Chapter 8 – And then Timmy

When Gina awoke, Anne's bed was empty and made neatly. Apart from a dry throat, she felt well, considering the amount of sherry she had drunk. Gina was always working during the times that civilised people tended to drink, so she rarely had the opportunity to indulge. With no tolerance, even a small amount of alcohol went straight to her head. A glass of water had been placed on her bedside table and she drank it with begrudged gratitude. Julian must have put it there.

Having tidied her hair she headed downstairs. Peering around the sitting room door, she took a moment to imagine that they were a normal family, rather than one filled with secrets and feuds. Dick sat reading the local newspaper whilst Anne sat conversing with Julian. She looked happier than Gina had seen her in a long time. Julian looked… she nibbled her bottom lip; there really was no other way to describe him other than amazing. He had showered and changed since she had last seen him. His hair was still slightly damp and he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt that did nothing to dispel her earlier impression of a well-muscled physique.

She seemed to be spending an increasing amount of time reminding herself that she hated Julian. She had never allowed herself to think logically about the situation with Timmy, but having to spend time with Julian was forcing her to do so. Her musings were leaving behind some uncomfortable realisations. Whilst she was still bristling at his high-handed attitude, she had to concede that she too had taken somewhat of a liberty when, and still unbeknownst to him, she had interfered in Julian's personal life. That had been for his own good though, she rationalised. Just like he believed that he was acting in your best interests, the pro-Julian voice in her head slyly pointed out.

Gina could no longer deny that he had done the right thing by Timmy. She would not have wanted her beloved dog to have suffered unnecessarily by waiting for her to get home. She just hated that she had not been there for him at the end. Realising the truth of this was forcing her to re-examine the root of her resentment. Timmy's death may have provided an outlet for it, but, Gina admitted to herself, she had been seething ever since Julian had convinced her father that she ought to be a Debutante with Anne.

The indignity of being paraded around a ballroom like a heifer at an auction was bad enough, but that Julian had never bothered to attend any of the balls himself had left her fuming.

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Julian had just finished his degree and had already been headhunted by the Ministry of Defence. Everyone expected him to achieve great things with his life. Gina had reluctantly agreed to a Debutante Season because her stupid teenage mind had come up with a preposterous notion. That Julian wanted her to acquire the finer qualities that he desired, and considered necessary in order to make her his wife.

Gina gritted her teeth at the memory of having misunderstood Julian so thoroughly. As if he ever saw me as anything other than his childish cousin, she huffed to herself. Retreating from the doorway before any of her cousins noticed her; she slipped out of the front door. Trying to calm her turbulent thoughts, she sank to her knees by the carving of Timmy's face in the ash stump. Her fingers traced its grains and grooves enjoying the physical sensation against her fingertips. The bark was warm to touch and triggered the memory of her hand held against Julian's chest.

Upper-class men had little need for manual labour, and so tended to be leaner than the lower classes, for whom physical exercise was an incidental part of daily life. Julian has no business being so muscular, she thought. Her face warmed as the memory played out of his hand, holding hers against his rock hard chest.

Back when she had been George, she had always enjoyed a certain amount of physical contact with Julian. When they were children they had linked arms as they walked, and when they swam they had splashed and ducked each other. As a child, she would get a fluttery feeling in her tummy that made her feel warm and happy. She could never stay in a bad mood for very long when she was in Julian's company.

When she was about fourteen, he began withdrawing from her. Up until then he had treated her similarly to how he treated Dick. Then suddenly he didn't, and to all outward appearances, he began treating her more like he did Anne. No, that wasn't right either, she had fretted. He'd still had an easy familiarity with his sister that he withheld from her. For a while, she had felt rejected and angry by this, but in true 'good old George' style, had refused to show it – like a girl would have done. On the one hand Julian seemed determined to cast her into a female role and yet he showed no interest in getting to know the girl that, at his direction, she was allowing herself to mature into. Anger gave way to confusion and a belief that she must have done something wrong, until one summer's day something happened that made her think about Julian differently.

She was eighteen when they had spent that really hot summer holiday at Finniston Farm.(1) She and Anne had caught the bus to meet the boys after their respective schools, and in Julian's case, university had broken up. She had been so excited to see Dick and Julian that, restraint forgotten, she had thrown herself into Julian's arms. Julian must have been taken by surprise, and having little alternative other than to push her away, in what have been an obvious rebuttal, he had held her closer and tighter than he had in years. The fluttery feeling had returned with force. Now, it wasn't just confined to her tummy. It radiated out reaching her knees making them feel wobbly, and into her heart, which started pounding as if she were in the midst of one of their thrilling adventures. The feeling surged deep between her legs making her hyper-aware that the seam of her shorts sat flush between the folds of her vulva. George shifted her stance slightly and the seam slid across that part of her that would never see her mistaken for a boy. The action sent a sharp jolt coursing through her, and she had to make a concerted effort to stop herself from rubbing against something to make it happen again. From rubbing herself against Julian!

To hold back the moan threatening to escape, George inhaled deeply and in doing so breathed down a lungful of Julian. The sharp tang of some unknown aftershave, soap and something that was just Julian, all combined to make his unique scent. It undulated through her head, resting on and claiming every memory she had of him. Never again would she be able to think of Julian, or recall something that they had done or said to each other, without remembering this feeling of being in his arms.

She clung to him, aware that their time was almost over. In just a couple more seconds, propriety would demand she let him go. He had filled out since their last holiday together. His body seemed harder, and for the first time she was grateful for the softness of her female body. It allowed her to mould herself to him. If I raise my head slightly, she thought, I could lick his neck, feel his stubble against my tongue. George didn't know how she had not moaned then. Swallowing hard, she had reluctantly loosened her hold on Julian and stepping back glanced shyly up. Would he know what had just happened to her? She'd half expected him to be horrified, disgusted, or angry even, but she noticed that if anything he looked even more shaken than she felt.

Before she could give the matter any thought, she was swept into a rib crushing hug by Dick. Dick held her just as close as Julian had, and yet with him there was nothing other than the pleasant sensation of being held.

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The encounter nagged at the back of George's mind all day, whilst between her legs a dull heat had simmered. With considerable determination, she kept herself immersed in their holiday activities. The moment she relaxed, her mind insisted on replaying those few seconds spent in Julian's arms. If she looked at Julian for a little too long, or if her eyes had met his, the throb would surge through her with such force that it left her light-headed. Thank god for the heat she thought, feeling her face flushed with desire and embarrassment. At least I have an excuse for looking like a beetroot.

At last, night time came and George finally had some privacy in the pitch black. Reaching her fingers down under the waistband of her knickers, she discovered the reason for the slippy sensation that she had been feeling all day; her underwear was soaking. George slid her finger down and over the little bud that she had known was there, but had never before realised the purpose of. It was almost too sensitive against her fingertip, and she had to bite down hard on her lip to keep silent. Continuing down, following the trail of her juices to their source, she slid a finger inside. George knew the function of this place. This was where one day her husband would insert his penis. George had always considered the idea quite vile, why would anyone wish to do such a thing? But now as her middle finger pushed up into her tight wet heat, her thumb grazing the hood of the sensitive bundle of nerves, she understood. She thought of Julian. Would he like to touch a girl there? Would he like to push himself inside a girl? Would he move, sliding himself up and down, in and out? Would he ever consider doing that with her?

George's hand quickened, her sex knew what it wanted, and it seemed to instruct her fingers directly. No longer was she disgusted by the thought, certainly not if it were Julian above her, making her come apart with this thrusting friction.

The sensations intensified and she came suddenly, not having sufficient knowledge of her body to prolong it. A feeling of pure ecstasy swept through her and she squeezed the muscles of her legs and toes so tightly as she rode it, that when it was over she could not immediately remember how to relax them.

The intense desire of earlier was gone now but was immediately replaced by a sense of emptiness. She had obtained some gratification, but instinctively knew that she would never achieve complete satisfaction by her own hand.

George had no experience with boys. She had no idea what to look for to determine whether a boy liked a girl. Could Julian like her? Had their embrace affected him as it had done her? If he had started to notice her, as a girl of the non-sister variety, it would explain his change in behaviour. Having experienced desire for him, George knew that she would not have been able to have maintained any sense of normality if she were to allow unnecessary physical contact with Julian to continue. She had no idea how she could even look him in the eye after what she had just done to the fantasy of him.

George tried to settle down to sleep. Julian was a man of moral fibre. If he did have non-platonic feelings for her then surely when they were of an age, he would do the right thing by them both. He would declare his feelings and they would marry. She just needed to be patient. It would be rather perfect actually, she mused. Whilst the emerging middle classes raised objections to cousins marrying, the Kirrins were an old upper-class family. Like the aristocracy, who considered cousins marrying the ideal way to keep estates and titles intact, their family would approve of the match.

With this in mind, Gina had subsequently allowed herself to be led by Julian. Of course, there were still moments of rebellion. She was after all, still quite the tom boy, and somewhat stubborn. And then came 'The Season' – the dresses, the balls, the tedium, during which Julian had never once accompanied them, never once held her in is arms to dance, never told her that he was proud of her or that he wanted her for himself.

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And then Timmy…

Footnotes

1 – Five on Finniston Farm