Part Twenty Two
As Karen drove towards the address George had given her, she found herself doing two things. The first was to realise that George lived only a few streets away from Yvonne, this telling Karen that George's house wouldn't be lacking in either size or style. All the houses were very similar in this area, very spacious, inside and out, as well as being incredibly expensive. The second was to switch on the car CD player, and to smile at the tentative stab of irony in the first line of the first song. It couldn't help but strike her as odd when she heard the words: "If I'm not over you, by the time I get to Georgia..." She knew that the singer was undoubtedly referring to Georgia the place, but Karen found herself contemplating the words in terms of George the woman. To put it bluntly, if Karen wasn't over Yvonne by the time she got to George, tonight would be a total disaster. But the words, over Yvonne, weren't exactly appropriate, they just didn't describe the situation at all. Karen knew that a part of her would always love Yvonne, but that she wasn't actually in love with Yvonne any more. She and Yvonne had been denied both the time and the space to allow their relationship to develop, leaving them both stranded in limbo, each doing their best to pick up the pieces and emotionally move on. Karen had tried to accomplish this by immediately jumping into bed with John, using an incredibly satisfying one-night-stand to give herself some breathing space. Yvonne had achieved at least a temporary measure of breathing space by shooting off to Spain straight after a fairly miserable Christmas. Neither attempt had really worked because they had all then been plunged unceremoniously in to preparing for Lauren's trial. Karen knew that in concentrating on her job and very little else for the last year, she had managed to move on, and whilst she knew it was perhaps a little brutal to think like this, that's how it was. As far as she and George and this night were concerned, it mattered that Karen had moved on from her brief relationship with Yvonne, and that she was now emotionally ready to look for something new. Karen was all too aware that this was without doubt the first time George had contemplated going on a date, for want of a better word, with another woman. This had been borne out by George's extremely pretty blush at the utterance of her primary reason for being at court. This meant that if Karen made any move on George, and this was by no means a certainty, she would have to tread very, very carefully, giving George all the room in the world to retreat.
George on the other hand had been as tense as hell all afternoon. She'd dealt with two clients in her usual, professional manner, but with only half her mind on the job. Once she'd dispensed with her clients, she kept flashing a stupid grin at herself in the mirror on her office wall, then immediately asking herself what the hell she thought she was doing, going out on what could pass for a date, with a woman! Georgia Channing might like to try something new once in a while, but this was going just a bit too far. But she couldn't quite overcome the sense of tingling anticipation that crept along her nerve endings, leaving her as keyed up as the fourteen year old she'd once been, about to lose her virginity and wondering if she would look any different afterwards. Finally, after staring fruitlessly at her computer screen, she switched it off, drove home, and lay in a scented bath for half an hour. George was perfectly aware of how good she could look, but this time was different. Would a woman look at her in a different way? She wasn't sure. Standing in front of the full-length mirror on the outside of her wardrobe door, she examined every inch of her body that she could see, eventually coming to the conclusion that yes, good was certainly something of an understatement. Her hipbones were still slightly too prominent, but she knew herself well enough to know that this would probably never change. She slid her well-manicured hands over her silky, soft skin, tracing the curve of her hips, the span of her waist, and the heavy, ripe swell of her breasts. They might be small in comparison to Karen's, but they were right for her. They felt heavy in her hands, and even at forty-eight, she smiled to herself, they were still relatively firm. Was this what it would be like to touch another woman, she thought, circling her nipples between finger and thumb. For the first time in her life, George found herself nervous at the thought of possibly sleeping with someone, and couldn't help wondering if she would really be able to pull this off. Finally deciding that it was time to dress, she selected a charcoal grey trouser suit and a white silk blouse, knowing that it would allow her to retain her professional persona, but would at the same time give an impression of inner strength, inner poise. Not entirely believing this little piece of received wisdom, George applied her makeup and went downstairs to wait for Karen.
When Karen arrived, she walked up the steps and rang the doorbell. When George appeared and opened the door, they both took a moment to assess the other. Karen ran a practiced eye over the exquisite charcoal grey suit, seeing that it clung in all the right places, accentuating her small, pointed breasts and showing off the fact that most of her height was in her incredibly shapely legs. George, on being presented with a Karen not in one of her usual, professional power suits, thought that if she'd found Karen attractive before, now she was positively stunning. Her tall, slim frame, with the longest legs George had ever seen on a woman, was encased in a beautifully clinging dress in a rich burgundy, made of a supple, silky material that clung lightly to Karen's high, full breasts but which skimmed over her hips so as not to emphasise them. The rich red wine of Karen's dress was threaded through with various shades of this sultry, sexy colour, giving George the brief utterly wild thought that Karen looked as if she was ready to get drunk in more ways than one tonight. George couldn't for the life of her remember what they talked about in the car, just that whatever they did talk about seemed to make her relax by the time they reached the restaurant. Karen was very aware of George's almost palpable nervousness, feeling her eyes as if they were branding irons, travelling from her strong, slender hands on the steering wheel, to her long, slim legs that stretched forward to reach the pedals and back to her face. George picked up a CD cover that was lying on the dashboard, the case to the disc that was playing in the car stereo. "Carolyn Dawn Johnson," She read. "I've never heard of her." "She's almost country without actually being country," Said Karen. "Perfect for waking me up on the way to work." "She's good," Observed George after listening to the music for a few minutes.
When they reached the restaurant, George definitely seemed to relax, perhaps on recognising a situation in which she knew exactly how to behave. As they were shown to the table Karen had booked for them earlier, George was forced to admit to herself that Karen definitely had taste when it came to restaurants. George ordered a glass of the driest Martini they had with lots of ice, and Karen ordered a glass of her favourite scotch. They talked about anything that wasn't either Lauren's case, or what they themselves were actually doing, until the waitress appeared to take their order for food. "I'll have the grilled Brie with cranberries to start," Said George. "Followed by the sole. Karen took a moment or two longer to peruse her menu, and George suddenly realised that Karen was taking this opportunity to size up the waitress. But Karen soon decided on crab-filled filo parcels followed by duck. "You're as outrageous as John," George said in an undertone once the waitress had gone. "Sorry," Karen said, not looking particularly apologetic. Then she grinned. "It really threw John the first time he saw me do that." George laughed. "He's not used to having competition from a woman. You should have seen his face on the day he lost his bet about you and Yvonne. It was priceless." "So I was right," Said Karen with a broad smile. "I remember thinking at the time that we were being watched. Poor John," She said on a laugh. "Yes, witnessing him discovering his first sexual anomaly was certainly a sight to behold. At the time, he made me and Jo both promise that we'd never shatter his illusions and do the same thing." "So, what made you consider breaking your promise?" Karen asked, finally reaching the heart of the matter. George took a sip of her drink, trying to marshal her thoughts. "You made me challenge my own assumptions about a lot of things," She began, hoping this was coming out the way she wanted it too. "When I heard about the kind of cross-examination Brian Cantwell had put you through, I found myself really despising one of my own profession. I hadn't seen you in action on the witness stand, so I naturally assumed you'd be something of a push over. But you weren't," She said quickly, not wanting Karen to take any offence at the bare, unvarnished truth. "When I questioned you, I knew I'd found an equal. You fought back, giving the rest of the people in court about as little thought as I did. You didn't care what you said to me, even though you were in court. Then, when you came to see me that first time about the case against Fenner, you put the way I'd tried to brow beat you in court aside, so that we could start again. It's not often someone does that with me, because I usually use it as an opportunity to stick the knife in. Even my total lack of sensitivity and sheer abundance of crass comments didn't frighten you off. I don't try to be like that, it's just how I am, but in an odd sort of way you seemed to prefer it." Karen didn't reply immediately because their starters arrived. As George reached to pick up her fork, Karen briefly touched her hand. "Believe it or not," She said with a soft smile. "You weren't insensitive or crass, you simply didn't walk on eggshells around me, which too many other people did. The way you looked at that case was so fresh, so devoid of false hope that it gave me the reality check I needed." "And then I go and totally ruin my facade of professionalism by holding the court in contempt," George said with a grin. "John really wasn't pleased with me that day." "He was more worried about you than angry with you," Karen said gently. "He really didn't know what had got in to you, or what he could do about it." "I was going through one of my phases of going a bit off the rails at the time," George explained evasively, thinking that this was the understatement of the century. Karen was again reminded of George's look of fear when told on her visit to Larkhall that all inmates were required to go through a psychiatric assessment. "That visit to Larkhall really opened your eyes, didn't it," Said Karen. "Yes, and it worked. Every time I know I'm in danger of forgetting my place in John's court, I think about the size of the Julies' cell and immediately bite my tongue." They ate for a while in silence. "That second time I came to see you," Karen eventually added, "I wanted to tell you about Fenner so much. I'm told the need to confess is incredibly strong." "Yes, I know," George said gently. "If I hadn't been so immersed in everything going on in my own head at the time, I'd have asked a lot more questions." "John told me about what happened with Neil Haughton," Karen said slowly. "Oh," George said dully, "I thought he might. I sometimes think that got to him more than it did to me." "The night I," Karen searched for the right way to say it. "Slept with John?" George tried. "Yes," Karen agreed. "He talked a lot about you. That was when he told me about Neil." "Just to satisfy my curiosity," said George dryly. "When was this?" "The Friday after you gave me the third degree." "Good god," Said George in half laughter half disgust. "He doesn't waste time, does he." "No," Agreed Karen, "But then neither do I." The heat had suddenly been turned up a few notches. "Yes, I can see that," Drawled George seductively. "The way you fought neck and neck with me the day after Fenner's body was found," She said contemplatively. "That was one of the sexiest things I've ever seen. You gave back just as good as you were getting from me. I think John felt like an umpire and Jo like a spare part. There's nothing more erotic than really sparring with someone, seeing what they're really made of. But then I remember once saying to John that fighting was a form of foreplay." "If the situation hadn't been so serious," Replied Karen, "I'd have enjoyed it. Trying my hand at keeping up with someone used to verbally tying anyone in knots, it allowed me to take out some of the stress of the previous week on you. Until you started getting too close, it was a kind of release." "I'm sorry I made you feel as vulnerable as you did," George said, finally able to do what she'd tried to do with the e-mail she'd sent to Karen fifteen months before. "I know," Said Karen with a soft smile. "And having got to know John over the last year, I know that your warning was absolutely justified. It wasn't necessary in my case, because at the time I couldn't have become emotionally attached to anyone if I'd tried, but it was appreciated." "I couldn't resist the opportunity of seeing you again," George found herself saying. "It was certainly a pleasant surprise to see you," Admitted Karen. "Had I not been in the process of attempting to form the case against Fenner, trying to keep myself out of prison and finishing with Yvonne, I wouldn't have waited fifteen months before asking you out for dinner." "Well, if it's any consolation," replied George. "October 2003 wouldn't have been the right time for me either. You weren't the only one trying to deal with a certain amount of guilt, though mine wasn't the legal kind or the unfounded kind." George suddenly stopped, thinking she'd said too much. "Tell me something," Karen said, seeing that George desperately needed a lighter topic of conversation. "Just how did you find out about me and John?" George's face coloured. "You really don't want to know," she said, slightly flustered. "The more you blush," teased Karen, "The more intrigued I become." "John once let his guard down long enough to fall in to the trap of not having an explanation as to how he knew about my warning you off." Karen simply raised an eyebrow, telling George in no uncertain terms to get on with it and finish the story. "I can't believe I'm telling you this," George said in half amazement half disgust. "One night when I was in bed with John, I persuaded him to tell me about you, about when he slept with you." Karen's eyebrows soared. "That's a complement if ever I heard one," she said, a broad smile lighting up her face. "And was it worth it?" She couldn't help asking which made George laugh. "Yes, it was," she drawled. "It was incredible." Just then, their main courses arrived. Karen found herself watching George's beautiful, skilful hands delicately manipulating her cutlery to remove the sole from the bone. "Have I managed to chip my nail varnish or something?" George asked dryly, observing Karen's gaze on her. "Because whilst staring at my hands might be adding to your imagination, it won't help you to eat." Karen grinned sheepishly and began eating the wonderfully tender and juicy meat that she would never attempt to cook herself in a million years. After a little while of companionable silence, George said, "Tell me about Yvonne." After finishing a mouthful of mange tout, Karen obliged. "It's funny, but the first time I got physically close to Yvonne was in a fight. It was when she was accused of Virginia O'kane's murder and she tried to abscond. Me and Fenner caught her trying to get over the wall. She gave me the biggest shiner I think I've ever had. Other than that, we didn't really have cause to come into close contact with each other until I started seeing Ritchie, other than the odd little skirmish." "I bet that wasn't an enjoyable discussion," said George dryly. "No," Karen said with a rueful grin. "I think her words were, I ought to scratch your bloody eyes out. Then, Snowball set fire to the library and killed Shaz Wiley. Then Ritchie got shot, and I had to break the news to her that he'd never walk again. I took her to see him in hospital, and I broke every rule in the book by taking her for a drink or three afterwards." "Is that when it started?" "No, no, I'm no Helen Stewart. That was probably the first time I looked at Yvonne in that way, but it took another year before the attraction was reciprocated." "Another year?" George said, trying to work this out. "So you and Yvonne started being more than friends around the time of the trial?" "The very middle of the trial to be exact. It's one of the things that Lauren is using as an extenuating circumstance. So, yet again, all my officers are going to be privy to far too many details about my personal life. But then what's new?" "This always happens to you, doesn't it?" "Every bloody time," Karen said bitterly. "So, as soon as I'd given Lauren's name to Jo, I knew I had to end whatever semblance of a relationship there was between me and Yvonne. I couldn't go on sleeping with her knowing that I'd just landed her daughter behind bars. So far, Yvonne doesn't know it was me, and it needs to stay that way." "Was she your first?" "Yes. That was a first for both of us," Karen said with a soft smile. "I'd always previously worked under a look but don't touch policy." "Yes, so have I. John didn't even know. He dragged that out of me the night after I spent that day at Larkhall. Sometimes he just doesn't know when not to pursue something until he gets an answer. I had wanted to keep it from him, have just one little thing about myself that he didn't know. But it wasn't to be." In slightly touching on the last really bad time she'd had, George suddenly found her appetite had gone. "Do you mind if I smoke?" she said because Karen was still eating. "No, of course not," Karen said, seeing that something had got to George, something had intruded on her enjoyment of this evening. "George, what happened to provoke Jo's slightly bizarre suggestion?" After lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag, George opened and shut her mouth a few times, totally stuck as to how to answer such a question. "I'm sorry," Karen said gently, "Forget I asked." Karen put her knife and fork together and lit her own cigarette. "John isn't the only one who sometimes asks too many questions," she said, trying to put George at her ease. George put a hand out and gently took one of Karen's. "Much as it amazes me to say it, I would like to tell you. But not here." "You don't have to," Said Karen, "I just wondered." "I think it might actually do me good to tell you. But don't let John or Jo hear me say that or they'll both think they're having some success with me at last." Not having the slightest idea of what George was talking about, Karen simply let it pass. Neither of them feeling remotely like a sweet, Karen asked for the bill and they left soon after. In the car, some of George's tension seemed to have returned, though Karen thought this was due to whatever George was about to tell her.
When they re-entered her house, George said she'd make some coffee and told Karen to look around. Karen found that she couldn't fail to be impressed. It wasn't just the paintings and the piano, but the way everything was so classy, so stylish yet really quite understated. "You know," She said to George, suddenly remembering, "You don't live very far from Yvonne." George appeared holding two mugs of fresh Brazilian. "I might have known Yvonne Atkins would live somewhere like this," She said, putting them down on the coffee table in front of the sofa. "Who plays?" Karen asked, getting the feeling that the piano wasn't a recent acquisition. "I do, now and then," George said as she move to put some soft music on. "Daddy bought it for me as a wedding present when I got married to John. I think it was his way of making sure I didn't stop playing." Karen smiled when George said the word Daddy, hearing the immensely fond affection George clearly had for her father. They sat, one at each end of the sofa, talking, smoking, George gradually allowing herself to relax now that she was on her home territory. She wanted to tell Karen at least part of her story, knowing that it might almost make them quits. She knew perhaps far too much about Karen for Karen's liking, and maybe it was only fair to redress the balance. When George got to her feet and began walking round her lounge, picking things up and putting them down, Karen realised that she was working up to explaining what she'd said in the restaurant. George's eyes were like an open book to Karen, their large and seemingly endless depths appearing to hold many unanswered questions, many secrets at their centre. They became slightly narrowed in concentration, her brows knitted in a slight frown. "Whatever it is," Karen said, "I'm not going to bite, you know." George laughed, some of the tension leaving her. "And if it's that difficult for you to tell me," Karen said, her tone becoming gentler. "Then don't." George had come to rest near the fireplace, her face slightly in shadow, which was obviously her intention. "I occasionally go through phases of anorexia," She said, knowing that the fact that she'd actually put a name to it of her own accord meant that she was definitely making progress. "Oh, I see," Karen said quietly. "Do you?" George asked, moving back over to the sofa. But before she sat down, Karen reached out, took her hand and gently pulled George down to sit beside her. "Why were you so afraid of telling me?" She asked, imprisoning George's hands in her own. "I didn't want to give you any reason to go off me before this, whatever it is, even got off the ground." Putting her right arm round George, holding her not casually, not possessively, but providing comfort without pressure, Karen said, "Let's not forget that you are well aware of more of my skeletons than I care to count." "I know, I just, this is so new to me," She finished inadequately. "Not just the whole female thing, but letting someone in of my own free will. It's just going to take a bit of getting used to. Letting my guard down, it's not how I do things, or at least it didn't used to be." "Until I did a deal with Denny, and started putting that case together against Fenner, I used to think like that. Even after that bloody trial, even after everything Ritchie said in court for whichever of my officers happened to be there to hear, I still used to think that I could keep up the tough bitch persona and still survive. Only it doesn't quite work like that." "You didn't seem surprised," George observed. "Not much surprises me these days," Said Karen, thinking that after years of dealing with both patients and prison inmates, she didn't think anything could surprise her ever again. "When you appeared in the gallery on Monday, I thought you looked different from the last time I'd seen you. I thought my memory had just altered what you looked like, but you were different, weren't you." "Just a bit," George said ruefully. "I suppose it must have been a week or so after you slept with John, when I fainted in court. He wasn't amused to say the least when he discovered why. He'd known about my little addiction since a few months after our daughter was born, but he was naive enough to assume I'd grown out of it." "I don't think you ever grow out of something like that. You can learn to deal with it, but it never really goes away." George simply stared at her. Here was someone who understood, not from her own experience of it, but nevertheless, someone to whom she didn't have to provide explanations. Karen hadn't even attempted to ask why George felt it necessary to starve herself sometimes, she'd just accepted it. "Does Jo know about this?" Karen asked, thinking that with the close relationship George had with both John and to some extent Jo, she would be hard put not to. "Jo drove me home after I fainted in court, so yes she does. That isn't a conversation I'd like to repeat any time soon," George said with a slight shudder. But again, Karen didn't ask why, for which George was exceedingly grateful. "I remember the day after, John cajoled me in to standing on the scales. I hadn't seen him look quite so shocked or angry in a very long time." Since the previous bout, Karen internally translated. "I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd slapped me when he realised I weighed only five stone ten." "I suspect even John can be pushed to the limits of his control," Karen said dryly, in an attempt to cover up her shock at what George had said. But her reaction hadn't gone unnoticed. Whilst neither Karen's face nor her voice had revealed her inward wince at how thin George had allowed herself to become, her arm had reflexively tightened, just for a moment. George strove to reassure her. "It's got to be really bad for me to get that thin," She said, "Most of the time I'm okay." About as okay as I am after a night filled with dreams of Fenner, Karen thought.
They sat there for a good while longer, the hands of the clock on the mantelpiece creeping towards ten thirty. They had drifted away from discussing anything difficult for either of them, and George was still within the cuckooning warmth of Karen's arm. She decided that she really could come to enjoy this closeness too much. "Do you know what I've remembered about you most over the last year?" She asked. "I dread to think," Karen said with a grin. George smiled. "The day I came to Larkhall, when you whisked me out of the way of Alison McKenzie's fists. The feel of having your arms around me." Karen laughed softly. "John was very cross with me for not keeping you out of harm's way." "He always overreacts," George said in exasperation. "Only because he loves you," Karen said with a soft smile. "This is going to get very complicated, isn't it," She said slightly regretfully. "I have no idea where this is going, and neither do you," Said Karen, turning George's face towards her. "So don't think about that now." As she looked in to George's endless blue eyes, Karen could almost see the cogs turning in George's brain. It was as if she could see the intangible force of courage being summoned up in all its glory. It therefore didn't surprise her in the least when George leaned slightly closer, gently pressing her soft, full lips on Karen's. George had no idea what had made her do it, what had given her that final boost of sheer guts, but she was glad she had. The silky pliability of Karen's lips amazed her. Both women had previously known they were excellent kissers, but now privately thought they'd met their match in the other. George found her left arm going round Karen's waist as if of its own accord, as though she needed something to hold on to, to prevent her from drowning in pure feeling. When they eventually came up for air, Karen smiled. "I don't know what made me do that," George said, looking utterly shell-shocked. "Do you wish you hadn't?" Karen asked, knowing what the answer would be. "Not on your life," George said with total certainty, thinking that there really were some things in this world that she would never get enough of. They sat together for a good while longer, occasionally talking, mostly kissing, George possibly trying to make up for all the years she had looked but not touched. "I could quite easily get hooked on this," George said after a while. "Well now, I never would have thought you'd be so easily pleased," Karen said teasingly. "Enjoy it while it lasts," George said dryly. Then, a little while later, she said tentatively, "Would you like to stay?" Karen examined her face thoughtfully. "Do you want me too?" She said, turning the question back on George, because it was George who might be about to take that step in to the unknown, not her. Now it was George's turn for contemplation. "I do and I don't," she said eventually. "Well then, I won't," Karen said, giving her a reassuring smile. "It's something you should be absolutely one hundred percent sure about." George frowned. "This isn't like me," She said in self-disgust. "Calm down," Karen said gently. "It's not a problem." George did relax slightly, but certainly not to the extent that she had been before. She was incredibly grateful to Karen for being so understanding, but she inwardly cursed herself for being so fucking feeble! When Karen eventually left, she put her arms round George as they stood on the doorstep, George having to stretch up to kiss her goodnight. "You're going to have to stop wearing high heels," George said with a smile. Finally detaching herself, Karen walked to her car. "I wouldn't have missed tonight for anything," She said, the car key poised to unlock the door. George smiled broadly in the glow of the security light above her head. "No, me neither," She replied, wishing she could have allowed Karen to stay. As she watched Karen drive away, George withdrew inside and closed the front door. She had loved every minute of this evening, but now she felt angry, frustrated and pathetic. Georgia Channing didn't ever back out of anything, and she certainly didn't back out of sleeping with someone. Had one woman managed to change all that? Walking back in to the lounge, she saw that it was only just after eleven. It had felt like a lifetime, being sat so close to Karen, but it had only been a matter of an hour or so. Pouring herself a glass of wine from an already opened bottle in the fridge, she walked upstairs, put on some soft music in her bedroom and removed all her clothes and every scrap of makeup. She thought she might just explode with all the sexual tension that was currently thrumming along her nerves, making her feel like she could sail in to orbit single handed. Taking a swig of the Frascati, and leaving the glass on the dressing-table, George walked in to the bathroom and turned on the shower.
John had been restless all evening. Jo wasn't speaking to him, and he had absolutely no idea why she was bringing up their relationship of all things. He couldn't think of anything specific he'd done in the last couple of weeks that might upset her, but he had long ago learnt that with women, you never knew until they spelled it out. Jo would sort herself out in her own time, not anyone else's. He hated it when Jo was cross with him, but he couldn't do anything about it when he didn't know what the problem was. But this didn't stop him worrying about her. It really wasn't like Jo to allow her emotions in to court, and that was exactly what she had been doing on Tuesday. It was as if the case had become her own personal battle, to secure the verdict she wanted at any cost. John was then reminded of the last time Jo had been like this. The Diana Hulsey case had affected her in a similar way. Why oh why did Jo manage to become far too emotionally involved with her cases. He hated being at odds with her, but there really wasn't anything he could do. The ball was in her court, not his. But he needed some soft, gentle female company tonight. He needed to feel that at least one of the women in his life wasn't angry with him. He had been going through the evidence Jo was likely to introduce tomorrow with the opening of her case, but by eleven o'clock he'd had enough. He wanted to put Lauren Atkins and all her unfortunate circumstances out of his mind, and focus his energy on doing the thing he did best. On an impulse, he thought he'd simply drive over and surprise George, assuming in his usual slightly arrogant manner that she would be pleased to see him. When he brought his car to a stop in her driveway, he could see a light on in her bedroom, meaning that she was probably on her way to bed but not asleep. He let himself quietly in to the house. George had never asked him to return Neil's key to her, sometimes liking the fact that he could just let himself in. As he walked along the hall, he sniffed. He could have sworn he could smell a different perfume to that which George had always worn ever since he'd known her. But blended with the aroma of cigarette smoke he couldn't be certain. Seeing that she certainly wasn't anywhere down here, he walked upstairs. When he reached the top, he became aware of the sound of the shower running in the en suite bathroom adjoining George's bedroom. There was some soft music playing, that and the noise of the shower having covered the sound of the front door. As he moved in to the bedroom, the song that was playing reached its end, and in the space between tracks, John heard the unmistakable sound of a gasp that George only ever uttered when she was aroused. His eyes widened when he realised that his thoroughly wicked, beautiful little minx was indulging in a little bit of self pleasure. This was just too hard for him to resist. Walking with the stealth and silence of a cat, he slowly approached the open bathroom door. As he crept closer, he could just make out her shape through the steam.
This had been George's only answer, to alleviate both her anger and frustration with a little erotic fantasy. As she let the warm, caressing droplets run over her skin, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. If she thought hard enough, the drops of water might almost be kisses, feather-light as only a woman's could be. She massaged the shower gel in to her skin, fondling her breasts, teasing her nipples to an almost painful hardness. Is this what Karen's hands would have felt like on her if she'd stayed? Keeping her left hand moving on her breast, she moved her right down between her legs. Her clitoris seemed extra sensitive tonight, possibly from all the fruitless hours of nervous anticipation. As her fingers moved so familiarly over her own body, her head was full of all the things Karen might have done to her. Had her eyes been open, she would have seen John standing staring at her, his pupils dilated with lust as he watched her wandering hands. But some feeling, some sixth sense told her that she was being watched. Snapping her eyes open and whipping her hand from between her legs, she stared right back at him. "John!" She said in mortified outrage. "What the hell are you doing here?" Slowly coming back to his senses, he found that for the first time in his life, he really didn't have anything to say. He had absolutely no excuse for having intruded on her privacy in such a way, and if he had been in the habit of blushing, he'd have been scarlet by now. "Well," George said, seeing that he didn't know what to say. "If you're staying, make yourself useful and get out of those utterly transparent clothes." This was accompanied by a gesture to the evidence of his arousal which was currently far too visible for even an attempt at modesty. Taking her at her word, and feeling that she'd landed him back on familiar ground, he returned to the bedroom, took a sip of her glass of wine, and swiftly removed his clothes.
When George emerged from the shower, she saw that he'd turned back the duvet and lay waiting for her. Smirking wickedly, she started drying her hair, making him wait as long as possible as punishment for watching her. She was standing sideways on, unconsciously giving him yet more of the show. Every time she reached up to brush her hair, her right breast jerked. He began to wonder if she was doing this on purpose just to tease him. When she eventually dropped the hairdryer back in the drawer and the brush back on the dressing-table, she approached the bed. When she was lying along his side with an arm across him, she said, "So, tell me why you felt it necessary to do something so deliciously naughty?" "I think you were the one doing that, not me," He said, finding the feel of her soft, warm curves almost more than he could stand. Slipping a leg between his, so that she was virtually draped over him, she pressed her thigh against his rock hard shaft. "You liked that little display, didn't you," She said unnecessarily. His kissing her with an incredible amount of passion was answer enough for her. Leading his left hand to her breast, she showed him exactly how she wanted it tonight, but qualified her actions with, "Don't even think about being remotely gentle with me tonight, because I'm utterly bloody furious and as an outlet for my anger, you might just do." "Why so cross?" He asked, trying to take her at her word. "None of your bloody business," She said between clenched teeth, it suddenly dawning on her that if he'd arrived half an hour earlier, Karen would still have been here. "I was only asking," He said mildly, seeing that she needed no further provocation of any kind tonight. It didn't take her long to need John inside her, her intense self-disgust making her think that an orgasm was the only way she could release some of her pent up anger. but even as he moved inside her, she knew this was not where she wanted to be. Sure, she wanted to be in this bed, but not with John. She almost laughed when she thought of what would have happened had John appeared and caught her and Karen in bed together. But it would have been a pretty mirthless laugh. She inwardly cursed herself again and again for not having the guts to sleep with Karen, because that's all it had been. She, Georgia Channing who had never been afraid of trying anything sexual, had been frightened off of sleeping with a woman because she didn't know if she would be good enough.
When John became aware of the tears in her eyes, he swiftly withdrew from her, her distress immediately removing any desire he had previously felt. "I'm sorry," She said, feeling all the worse because she hadn't been able to satisfy him. "Where were you?" He asked softly, knowing that she had momentarily drifted away from what she'd actually been doing. When she didn't answer, he simply held her, not having the faintest idea what had upset her. Then he took a stab in the dark. "Who were you thinking about when you were in the shower?" "I can't tell you," She said, looking briefly frightened at the prospect. "Why," He asked with a smile. "do I know them?" "Yes, you do," She said, "Which is precisely why you're not getting any more details out of me. I went out for dinner with someone tonight, someone who I've been wanting to sleep with for a long time now. Yet when it came down to it I couldn't go through with it." "I hope whoever it was didn't attempt to pressure you," He said sternly. "No, of course not," She said defensively. "I just feel so ridiculous. When have I ever bottled out of sleeping with anyone. Never." "And I suppose my appearance didn't exactly help," He said regretfully. "Actually, it did," She said, the bitterness creeping in to her tone. "I'm just sorry I couldn't do this with you either." As he kissed away her tears, John couldn't help but be curious. "I hope he was nice to you," He said, feeling that old familiar protectiveness that had always reared its ugly head whenever she'd gone out with anyone else, even in the days when they'd been barely speaking to each other, only communicating because of Charlie. George smiled at the irony. "You could say that," She said evasively, wondering just what his reaction would be if he knew it was Karen she'd been out with, not a man but a woman.
As Karen drove towards the address George had given her, she found herself doing two things. The first was to realise that George lived only a few streets away from Yvonne, this telling Karen that George's house wouldn't be lacking in either size or style. All the houses were very similar in this area, very spacious, inside and out, as well as being incredibly expensive. The second was to switch on the car CD player, and to smile at the tentative stab of irony in the first line of the first song. It couldn't help but strike her as odd when she heard the words: "If I'm not over you, by the time I get to Georgia..." She knew that the singer was undoubtedly referring to Georgia the place, but Karen found herself contemplating the words in terms of George the woman. To put it bluntly, if Karen wasn't over Yvonne by the time she got to George, tonight would be a total disaster. But the words, over Yvonne, weren't exactly appropriate, they just didn't describe the situation at all. Karen knew that a part of her would always love Yvonne, but that she wasn't actually in love with Yvonne any more. She and Yvonne had been denied both the time and the space to allow their relationship to develop, leaving them both stranded in limbo, each doing their best to pick up the pieces and emotionally move on. Karen had tried to accomplish this by immediately jumping into bed with John, using an incredibly satisfying one-night-stand to give herself some breathing space. Yvonne had achieved at least a temporary measure of breathing space by shooting off to Spain straight after a fairly miserable Christmas. Neither attempt had really worked because they had all then been plunged unceremoniously in to preparing for Lauren's trial. Karen knew that in concentrating on her job and very little else for the last year, she had managed to move on, and whilst she knew it was perhaps a little brutal to think like this, that's how it was. As far as she and George and this night were concerned, it mattered that Karen had moved on from her brief relationship with Yvonne, and that she was now emotionally ready to look for something new. Karen was all too aware that this was without doubt the first time George had contemplated going on a date, for want of a better word, with another woman. This had been borne out by George's extremely pretty blush at the utterance of her primary reason for being at court. This meant that if Karen made any move on George, and this was by no means a certainty, she would have to tread very, very carefully, giving George all the room in the world to retreat.
George on the other hand had been as tense as hell all afternoon. She'd dealt with two clients in her usual, professional manner, but with only half her mind on the job. Once she'd dispensed with her clients, she kept flashing a stupid grin at herself in the mirror on her office wall, then immediately asking herself what the hell she thought she was doing, going out on what could pass for a date, with a woman! Georgia Channing might like to try something new once in a while, but this was going just a bit too far. But she couldn't quite overcome the sense of tingling anticipation that crept along her nerve endings, leaving her as keyed up as the fourteen year old she'd once been, about to lose her virginity and wondering if she would look any different afterwards. Finally, after staring fruitlessly at her computer screen, she switched it off, drove home, and lay in a scented bath for half an hour. George was perfectly aware of how good she could look, but this time was different. Would a woman look at her in a different way? She wasn't sure. Standing in front of the full-length mirror on the outside of her wardrobe door, she examined every inch of her body that she could see, eventually coming to the conclusion that yes, good was certainly something of an understatement. Her hipbones were still slightly too prominent, but she knew herself well enough to know that this would probably never change. She slid her well-manicured hands over her silky, soft skin, tracing the curve of her hips, the span of her waist, and the heavy, ripe swell of her breasts. They might be small in comparison to Karen's, but they were right for her. They felt heavy in her hands, and even at forty-eight, she smiled to herself, they were still relatively firm. Was this what it would be like to touch another woman, she thought, circling her nipples between finger and thumb. For the first time in her life, George found herself nervous at the thought of possibly sleeping with someone, and couldn't help wondering if she would really be able to pull this off. Finally deciding that it was time to dress, she selected a charcoal grey trouser suit and a white silk blouse, knowing that it would allow her to retain her professional persona, but would at the same time give an impression of inner strength, inner poise. Not entirely believing this little piece of received wisdom, George applied her makeup and went downstairs to wait for Karen.
When Karen arrived, she walked up the steps and rang the doorbell. When George appeared and opened the door, they both took a moment to assess the other. Karen ran a practiced eye over the exquisite charcoal grey suit, seeing that it clung in all the right places, accentuating her small, pointed breasts and showing off the fact that most of her height was in her incredibly shapely legs. George, on being presented with a Karen not in one of her usual, professional power suits, thought that if she'd found Karen attractive before, now she was positively stunning. Her tall, slim frame, with the longest legs George had ever seen on a woman, was encased in a beautifully clinging dress in a rich burgundy, made of a supple, silky material that clung lightly to Karen's high, full breasts but which skimmed over her hips so as not to emphasise them. The rich red wine of Karen's dress was threaded through with various shades of this sultry, sexy colour, giving George the brief utterly wild thought that Karen looked as if she was ready to get drunk in more ways than one tonight. George couldn't for the life of her remember what they talked about in the car, just that whatever they did talk about seemed to make her relax by the time they reached the restaurant. Karen was very aware of George's almost palpable nervousness, feeling her eyes as if they were branding irons, travelling from her strong, slender hands on the steering wheel, to her long, slim legs that stretched forward to reach the pedals and back to her face. George picked up a CD cover that was lying on the dashboard, the case to the disc that was playing in the car stereo. "Carolyn Dawn Johnson," She read. "I've never heard of her." "She's almost country without actually being country," Said Karen. "Perfect for waking me up on the way to work." "She's good," Observed George after listening to the music for a few minutes.
When they reached the restaurant, George definitely seemed to relax, perhaps on recognising a situation in which she knew exactly how to behave. As they were shown to the table Karen had booked for them earlier, George was forced to admit to herself that Karen definitely had taste when it came to restaurants. George ordered a glass of the driest Martini they had with lots of ice, and Karen ordered a glass of her favourite scotch. They talked about anything that wasn't either Lauren's case, or what they themselves were actually doing, until the waitress appeared to take their order for food. "I'll have the grilled Brie with cranberries to start," Said George. "Followed by the sole. Karen took a moment or two longer to peruse her menu, and George suddenly realised that Karen was taking this opportunity to size up the waitress. But Karen soon decided on crab-filled filo parcels followed by duck. "You're as outrageous as John," George said in an undertone once the waitress had gone. "Sorry," Karen said, not looking particularly apologetic. Then she grinned. "It really threw John the first time he saw me do that." George laughed. "He's not used to having competition from a woman. You should have seen his face on the day he lost his bet about you and Yvonne. It was priceless." "So I was right," Said Karen with a broad smile. "I remember thinking at the time that we were being watched. Poor John," She said on a laugh. "Yes, witnessing him discovering his first sexual anomaly was certainly a sight to behold. At the time, he made me and Jo both promise that we'd never shatter his illusions and do the same thing." "So, what made you consider breaking your promise?" Karen asked, finally reaching the heart of the matter. George took a sip of her drink, trying to marshal her thoughts. "You made me challenge my own assumptions about a lot of things," She began, hoping this was coming out the way she wanted it too. "When I heard about the kind of cross-examination Brian Cantwell had put you through, I found myself really despising one of my own profession. I hadn't seen you in action on the witness stand, so I naturally assumed you'd be something of a push over. But you weren't," She said quickly, not wanting Karen to take any offence at the bare, unvarnished truth. "When I questioned you, I knew I'd found an equal. You fought back, giving the rest of the people in court about as little thought as I did. You didn't care what you said to me, even though you were in court. Then, when you came to see me that first time about the case against Fenner, you put the way I'd tried to brow beat you in court aside, so that we could start again. It's not often someone does that with me, because I usually use it as an opportunity to stick the knife in. Even my total lack of sensitivity and sheer abundance of crass comments didn't frighten you off. I don't try to be like that, it's just how I am, but in an odd sort of way you seemed to prefer it." Karen didn't reply immediately because their starters arrived. As George reached to pick up her fork, Karen briefly touched her hand. "Believe it or not," She said with a soft smile. "You weren't insensitive or crass, you simply didn't walk on eggshells around me, which too many other people did. The way you looked at that case was so fresh, so devoid of false hope that it gave me the reality check I needed." "And then I go and totally ruin my facade of professionalism by holding the court in contempt," George said with a grin. "John really wasn't pleased with me that day." "He was more worried about you than angry with you," Karen said gently. "He really didn't know what had got in to you, or what he could do about it." "I was going through one of my phases of going a bit off the rails at the time," George explained evasively, thinking that this was the understatement of the century. Karen was again reminded of George's look of fear when told on her visit to Larkhall that all inmates were required to go through a psychiatric assessment. "That visit to Larkhall really opened your eyes, didn't it," Said Karen. "Yes, and it worked. Every time I know I'm in danger of forgetting my place in John's court, I think about the size of the Julies' cell and immediately bite my tongue." They ate for a while in silence. "That second time I came to see you," Karen eventually added, "I wanted to tell you about Fenner so much. I'm told the need to confess is incredibly strong." "Yes, I know," George said gently. "If I hadn't been so immersed in everything going on in my own head at the time, I'd have asked a lot more questions." "John told me about what happened with Neil Haughton," Karen said slowly. "Oh," George said dully, "I thought he might. I sometimes think that got to him more than it did to me." "The night I," Karen searched for the right way to say it. "Slept with John?" George tried. "Yes," Karen agreed. "He talked a lot about you. That was when he told me about Neil." "Just to satisfy my curiosity," said George dryly. "When was this?" "The Friday after you gave me the third degree." "Good god," Said George in half laughter half disgust. "He doesn't waste time, does he." "No," Agreed Karen, "But then neither do I." The heat had suddenly been turned up a few notches. "Yes, I can see that," Drawled George seductively. "The way you fought neck and neck with me the day after Fenner's body was found," She said contemplatively. "That was one of the sexiest things I've ever seen. You gave back just as good as you were getting from me. I think John felt like an umpire and Jo like a spare part. There's nothing more erotic than really sparring with someone, seeing what they're really made of. But then I remember once saying to John that fighting was a form of foreplay." "If the situation hadn't been so serious," Replied Karen, "I'd have enjoyed it. Trying my hand at keeping up with someone used to verbally tying anyone in knots, it allowed me to take out some of the stress of the previous week on you. Until you started getting too close, it was a kind of release." "I'm sorry I made you feel as vulnerable as you did," George said, finally able to do what she'd tried to do with the e-mail she'd sent to Karen fifteen months before. "I know," Said Karen with a soft smile. "And having got to know John over the last year, I know that your warning was absolutely justified. It wasn't necessary in my case, because at the time I couldn't have become emotionally attached to anyone if I'd tried, but it was appreciated." "I couldn't resist the opportunity of seeing you again," George found herself saying. "It was certainly a pleasant surprise to see you," Admitted Karen. "Had I not been in the process of attempting to form the case against Fenner, trying to keep myself out of prison and finishing with Yvonne, I wouldn't have waited fifteen months before asking you out for dinner." "Well, if it's any consolation," replied George. "October 2003 wouldn't have been the right time for me either. You weren't the only one trying to deal with a certain amount of guilt, though mine wasn't the legal kind or the unfounded kind." George suddenly stopped, thinking she'd said too much. "Tell me something," Karen said, seeing that George desperately needed a lighter topic of conversation. "Just how did you find out about me and John?" George's face coloured. "You really don't want to know," she said, slightly flustered. "The more you blush," teased Karen, "The more intrigued I become." "John once let his guard down long enough to fall in to the trap of not having an explanation as to how he knew about my warning you off." Karen simply raised an eyebrow, telling George in no uncertain terms to get on with it and finish the story. "I can't believe I'm telling you this," George said in half amazement half disgust. "One night when I was in bed with John, I persuaded him to tell me about you, about when he slept with you." Karen's eyebrows soared. "That's a complement if ever I heard one," she said, a broad smile lighting up her face. "And was it worth it?" She couldn't help asking which made George laugh. "Yes, it was," she drawled. "It was incredible." Just then, their main courses arrived. Karen found herself watching George's beautiful, skilful hands delicately manipulating her cutlery to remove the sole from the bone. "Have I managed to chip my nail varnish or something?" George asked dryly, observing Karen's gaze on her. "Because whilst staring at my hands might be adding to your imagination, it won't help you to eat." Karen grinned sheepishly and began eating the wonderfully tender and juicy meat that she would never attempt to cook herself in a million years. After a little while of companionable silence, George said, "Tell me about Yvonne." After finishing a mouthful of mange tout, Karen obliged. "It's funny, but the first time I got physically close to Yvonne was in a fight. It was when she was accused of Virginia O'kane's murder and she tried to abscond. Me and Fenner caught her trying to get over the wall. She gave me the biggest shiner I think I've ever had. Other than that, we didn't really have cause to come into close contact with each other until I started seeing Ritchie, other than the odd little skirmish." "I bet that wasn't an enjoyable discussion," said George dryly. "No," Karen said with a rueful grin. "I think her words were, I ought to scratch your bloody eyes out. Then, Snowball set fire to the library and killed Shaz Wiley. Then Ritchie got shot, and I had to break the news to her that he'd never walk again. I took her to see him in hospital, and I broke every rule in the book by taking her for a drink or three afterwards." "Is that when it started?" "No, no, I'm no Helen Stewart. That was probably the first time I looked at Yvonne in that way, but it took another year before the attraction was reciprocated." "Another year?" George said, trying to work this out. "So you and Yvonne started being more than friends around the time of the trial?" "The very middle of the trial to be exact. It's one of the things that Lauren is using as an extenuating circumstance. So, yet again, all my officers are going to be privy to far too many details about my personal life. But then what's new?" "This always happens to you, doesn't it?" "Every bloody time," Karen said bitterly. "So, as soon as I'd given Lauren's name to Jo, I knew I had to end whatever semblance of a relationship there was between me and Yvonne. I couldn't go on sleeping with her knowing that I'd just landed her daughter behind bars. So far, Yvonne doesn't know it was me, and it needs to stay that way." "Was she your first?" "Yes. That was a first for both of us," Karen said with a soft smile. "I'd always previously worked under a look but don't touch policy." "Yes, so have I. John didn't even know. He dragged that out of me the night after I spent that day at Larkhall. Sometimes he just doesn't know when not to pursue something until he gets an answer. I had wanted to keep it from him, have just one little thing about myself that he didn't know. But it wasn't to be." In slightly touching on the last really bad time she'd had, George suddenly found her appetite had gone. "Do you mind if I smoke?" she said because Karen was still eating. "No, of course not," Karen said, seeing that something had got to George, something had intruded on her enjoyment of this evening. "George, what happened to provoke Jo's slightly bizarre suggestion?" After lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag, George opened and shut her mouth a few times, totally stuck as to how to answer such a question. "I'm sorry," Karen said gently, "Forget I asked." Karen put her knife and fork together and lit her own cigarette. "John isn't the only one who sometimes asks too many questions," she said, trying to put George at her ease. George put a hand out and gently took one of Karen's. "Much as it amazes me to say it, I would like to tell you. But not here." "You don't have to," Said Karen, "I just wondered." "I think it might actually do me good to tell you. But don't let John or Jo hear me say that or they'll both think they're having some success with me at last." Not having the slightest idea of what George was talking about, Karen simply let it pass. Neither of them feeling remotely like a sweet, Karen asked for the bill and they left soon after. In the car, some of George's tension seemed to have returned, though Karen thought this was due to whatever George was about to tell her.
When they re-entered her house, George said she'd make some coffee and told Karen to look around. Karen found that she couldn't fail to be impressed. It wasn't just the paintings and the piano, but the way everything was so classy, so stylish yet really quite understated. "You know," She said to George, suddenly remembering, "You don't live very far from Yvonne." George appeared holding two mugs of fresh Brazilian. "I might have known Yvonne Atkins would live somewhere like this," She said, putting them down on the coffee table in front of the sofa. "Who plays?" Karen asked, getting the feeling that the piano wasn't a recent acquisition. "I do, now and then," George said as she move to put some soft music on. "Daddy bought it for me as a wedding present when I got married to John. I think it was his way of making sure I didn't stop playing." Karen smiled when George said the word Daddy, hearing the immensely fond affection George clearly had for her father. They sat, one at each end of the sofa, talking, smoking, George gradually allowing herself to relax now that she was on her home territory. She wanted to tell Karen at least part of her story, knowing that it might almost make them quits. She knew perhaps far too much about Karen for Karen's liking, and maybe it was only fair to redress the balance. When George got to her feet and began walking round her lounge, picking things up and putting them down, Karen realised that she was working up to explaining what she'd said in the restaurant. George's eyes were like an open book to Karen, their large and seemingly endless depths appearing to hold many unanswered questions, many secrets at their centre. They became slightly narrowed in concentration, her brows knitted in a slight frown. "Whatever it is," Karen said, "I'm not going to bite, you know." George laughed, some of the tension leaving her. "And if it's that difficult for you to tell me," Karen said, her tone becoming gentler. "Then don't." George had come to rest near the fireplace, her face slightly in shadow, which was obviously her intention. "I occasionally go through phases of anorexia," She said, knowing that the fact that she'd actually put a name to it of her own accord meant that she was definitely making progress. "Oh, I see," Karen said quietly. "Do you?" George asked, moving back over to the sofa. But before she sat down, Karen reached out, took her hand and gently pulled George down to sit beside her. "Why were you so afraid of telling me?" She asked, imprisoning George's hands in her own. "I didn't want to give you any reason to go off me before this, whatever it is, even got off the ground." Putting her right arm round George, holding her not casually, not possessively, but providing comfort without pressure, Karen said, "Let's not forget that you are well aware of more of my skeletons than I care to count." "I know, I just, this is so new to me," She finished inadequately. "Not just the whole female thing, but letting someone in of my own free will. It's just going to take a bit of getting used to. Letting my guard down, it's not how I do things, or at least it didn't used to be." "Until I did a deal with Denny, and started putting that case together against Fenner, I used to think like that. Even after that bloody trial, even after everything Ritchie said in court for whichever of my officers happened to be there to hear, I still used to think that I could keep up the tough bitch persona and still survive. Only it doesn't quite work like that." "You didn't seem surprised," George observed. "Not much surprises me these days," Said Karen, thinking that after years of dealing with both patients and prison inmates, she didn't think anything could surprise her ever again. "When you appeared in the gallery on Monday, I thought you looked different from the last time I'd seen you. I thought my memory had just altered what you looked like, but you were different, weren't you." "Just a bit," George said ruefully. "I suppose it must have been a week or so after you slept with John, when I fainted in court. He wasn't amused to say the least when he discovered why. He'd known about my little addiction since a few months after our daughter was born, but he was naive enough to assume I'd grown out of it." "I don't think you ever grow out of something like that. You can learn to deal with it, but it never really goes away." George simply stared at her. Here was someone who understood, not from her own experience of it, but nevertheless, someone to whom she didn't have to provide explanations. Karen hadn't even attempted to ask why George felt it necessary to starve herself sometimes, she'd just accepted it. "Does Jo know about this?" Karen asked, thinking that with the close relationship George had with both John and to some extent Jo, she would be hard put not to. "Jo drove me home after I fainted in court, so yes she does. That isn't a conversation I'd like to repeat any time soon," George said with a slight shudder. But again, Karen didn't ask why, for which George was exceedingly grateful. "I remember the day after, John cajoled me in to standing on the scales. I hadn't seen him look quite so shocked or angry in a very long time." Since the previous bout, Karen internally translated. "I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd slapped me when he realised I weighed only five stone ten." "I suspect even John can be pushed to the limits of his control," Karen said dryly, in an attempt to cover up her shock at what George had said. But her reaction hadn't gone unnoticed. Whilst neither Karen's face nor her voice had revealed her inward wince at how thin George had allowed herself to become, her arm had reflexively tightened, just for a moment. George strove to reassure her. "It's got to be really bad for me to get that thin," She said, "Most of the time I'm okay." About as okay as I am after a night filled with dreams of Fenner, Karen thought.
They sat there for a good while longer, the hands of the clock on the mantelpiece creeping towards ten thirty. They had drifted away from discussing anything difficult for either of them, and George was still within the cuckooning warmth of Karen's arm. She decided that she really could come to enjoy this closeness too much. "Do you know what I've remembered about you most over the last year?" She asked. "I dread to think," Karen said with a grin. George smiled. "The day I came to Larkhall, when you whisked me out of the way of Alison McKenzie's fists. The feel of having your arms around me." Karen laughed softly. "John was very cross with me for not keeping you out of harm's way." "He always overreacts," George said in exasperation. "Only because he loves you," Karen said with a soft smile. "This is going to get very complicated, isn't it," She said slightly regretfully. "I have no idea where this is going, and neither do you," Said Karen, turning George's face towards her. "So don't think about that now." As she looked in to George's endless blue eyes, Karen could almost see the cogs turning in George's brain. It was as if she could see the intangible force of courage being summoned up in all its glory. It therefore didn't surprise her in the least when George leaned slightly closer, gently pressing her soft, full lips on Karen's. George had no idea what had made her do it, what had given her that final boost of sheer guts, but she was glad she had. The silky pliability of Karen's lips amazed her. Both women had previously known they were excellent kissers, but now privately thought they'd met their match in the other. George found her left arm going round Karen's waist as if of its own accord, as though she needed something to hold on to, to prevent her from drowning in pure feeling. When they eventually came up for air, Karen smiled. "I don't know what made me do that," George said, looking utterly shell-shocked. "Do you wish you hadn't?" Karen asked, knowing what the answer would be. "Not on your life," George said with total certainty, thinking that there really were some things in this world that she would never get enough of. They sat together for a good while longer, occasionally talking, mostly kissing, George possibly trying to make up for all the years she had looked but not touched. "I could quite easily get hooked on this," George said after a while. "Well now, I never would have thought you'd be so easily pleased," Karen said teasingly. "Enjoy it while it lasts," George said dryly. Then, a little while later, she said tentatively, "Would you like to stay?" Karen examined her face thoughtfully. "Do you want me too?" She said, turning the question back on George, because it was George who might be about to take that step in to the unknown, not her. Now it was George's turn for contemplation. "I do and I don't," she said eventually. "Well then, I won't," Karen said, giving her a reassuring smile. "It's something you should be absolutely one hundred percent sure about." George frowned. "This isn't like me," She said in self-disgust. "Calm down," Karen said gently. "It's not a problem." George did relax slightly, but certainly not to the extent that she had been before. She was incredibly grateful to Karen for being so understanding, but she inwardly cursed herself for being so fucking feeble! When Karen eventually left, she put her arms round George as they stood on the doorstep, George having to stretch up to kiss her goodnight. "You're going to have to stop wearing high heels," George said with a smile. Finally detaching herself, Karen walked to her car. "I wouldn't have missed tonight for anything," She said, the car key poised to unlock the door. George smiled broadly in the glow of the security light above her head. "No, me neither," She replied, wishing she could have allowed Karen to stay. As she watched Karen drive away, George withdrew inside and closed the front door. She had loved every minute of this evening, but now she felt angry, frustrated and pathetic. Georgia Channing didn't ever back out of anything, and she certainly didn't back out of sleeping with someone. Had one woman managed to change all that? Walking back in to the lounge, she saw that it was only just after eleven. It had felt like a lifetime, being sat so close to Karen, but it had only been a matter of an hour or so. Pouring herself a glass of wine from an already opened bottle in the fridge, she walked upstairs, put on some soft music in her bedroom and removed all her clothes and every scrap of makeup. She thought she might just explode with all the sexual tension that was currently thrumming along her nerves, making her feel like she could sail in to orbit single handed. Taking a swig of the Frascati, and leaving the glass on the dressing-table, George walked in to the bathroom and turned on the shower.
John had been restless all evening. Jo wasn't speaking to him, and he had absolutely no idea why she was bringing up their relationship of all things. He couldn't think of anything specific he'd done in the last couple of weeks that might upset her, but he had long ago learnt that with women, you never knew until they spelled it out. Jo would sort herself out in her own time, not anyone else's. He hated it when Jo was cross with him, but he couldn't do anything about it when he didn't know what the problem was. But this didn't stop him worrying about her. It really wasn't like Jo to allow her emotions in to court, and that was exactly what she had been doing on Tuesday. It was as if the case had become her own personal battle, to secure the verdict she wanted at any cost. John was then reminded of the last time Jo had been like this. The Diana Hulsey case had affected her in a similar way. Why oh why did Jo manage to become far too emotionally involved with her cases. He hated being at odds with her, but there really wasn't anything he could do. The ball was in her court, not his. But he needed some soft, gentle female company tonight. He needed to feel that at least one of the women in his life wasn't angry with him. He had been going through the evidence Jo was likely to introduce tomorrow with the opening of her case, but by eleven o'clock he'd had enough. He wanted to put Lauren Atkins and all her unfortunate circumstances out of his mind, and focus his energy on doing the thing he did best. On an impulse, he thought he'd simply drive over and surprise George, assuming in his usual slightly arrogant manner that she would be pleased to see him. When he brought his car to a stop in her driveway, he could see a light on in her bedroom, meaning that she was probably on her way to bed but not asleep. He let himself quietly in to the house. George had never asked him to return Neil's key to her, sometimes liking the fact that he could just let himself in. As he walked along the hall, he sniffed. He could have sworn he could smell a different perfume to that which George had always worn ever since he'd known her. But blended with the aroma of cigarette smoke he couldn't be certain. Seeing that she certainly wasn't anywhere down here, he walked upstairs. When he reached the top, he became aware of the sound of the shower running in the en suite bathroom adjoining George's bedroom. There was some soft music playing, that and the noise of the shower having covered the sound of the front door. As he moved in to the bedroom, the song that was playing reached its end, and in the space between tracks, John heard the unmistakable sound of a gasp that George only ever uttered when she was aroused. His eyes widened when he realised that his thoroughly wicked, beautiful little minx was indulging in a little bit of self pleasure. This was just too hard for him to resist. Walking with the stealth and silence of a cat, he slowly approached the open bathroom door. As he crept closer, he could just make out her shape through the steam.
This had been George's only answer, to alleviate both her anger and frustration with a little erotic fantasy. As she let the warm, caressing droplets run over her skin, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. If she thought hard enough, the drops of water might almost be kisses, feather-light as only a woman's could be. She massaged the shower gel in to her skin, fondling her breasts, teasing her nipples to an almost painful hardness. Is this what Karen's hands would have felt like on her if she'd stayed? Keeping her left hand moving on her breast, she moved her right down between her legs. Her clitoris seemed extra sensitive tonight, possibly from all the fruitless hours of nervous anticipation. As her fingers moved so familiarly over her own body, her head was full of all the things Karen might have done to her. Had her eyes been open, she would have seen John standing staring at her, his pupils dilated with lust as he watched her wandering hands. But some feeling, some sixth sense told her that she was being watched. Snapping her eyes open and whipping her hand from between her legs, she stared right back at him. "John!" She said in mortified outrage. "What the hell are you doing here?" Slowly coming back to his senses, he found that for the first time in his life, he really didn't have anything to say. He had absolutely no excuse for having intruded on her privacy in such a way, and if he had been in the habit of blushing, he'd have been scarlet by now. "Well," George said, seeing that he didn't know what to say. "If you're staying, make yourself useful and get out of those utterly transparent clothes." This was accompanied by a gesture to the evidence of his arousal which was currently far too visible for even an attempt at modesty. Taking her at her word, and feeling that she'd landed him back on familiar ground, he returned to the bedroom, took a sip of her glass of wine, and swiftly removed his clothes.
When George emerged from the shower, she saw that he'd turned back the duvet and lay waiting for her. Smirking wickedly, she started drying her hair, making him wait as long as possible as punishment for watching her. She was standing sideways on, unconsciously giving him yet more of the show. Every time she reached up to brush her hair, her right breast jerked. He began to wonder if she was doing this on purpose just to tease him. When she eventually dropped the hairdryer back in the drawer and the brush back on the dressing-table, she approached the bed. When she was lying along his side with an arm across him, she said, "So, tell me why you felt it necessary to do something so deliciously naughty?" "I think you were the one doing that, not me," He said, finding the feel of her soft, warm curves almost more than he could stand. Slipping a leg between his, so that she was virtually draped over him, she pressed her thigh against his rock hard shaft. "You liked that little display, didn't you," She said unnecessarily. His kissing her with an incredible amount of passion was answer enough for her. Leading his left hand to her breast, she showed him exactly how she wanted it tonight, but qualified her actions with, "Don't even think about being remotely gentle with me tonight, because I'm utterly bloody furious and as an outlet for my anger, you might just do." "Why so cross?" He asked, trying to take her at her word. "None of your bloody business," She said between clenched teeth, it suddenly dawning on her that if he'd arrived half an hour earlier, Karen would still have been here. "I was only asking," He said mildly, seeing that she needed no further provocation of any kind tonight. It didn't take her long to need John inside her, her intense self-disgust making her think that an orgasm was the only way she could release some of her pent up anger. but even as he moved inside her, she knew this was not where she wanted to be. Sure, she wanted to be in this bed, but not with John. She almost laughed when she thought of what would have happened had John appeared and caught her and Karen in bed together. But it would have been a pretty mirthless laugh. She inwardly cursed herself again and again for not having the guts to sleep with Karen, because that's all it had been. She, Georgia Channing who had never been afraid of trying anything sexual, had been frightened off of sleeping with a woman because she didn't know if she would be good enough.
When John became aware of the tears in her eyes, he swiftly withdrew from her, her distress immediately removing any desire he had previously felt. "I'm sorry," She said, feeling all the worse because she hadn't been able to satisfy him. "Where were you?" He asked softly, knowing that she had momentarily drifted away from what she'd actually been doing. When she didn't answer, he simply held her, not having the faintest idea what had upset her. Then he took a stab in the dark. "Who were you thinking about when you were in the shower?" "I can't tell you," She said, looking briefly frightened at the prospect. "Why," He asked with a smile. "do I know them?" "Yes, you do," She said, "Which is precisely why you're not getting any more details out of me. I went out for dinner with someone tonight, someone who I've been wanting to sleep with for a long time now. Yet when it came down to it I couldn't go through with it." "I hope whoever it was didn't attempt to pressure you," He said sternly. "No, of course not," She said defensively. "I just feel so ridiculous. When have I ever bottled out of sleeping with anyone. Never." "And I suppose my appearance didn't exactly help," He said regretfully. "Actually, it did," She said, the bitterness creeping in to her tone. "I'm just sorry I couldn't do this with you either." As he kissed away her tears, John couldn't help but be curious. "I hope he was nice to you," He said, feeling that old familiar protectiveness that had always reared its ugly head whenever she'd gone out with anyone else, even in the days when they'd been barely speaking to each other, only communicating because of Charlie. George smiled at the irony. "You could say that," She said evasively, wondering just what his reaction would be if he knew it was Karen she'd been out with, not a man but a woman.