Getting Back

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A story of love, loss and resolution.
8.4k words
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33.6k
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Part 1 of the 3 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 03/18/2004
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CHAPTER ONE

The radio alarm came on just after seven, waking Georgina with "All You Need is Love". She was alone in her bed.

She sat up, flipped back the quilt and swung her feet to the floor. The front of her nightdress was a soppy face of a teddy bear. The colours were faded. She smoothed the thin cotton with both hands while she breathed in, pulling the picture tight across her breasts. She watched the smile on the teddy bear's face broaden.

"At least you can still smile," she said.

She reached for the shapeless dressing gown on the bottom of the bed and pulled it on, then plucked absently at the loose threads on the fraying cuff. She heaved a sigh, then shuffled to the kitchenette. Her drooping shoulders showed how she felt about life in general and herself in particular.

She put enough water in the kettle for two coffees. As she reached for the cereal packet from the cupboard her bare foot found a sticky damp patch on the kitchen floor. A glance at the murky stain distracted her from the morning ritual. She pushed the cereal back in the cupboard. She had no appetite. She made a mug of instant coffee and left the cramped kitchenette for the living room.

The legs of the coffee table were slewed at a strange angle. The photo cube of six happy frozen moments was crushed on the floor. She sat on the settee and stared at the distorted photographs in cracked pieces of clear plastic, then carefully balanced her mug on the sloping table and picked up the damaged mementos of her past.

Her face beaming happiness. Her wedding dress. Wayne's sloppy grin.

She extracted the picture from the damaged cube and ritualistically tore it in half. She held the two pieces at arms length and let them drop. The message of her sundered marriage fluttered to the floor.

The next picture. Newly weds in the dining room of their honeymoon hotel. Wayne's favourite picture. His broad grin and her startled look.

"Smile for the camera," he said.

She still remembered her feelings of confusion when he stroked her thigh beneath the folds of the table cloth. She giggled when he whispered, "I want to touch my loving wife, open your legs."

She complied.

"Don't move or he'll know what we're doing," Wayne whispered as the photographer approached.

"Smile for the camera," he said, as his finger pushed past the edge of her panties.

"Now that's one photograph that will really hold a memory."

He kissed her, tongue and finger entering her simultaneously, while the room full of people all around them continued to talk and laugh and eat.

It was shocking, confusing, but exciting. They went to their room soon after and made love.

She tore the photograph carefully, first separating the bodies from each other, then the heads from the bodies. These pieces joined the others on the floor.

The next picture was already damaged. Her father, mother and sister Hariet, all in wedding day finery.

Georgina began to cry. The tears were for her father. She missed him terribly. She'd always been daddy's girl, his princess. Hariet was two years older than Georgina. She was the aggressive one, stroppy when she didn't get her own way. Jealous of the closeness of father and second daughter. Hariet demanded independence early in her teenage years. When she was eighteen she set herself up in her own flat. The more tractable Georgina was still coming home by ten so that daddy wouldn't worry.

She lent back in the settee and closed her eyes, almost unaware of the tears streaking her cheeks. She remembered her childhood. Sunny days. A smiling father, a tired mother, a scowling sister. Ice creams and picnics. But always daddy smiling, calling her his princess, buying her presents.

Daddy had always been so protective. He hadn't minded when she wanted to give up school half way through her A levels. He was pleased that she had broken up with William Bragg.

She remembered the first night she went out with William. Her father had been so angry when she arrived home late.

William Bragg. Her first real boyfriend. He was in upper sixth when she started her A level course. He'd kissed her at the Christmas party, and tried to get her drunk.

She remembered William with fondness, despite the untidy ending of their four month relationship. Despite Margot Goody. She had told Wayne all about William. He insisted on hearing every detail. It excited him. And his excitement excited her.

"Come on, tell me about him. We're engaged now. No secrets. You told me I was the first." Wayne was grinning. "I won't be jealous, but I want to know everything." And she knew from the butterflies of excitement in her belly he intended to find out and that she was looking forward to Wayne forcing her full revelations.

"There's nothing to tell. I went out with William Bragg for a while, that's all." She knew that wouldn't stop him.

"How long?"

"Four months."

"And he didn't make love to you? He must be queer."

"I was only seventeen."

Wayne snuggled up to her on the settee. Her parents were out. The gas fire was the only light in the room.

"Tell me all the dirty details. I want to know everything he did to you and everything you did to him."

"Oh Wayne." Georgina was amused at his jokey insistence and only a little embarrassed. She was beginning to enjoy his racy conversation as much as his wandering hands.

"Tell me how you met." He swung his legs up on the settee and lay with his head in her lap.

"I knew him at school. At the sixth form christmas disco he kept tipping brandy into my coke."

"And?"

"We danced and he told me he fancied me, he said I was the best looking girl in the school." She looked down at him and raised her eyebrows waiting for a comment.

"And?"

She wasn't going to get a compliment.

"We smooched and kissed a bit at the end of the disco. He was nice and in the upper sixth and he had a car, so I let him drive me home."

"And?"

"And daddy was furious because the disco ended at twelve and I didn't get home till one."

"So what were you two up to? Snogging in his daddy's car?"

"Yes." She smiled down at him.

"And did he feel you up like this?" Wayne's hands moved to cover Georgina's breasts. She felt the pleasurable tingle in her nipples that she had come to expect from his exploring fingers.

"No. He tried to, but I wouldn't let him. I was a good girl then." Her smile broadened. She hadn't complained at the liberty he was taking and she wanted him to notice how relaxed she was about the freedom she allowed his hands. She felt her nipples harden as he stroked them through the light fabric of the blouse and bra.

"And then?"

"He was away for christmas so I didn't see him till the new year. He took me to the cinema a few times on friday evenings and we met in town on Saturdays."

"Tell me about the first time you let him have a grope."

"Don't be sordid."

"Tell me."

"We'd been going out for weeks before I let him do what you're doing."

"Was it nice?"

"It was OK."

"Tell me about the first time you let him do this." Wayne's fingers undid the buttons of her blouse and he slipped his hands in to cup her breasts in the light support of her bra.

Georgina smiled down at him and stroked his hair. "You shouldn't be asking me about things like this."

"Of course I should. I want to know all about you. That's what we're about, really knowing each other. Now tell me all about when he did this." His hands continued exploring her breasts.

"We went round to his house one saturday afternoon when his parents were out and he showed me his bedroom. We sat on his bed and kissed for a while and then he put his hand under my jumper."

"Did it get you all excited?"

"A bit." Georgina was feeling excited by the hand stroking her breast and by the conversation.

"Did you let him undo your bra?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Lean forward."

Wayne's fingers undid the remaining buttons of her blouse and as she lent forward deftly unsnapped the catch of her bra. Then his hands took possession of her breasts, cool fingers stroking over aching nipples.

"Did it feel good?"

"Yes."

"And did you let him see them?"

"Not that time." She continued to answer him in whispers.

"When. Tell me all the details," he whispered back.

"The next saturday we went to his room again and he put his hands up my jumper. Then he undid my bra and after a while pushed up my jumper. After that we kissed and he stroked my breasts."

"Nothing else? What did you do for him?"

"He wanted me to touch him but I wouldn't."

"You little tease. And the next time?"

"In his room again, a few saturdays later. We were on the bed and I had my top off. We'd been kissing and he put my hand on his trousers."

"Was his fly undone?"

"Not to begin with."

"Tell me, and do it." He took her hand and placed it on his crutch. She could feel his erection.

"He told me to feel it and he promised he wouldn't do anything. So I squeezed it like this," she squeezed Wayne's penis through his trousers, "while he stroked my breasts. Then he undid his trousers and put my hand inside his boxer shorts."

"And you wanted to? You just let him put your hand there?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I wanted to know what it felt like. I'd never touched one before."

Their whispered conversation in the darkened room was building a bond of secrets in an atmosphere of trust. Georgina felt free to tell the man she loved what he wanted to know, and gratified by the pleasure she felt in telling him.

Wayne removed her hand and worked on his trousers. He guided her hand back to his bare penis.

"Did he get you to wank him?" Wayne lowered his voice to an tiny whisper.

"Yes," her whisper was a sigh. Her hand began wanking Wayne gently.

"What did he do?"

"He kissed my breasts."

Wayne raised his head. His tongue snaked round Georgina's nipple. He lay back again and moved both hands back to her breasts.

"He taught you well. Or else you're a natural." He spoke in a normal voice that seemed to fill the room after the intimacy of the whispered confidences.

"Oh Wayne!" The magic moment was broken.

"Did you make him come?"

Wayne's matter of fact tone made Georgina giggle. "Yes. He had to change his trousers and boxer shorts."

Wayne grinned. "And did you let him touch your cunt?"

The harshness of the way he spoke the word seemed to increase its volume.

"Oh, Wayne, you know I don't like you using that word." She sounded shocked and hurt. She looked round the room as if to see who had overheard.

Wayne laughed at her reaction. "What should I call it?" He was whispering again. "Your love tube? Your entrance to paradise? Your pussy?" He put his arms round her neck, pulled her to him and kissed her, then whispered. "Or should I call it MY love tube, MY pussy, MY juicy cunt."

"Wayne, stop it!" The warmth had returned to her voice.

He laughed again. "We'll come back to that part later." He released her from his arms and his hands moved back to her breasts. "Keep stroking and tell me more about you and little Willie."

"I used to go round every saturday and do the same thing only after the first time he used to strip completely first."

"So the two of you would go to his room and strip off? No necking first or anything?"

The question startled Georgina. She was embarrassed by her reply. It made the relationship with William seem only physical."No, we'd just go into his room and he'd pull off his clothes and lie on the bed."

"And you?"

"I always kept my knickers on."

"But you just walked in to his room and stripped off."

"Yes."

"Were you excited when you were walking up the stairs?"

Georgina remembered the tightness in her chest, the aching in her nipples and the warmth between her legs. It had been purely physical. Her body so looked forward to William's touch. She nodded.

Wayne rolled off the settee. "Strip off to your knickers. Quickly." It was an order, not a suggestion.

"Not here! We can't!" She was slightly breathless, excited by the forceful demand.

"Don't worry, daddy won't be back for another hour. I won't let daddy's princess be caught naked and panting in lust." He grinned. "As long as you don't waste time."

Wayne stripped quickly and then helped Georgina out of her clothes. He lay her on the floor. She was tense and kept giggling. He kissed her and stroked her body. He was excited and his excitement was contagious.

"Did you never take your knickers off for him?"

"No."

"But you let him touch you?"

"Yes. While I was stroking him I let him touch me."

"Like this?" Wayne's hand slid into her knickers and began to rub her clitoris.

"Yes." Georgina felt herself becoming wet and open. Her body enjoyed the feel of Wayne's naked skin on hers.

"Did he make you come?"

"Sometimes."

"While you were wanking him off?"

"Yes."

"So little Georgie-porgie likes having her little pudding and pie fingered." He lent forward and kissed her before she could complain. "And what a lovely juicy little pudding and pie it is. But naughty fingerlicking little Willie never got your knickers off."

"No."

Wayne was moving beyond William. His hands worked Georgina's knickers down and off. "I think your juicy little cunt wants something more than a finger in it now," he whispered. "Open wide, my cock is going to give it what it wants."

Georgina's legs were wide. Wayne moved on top of her and pushed into her welcoming warmth.

"Is this better than Willie's grubby fingers?"

"Yes," she whispered back. "Much better."

"I love the way your cunt loves my cock. They were made for each other."

Her arms were round him, pulling him hard against her, urging him on, driven by her pleasure and her fear that her parents could arrive home early.

"You're a wonderful fuck, Georgina," he gasped. "That's partly why I love you so much. Do you love me fucking you?"

"Yes, I do."

"Say it. Tell me what you love. Use the word."

She was loving it. She felt fulfilled when he was in her. "I love you fucking me, Wayne," she whispered. "I love you. Fuck me Wayne."

She remembered lying on the floor in front of the gas fire, totally naked, dreading to hear the sound of the door as her father returned. Wayne on top of her, pushing in, sliding between her legs, till he ejaculated onto her belly in a grunting gasping spasm of pleasure. She remembered sighing, partly from pleasure at his release, and partly in relief that they could dress before daddy came home.

"Your turn," he whispered. "You have to come like you did for your little Willie." His fingers took over and he smiled down at her, whispering, "Cunt. Juicy cunt. That's what it is and that's what it's called. And now it's my cunt. My juicy cunt. What is it?"

Georgina's body was responding, she felt her orgasm mounting. Two of his fingers slid inside her and then he stopped all movement and stared down at her. "Tell me what it is that I'm fingering."

"Don't stop."

"Tell me what it is I'm fingering and I'll finish you, then we can dress."

"It's your cunt," she whispered.

And his fingers moved again, rubbing over her clitoris. Her pleasure was mounting again. She felt the orgasm grow as his fingers worked their magic.

"Tell me what it is again."

"It's your cunt, Wayne," she gasped.

"It's my cunt and you like me fingering it. Say it."

"It's your cunt, and I love you fingering it. I love you Wayne."

"You can come now," he whispered. "Tell me you love me."

"I love you, I love you," Georgina gasped as his dancing fingers released the orgasm they had so deftly built.

Georgina and her nice polite boyfriend Wayne were dressed and having a cup of tea when daddy arrived home an hour later.

Georgina opened her eyes. The flat was empty. Her life was empty. Two months after her wedding the crash took her mother and father and left her lost and lonely, totally dependant on Wayne.

Daddy was dead and now Wayne was gone too.

As she stood up she bumped against the table. The broken legs gave way. Her coffee mug slid down the sloping surface and emptied on the carpet.

Georgina looked at the room and sighed. She was no longer interested. She went to the bedroom.

The clock radio was still playing through the morning's golden oldie Beatles selection. The voice of Paul McCartney was singing "She's leaving home".

She stood by the bedroom door and looked at the room. All the furniture was on Wayne's side. The bedside cabinet with the clock radio, the dressing table and chair, the wardrobe. Her ownership to the room was a path to the bed. She had to enter his territory even to get her clothes.

She walked round to Wayne's side of the bed, moved the chair and stood on it to reach her suitcases on top of the wardrobe.

She only wanted her clothes and the few personal mementos she had brought to the flat when they first married. In her underwear drawer was the vibrator that Wayne had bought for her. She threw it in the bin. There also were the stockings and suspenders, crutchless knickers and peep hole bra. They followed the vibrator.

She emptied Wayne's wardrobe and dressing table of her clothes then returned to the living room.

She had bought little for herself since she moved into the flat. She glanced through the CD collection. They were all Wayne's choice. She flicked through a pile of magazines. All Wayne's. She glanced at the videos. All Wayne's. It was as though she had stopped having any personality of her own on the day she married.

There were three books at the end of the shelf. They belonged to Georgina. Jane Austin's Emma, left over from her school days. It had never meant much too her, though she always intended to finish it. Nine and a half Weeks. That was a present from Wayne just before they married. She had read it and was more worried by it than excited. Fortunately Wayne hadn't bothered to read it. For him the video was enough.

The last book was a tattered copy of a play, A Dolls House. She bought that at a charity shop the day after Wayne told her he would have more fun with a blow up doll. She had found it difficult to read at first, but then began to recognise herself in the yellowed pages. This one book was retrieved from the shelf and dropped it in the case.

All of the possessions that she thought of as hers fitted easily into the two suitcases her father had given her when she packed the day before the wedding. She sat on the bed and looked around for what she intended to be the last time. It all seemed so unfair. She couldn't see why it had gone wrong, only how.

At the beginning Wayne had been so perfect. Her mother liked him. Her father grew to accept that he would lose his princess. Even Hariet liked him.

Wayne was twenty three when they met and so much more in control than any of the boys she had ever spent time with.

The first time she saw him was through her bedroom window. She had just got out of bed and pulled her nightdress over her head. She was staring ahead expecting to see the view of the town over the bungalow roof opposite. Instead she saw a grinning face.

Wayne was painting their house.

She froze, aware of her nudity, aware of a smiling handsome stranger grinning at her. He waved, then his face disappeared.

Georgina was so embarrassed at their next meeting that she felt as if she was going to faint. But Wayne was very relaxed. He was leaning against his ladder by the front door as she was leaving. "I'm Wayne," he said.

She'd gaped at him, the blood rushing to her face.

"It's nice to meet you. Off to work?"

She nodded and rushed off.

"See you again, I hope," he called after her. "I'd like to see more of you."

That phrase and the slightly mocking tone he used stuck in her head all day. No one had seen so much of her since her mother had stopped bathing her.