She's a Woman

Chapter Sixteen: Promise Not to Tell

I must have fallen asleep at some point. When I opened my eyes the sun hadn't even risen. The room was pitch black and cold. I shivered underneath the thin bed covers, wrapping my arms around myself. I found that a pair of arms was already there, holding me close. I lifted my head and saw George sound asleep beside me.

I panicked a little and wondered what on earth he was doing in bed with me.

Then I remembered.

Last night...

I examined George's sleeping body properly, taking in every detail. He was completely out for the count and didn't even stir when I poked him hard in the shoulder. He was curled up in a little ball with his knees under his chin, facing me. His right fist was under his nose so it looked as if he was sucking his thumb. His face was soft, his pale face glowing pinker until it looked just about its normal shade. He looked so young, so innocent, so sweet.

"You look like a real baby brother, Georgie," I whispered, wriggling closer. 

I leaned over to George, who was still sleeping peacefully, and kissed him lightly on his pink cheek. He didn't open his eyes or complain - he smiled drowsily and mumbled, "Good morning, sweetheart".

"Morning, Georgie," I murmured. "Last night was absolutely amazing."

"Glad you think so," George replied, slowly opening one eye and then the other.

"I never expected losing my innocence to feel like that."

"Well, what did you expect?"

I honestly didn't know what I had expected. It had all happened so quickly that I'd barely had time to take it all in and savor the moment. It felt like a dream. Maybe it had been a dream and nothing from last night had actually happened. Maybe I was still Michael and George had no idea that I was really...

"George?"

"Yeah?"

"This isn't all a dream, is it?"

George stared at me like I'd gone crazy. "No. Why would you think that?"

"Oh, I don't know."

I sat up properly and scanned the bedroom. It had been relatively clean the night before, but now it was an absolute bombsite. The curtains had been pulled, plunging the room into darkness. In the half light, I could masses of clothes scattered everywhere - on the dresser, on the floor, and on the bed. I reached out and gingerly picked up the closest item of clothing with my forefinger and thumb.

It was my favourite pair of pink panties, lying discarded on the duvet.

"Oh God," I said, flinging them down. "I'm not dreaming. We really did it last night."

"Yeah, and it was great," said George, rolling over onto his side. He grinned broadly at me. "You were so wonderful."

I smirked. "You weren't so bad yourself."

George blushed. He wriggled his hand out from under the duvet and placed it on my bare stomach. He made his middle and index fingers walk up towards my chest (which, by the way, was free of its punishing binding fabric). I reached out with my right arm, took hold of George's shoulder, and pulled him close. We sat in silence for a few minutes, recollecting on the night before.

"Hey, Michael?" George said.

"Mmm?"I mumbled, stroking his silky brown locks.

"I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Ask me something?"

"Yeah. It was bothering me all last night." George leaned in closer until his lip was practically touching my ear. "Why didn't you tell me you were a girl earlier?"