Part Twenty Nine
When they reached Karen's flat, not far from Canary Warf, George drew her car to a stop behind Karen's. "What made you decide to live here?" George asked as she locked her car door. "I chose it fairly at random," Karen said as they walked to the front door. "I moved here just before I started seeing Ritchie. At the time I wanted anywhere that Fenner hadn't been in." Unlocking the front door, Karen bent to pick up some post from the mat. On top of the Mastercard bill, a copy of the day's Guardian and a bank statement, was something that looked suspiciously like a birthday card. Breaking in to a broad smile, Karen began opening it as they walked up the stairs. Once inside her flat, she put the post that could be dealt with some other time down on the coffee table and began reading the card. On the front was a picture of a bunch of flowers and a bottle of champagne. Inside, Ross had written: "Sorry I couldn't get you these for real.
Happy Birthday.
I love you Mum,
Ross."
Seeing that Karen's smile had gone soul deep, George's curiosity was roused. "Anyone I know?" She asked. "It's from Ross," Karen said, and then clarified, "My son." When Karen stood the card in pride of place on the sideboard, George picked it up and read it. George began putting two and two together. "When is your birthday?" She asked slightly suspiciously. "Today," Karen said nonchalantly, quickly running her eyes over the other items of post. "And you didn't tell anyone?" George asked in astonishment. "It hasn't really been quite the right sort of week for birthdays," Said Karen matter-of-factly. "Besides, it's one that I'm not all that eager to acknowledge." George laughed. "I thought only I did things like that," She said with a smile. "Which birthday is it?" "My fortieth," Muttered Karen, still scanning her credit card bill. "Oh, that's nothing," George said, trying to make Karen feel better. "I was forty eight last June." "Really?" Karen said, looking up and staring at George. "You don't look it." Putting the bills back on the coffee table, Karen said, "After my little foray back in to nursing this evening, I'm going to have a shower and then I'll see what I can find us for dinner." "You take as long as you like," Said George, at last realising something she could do. "And I'll see what I can find us for dinner." "Okay," Karen said as she walked towards her bedroom after putting on some music. "Though I can't promise you'll find anything edible in my fridge."
Once Karen had locked herself in the bathroom, George investigated the tiny kitchen. The thing that had immediately struck her about Karen's flat was that it felt as though Karen really had bought it on a whim. It didn't have the feeling of someone wanting to settle here, but someone wanting to escape from the place they'd lived in previously. The lounge was light, airy and long, but the kitchen was definitely the smallest George had ever seen, meant for only the essentials of survival. George could feel that this flat was simply a place for Karen to sleep in, a place for her to grab a quick meal in between far too many hours spent at work. It certainly bore Karen's touch, her personal mark, but it didn't feel as though she had made it her home, simply using it as somewhere to lay her possessions whilst she didn't have time to find anywhere better. George didn't know the singer on the CD Karen had put on, but she liked her, a soft, sultry southern drawl accompanied by guitars. Assessing what the kitchen possessed in the way of food didn't take her long. Karen definitely needed to go shopping in the near future, but George managed to come up with the rudiments of tagliatelle in the form of ham, mushrooms, pasta, eggs and cream, plus some freshly grated Parmesan cheese. Putting the pasta on to boil, she began chopping the ham and the mushrooms, gradually becoming aware that a violin had now joined the guitars on the CD. The jazzy persistent double-stopping of the violin combined with the rapid plucking of the steel strings, served to raise her spirits, making her feel suddenly relaxed and happy in this unfamiliar setting. Here she was, cooking dinner for another woman, another woman whom she hoped to possibly sleep with some time tonight, and she was loving every minute of it. Blending the eggs and the cream together with a metal whisk in a large, steadily heating saucepan, and adding a dash of salt and pepper, she reflected that it was really quite a shame that she rarely enjoyed the food she was so proficient at preparing. Having attended an extremely expensive girls' boarding school at her father's insistence, learning to cook had been an integral part of her education. George had even occasionally wondered if that was why John had married her, that and for what she was like in bed. She was nervous at the thought of possibly sleeping with Karen, there was no point denying this. But she knew that the more she thought about it, the more nervous she would get. If it happened, it happened, if it didn't, it didn't. After the stress and adrenalin rush of this evening, bed might be the last thing Karen wanted. On the other hand, it might be the very thing to relax both of them. This would be a novel experience in more ways than one for George. Not only would she be trying something sexually new, which she hadn't done since she was married to John, but she would be putting herself completely in Karen's hands. She laughed softly when she thought of this. After all, wasn't that the object of the exercise? But she would have absolutely no idea what she was doing, and when it came to bed, George was used to always being in control, always being aware that what she was doing would inevitably bring maximum pleasure to whoever she was with, even Neil, damn him. Why on earth was she thinking of Neil of all people? He had always made her feel sexually maladjusted. He would never consider doing some of the things she thought of as perfectly normal, saying that whatever she suggested didn't strike him as remotely pleasurable. God, what would he think if he could see her now. He'd think she'd finally stepped over that boundary into total sexual depravity. Screw him, she thought. Screw him and his lower middle-class, narrow-minded idealism, that had never given her an orgasm in the whole time she'd been with him. No wonder she'd become so adept at faking it. She remembered once saying to John that she would have had more fun with a church minister than her cabinet minister. But no more, no more would she feel guilty for being turned on by the things she was. No more would she operate a look but don't touch attitude to women, and especially this woman in particular. So she might make a complete mess of it, she might be absolutely terrible at giving Karen pleasure, but she could learn, she could improve. Everyone had to start somewhere. Even if a person discovered that they had a natural inclination for giving pleasure, that the skills necessary came entirely with ease, everyone, even she had at some point had to go through the adolescent phase of discovery.
When Karen emerged from the hot shower, thoroughly scrubbed of any reminders of Buki Lester's form of emotional self-defence, she felt mentally cleansed as well as physically. It was her birthday after all, and by rights she ought to be allowed to enjoy some of it. George caught a brief glimpse of Karen wrapped only in a towel as she walked from bathroom to bedroom, after which she couldn't quite stop her thoughts from wandering beneath the only thing that stood between her and Karen's body. Stop it, she told herself inwardly as she transferred the sauce and the pasta to a serving dish and put it in the oven to keep warm. Opening a bottle of chilled Chablis she had found in the fridge, she poured them both a glass and handed one to Karen when she appeared in the lounge. "Now this is definitely one thing I have been looking forward too all day," Karen said, after taking a grateful mouthful. Leaning forward, she kissed George lingeringly, the sharp, cool taste of the wine on her lips. Then she sniffed. "What did you find worth eating?" "Wait and see," George said with a smile as she finally detached herself from Karen. "I like a woman of mystery," Karen said, sitting down at the table which George had tentatively cleared of papers, knowing that moving anything remotely connected with work was a surefire way of irritating her, so it might do the same to Karen. But Karen didn't seem to mind. When George put the plates of tagliatelle down on the table, Karen noticed that George had given herself a good deal less than her, but she made no comment on this. Taking a forkful, she smiled and said, "I hereby give you permission to cook for me any time you like." "I've always enjoyed cooking," George said, picking up her own cutlery. "Funny really. I like preparing food, I just don't always enjoy eating it." George's eyes widened when she realised that she'd stumbled in to the territory of talking about one of her specifically banned topics of conversation, but Karen simply let it pass. It was becoming clear to her that although it had been George's policy to avoid discussing her problem with food for far too long, she did want to be able to talk about it, and this was manifesting itself in her doing it without prior thought. They ate in companionable silence, Alison Krauss on the stereo and the Chablis making a perfect accompaniment to the food. Afterwards, Karen washed up while George smoked a cigarette and relaxed in the depths of Karen's sofa. The soft, sheer purity of the singer's voice floated above her, almost bathing her in its reflective glow. When Karen refilled their glasses and sat down next to George, she said, "That's the first time I've ever seen you look peaceful." "It doesn't happen very often," George said languidly. "So make the most of it." George moved along the sofa so that she could put an arm round Karen and lean against her. Lifting her right arm to put it round George, Karen said, "So, do you regret offering to spend two hours behind bars this evening?" "No," George said which was almost a surprise to herself. "I don't. I learnt quite a lot tonight one way and another. Tina Purvis can say an awful lot in a very short time." "Talking or eating is Tina's usual response to stress." "When I returned from checking on Lauren, she was eating Sylvia's chocolate fingers." "Serve her right for leaving me in the lurch this weekend," Said Karen with a rueful smile. "How did you get on with Denny?" "Well, apart from being given the slightly dubious title of posh bitch, absolutely fine." Karen laughed. "And I think Dominic and Gina were impressed with you." "What will you do if Grayling finds out I was there?" "If he's got any sense," Said Karen firmly. "He won't even dare to mention it. If you hadn't been there to be my runner and to look after Tina, Buki almost certainly would have died. Grayling would probably give you a medal for saving him from any more bad publicity." "Is he really so shallow?" "Not quite," Karen said, attempting to be fair. "He's nowhere near as bad as my previous boss. All Simon could say when Fenner was stabbed was that he wanted to hear those two little words, incident resolved. No more, no less. At least Grayling has some sense of humanity in there somewhere. It's hard to find sometimes, but it does exist." "You said the other day that you'd been wing governor for long enough and that you wanted to spread your wings. Spread them how?" "I'd quite like to run my own prison one day, and if they promote me to governor three, I can." "What are you now?" "Grade four. The lowest rank is grade five, grades five and four usually being wing governors. Grayling's a governor one, but he's been in the business a lot longer than me. I'm not sure how high a rank somewhere like Larkhall would require." "You've got your eye on it, haven't you," George said with a knowing smile. "Grayling isn't going to be there forever. He said so himself when he arrived. So when he does eventually go, who knows." They sat talking for a good while longer, listening to music and drinking the rest of the wine. Karen had at one point changed the music to the haunting tones of Tori Amos. On hearing the highly skilled piano playing which could only be the result of many years spent at a conservatoire, George's hands began to twitch. The piano music made a far deeper impression on her than the words, and like all musicians when they hear their instrument pushed to the bounds of its capability, she had a sudden urge to exercise her own fingers. But she wasn't at home and she didn't have her piano, so her wish was futile. Perhaps it was the wine she had consumed, perhaps it was the sudden urge to do something with her hands. But something had enhanced all George's senses, making her almost painfully aware of how close she was to Karen. When George began kissing her, Karen could feel that there was something different this time. George was more confident, more sure of herself. George's hand was lying in her lap but she had to restrain herself from allowing it to wander at will. Karen's fabulously constructed cleavage was luring her hand like a magnet, but she just about managed to stop herself from acting on it. "You're frowning," Karen said, seeing the lines of sheer concentration etched across George's forehead. "I have an almost overwhelming urge to touch you," George admitted. Karen laughed softly. After a little while longer of this, George said, "Please take me to bed." Karen could hear the clear underlying tone of arousal in George's voice, but she still asked, "Are you sure?" In answer, George took Karen's other hand and led it to the buttons of her blouse. Smiling softly, Karen took George's hand and led her towards the bedroom.
Karen attempted to take her time in removing George's clothes, paying particular attention to every inch of revealed skin, but this was too frustrating for George. When her hands joined Karen's in undoing her clothes, Karen said between kisses, "Calm down. We have all the time in the world." "Patience has never been one of my virtues." "Oh, I don't doubt it," Karen said with a broad smile. But she made fast work of the rest of George's clothes. When she finally surveyed what she'd only previously suspected was hiding under what George had been wearing, she just stared. This beautiful, ravishing, utterly gorgeous woman with the tiniest waist, perfectly sculptured hips and thighs and with small, heavy breasts that simply begged to be caressed, this woman was standing here, all for her. "What?" George asked, a wickedly sinful grin turning up the corners of her mouth. "You're beautiful," Was all Karen could find to say. "Why does every person who has designs on my body always say that," She said almost dismissively. Gently taking hold of George's shoulder, Karen turned her to face the full-length mirror in the wardrobe door. "Have you looked at yourself in a mirror recently?" Karen asked in total amazement. "I look at myself everyday. What of it?" "Then it's about time you realised how stunning you are." "I used too," George said slightly regretfully. "Self appreciation seemed to go out of the window when I stopped eating last year." Putting her arms round George's waist from behind, Karen began kissing a trail across her shoulders and along her neck. "You are beautiful," She asserted as she continued. "You have without doubt the most stunningly sexy body I've ever seen, and whilst I know its easier said than done, I would like you to believe that one day." Making sure George was still watching the mirror, Karen trailed her fingers upwards to let them flicker over George's breasts, gently teasing at the nipples and feeling their heavy ripeness. The combination of the feel of Karen's soft, delicate fingers, together with the sight of Karen's extremely female hands moving over her skin made her forget about everything but what was immediately happening to her. "I think you've got an unfair advantage," George said, her voice deepened with arousal as she turned her lips to meet Karen's and began undoing the buttons of her blouse. It didn't take long for the rest of Karen's clothes to be discarded. "John was absolutely right about you," George said as they moved towards the bed. "Should I take that as a compliment?" Karen asked with a smile. "You know you should," George replied as they met under the duvet, hands wandering at will and mouths interlocking to make further discussion almost impossible. When Karen's hand began moving in earnest on George's breast, she discovered that George certainly wasn't reticent in doing the same to her. There was something initially odd for George as she fondled Karen's extremely well constructed figure. The soft, heavy breasts that were a good deal larger than her own, rising to nipples as hard as bullets, but the other thing that astounded her, was just how gentle yet how sexually electrifying Karen's touch was. The only man George had ever slept with who had ever known how to be gentle enough whilst still maintaining a satisfactory level of contact was John. But this was almost certainly derived from his endless supply of conquests with which to perfect his technique. But Karen's soft, silky fingers needed no suggested adjustment in what they were doing to her. Karen liked George's boldness in touching her, liked the way George was mimicking what she was doing in order to try and get it right. George gasped as Karen stroked her thumb over an already sensitized nipple. When Karen regretfully detached her lips from George's and kissed her way down to soothe the tender pleasure point with her tongue and to gently encircle it between her lips, George couldn't decide which was sexier, the languorously sweeping tongue or the relentless pressure of Karen's lips. When George uttered a sound that in any other situation would have meant she was in pain, Karen looked up to see George furiously biting down on her lower lip. Kissing her way back up, Karen kissed George's lips until she parted them. "You're not in court now," Karen said with a wicked little smirk. "Nobody's telling you you've got to stay quiet." George grinned back at her. "You might change your mind about that." "Tell me what you like," Karen asked between kisses, still moving her hand over George's breasts. George was finding Karen's movements almost too distracting. "As I'm very new to this," She said eventually. "I think it's up to you to enlighten me." "Wow," Said Karen, her smile turning predatory for a moment. "I've never been given unlimited licence before." Then, her smile turning soft again she said, "Don't say you're going shy on me, Ms Channing." George laughed. "Never," She said in that courtroom tone that could cut throats with a single syllable. "I'd ruin my reputation if I did. But to answer your question, what you were doing wasn't a bad start." Returning to her former endeavour, Karen this time turned her attention to the other breast, alternately nibbling and soothing the sensitive skin until George was almost ready to plead for more stimulation elsewhere. Sensing George's need, Karen rested a gentle hand on her thigh, almost asking permission. When this was granted by the parting of George's legs, Karen inched her hand between them. It was no surprise to her that George was as shaved as she was. She didn't know why, but George just struck her as someone who would. At the first stroke of Karen's finger over her clit, George sucked in a breath and let out a moan of sheer ecstasy. If this hadn't been confirmation enough, Karen would have been assured of George's enjoyment at what they were doing when she slipped a long, tapered finger inside her. Withdrawing it somewhat more lubricated, she moved it back up and around George's clit. Detaching her lips from George's nipple, Karen began moving down, kissing each slightly too prominent rib in turn, fully intent on replacing her wandering hand with her mouth, but George stopped her. "Please don't," She said, "I'd like to see you." Taking her at her word, Karen kissed her way back up until she was suckling on her other nipple. Sliding two fingers in to George's cavern of heat and wetness, she used her thumb to lazily and then more determinedly graze back and forth over George's clit, making her breath come in quicker and sharper gasps. When Karen sensed that George was close, she increased the speed in her hand and swiped her tongue again and again across her nipple. When George finally came, she couldn't help crying out, her internal muscles clamping down on Karen's fingers, her whole body going momentarily rigid. When she lay afterwards, her breathing gradually returning to normal, Karen simply lay holding her, gently kissing away a few stray tears that had appeared on George's cheeks. Reaching over to the bedside table, Karen took a few tissues from the box that always resided there and handed them to George to wipe her eyes. "I might be out of practice," Karen said with a soft smile. "But I didn't know I was that bad." George half laughed as she dried her tears. "Don't be ridiculous," She said. "You were incredible. I just feel, I don't know, like I've just lost my virginity all over again." Karen smiled. "You have in a way," She said, remembering the emotional reaction she'd had the first time Yvonne had made love to her. "It's funny," George said, putting her arms round Karen. "But it felt so much more," She searched for the right word. "So much more intimate." "I know what you mean," Karen said, kissing her. "And I can assure you, you've seen nothing yet," She added lasciviously. "Oh, really," Drawled George. "Well, whatever else I'm missing I'm sure can wait till another time," She said between kisses. "Because I really ought to return the favour." "You don't have too," Karen said, not minding in the least if this was something George wasn't quite ready for. "Of course I do," Said George. "Besides, it's your birthday, and you deserve to feel thoroughly sated." Karen glanced at the clock. "Not any more it's not, thank god," She said. "But if you're insistent, I'm not about to say no." George began to look slightly nervous. "I might be terrible at this," She said, drawing her face slightly back from Karen's. "Only do this if you really want to do it. If you're not sure you want to, then don't." "I do," George insisted. "I just can't promise I'll be as good as you were." "Don't worry about that," Karen said, beginning to kiss her again. George found it easier simply to go by what she knew she liked. She allowed her left hand to wander at will, to trace the swell of Karen's breasts, the pinpoint nipples and the curve of her hips. Slipping a leg in between Karen's, George found herself half draped over her, which Karen found wholly delicious. Detaching her lips from Karen's, George let them trail down over Karen's collarbone, to tentatively go round one of her nipples. As George's tongue grazed her sensitive skin, Karen made a sound deep in her throat that George found incredibly erotic. It was halfway between a low, husky groan and something approaching a growl. Taking this as a good sign, George continued, trying to induce in Karen the kind of feelings she herself had experienced earlier. When her hand eventually reached between Karen's slightly spread legs, it took George completely by surprise. It was as if her hand had possessed a mind of its own. She smiled when she remembered how John had described Karen to her, and now here she was, actually putting that fantasy in to action. George wouldn't normally have used her left hand on herself, but using her left hand on someone else only required a slight adjustment. The gloriously wet and enticing heat that greeted her was almost intoxicating. She, George, was causing this level of sexual arousal in Karen, no one else. It gave her an amazing sense of confidence and satisfaction to know that Karen was this turned on by her. "I didn't know you were left-handed," Karen said, arousal evident in her voice. "I'm not," George said, grinning broadly. "But playing the piano means that both hands can be persuaded in to any remotely possible position." "You're telling me," Karen agreed, her breath noticeably quickening. A moment later, George felt Karen's right-hand insinuate itself between her legs which were slightly spread, one being curled round one of Karen's. George had been half aroused by the whole naughtiness of what she was doing, the sheer newness and almost forbidden quality of it. But when Karen's hand began moving over and inside her again, she kissed her way back up to Karen's face to be eye to eye with her when they came. Their hands increasing in speed, their breath coming in faster and faster gasps, their unoccupied arms clinging to the other, they soared over their sexual peak almost simultaneously, kissing each other long and hard.
They lay close afterwards, holding each other, occasionally kissing and with no need for words. Karen was perfectly well aware that George had gone through a vast new set of experiences tonight, and George just lay, cocooned within Karen's arms, allowing herself to float on feeling alone. The sense of exultation she felt at having finally fulfilled one of the things she'd wanted to do ever since she'd discovered what sexually interested her was enormous. Some of the things she and John had tried when they were married had been sensational, and she knew that she could never be one of those women who gave up men altogether. But this had been incredible. She now had an insatiable curiosity to discover every new delight of this new avenue of sexual pleasure, to sample a taste of everything it had to offer. But what of Karen? George had suggested on Wednesday that this was all about to get very complicated, and she knew now that she'd been absolutely right. Karen might have said that as neither of them knew where it was going, there was no point in thinking about that, but George couldn't help thinking about it. But she loved John, she would always love John and she certainly wasn't about to stop sleeping with John. So, what did that mean for herself and Karen? Maybe Karen was right, maybe this didn't need to be gone in to now, even in her own head. On Wednesday, Karen had said just to see what happened, see where it went. That meant no strings, no pressure for either of them, which, if this were still the case in the morning, would suit her just fine. As they lay listening to the CD in the lounge slowly fading away to nothing, they gradually drifted to sleep, their bodies nestled against each other covered by the soft goose-feather duvet.
They slept, soundly and without dreams until just after half past eight the next morning. When the ringing of the phone in the lounge eventually penetrated Karen's fog-filled brain, she was half tempted to let the answer phone deal with it, but it was almost certainly either Gina or Dominic wanting to give her an update on the night's events. George had turned on to her left side some time in the night, still lying in Karen's arms but with her back to her. Gently disentangling herself, Karen got out of bed and went in to the lounge. Picking up the phone, she greeted Gina with, "This better be good," in a voice filled with sleep. "Oh, good morning to you too," Gina said far too cheerfully. "Good job it wasn't Grayling." "Only you would dare phone me at this time on a Saturday morning after the week we've just had." "Oh, I'm sorry," Said Gina, her face and voice suffused with a broad grin. "Get to bed late did we?" "No, not especially," Replied Karen, utterly failing to hide the smile in her own voice. "Just not alone then," Concluded Gina triumphantly. "It's about Alison McKenzie," She said, returning to the matter in hand. "You were right, she has been dealing again and we've had her tested so we'll see if she's using as well. Buki made it through the night, but only just. Thomas is going to keep her on the hospital wing till at least Monday. Tina's all right after last night, and we've got the usual contract firm coming in to clean the four-bed dorm this morning. Otherwise, all's quiet, for now. Paula and Colin will be in at ten." "Well done," Karen said, relieved that there'd been no more mishaps overnight. "And tell George I'm sorry for dragging you away," Gina added mischievously. "Goodbye Gina," Karen said, but with a broad smile as she switched the phone off.
George had heard the phone ring, and had felt Karen slip out of bed. She'd drifted in and out of sleep, only vaguely aware of Karen quietly talking in the next room, and of the sound of running water and of Karen cleaning her teeth coming from the bathroom. When Karen returned to bed, George stayed exactly where she was, but Karen wasn't fooled. She hadn't spent all those years bringing up Ross not to be able to recognise when someone wasn't asleep. Gently putting her arms round George who was still lying with her back to her, Karen just lay for a while, holding this beautiful, soft warm body against her. The last time she'd been this close to someone was the night she'd slept with John. Those few short weeks with Yvonne had taught her to enjoy being physically close to someone again and she had missed this far more than anything else. When she felt George's fingers lacing themselves through hers, Karen said softly, "I didn't think you were asleep." "Not quite how I wanted to wake up," George replied, and Karen found she liked the slightly deeper, huskier sounding George. "And how did you want to wake up?" Karen asked, thinking she might have an idea. In Answer, George took Karen's right hand and led it to her breast, where Karen needed no prompting as to what George obviously wanted. To George, Karen's incredibly sensual touch combined with her own still half-asleep brain felt luxurious. George simply allowed the feeling to spread over her like honey, gradually trickling in to every corner of her being. When George let out a deep moan of contentment, Karen said with a smile in her voice, "So, this is your ideal way to be woken up, is it?" "You can say that again," George replied. "It's extremely rare I get this particular wish granted though." A short while later, she turned over to face Karen and said, "Just let me clean my teeth, and I'll be back." "I'll hold you to that," Karen said as George got out of bed. "I think there's a spare toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet." "I brought one with me," George said, going in to the lounge to find her handbag. "Aha," Karen replied, a broad grin lighting up her face. "So that's why you left your handbag in the car." "Quite right," Said George, returning with the item in question. "I was not about to have your gateman search my bag like he did last time, and discover a toothbrush and a spare pair of knickers. It would have made his day." Karen laughed.
When George returned to the bedroom, she caught sight of something leaning against the wall that she hadn't observed the night before. She briefly stared at it in astonishment. "I didn't know you played the viola," She said, correctly identifying the elongated, curved case. "I haven't played it in far too long," Karen replied as George slid back under the duvet. "And why not?" George asked, sounding for a brief moment exactly like her father. "Ever since I took over G wing, time of my own has been somewhat lacking." "Yes, I noticed that," George said dryly. "Do your staff always wake you up at some ungodly hour?" "Invariably," Karen replied grimly. "Gina did ask me to pass on her apologies," She added with a smile. "So that's why this hand is so incredibly good at what it does best," George said with a smirk, touching the fingers of Karen's right hand and glancing over at the viola case. "It's your bowing hand." When they began kissing, it felt good, it felt right to both of them. It might still be relatively new to George, but it didn't prevent her from knowing that this was where she wanted to be. Their hands moved in complete harmony this time, first on each other's breasts, then progressing lower. They needed each other desperately, they needed to repeat their fulfillment of the night before, almost as if this pleasure would never fall their way again. "I could get addicted to this," George said as she neared her peak. "That's because it's a novelty," Karen replied between kisses. "Maybe," George agreed. "I always did get a kick out of trying anything new." As George came for the third time in eight hours, she thought that she could never get bored of this, not even taking her usual short attention span in to consideration. There was something utterly earth shattering, something so erotic about bringing someone of her own sex to orgasm that she thought the feeling would consume her entire soul. George had drifted back to sleep for a short while afterwards, and Karen lay there watching her. George really was beautiful, still too thin than was really good for her, but nevertheless stunning. Karen knew she was slowly, gradually being given glimpses of the inner George, the George who stopped eating in order to cope, who for some reason couldn't acknowledge or recognise how beautiful she was. But this didn't put Karen off in any way. After all, she was the last person who should see skeletons as obstacles in getting to know someone. Pressing a quick kiss to George's cheek, Karen slipped out of bed and took a shower, knowing that whatever came in the following days, weeks or months, she wouldn't ever regret making love to George, not even if George were to suddenly change her mind and stay away. George might be happy in the slightly odd relationship she had with John, but Karen thought she needed something more, not necessarily something more committed, but simply something different. But what about her, what about Karen. She had slept with George because George had wanted it and because she, Karen, had needed that feeling of letting go, combined with the feeling of comfort that only another's arms can provide. Just see where it goes, Karen told herself as she washed her hair, and if and when the time comes, say exactly the same to George.
When they reached Karen's flat, not far from Canary Warf, George drew her car to a stop behind Karen's. "What made you decide to live here?" George asked as she locked her car door. "I chose it fairly at random," Karen said as they walked to the front door. "I moved here just before I started seeing Ritchie. At the time I wanted anywhere that Fenner hadn't been in." Unlocking the front door, Karen bent to pick up some post from the mat. On top of the Mastercard bill, a copy of the day's Guardian and a bank statement, was something that looked suspiciously like a birthday card. Breaking in to a broad smile, Karen began opening it as they walked up the stairs. Once inside her flat, she put the post that could be dealt with some other time down on the coffee table and began reading the card. On the front was a picture of a bunch of flowers and a bottle of champagne. Inside, Ross had written: "Sorry I couldn't get you these for real.
Happy Birthday.
I love you Mum,
Ross."
Seeing that Karen's smile had gone soul deep, George's curiosity was roused. "Anyone I know?" She asked. "It's from Ross," Karen said, and then clarified, "My son." When Karen stood the card in pride of place on the sideboard, George picked it up and read it. George began putting two and two together. "When is your birthday?" She asked slightly suspiciously. "Today," Karen said nonchalantly, quickly running her eyes over the other items of post. "And you didn't tell anyone?" George asked in astonishment. "It hasn't really been quite the right sort of week for birthdays," Said Karen matter-of-factly. "Besides, it's one that I'm not all that eager to acknowledge." George laughed. "I thought only I did things like that," She said with a smile. "Which birthday is it?" "My fortieth," Muttered Karen, still scanning her credit card bill. "Oh, that's nothing," George said, trying to make Karen feel better. "I was forty eight last June." "Really?" Karen said, looking up and staring at George. "You don't look it." Putting the bills back on the coffee table, Karen said, "After my little foray back in to nursing this evening, I'm going to have a shower and then I'll see what I can find us for dinner." "You take as long as you like," Said George, at last realising something she could do. "And I'll see what I can find us for dinner." "Okay," Karen said as she walked towards her bedroom after putting on some music. "Though I can't promise you'll find anything edible in my fridge."
Once Karen had locked herself in the bathroom, George investigated the tiny kitchen. The thing that had immediately struck her about Karen's flat was that it felt as though Karen really had bought it on a whim. It didn't have the feeling of someone wanting to settle here, but someone wanting to escape from the place they'd lived in previously. The lounge was light, airy and long, but the kitchen was definitely the smallest George had ever seen, meant for only the essentials of survival. George could feel that this flat was simply a place for Karen to sleep in, a place for her to grab a quick meal in between far too many hours spent at work. It certainly bore Karen's touch, her personal mark, but it didn't feel as though she had made it her home, simply using it as somewhere to lay her possessions whilst she didn't have time to find anywhere better. George didn't know the singer on the CD Karen had put on, but she liked her, a soft, sultry southern drawl accompanied by guitars. Assessing what the kitchen possessed in the way of food didn't take her long. Karen definitely needed to go shopping in the near future, but George managed to come up with the rudiments of tagliatelle in the form of ham, mushrooms, pasta, eggs and cream, plus some freshly grated Parmesan cheese. Putting the pasta on to boil, she began chopping the ham and the mushrooms, gradually becoming aware that a violin had now joined the guitars on the CD. The jazzy persistent double-stopping of the violin combined with the rapid plucking of the steel strings, served to raise her spirits, making her feel suddenly relaxed and happy in this unfamiliar setting. Here she was, cooking dinner for another woman, another woman whom she hoped to possibly sleep with some time tonight, and she was loving every minute of it. Blending the eggs and the cream together with a metal whisk in a large, steadily heating saucepan, and adding a dash of salt and pepper, she reflected that it was really quite a shame that she rarely enjoyed the food she was so proficient at preparing. Having attended an extremely expensive girls' boarding school at her father's insistence, learning to cook had been an integral part of her education. George had even occasionally wondered if that was why John had married her, that and for what she was like in bed. She was nervous at the thought of possibly sleeping with Karen, there was no point denying this. But she knew that the more she thought about it, the more nervous she would get. If it happened, it happened, if it didn't, it didn't. After the stress and adrenalin rush of this evening, bed might be the last thing Karen wanted. On the other hand, it might be the very thing to relax both of them. This would be a novel experience in more ways than one for George. Not only would she be trying something sexually new, which she hadn't done since she was married to John, but she would be putting herself completely in Karen's hands. She laughed softly when she thought of this. After all, wasn't that the object of the exercise? But she would have absolutely no idea what she was doing, and when it came to bed, George was used to always being in control, always being aware that what she was doing would inevitably bring maximum pleasure to whoever she was with, even Neil, damn him. Why on earth was she thinking of Neil of all people? He had always made her feel sexually maladjusted. He would never consider doing some of the things she thought of as perfectly normal, saying that whatever she suggested didn't strike him as remotely pleasurable. God, what would he think if he could see her now. He'd think she'd finally stepped over that boundary into total sexual depravity. Screw him, she thought. Screw him and his lower middle-class, narrow-minded idealism, that had never given her an orgasm in the whole time she'd been with him. No wonder she'd become so adept at faking it. She remembered once saying to John that she would have had more fun with a church minister than her cabinet minister. But no more, no more would she feel guilty for being turned on by the things she was. No more would she operate a look but don't touch attitude to women, and especially this woman in particular. So she might make a complete mess of it, she might be absolutely terrible at giving Karen pleasure, but she could learn, she could improve. Everyone had to start somewhere. Even if a person discovered that they had a natural inclination for giving pleasure, that the skills necessary came entirely with ease, everyone, even she had at some point had to go through the adolescent phase of discovery.
When Karen emerged from the hot shower, thoroughly scrubbed of any reminders of Buki Lester's form of emotional self-defence, she felt mentally cleansed as well as physically. It was her birthday after all, and by rights she ought to be allowed to enjoy some of it. George caught a brief glimpse of Karen wrapped only in a towel as she walked from bathroom to bedroom, after which she couldn't quite stop her thoughts from wandering beneath the only thing that stood between her and Karen's body. Stop it, she told herself inwardly as she transferred the sauce and the pasta to a serving dish and put it in the oven to keep warm. Opening a bottle of chilled Chablis she had found in the fridge, she poured them both a glass and handed one to Karen when she appeared in the lounge. "Now this is definitely one thing I have been looking forward too all day," Karen said, after taking a grateful mouthful. Leaning forward, she kissed George lingeringly, the sharp, cool taste of the wine on her lips. Then she sniffed. "What did you find worth eating?" "Wait and see," George said with a smile as she finally detached herself from Karen. "I like a woman of mystery," Karen said, sitting down at the table which George had tentatively cleared of papers, knowing that moving anything remotely connected with work was a surefire way of irritating her, so it might do the same to Karen. But Karen didn't seem to mind. When George put the plates of tagliatelle down on the table, Karen noticed that George had given herself a good deal less than her, but she made no comment on this. Taking a forkful, she smiled and said, "I hereby give you permission to cook for me any time you like." "I've always enjoyed cooking," George said, picking up her own cutlery. "Funny really. I like preparing food, I just don't always enjoy eating it." George's eyes widened when she realised that she'd stumbled in to the territory of talking about one of her specifically banned topics of conversation, but Karen simply let it pass. It was becoming clear to her that although it had been George's policy to avoid discussing her problem with food for far too long, she did want to be able to talk about it, and this was manifesting itself in her doing it without prior thought. They ate in companionable silence, Alison Krauss on the stereo and the Chablis making a perfect accompaniment to the food. Afterwards, Karen washed up while George smoked a cigarette and relaxed in the depths of Karen's sofa. The soft, sheer purity of the singer's voice floated above her, almost bathing her in its reflective glow. When Karen refilled their glasses and sat down next to George, she said, "That's the first time I've ever seen you look peaceful." "It doesn't happen very often," George said languidly. "So make the most of it." George moved along the sofa so that she could put an arm round Karen and lean against her. Lifting her right arm to put it round George, Karen said, "So, do you regret offering to spend two hours behind bars this evening?" "No," George said which was almost a surprise to herself. "I don't. I learnt quite a lot tonight one way and another. Tina Purvis can say an awful lot in a very short time." "Talking or eating is Tina's usual response to stress." "When I returned from checking on Lauren, she was eating Sylvia's chocolate fingers." "Serve her right for leaving me in the lurch this weekend," Said Karen with a rueful smile. "How did you get on with Denny?" "Well, apart from being given the slightly dubious title of posh bitch, absolutely fine." Karen laughed. "And I think Dominic and Gina were impressed with you." "What will you do if Grayling finds out I was there?" "If he's got any sense," Said Karen firmly. "He won't even dare to mention it. If you hadn't been there to be my runner and to look after Tina, Buki almost certainly would have died. Grayling would probably give you a medal for saving him from any more bad publicity." "Is he really so shallow?" "Not quite," Karen said, attempting to be fair. "He's nowhere near as bad as my previous boss. All Simon could say when Fenner was stabbed was that he wanted to hear those two little words, incident resolved. No more, no less. At least Grayling has some sense of humanity in there somewhere. It's hard to find sometimes, but it does exist." "You said the other day that you'd been wing governor for long enough and that you wanted to spread your wings. Spread them how?" "I'd quite like to run my own prison one day, and if they promote me to governor three, I can." "What are you now?" "Grade four. The lowest rank is grade five, grades five and four usually being wing governors. Grayling's a governor one, but he's been in the business a lot longer than me. I'm not sure how high a rank somewhere like Larkhall would require." "You've got your eye on it, haven't you," George said with a knowing smile. "Grayling isn't going to be there forever. He said so himself when he arrived. So when he does eventually go, who knows." They sat talking for a good while longer, listening to music and drinking the rest of the wine. Karen had at one point changed the music to the haunting tones of Tori Amos. On hearing the highly skilled piano playing which could only be the result of many years spent at a conservatoire, George's hands began to twitch. The piano music made a far deeper impression on her than the words, and like all musicians when they hear their instrument pushed to the bounds of its capability, she had a sudden urge to exercise her own fingers. But she wasn't at home and she didn't have her piano, so her wish was futile. Perhaps it was the wine she had consumed, perhaps it was the sudden urge to do something with her hands. But something had enhanced all George's senses, making her almost painfully aware of how close she was to Karen. When George began kissing her, Karen could feel that there was something different this time. George was more confident, more sure of herself. George's hand was lying in her lap but she had to restrain herself from allowing it to wander at will. Karen's fabulously constructed cleavage was luring her hand like a magnet, but she just about managed to stop herself from acting on it. "You're frowning," Karen said, seeing the lines of sheer concentration etched across George's forehead. "I have an almost overwhelming urge to touch you," George admitted. Karen laughed softly. After a little while longer of this, George said, "Please take me to bed." Karen could hear the clear underlying tone of arousal in George's voice, but she still asked, "Are you sure?" In answer, George took Karen's other hand and led it to the buttons of her blouse. Smiling softly, Karen took George's hand and led her towards the bedroom.
Karen attempted to take her time in removing George's clothes, paying particular attention to every inch of revealed skin, but this was too frustrating for George. When her hands joined Karen's in undoing her clothes, Karen said between kisses, "Calm down. We have all the time in the world." "Patience has never been one of my virtues." "Oh, I don't doubt it," Karen said with a broad smile. But she made fast work of the rest of George's clothes. When she finally surveyed what she'd only previously suspected was hiding under what George had been wearing, she just stared. This beautiful, ravishing, utterly gorgeous woman with the tiniest waist, perfectly sculptured hips and thighs and with small, heavy breasts that simply begged to be caressed, this woman was standing here, all for her. "What?" George asked, a wickedly sinful grin turning up the corners of her mouth. "You're beautiful," Was all Karen could find to say. "Why does every person who has designs on my body always say that," She said almost dismissively. Gently taking hold of George's shoulder, Karen turned her to face the full-length mirror in the wardrobe door. "Have you looked at yourself in a mirror recently?" Karen asked in total amazement. "I look at myself everyday. What of it?" "Then it's about time you realised how stunning you are." "I used too," George said slightly regretfully. "Self appreciation seemed to go out of the window when I stopped eating last year." Putting her arms round George's waist from behind, Karen began kissing a trail across her shoulders and along her neck. "You are beautiful," She asserted as she continued. "You have without doubt the most stunningly sexy body I've ever seen, and whilst I know its easier said than done, I would like you to believe that one day." Making sure George was still watching the mirror, Karen trailed her fingers upwards to let them flicker over George's breasts, gently teasing at the nipples and feeling their heavy ripeness. The combination of the feel of Karen's soft, delicate fingers, together with the sight of Karen's extremely female hands moving over her skin made her forget about everything but what was immediately happening to her. "I think you've got an unfair advantage," George said, her voice deepened with arousal as she turned her lips to meet Karen's and began undoing the buttons of her blouse. It didn't take long for the rest of Karen's clothes to be discarded. "John was absolutely right about you," George said as they moved towards the bed. "Should I take that as a compliment?" Karen asked with a smile. "You know you should," George replied as they met under the duvet, hands wandering at will and mouths interlocking to make further discussion almost impossible. When Karen's hand began moving in earnest on George's breast, she discovered that George certainly wasn't reticent in doing the same to her. There was something initially odd for George as she fondled Karen's extremely well constructed figure. The soft, heavy breasts that were a good deal larger than her own, rising to nipples as hard as bullets, but the other thing that astounded her, was just how gentle yet how sexually electrifying Karen's touch was. The only man George had ever slept with who had ever known how to be gentle enough whilst still maintaining a satisfactory level of contact was John. But this was almost certainly derived from his endless supply of conquests with which to perfect his technique. But Karen's soft, silky fingers needed no suggested adjustment in what they were doing to her. Karen liked George's boldness in touching her, liked the way George was mimicking what she was doing in order to try and get it right. George gasped as Karen stroked her thumb over an already sensitized nipple. When Karen regretfully detached her lips from George's and kissed her way down to soothe the tender pleasure point with her tongue and to gently encircle it between her lips, George couldn't decide which was sexier, the languorously sweeping tongue or the relentless pressure of Karen's lips. When George uttered a sound that in any other situation would have meant she was in pain, Karen looked up to see George furiously biting down on her lower lip. Kissing her way back up, Karen kissed George's lips until she parted them. "You're not in court now," Karen said with a wicked little smirk. "Nobody's telling you you've got to stay quiet." George grinned back at her. "You might change your mind about that." "Tell me what you like," Karen asked between kisses, still moving her hand over George's breasts. George was finding Karen's movements almost too distracting. "As I'm very new to this," She said eventually. "I think it's up to you to enlighten me." "Wow," Said Karen, her smile turning predatory for a moment. "I've never been given unlimited licence before." Then, her smile turning soft again she said, "Don't say you're going shy on me, Ms Channing." George laughed. "Never," She said in that courtroom tone that could cut throats with a single syllable. "I'd ruin my reputation if I did. But to answer your question, what you were doing wasn't a bad start." Returning to her former endeavour, Karen this time turned her attention to the other breast, alternately nibbling and soothing the sensitive skin until George was almost ready to plead for more stimulation elsewhere. Sensing George's need, Karen rested a gentle hand on her thigh, almost asking permission. When this was granted by the parting of George's legs, Karen inched her hand between them. It was no surprise to her that George was as shaved as she was. She didn't know why, but George just struck her as someone who would. At the first stroke of Karen's finger over her clit, George sucked in a breath and let out a moan of sheer ecstasy. If this hadn't been confirmation enough, Karen would have been assured of George's enjoyment at what they were doing when she slipped a long, tapered finger inside her. Withdrawing it somewhat more lubricated, she moved it back up and around George's clit. Detaching her lips from George's nipple, Karen began moving down, kissing each slightly too prominent rib in turn, fully intent on replacing her wandering hand with her mouth, but George stopped her. "Please don't," She said, "I'd like to see you." Taking her at her word, Karen kissed her way back up until she was suckling on her other nipple. Sliding two fingers in to George's cavern of heat and wetness, she used her thumb to lazily and then more determinedly graze back and forth over George's clit, making her breath come in quicker and sharper gasps. When Karen sensed that George was close, she increased the speed in her hand and swiped her tongue again and again across her nipple. When George finally came, she couldn't help crying out, her internal muscles clamping down on Karen's fingers, her whole body going momentarily rigid. When she lay afterwards, her breathing gradually returning to normal, Karen simply lay holding her, gently kissing away a few stray tears that had appeared on George's cheeks. Reaching over to the bedside table, Karen took a few tissues from the box that always resided there and handed them to George to wipe her eyes. "I might be out of practice," Karen said with a soft smile. "But I didn't know I was that bad." George half laughed as she dried her tears. "Don't be ridiculous," She said. "You were incredible. I just feel, I don't know, like I've just lost my virginity all over again." Karen smiled. "You have in a way," She said, remembering the emotional reaction she'd had the first time Yvonne had made love to her. "It's funny," George said, putting her arms round Karen. "But it felt so much more," She searched for the right word. "So much more intimate." "I know what you mean," Karen said, kissing her. "And I can assure you, you've seen nothing yet," She added lasciviously. "Oh, really," Drawled George. "Well, whatever else I'm missing I'm sure can wait till another time," She said between kisses. "Because I really ought to return the favour." "You don't have too," Karen said, not minding in the least if this was something George wasn't quite ready for. "Of course I do," Said George. "Besides, it's your birthday, and you deserve to feel thoroughly sated." Karen glanced at the clock. "Not any more it's not, thank god," She said. "But if you're insistent, I'm not about to say no." George began to look slightly nervous. "I might be terrible at this," She said, drawing her face slightly back from Karen's. "Only do this if you really want to do it. If you're not sure you want to, then don't." "I do," George insisted. "I just can't promise I'll be as good as you were." "Don't worry about that," Karen said, beginning to kiss her again. George found it easier simply to go by what she knew she liked. She allowed her left hand to wander at will, to trace the swell of Karen's breasts, the pinpoint nipples and the curve of her hips. Slipping a leg in between Karen's, George found herself half draped over her, which Karen found wholly delicious. Detaching her lips from Karen's, George let them trail down over Karen's collarbone, to tentatively go round one of her nipples. As George's tongue grazed her sensitive skin, Karen made a sound deep in her throat that George found incredibly erotic. It was halfway between a low, husky groan and something approaching a growl. Taking this as a good sign, George continued, trying to induce in Karen the kind of feelings she herself had experienced earlier. When her hand eventually reached between Karen's slightly spread legs, it took George completely by surprise. It was as if her hand had possessed a mind of its own. She smiled when she remembered how John had described Karen to her, and now here she was, actually putting that fantasy in to action. George wouldn't normally have used her left hand on herself, but using her left hand on someone else only required a slight adjustment. The gloriously wet and enticing heat that greeted her was almost intoxicating. She, George, was causing this level of sexual arousal in Karen, no one else. It gave her an amazing sense of confidence and satisfaction to know that Karen was this turned on by her. "I didn't know you were left-handed," Karen said, arousal evident in her voice. "I'm not," George said, grinning broadly. "But playing the piano means that both hands can be persuaded in to any remotely possible position." "You're telling me," Karen agreed, her breath noticeably quickening. A moment later, George felt Karen's right-hand insinuate itself between her legs which were slightly spread, one being curled round one of Karen's. George had been half aroused by the whole naughtiness of what she was doing, the sheer newness and almost forbidden quality of it. But when Karen's hand began moving over and inside her again, she kissed her way back up to Karen's face to be eye to eye with her when they came. Their hands increasing in speed, their breath coming in faster and faster gasps, their unoccupied arms clinging to the other, they soared over their sexual peak almost simultaneously, kissing each other long and hard.
They lay close afterwards, holding each other, occasionally kissing and with no need for words. Karen was perfectly well aware that George had gone through a vast new set of experiences tonight, and George just lay, cocooned within Karen's arms, allowing herself to float on feeling alone. The sense of exultation she felt at having finally fulfilled one of the things she'd wanted to do ever since she'd discovered what sexually interested her was enormous. Some of the things she and John had tried when they were married had been sensational, and she knew that she could never be one of those women who gave up men altogether. But this had been incredible. She now had an insatiable curiosity to discover every new delight of this new avenue of sexual pleasure, to sample a taste of everything it had to offer. But what of Karen? George had suggested on Wednesday that this was all about to get very complicated, and she knew now that she'd been absolutely right. Karen might have said that as neither of them knew where it was going, there was no point in thinking about that, but George couldn't help thinking about it. But she loved John, she would always love John and she certainly wasn't about to stop sleeping with John. So, what did that mean for herself and Karen? Maybe Karen was right, maybe this didn't need to be gone in to now, even in her own head. On Wednesday, Karen had said just to see what happened, see where it went. That meant no strings, no pressure for either of them, which, if this were still the case in the morning, would suit her just fine. As they lay listening to the CD in the lounge slowly fading away to nothing, they gradually drifted to sleep, their bodies nestled against each other covered by the soft goose-feather duvet.
They slept, soundly and without dreams until just after half past eight the next morning. When the ringing of the phone in the lounge eventually penetrated Karen's fog-filled brain, she was half tempted to let the answer phone deal with it, but it was almost certainly either Gina or Dominic wanting to give her an update on the night's events. George had turned on to her left side some time in the night, still lying in Karen's arms but with her back to her. Gently disentangling herself, Karen got out of bed and went in to the lounge. Picking up the phone, she greeted Gina with, "This better be good," in a voice filled with sleep. "Oh, good morning to you too," Gina said far too cheerfully. "Good job it wasn't Grayling." "Only you would dare phone me at this time on a Saturday morning after the week we've just had." "Oh, I'm sorry," Said Gina, her face and voice suffused with a broad grin. "Get to bed late did we?" "No, not especially," Replied Karen, utterly failing to hide the smile in her own voice. "Just not alone then," Concluded Gina triumphantly. "It's about Alison McKenzie," She said, returning to the matter in hand. "You were right, she has been dealing again and we've had her tested so we'll see if she's using as well. Buki made it through the night, but only just. Thomas is going to keep her on the hospital wing till at least Monday. Tina's all right after last night, and we've got the usual contract firm coming in to clean the four-bed dorm this morning. Otherwise, all's quiet, for now. Paula and Colin will be in at ten." "Well done," Karen said, relieved that there'd been no more mishaps overnight. "And tell George I'm sorry for dragging you away," Gina added mischievously. "Goodbye Gina," Karen said, but with a broad smile as she switched the phone off.
George had heard the phone ring, and had felt Karen slip out of bed. She'd drifted in and out of sleep, only vaguely aware of Karen quietly talking in the next room, and of the sound of running water and of Karen cleaning her teeth coming from the bathroom. When Karen returned to bed, George stayed exactly where she was, but Karen wasn't fooled. She hadn't spent all those years bringing up Ross not to be able to recognise when someone wasn't asleep. Gently putting her arms round George who was still lying with her back to her, Karen just lay for a while, holding this beautiful, soft warm body against her. The last time she'd been this close to someone was the night she'd slept with John. Those few short weeks with Yvonne had taught her to enjoy being physically close to someone again and she had missed this far more than anything else. When she felt George's fingers lacing themselves through hers, Karen said softly, "I didn't think you were asleep." "Not quite how I wanted to wake up," George replied, and Karen found she liked the slightly deeper, huskier sounding George. "And how did you want to wake up?" Karen asked, thinking she might have an idea. In Answer, George took Karen's right hand and led it to her breast, where Karen needed no prompting as to what George obviously wanted. To George, Karen's incredibly sensual touch combined with her own still half-asleep brain felt luxurious. George simply allowed the feeling to spread over her like honey, gradually trickling in to every corner of her being. When George let out a deep moan of contentment, Karen said with a smile in her voice, "So, this is your ideal way to be woken up, is it?" "You can say that again," George replied. "It's extremely rare I get this particular wish granted though." A short while later, she turned over to face Karen and said, "Just let me clean my teeth, and I'll be back." "I'll hold you to that," Karen said as George got out of bed. "I think there's a spare toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet." "I brought one with me," George said, going in to the lounge to find her handbag. "Aha," Karen replied, a broad grin lighting up her face. "So that's why you left your handbag in the car." "Quite right," Said George, returning with the item in question. "I was not about to have your gateman search my bag like he did last time, and discover a toothbrush and a spare pair of knickers. It would have made his day." Karen laughed.
When George returned to the bedroom, she caught sight of something leaning against the wall that she hadn't observed the night before. She briefly stared at it in astonishment. "I didn't know you played the viola," She said, correctly identifying the elongated, curved case. "I haven't played it in far too long," Karen replied as George slid back under the duvet. "And why not?" George asked, sounding for a brief moment exactly like her father. "Ever since I took over G wing, time of my own has been somewhat lacking." "Yes, I noticed that," George said dryly. "Do your staff always wake you up at some ungodly hour?" "Invariably," Karen replied grimly. "Gina did ask me to pass on her apologies," She added with a smile. "So that's why this hand is so incredibly good at what it does best," George said with a smirk, touching the fingers of Karen's right hand and glancing over at the viola case. "It's your bowing hand." When they began kissing, it felt good, it felt right to both of them. It might still be relatively new to George, but it didn't prevent her from knowing that this was where she wanted to be. Their hands moved in complete harmony this time, first on each other's breasts, then progressing lower. They needed each other desperately, they needed to repeat their fulfillment of the night before, almost as if this pleasure would never fall their way again. "I could get addicted to this," George said as she neared her peak. "That's because it's a novelty," Karen replied between kisses. "Maybe," George agreed. "I always did get a kick out of trying anything new." As George came for the third time in eight hours, she thought that she could never get bored of this, not even taking her usual short attention span in to consideration. There was something utterly earth shattering, something so erotic about bringing someone of her own sex to orgasm that she thought the feeling would consume her entire soul. George had drifted back to sleep for a short while afterwards, and Karen lay there watching her. George really was beautiful, still too thin than was really good for her, but nevertheless stunning. Karen knew she was slowly, gradually being given glimpses of the inner George, the George who stopped eating in order to cope, who for some reason couldn't acknowledge or recognise how beautiful she was. But this didn't put Karen off in any way. After all, she was the last person who should see skeletons as obstacles in getting to know someone. Pressing a quick kiss to George's cheek, Karen slipped out of bed and took a shower, knowing that whatever came in the following days, weeks or months, she wouldn't ever regret making love to George, not even if George were to suddenly change her mind and stay away. George might be happy in the slightly odd relationship she had with John, but Karen thought she needed something more, not necessarily something more committed, but simply something different. But what about her, what about Karen. She had slept with George because George had wanted it and because she, Karen, had needed that feeling of letting go, combined with the feeling of comfort that only another's arms can provide. Just see where it goes, Karen told herself as she washed her hair, and if and when the time comes, say exactly the same to George.