one was hers, I was just along for the comic relief...

A local estate agent got wind of our search for something interesting, yet with development potential and renovation appeal, contacted us with a laundry list of candidate properties, and we were off to the races.

I think we'd already gone through ten or so possibles before we walked into the one that made Georgy go 'Spunnngg!!' as soon as she walked in the door. It was a mid-Georgian stone-built Vicarage set in about three acres of what had once been kitchen gardens and flower gardens but was now just a mass of brambles and nettle patches. The village it was set in was mostly half-timbered seventeenth and early eighteenth-century thatched cottages and holdings with for-real picket fences and genuine cottage gardens, the perfect location, picturesque without being 'chocolate-box' twee and whimsical, atmospheric and pretty. It was exactly the kind of place the aspirational rich would see themselves as lords of the manor of, lording it over the archetypal English village in the posh mansion we intended to turn the house into.

The price was pretty low to begin with, the place had been empty and forgotten for decades, and the executors of the last owner's estate just wanted to get rid of it and realise some income instead of being lumbered with it forever, world without end, amen. As I said, the price was bottom-end anyway, but Georgy decided she wasn't even going to pay that much, not based on the amount of work we had to do and what it would cost, so she kind of got them in a headlock and squeezed until they saw the light and tapped-out.

I was amazed and gratified at the rock-bottom price she negotiated, and awed at her negotiating skills; I had to remind myself not to piss her off too often, especially not after the way she put the vendor's arm up their back and squeezed mercilessly...

Heading back home after signing the paperwork I noticed Georgy giving me some meaningful glances, which was good, I was hoping she'd caught some of the same from me, and luckily I was right; as we walked in the door she pounced on me, I was as a helpless rag doll in her ferocious grasp as she tried to ravage me fully clothed in the entrance atrium; only a discreet throat-clearing from Aunt Kay reminded me we weren't alone.

"I take it everything went well, children?" she smiled, while I blushed like a beetroot. Georgy, of course, was completely unabashed.

"All according to plan, Aunt Kay; we have a new project to be going on with, and I was just telling Willie how we need to discuss things a little further..."

"So I saw," smiled Aunt Kay, "don't let me interrupt you, darlings, lunch is a little late today, it's at 1:30, I'm just keeping an eye on this new cleaning contract. They're going over the North end of the house today, so try and limit your 'discussions' to one of the guest rooms in the South end, they won't be cleaning there until tomorrow..."

Georgy and I stared at each other and burst out laughing; I always knew Aunt Kay was completely unshockable, this was even more proof she was completely au-fait with what Georgy and I were doing, given that, when all was said and done, she was still my little sister...