Red's Scottish Trip

She unstuck herself from sleep. Light was glowing round the edges of the blind and she pushed it up, yawning. Her eyes narrowed as the plane tilted and she caught the full glory of the sunrise; an infinity of Atlantic below, glinting and flashing in the light, and on the east horizon the joy of morning. Light diffused sideways by low white clouds into a faint spectrum of colour. The rising sun gently expanded at the centre. Between glittering heave of sea below and sunrise, a long archipelago, low to the north and south, mountainous in the centre. As the plane moved to cross this land, clouds of birds, black as flies against the sun, wheeled and dived against cliffs and beaches edged with long rolling surf. She looked at her map and saw a line of islands up the northwest coast of the land, Outer Hebrides.

She stretched hard against her sloppy clothes: soft tracksuit against her skin, slippered feet. Airline overnight dress. Scrunched the rug sideways and adjusted her seat upwards, then moved gently to reach the aisle past her neighbours. The boy turned as her legs squeezed against his momentarily, then against the man she assumed was his father.

She staggered a little in the aisle, feeling the blood beginning to surge again in her body, and headed for the tiny toilet.

Relieved and sluiced down, hair roughly brushed into shape, she returned to her seat in time for the bongs for the seatbelt signs to illuminate. Needed coffee, but it looked like she'd missed that. The woman captain's voice announced their arrival at Glasgow in twenty minutes in French and English, told them it was a bright sunny day there, wished them a safe onward journey.

Over land now, a succession of coiling mountain ridges between deep valleys, lakes -- she'd have to remember they were lochs -- sparkling in the new light, occasional little settlements, edges of snow on the north-facing mountain slopes. Change of engine-note and vibration in the capsule as it began descending gently, wide pastured plain below now, then lower hills, settlements spreading into cityspill, villas becoming apartment blocks, nearly low enough to touch them, a wide river with rows of lights beyond, then the soft bump as wheels touched blacktop. Rolling, slowing on her new continent as the engines pulsed in reverse thrust.

Hi, I'm Alexander, but that's my Sunday name, my friends call me Sandy.

The man who met her was kilted: he had said it would be unfailing recognition, and she sure didn't see any other guys in kilts as she emerged into International Arrivals with her trolley.

They shook hands politely: I'm Red, pleased to meet ya.

He held and returned her wide smile, enquired about the flight, asked if she needed breakfast, looking with concern in her eyes.

Sure could, slept through it on the plane. Can you get a real Scottish breakfast round here? To him, she said 'Skaddish'.

No, I'm afraid the airport just has mid-Atlantic concessions, but we can get something decent twenty minutes away. Can you wait?

Sure, we have enough Burger King at home. As they walked through the carpark she evaluated him. She'd booked him as a tourguide online, on the recommendation of a friend. Seemed nice enough, older, but that was fine, obviously kept himself fit, very pleasant and seemed genuinely concerned for her welfare.

He stopped at a small car and opened doors and trunk for her, lifted her two backpacks into it. She remembered to go to the wrong side and got in. What sort of car is this?

Renault Megane...French...do you have them?

Don't think so. Maybe in Quebec, she smiled, not in Ontario.

Soon on the expressway, she was disorientated by the car layout and the strange flow of traffic: So where you taking me for breakfast?

Oh, what we call the West End, university area, lots of choice for breakfast there. And no Burger Kings. About twenty minutes drive. You must be exhausted, you just want to look, or d'you want a commentary?

Uh, looking's fine for now, thanks. But I expect plenty of action...later.

He sensed her looking directly at him as he changed lane to get into the tunnel offramp, curious at the ambiguity of her comment, the directness of her glance. Turned to look at her in turn. She was shrugged into the corner by the door, right knee drawn up on the seat under her, gazing through the windscreen. She felt his gaze and smiled at him, warmly he thought, and he felt a wee tremor of anticipation. She was certainly a good-looking woman, late 30s maybe, mass of dark red curls over and round a long sensuous face, small breasts under the tracksuit top. He smiled into her eyes and returned his focus to the road, slipping into lane as the car entered the tunnel.

Ten minutes later he was parking, backing into the tiniest gap in a crowded sidestreet lined with towering stone Victorian apartments.

He opened her door and they turned towards a busy street, found a deli. You sure you want a Scots breakfast? He enquired, and went to order on her nodded acquiescence. So, how d'you like Scotland?

Well, my first time here so it's a bit strange...his leg brushed hers under the table as he adjusted himself in his seat. She noticed he didn't apologise. And I've hardly seen anything, but the sun is shining, is a good start. And you seem OK -- she smiled -- so far. Airports are airports, and I guess I'll get used to your funny driving habits. So tell me about you Sandy, how did you get into this game, uh, tourguiding?

Breakfast arrived. He spoke slowly as they ate. Well, I only started last year. Professionally. I just signed up to a site last year, got a few customers, they seemed happy...now you're here, the first for my second year.

The coffee was very strong: Hey, what do you guys do to your coffee?

Ah, he smiled, just a wee cultural difference. We find lots of North American stuff quite bland, so I think you might find some things here strong-tasting. How's breakfast?

She wasn't entirely sure what she was eating but it tasted good, and she told him so. What did you do before tourguiding? Bet you have an intriguing story?

Not really...I've worked as an academic, and in public affairs. University offered me an early retirement package I couldn't refuse, a couple of other things happened in my life. I fancied something different, working with people more on a one-to-one basis, sharing my enthusiasms for my country and its culture. So far I'm enjoying it.

She remembered what Ingrid had told her: she had booked this guy last year with her husband, and had surreptitiously tried to get him into her pants all holiday but he wasn't playing. Red hadn't told Sandy she'd booked him on Ingrid's eager recommendation.

I guess you get all sorts of opportunities to know your customers when you're on a trip?... her eyebrow raised equivocally as she smiled at him.

Oh yes, it's an interesting situation. One needs to be professional, but as I get to know my clients and they get to know me, of course a relationship develops, and so far they've mostly been...gently warm. As they should be.

Mmm...what about the ones that weren't ...gently warm: how did they go? She smiled and touched his shoe with hers.

He didn't move his foot. Not sure it's really ethical to talk about my other clients to you...

Oh come on. I don't know them, they don't know me, no harm in it surely? Anyway I need to know what to expect of you, that's why I'm asking. A single girl in a strange land, I need to know how well I can trust you!

Oh dear, just what have I let myself in for here? He smiled broadly at her, looking into her eyes. Nothing untoward has ever happened to my clients Red, I promise. Maybe a couple of them seemed to not get everything they wanted, is all, but I hadn't signed myself up as that sort of guide. Certainly nobody has complained to me, or put anything critical on the site. And I aim to ensure nobody ever does.

Mmm...what happened to the ones who didn't get everything they wanted then? She was enjoying teasing, relishing his slight embarrassment, and warming not a little physically.

Well, there was this guy, a solo client like you, he was obviously gay. I had him for a week, he wanted to do some climbing...which I remember is also on your possibles list? Right at the end of the week, we were in a bothy up between Dalwhinnie and Corrour, in the middle of the wilderness, and he started to come on to me. He'd played it absolutely straight all week and I was surprised. Explained that I wasn't interested at all, sorry; we talked about it for a while, and parted the best of friends.

Bothy?

Wee hut, mountain shelter, open to all going that way. A bit basic, but usually better than camping...saves you lugging a tent.

How did he -- uh -- come on to you? She was starting to tingle, hadn't expected that.

Oh, he touched me, quite deliberately, unmistakeably...since you ask, like this...he leaned over and patted her crotch gently.

Oh -- she inadvertently squirmed, definitely tingling now. And the other time?

He sat back upright, moved a little in his kilt to adjust himself: The other time was quite different. I had a couple, both maybe around your age, both very presentable. Canadian too. She...well, she was all over me, every time her husband was out of sight. She was very attractive and I have to admit I was tempted, but the last place I ever want to be in is the middle of a marriage drama. I told her that, restrained myself. We all parted friends. I think.

More or less what Ingrid told me, she thought. So he's not the bragging type. Sandy, I know a lot of guys in that situation would have done something different. You sure that's all that happened? She smiled coyly, noting the rumple in his kilt, wondering...

Course I'm sure Red...I don't tell lies either.

She let it rest.

Your turn now, tell me about Red?

Uh, work in property, recently divorced, got a decent settlement and decided I deserved a holiday. And here I am, kids with their father, first holiday on my own since I was young! She beamed and stretched her arms sideways, noting his eyes float over her breasts appraisingly. And now I think it's time you started earning your fee, showing a poor Canadian girl around town, stead of sitting there ogling her!

Yes, of course -- slightly embarrassed -- what's your agenda for the day? Don't you need a wee lie-down first, I can never get a decent sleep on an eastbound overnight?

Hey, no! I'm here, I want to see things on this lovely day. Lead me forth, Sir Sandy!

OK, well, we discussed a city itinerary online. But rather than spend it inside buildings on a day like this, how about a castle? Or the ruins of one anyway, plenty of fresh air and sunshine. There's a good one nearby, Bothwell Castle, lovely grounds by the river and enough of the ruin remains for you to get an impression of medieval life.

Sounds great, indoors is not for today. Can we take a picnic? I'd love a picnic in a medieval castle!

They ordered picnic things from the deli. Sandy insisted on paying the bill: Part of the service, I always insist on paying on a guest's first day, so don't argue. After this it's 50:50. He slipped the picnic into a small backpack and they walked back to the car. -----

Afterwards she had fuzzed memories of the journey, it was all so new. Through huge Victorian university buildings reminiscent of the Federal Parliament in Ottawa, onto an expressway for fifteen minutes, through a town built entirely of very pink sandstone, then quiet lanes of quite upscale modern houses much like home.

Another turn and there it was: her first medieval castle! Rusting sandstone walls and towers, part-ruin. Surrounded by neat parkland studded with ancient newly-greening trees; daffodils and other spring flowers all around. Hey Sandy, it's SO lovely! She leaned over unthinkingly and kissed his smooth-shaven cheek, contrasting the sharpness of the goatee beard.

Glad you like it. Let's go explore.

She rushed ahead towards the gate and he followed, appreciative eyes on her svelte arse. Christ, maybe I have an adventure on my hands here, he thought. She is some woman, and some flirt. But probably nothing more, he mused soberly, lots of NA woman seem to flirt as a matter of course.

He showed a card at the gatehouse, bought a guidebook, and they entered the castle proper. Do you want the military and architectural history now, Red? Or maybe you just want to explore?

She turned to face him, smiling all over her face: Oh, explore for now thanks Sandy. History lesson later please. She bounded off round the inside of the walls and he followed more slowly. Soon she was above him on the battlement atop the wall: Surely you're not so old and creaky you can't climb up here, she taunted, there's a lovely river down the other side. He joined her on the wall, climbing two steps at a time, and she noted he hadn't broken sweat. I should have waited and let him go first, she thought, see what this Scotsman has under his kilt. But there are plenty more stairs...mmm. She gazed over the tranquil river flowing through trees below. Sandy, this is so special, thank you for bringing me here. We seem miles from anywhere, nowhere near a big city.

She felt herself glowing all over, she was so happy, and she was really beginning to like this reserved guy. Truth was, she was getting horny. But she wasn't going to let him know that: he embarrassed easily and after Ingrid's tale she certainly wasn't up for a rebuff, so she resolved to let it go. Just a little gentle flirting, teasing him harmlessly in this gorgeous special place. Mmm... -----

They walked on round the battlements till they had to climb down again. He led her to a six-storey tower in the corner and slid into the low entrance, then round to the foot of a stone spiral stairway.

This is the way to get the best view from the castle, Red. If you don't mind a few stairs? He stepped up and disappeared round a corner. She followed eagerly and, hoping to get a glimpse on the way up, stayed just far enough below him that she could see the twirling hem of his kilt. His thighs were solid and muscular, but she couldn't quite see...then another turn and the stairs got steeper and Damn! Green trunks concealed his groin.

I know what you're doing, he called down, you're trying to see if it's true, aren't you?

She paused and felt the flush on her face. No I am NOT, and don't you assume everyone has your dirty mind -- but she giggled and spoiled it. It was amazing how easy it was to be with him.

He disappeared into a lighter space and she followed him. They were in the open-air remains of a room at the top of the tower. Small gaps where windows had been showed panoramas over the area. There is a story about this room, he breathed as Red joined him.

She leaned into one of the window-spaces: Go tell me, I love stories, wiggling her ass deliberately as she stretched her neck out over space.

Well, she sensed him moving behind her, his eyes on her ass: It is told that one of the Lairds was a bit of a lecher - her ass twinged involuntarily this time - and he errr...he inducted each new servant maid up here. She felt his fingers gently brush her ass. She was getting wet now, no doubt about it.

Whaddya mean, inducted them? murmured in her throat. She wanted his fingers again, softly brushing up her thighs. She slid her legs apart a little. The fingers would pause as they stroked the pants gusset between her legs, then stop. Her pussy was aflame now as the gusset pressed her wet slit. But no fingers. She sighed, then heard sounds on the stairs below.

Maybe we should keep the story for later Red, it's not fit for kids. Sure enough, the sounds on the stairs had become the voices of small children.

I thought you wanted to explore Red? There's lots more to see. And he waited at the top of the stairs for the kids to emerge excitedly, followed by a harassed mum. Red followed him and they descended slowly.

They emerged into the light at the bottom and she ran for the exit: I wanna explore the river-bank Sandy. -----

She certainly has a lot of energy after an overnight transatlantic flight, he thought, aware now of his own arousal. He really hadn't planned the day to slip into this sensual mode at all. Not that he was complaining: she was both fun, and very exciting. He followed her outside the castle and onto the paved path round the exterior of its walls where it overlooked the river, then onto an overgrown path which led down towards the bank. She was still running ahead and occasionally shouting encouragement back at him. He caught up when she sat down on a sward of fine grass overhung with willow beside the river. Slid down beside her.

Hey Sandy, this is the most gorgeous place -- what a start to my holiday! She looked at him and realised that the way he was sitting, knees up, his kilt hem was sliding down his thighs. Then a flash of jewelled movement caught her eye on the opposite riverbank: Wow! What was that?

Kingfisher - he watched its movements intently - isn't it gorgeous? Global warming, never used to get them this far north, but I'm glad they're here now.

Mmm, well if this is Scottish global warming, I like it. She lay back on the soft grassbed and sighed, eyes shut so the sun glowed crimson through her lids. Stretched her hands behind her head so her breasts stood proud beneath the top, knowing he would notice too the flatness of her belly as the material stretched. She wriggled so her pants came tight against her crotch. He was still sitting up, hands round his knees now, but she felt his eyes absorbing her. His hand brushed her thigh as he leaned over to lift the picnic backpack.

I'm a bit thirsty Red, how about you?

Mmm...yes please, what is there to drink?

Oh, wine, juice, coffee, what's your fancy?

I'd love some wine Sandy. She opened her eyes and pouted at him, pushed herself up on her arms so her hand brushed his back, watched as he opened a bottle of Sauvignon and poured into two paper cups. They sipped slowly, looking occasionally at each other as they glanced round.

Tell me about your kids Red? As his eyes roamed the length of her svelte body.

Uh, two; daughter of eighteen starting university this fall, son of ten. Both with their dad in Manitoba right now. I love them to bits and thought about bringing them with me on this trip, but Joe's taking them to Florida tomorrow so I have a clear conscience to indulge myself! You? You have kids Sandy?

Oh, I'm a grandfather now, two sons, both married. One in Edinburgh, the other in the south of England.

And your wife?

She's around. Separated unexpectedly two years ago. She found someone else, it was a huge shock to me. Rather not go there right now if you don't mind.

Uh, too bad, I can see it still bugs you. I'm sorry to have raised it. You found anyone else since?

Christ no. Not looking either, still a bit...unsettled, adjusting to who I am. Something like that makes you review your life, and my review doesn't look too good. He emptied his wine in a gulp and looked...well, he looked stripped bare all of a sudden, exposed.

She reached for the wine bottle and silently filled his cup. You ever talk about it to anyone? He shook his head. Looks like you could do with offloading some, Sandy. She stroked his arm softly and felt him shiver at her touch. I know it's none of my business but...maybe you need some female company sometimes. Her fingers rested briefly on his arm, then she reached to refill her own wine. Anyway, here's to the spring, touching her cup to his, and to our adventures together.

Er, yes, here's to your trip. I'll try very hard to make it good for you. He sat up from his slouch and his eyes met hers as their cups touched again: Slainthe!

Now Sandy, what are you telling me? It's not fair to try to confuse me, and anyway your contract says you speak English!