Aprons for Gayle

READERS:

I am so sorry for the delay in getting this out! I was sorta lost and even forcing to write was traumatic. Ok, I'm exaggerating. lol Thanks for hanging with me. I've made this chapter a little juicy, but don't get used to it. I just had some making up to do.

Thanks to JonB1965 for his editing expertise!

We last left off with Hamish and Gayle having spent the late morning at the lake for her first flogging.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Sunday, August 11th, 2013; Early afternoon

Hamish allowed Gayle to change into a sweater and jeans before they settled in the drawing room. She sat on the couch with a blanket over her to keep the chill off; it might have been August and warm outside, but it was more chilly than she was used to.

Immediately she closed her eyes in the hopes that she would come to understand all that she felt while being flogged. For once in her life, she

felt

each touch of his fingers, each individual leather strip. But it wasn't at the surface, it was deeper. So much deeper. As time went on, her mind seemed to float away and nothing mattered except the next strike, his next word, the next touch. She

craved

the sensation.

Hamish had gotten comfortable in his leather chair and absentmindedly stared at the TV. It was mainly for the noise anyway, as he wasn't even paying attention to it. He wanted to know what was going through Gayle's mind, only knowing full well how spent she'd felt and figured she probably just wanted to rest.

After a few minutes passed, he rested his head in his hand and stared at her for the longest time before she fussed at him for staring, respectfully, of course. "You, my dear, are much nicer to look at than that stupid tube."

She grinned shyly. "I've just been thinking. I've been tired before, Sir, but never this tired. Not so much physically but more mentally. I'm brain dead." She giggled.

"I'll take that as a compliment." He grinned back. "You're coming down. Best to rest it off."

"Yeah, I guess so." She was quiet for a moment before she asked, "Will you be late for dinner on Tuesday?" She didn't want to bring up his mother, but she was wondering whether she should put dinner off because she would have to tell Jessie to come a little later, if that was the case.

He went to the bar, poured himself a whiskey and went back to his chair. After taking a long sip, he replied, "No. I'll visit Mother's grave during lunch." His tone was empty, painful.

She instantly regretted ever bringing it up. "Sir, I didn't mean to –"

He waved his hand. "I appreciate your concern. Would you mind picking some flowers from the garden tomorrow afternoon? I'll take them to work on Tuesday."

"I'd be happy to." She was touched that he included her in something so important to him. "Anything else I can do?"

He smiled, although there was no warmth in his eyes. "No. But I advise you to pay special attention to Jessie when she's cooking Tuesday's supper. She has a habit of making my favorite dish on ... I'd like it more often than once a year."

"I'd like that. What is it?"

"Arbroath smokies." Gayle's eyebrows furled as her eyes flew open. "It's quite simple. Haddock is salted overnight then tied in pairs, using hemp twine – that is the key – then left overnight to dry. They're hung on a triangular length of wood to smoke in a special barrel containing a hardwood fire. Then you place the lid and seal around the edges with wet jute sacks. That helps to cook the fish and gives them a strong, smoky taste. Jessie has it down to a science so it shouldn't be difficult to pick up."

She stared at him like he'd lost his mind. "Um, do they have frozen haddock I can heat in the microwave?"

He scowled at her. "Most certainly not! Lass, by the time you go home, you will have a full repertoire of Scottish recipes that you should be able to open your own pub."

She grinned sheepishly. "Did I tell you I'm allergic to haddock?"

He finally smiled. "It's actually kedgeree, an Indian dish."

"No curry! How about peanut butter and banana sandwiches?"

He laughed. "Not to worry. It's easy to make. We'll have steak Balmoral with whiskey sauce, Jessie's runner beans and tater patties."

She was relieved beyond words. "What are runner beans?"

"I believe you call them green beans."

"Oh. What about dessert?"

"Jessie makes incredible lemon shortbread biscuits."

"Lemon biscuits? That doesn't sound very appetizing."

"No. No. Cookies are biscuits here."

"Oh, right. I don't think I can handle making shortbread again. I found a recipe online from a woman's Scottish grandmother, and it was a disaster. Three ingredients, just three! Instead of one cup of flour and three cups of sugar I switched them. I knew they didn't look right, but I tried one. Let me just say if you are ever in the mood for Styrofoam, let me know!" She laughed.

"Who in the world can ruin shortbread?"

She tentatively raised her hand and grinned. "I burn hard boiled eggs, remember? But I was still in high school, so you can't blame me. I have gotten better at cooking. I like to cook, but not so much for myself."

"I haven't died of food poisoning yet from your cooking, so that's a good thing, I would think."

"Don't think I haven't thought of it, boss ... Sir." She quickly added the title when he gave her a severe look of warning. "I'm teasing ... maybe. Seriously, I've had food poisoning, and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy." She suddenly yawned long and hard and closed her eyes.

"I'll have to hire a food taster, in that case. Now I'll be quiet so you can rest. Or maybe I'll just sit here and keep staring at you."

When she didn't reply, he watched her chest rise and fall slowly, indicating she was on her way to falling asleep. Looking down at Bessie, who had curled up at his feet and also asleep, he whispered, "Keep up that awful timing of your little farting surprises, and I'll make you my food taster!" The canine didn't budge.

xx xxx xx xxx xx xxx

"Catelyn! You colored your hair!" Gayle exclaimed as the Skype picture appeared on the monitor of Hamish's computer in his office. "I love it!"

"It took some getting used to. You look great, Gigi."

"Ugh! I thought I gave you my last Ho-Ho never to call me that again."

"I was three! I don't remember that."

Gayle laughed. "Oh, whatever! Hey, how's Mom?"

Catelyn's expression suddenly turned grim as she explained her mother's condition. It wasn't good. Her blood pressure was fluctuating wildly, her kidney function was deteriorating, and her moods went from extremely happy to terribly depressed, whether or not she knew who she was, or even who was in the room with her. The medications were no longer helping.

Gayle instantly deflated, fighting off the tears. "Well, shit. The doctors warned the meds might be only temporary. Will she need to be on dialysis?"

"No, not yet. They've switched her meds. It's wait and see, really."

"Hmm. I wonder if Si ... Hamish will let me check my email daily. I'll ask him. How's Dad?"

"He's holding his own. He seems better mentally. He's finally eating and gained some weight back. He was down to 135, Gayle! For a man five-foot-eleven, he literally looked like skin and bones. Anyway, his boss is cool about his working hours. He works from seven to four now to spend some time with Mom."

"Oh, thank god. That's a relief. And Greg's always been cool with Dad."

"Speaking of bosses, how's yours?" Catelyn asked, wagging her eyebrows.

Gayle blushed and moved closer to the monitor. "What happens in Scotland stays in Scotland. Oh, hell! I can't believe I said that! Just stop it, brat! I am doing great. That's all you need to know."

She then told her sister all about her weekend, minus the playing parts and anything sexual.

"That's sounds awesome! I am so jealous," Catelyn teased.

You wouldn't be jealous if you knew the truth, sis.

For the next fifteen minutes Catelyn caught Gayle up on friends they knew and everything else Gayle had missed, which wasn't much. Catelyn had been acing most of her classes, and was about to join a fraternity. As she spoke, she suddenly looked up and to the side of the camera then nodded.

"Hey, Dad's driving me nuts. He wants to meet Hamish."

"Well, right now he's outside with Bessie." She was greatly relieved for that, being she wasn't quite ready for the two to meet yet.

"Bessie? Who's Bessie?" Catelyn asked.

"His retriever. She's a sweetie and far from a guard dog."

"You've got a dog?! You're so lucky! I'm still trying to convince Dad to get one to keep him company!"

"She's not

my

dog, Cat. She does keep me company during the day while I clean. But yeah, at least she likes me. You know I like cats better –"

A bark interrupted her as Bessie trotted in. "Cats are good for nothing but catching mice in the barn," Hamish commented and stood beside Gayle out of view of the camera.

Gayle chuckled before Catelyn exclaimed, "Hey, Hamish! Get closer to Gayle. I can't see you!"

He shook his head and leaned over, smiling broadly. "Hello, Catelyn."

"Oh, my gosh! You're kinda cu –"

"Cat! Get Dad and go do ...

something

." Gayle laughed, her cheeks blushing wildly.

"Oh, you're no fun. He went to get coffee. DAD! GAYLE WANTS TO TALK TO YOU!"

"Geez, girl!" Gayle chastised her sister as the speakers vibrated from her screaming. "Could you be less uncouth?"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." Catelyn huffed with a smile and left their view, leaving an empty chair to stare at, and an uncomfortable silence between Gayle and Hamish. Gayle got up and stood behind the chair while Hamish sat in it, as did her dad in his office chair; Catelyn stood behind with her eyes wide open and a huge smile on her face.

"Hi, Dad!" Gayle said cheerily, waving her hand. "Wow, you're looking great. How are you?"

"I'm fine, baby girl. You look great, too."

She was quiet for several seconds as her father looked over Hamish. "Hello, Mr. McDougal. I'm John, Gayle's father."

Gayle didn't let the fact pass her by when she saw Hamish's shoulders tense. "It's a pleasure to meet you, John. And please, call me Hamish."

"Are you taking care of my little girl?"

"I am, I am. She's a hard worker, and I've enjoyed having her here."

John smiled while Gayle blushed.

Is Hamish doing this on purpose?

She hated being put on the spot, especially one so embarrassing.

Hamish spent a few minutes informing John with how pleased he was with her, and her father seemed satisfied that she was in good hands. Gayle said a quick goodbye to her family, with a promise that she would write as much as she could and send pictures when she bought a camera on her first day off, which was the following week.

When Hamish turned off Skype, he turned around in his chair and looked over Gayle's face for several moments. He could tell she was fighting back tears, and it tugged roughly at his heart. "Are you okay?" She shook her head. "I know it's hard. And yes, you may email as often as you like."

"You ... you were listening?" she asked, more embarrassed than angry.

"No. I overheard you. Let's get something to eat and watch a movie. What do you say?"

She forced herself to look at him and smiled, though it was difficult. "Yes Sir."

A few hours later, both having eaten and ready to settle down for the night, Hamish sat on the couch and instructed Gayle to stand between his knees. He took her hands and squeezed them briefly before he slid his hands to the waist of her jeans and started to unbutton them.

"Sir, please, don't," she pleaded, shaking her head.

"Shh," he replied.

Continuing unbuttoning her jeans, he pushed them down, along with her briefs, before she stepped out of them. Without a word he removed her sweater, doing nothing to insinuate he wanted anything more. After he folded the sweater and jeans, he put them on the coffee table and then laid on his side on the couch. Patting the narrow space in front of him, she nestled against him, then he threw a thick, warm blanket over them. He draped his arm over her waist, so when she was satisfied he only wanted to snuggle, she rested her head on his upper arm. His other arm was slowly and lovingly brushing her hair away from her temple.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked.

"Yeah. I'm fine." Her voice was weak, somewhat tortured.

"You don't sound fine."

"I'll be fine."

A moment later, she mumbled under her breath.

"What is it? You can talk to me, you know," he asked, growing concerned.

"I know. Thanks. And don't stop."

"Don't stop what?" he asked, truly confused as to what he was doing right.

"Mom used to do that when I was a little girl." He immediately pulled his fingers back. "No, no. Please, keep doing it." After he continued, she explained, "She would do that after I had a nightmare. It would put me right to sleep."

"Well, I wouldn't want you to fall to sleep. Heaven forbid you miss 'The Full Monty.'"

"Then start the movie, Sir."

"Hmm, are you telling me what to do?" His voice was teasing.

"Yep. I don't get the chance often to boss you around."

"Don't press your luck, little dove."

He started to lightly run his fingertips over her temples, and she melted into him. For once, she felt secure, safe, appreciated, loved ...

xx xxx xx xxx xx xxx

Tuesday, August 13th, 2013

Gayle woke up feeling like she'd been run over by a lorrie, an SUV and an UPS truck. She laid there for a few minutes, willing her body to get out of bed, but after Sunday's flogging and the extra-thorough cleaning of the guest bedrooms she'd done the day before, she would have loved to have an extra fifteen minutes of sleep.

But eventually she pushed herself up with a groan. Walking out of her bedroom, she saw Hamish's bedroom light on through the bottom of the door. Knocking lightly, she hollered, "Sir? Is Bessie ready to go out?" Concerned when he didn't answer right away, she knocked again.

"Just a second!" he barked.

Her stomach churned in the pit of her stomach at the harshness in his voice. She hadn't done anything to make him angry the day before. But she had to remember today would be a tough day for him, being the anniversary of his mother's death.

A second later the door opened. Gayle stared at him astonished at how bad he looked. His eyes were swollen and red, and it looked like he hadn't slept in days. She was distracted when Bessie bolted to her feet and wagged her tail excitedly. Petting her and telling her good morning, she asked if he would help her put her chastity belt on, but he closed without a word.

Only after Gayle let Bessie out and she had put the eggs and sausage strata in the oven to bake did Hamish finally join her in the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of coffee before she could make it for him.

"The strata will be ready in fifteen minutes," she told him as he sat at the table. "Do you want me to make you some toast, Sir?"

Again, he didn't answer. She didn't think he would be

this

miserable, and she was beginning to get irritated. She didn't know how much longer she could continue to be sensitive with him. She put bread for herself in the toaster, and when it was browned she poured herself another cup of coffee. Sitting down across from him, she tried to think of something to say. She could come up with nothing.

After they ate in an uncomfortable silence. The only word he said was, "Bye."

Looking down at Bessie, she was looking at her daddy just as confused. As she turned around to go clean the dishes, she saw the flowers wrapped neatly in a paper bag. Quickly grabbing them, she ran outside not even caring she was only wearing an apron that barely covered her chest.

"HAMISH!" She screamed as she ran after his car, which had just started to head down the driveway. "HAMISH!"

Bessie followed her barking the entire way, knowing that an extra voice would stop her daddy. Sure enough, the brake lights came on, and he finally stopped.

Oh, thank God! She sighed in relief as she approached the driver's side and the window lowered. "Sir, the flowers," she said, handing them over to him.

He was silent for a moment, then he took them and put them on the passenger seat. "Thanks," he grumbled.

"You're welcome," she replied then started to walk away.

"Gayle?" She returned to the car. "Breakfast was great. Thank you. Sorry for being such a prat."

She shook her head and smiled. "Sir, don't. I understand."

He finally smiled, and she swore she saw a little moisture build up in his eyes. Her heart broke for him, and there was only one thing she could think of to make his day just a little better ... or at least she hoped it would. She leaned halfway through the window, looked into his eyes briefly before she kissed him, every so lightly, just enough to let him know she was concerned about him.

At first she felt his resistance, but he eventually put his hand on the back of her head and returned the kiss with more passion than she expected. Nibbling on his bottom lip then his top lip, she pulled back a little.

"Have a good day, Sir. I'll be thinking about you."

He kissed her nose. "Thank you, love."

Standing up, she watched him drive away, but then had to fuss at Bessie for starting to chase after him. She stood dumbfounded at the strange turn of events. It wasn't so much that he was so grumpy. That was understandable.

What she didn't understand was how much she liked kissing him goodbye and especially putting a smile on his face.

"Well, Bessie, looks like things won't be so bad here.

xx xxx xx xxx xx xxx

"Alrecht, hae ye got it?" Jessie asked Gayle after she put the baking dish in the oven with the steak Balmoral. "Put th' tatties in th' oven fur fifteen minutes, an' th' beans ur simmerin' on low. As A've tauld ye, my lemon shortbreid biscuits ur in th' tin."

"Jessie, thank you so much for showing me how to prepare this. But I guarantee I won't make it as well as you do."

Putting the oven mitt on the kitchen counter, she turned to Gayle and put her hand on her shoulder. "Gayle, jist a wurd ay advice: Hamish will be quiet, considerin' ... Dornt tak' it personally, an' if he wants ta gab, jist lit heem. He guards 'is heart. Ah have tae teel ye, he's changed a wee bit. 'hat has a lot tae dae wi' ye. Yoo're guid fur heem, whether he realizes it ur nae."

Gayle didn't know what to say. Looking at her watch, she freaked out a little when she realized she had ten minutes to prepare herself to meet Hamish in the drawing room.

"Noo git. He'll be haem shortly."

"Thanks again. I'll see you tomorrow."

She ran upstairs, removed her blouse and jeans, put on her collar, checked herself in the bathroom mirror and rushed downstairs to the drawing room. She knew she had three minutes to prepare his whiskey, but when she got into the room she stopped dead in her tracks. Hamish sat in his chair, still in his work clothes, his legs crossed and his chin in his hands, a look of disappointment on his face.

"Sir, I'm ..."

"Get my drink," he ordered, his tone short and rather gruff.

She would have stood there and cried from his harshness if it weren't for Jessie's kind and thoughtful words, and the reminder that he'd visited his mother's grave earlier in the day. "Yes Sir."

After she fixed his drink, she handed it to him, removed his work shoes and replaced them with his slippers then got into position on the floor beside his chair.

Please, please don't be upset.

"You're late," he said, his voice less harsh. "You will be punished for this."

Looking straight ahead, she replied, "No Sir. You're early."

Shut up. Shut UP! Not now, Gayle. He doesn't need your smart mouth right now.

Taking a sip of his drink, he glared down on her.

Hell, you look amazing, lass. A lovely site on such a fucked up day.

"If I doth say it is the moon, yet it is the sun, it shall be the moon to you."