This is the final part of Georgy and Tyler's story, and it's just that, a story, so I hope you read and enjoy it that way; there's no moral, no parable, no point being made, just me uploading my mind and hopefully sharing something you'll like. All characters indulging in adult activities are over 18, and no animals were harmed in the course of creating this story, not even a single cat-poop eating weasel.
If you liked this story please vote and/or comment, and if you didn't, please tell me why and I'll try to do better next time. If you email me and would like a reply, please don't forget to include a return address, I do reply to all feedback, even if it's to say thank you, I don't agree with your comment, but I'm still grateful you took the time to send it.
Big thanks to Handley Page for reading through and sanity-checking me, occasionally i do need it and he provides the necessary background of reality we al need, so many, many thanks, HP!
beachbum1958
_____________________________________________
Part 1: It Begins
It all began, like so many things, innocently enough; Georgy and I were getting ready to survey a couple of potential projects while Aunt Kay and Megan, the children's nanny got them ready for school and pre-school; normally Georgy and Megan did it, or on her days off I did, because Aunt Kay was eighty-one now, and while still spry and fit, just wasn't up to managing three boisterous, outspoken hooligans like my brood when they got out of hand. This morning was different, though; the vendor was catching a flight to Canada that afternoon so if we wanted to nail him down we had to be there on the bounce, which meant dumping the school run on Megan and heading down there hot-foot.
Georgy, of course, was consumed with guilt; looking after our kids was the be-all and end-all of her life, but we also had a business to run, and she was the one who mattered when it came to acquisitions and planning, not me; I was just there for the heavy lifting. Georgy was the negotiator and final say, and those two properties were something she'd set her heart on the second she'd spotted them and realised what a money-spinner they could be, as well as a showpiece for us and what we did.
"Mummy, don't want to go to school, wanna come with you an' daddy!" grumbled the middle child, my little girl Edie, the spitting image of her grandmother; every time I looked at her I saw my mum; the same big, grey-hazel eyes, that mop of auburn curls, the same firm chin, the same rosebud lips, and the same firm expression, and that same 'don't you dare mess with me!' line in her forehead when she didn't get her own way. I could stare at her all day, just loving her and seeing my mum back with us again. Her older brother Jamie and baby brother Jerome adored her and would do anything for her, she had them wrapped around her little finger, but she knew she was daddy's girl through and through.
Jamie had Georgy's striking looks and all of her calm temperament; those distinctive grey eyes and pale complexion, and that tell-tale mop of jet-black hair made him stand out in any crowd; he was a natural leader, whether playground games or exploring the house with Edie and Jerry in tow, and his sense of fun easily equalled his mother's.
Jerry was my little clone, my eyes, my hair, my independence, and my stubborn streak. If Aunt Kay could be made to admit to a favourite (and I think Torquemada would have had a tough time of it, to be honest) then she would have picked him; I think he reminded her of my own father, whom she'd helped raise from a little boy. I'd see her sometimes with Jerry on her lap staring at a photo of my father and flicking her gaze back over Jerry, obviously seeing my father in him.
"Poppet, you can't come with me, I'm going to see a creepy old house, there's going to be dust and cobwebs and spiders and cat-poop, you don't want to step in cat-poop do you?" said Georgy, straight-faced and serious while I hid my face, because I can't lie to the kids, they know all my tells.
"Yuck Mummy, why are you going to a poopy-house!?" she squealed, her face wrinkled up with disgust.
"Daddy and I might want to buy it and fix it, and if we do, we're going to have to clean it up and get rid of all the spiders and cat-poop, and there might even be dirty, sneaky weasels hiding behind the wardrobes and maybe eating the cat-poop!" she finished dramatically.
Edie stared in wide-eyed horror at the thought of cat-poop and dirty, filthy, nasty weasels eating it; if there's one way to distract a child, I've learned, it's to tell them something vaguely disgusting and let them fill in the gaps; it worked for Georgy, and now it was working on our daughter.
"I don't want to come with you Mummy, 'spose I see a weasel and it licks me?" she breathed, "Mummy, 'sposing it licks me with its tongue all covered in cat-poop? Eeee, yeeuck, that's horrible!"
"So you'd rather go to school, baby?" coaxed Georgy, and Edie nodded, wide-eyed and lip quivering in case she saw a dirty, cat poop-eating weasel. I had to hand it to Georgy; the way she came up with this stuff was near-genius level, because I wouldn't have been able to keep a straight face...
Georgy roundly kissed all the kids, so did I, slipping Megan a little sweetshop money to treat the kids when she picked them up, and beat feet out of there before Jamie told Edie that there was no such thing as cat poop-eating weasels and she started up again with the wanting to come with us.
"That was amazing, baby, you're so good at it!" I grinned, pulling Georgy close so I could kiss her and squeeze her squeezable bottom.
"I got it from you, Ty, don't you remember?" she grinned, "You told me I must never go into the old scullery by myself because that's where your umpteen-times great grandfather murdered Grizelda the milkmaid and stuffed her body up the chimney, and she came back as a brain-eating zombie so the family kept her locked in there, when all along that's where you used to sneak out at night through the old dairy!"
I laughed out loud, I'd completely forgotten about that, probably because I'd never habitually tortured my little sister the way all my friends used to with theirs.
"See, Tyler, if you managed to control that silly smirk of yours you'd be able to lie to the kids like a grand master, but you can't, you tell them stuff while you're grinning like a chimp and they just go "oh here we go, daddy's lying again!" whereas I learned from your mistakes; that's why I'm the boss of you!" she grinned, grabbing my crotch and almost making me trip over.
Eight years married, three kids, and she can still make me want her at the drop of a hat. At some point in my life I did something so right I'm being rewarded forever; life, for me, didn't get any better.
