The Girls Of St Catherines Bk 03 Ch 03

Highland Games (Part 3)

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Saturday, 19 September

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Edward walked back and forth examining himself in the mirror, feeling the rough, thick material of his brand-new kilt brush against the sensitive head of his cock.

Although it came down to below his knees, it just didn't feel right. Surely it wasn't decent. He just felt too exposed. What if he fell over whilst attempting one of those complicated Scottish dances? How embarrassing would that be? It just didn't seem hygienic to have your bits flopping about under there.

"No," he mumbled as he pulled on a pair of boxer shorts, "I don't care what the girls say, it's just not British."

--

"You think they're okay? You don't think they're a bit tacky?" Jo said, dangling the scanty underwear in front of Florence.

They were in Florence's room, an hour before the party was due to officially start, still trying to decide on exactly what they'd wear.

"No, I think they're, you know, fun," Florence said, watching Jo swing the tiny tartan g-string and matching bra from her fingers.

"Hmm, perhaps it'll help if I put them on," Jo said, still undecided as she unzipped her skin-tight jeans and wriggled them down over her slim hips.

Florence sipped her wine, and glanced out of the window as she waited for Jo to undress again.

Outside it was a fine, still evening, the sky clear with just a few wisps of distant cloud on the horizon, faint brush-strokes of pink on a darkening lavender background. Some workmen had finished putting up the large marquee earlier, and now she watched as waiters and waitresses in their crisp white shirts and black trousers scurried to and from the canteen, ferrying large trays of Scottish salmon, scotch pies and mini-haggises. Through the open window, she could hear the ceilidh band warming up, the discordant sounds of the fiddle and accordion carried on the warm breeze.

There were already a few people down below her window, small knots of teachers carrying glasses of wine or clutching bottles of Scottish lager, and she was glad to see that, to some degree, they'd all made attempts at wearing their interpretation of traditional Scottish dress. Of course, some people were naturally less traditional than others she thought as she glanced over at the brightly coloured jumble of Jo's clothes, lying scattered over her bed.

"Gosh, Jo, you have such a lovely body. I wish I was as lean and fit as you are," Florence said a little enviously as she eyed Jo's trim body. It was the first time she'd seen Jo naked and how she envied her friend's tight little bum and sleek thighs. She couldn't help noticing that her friend was a natural blonde, with a thin, neatly-trimmed strip of blonde hair at the junction of her long, tanned legs.

"Thanks, I think it helps being a PE teacher. I put it all down to regular exercise. You should come jogging with me sometime, it does wonders for your thighs and bum," Jo said, as she bent at the waist and stepped daintily into the skimpy pants, sliding them smoothly up over her calves.

"You know you're right, I will come with you one morning. Not tomorrow though, I'm planning on having a few bevvies tonight. Anyway, I'm not sure I'll ever be as lovely and slim as you."

"Well yes, it's great being slim, but sometimes I wish I had a few more curves like you. Men like women to look a little, well, womanly, don't they?" Jo continued, sliding her bra up over her arms, and reaching behind her back to fasten it.

"I suppose."

"And you've got great boobs, I'd love to have boobs like yours," Jo said. "I bet your boyfriend loves them, doesn't he?"

"I guess," Florence replied, although she couldn't remember the last time Derek had complimented her.

"Anyway, what do you think?" Jo said, turning to face her.

Florence regarded her new friend, standing hands on hips, awaiting her verdict. Florence had to admit she looked very sexy, the underwear clinging tightly to her athletic frame and enhancing her figure. Her g-string was just a thin triangle of red-and-black tartan held in place with slender strips of black lace, barely hiding the tight golden curls of her pubic hair. Her matching half-cup bra was just as skimpy, clinging to small, cupcake breasts that sat high on her ribcage. Florence wasn't a lesbian but when Jo turned to examine herself in the full-length mirror, she had to sit on her hands to stop herself reaching out and squeezing her friend's flawless bottom, just to see if her buttocks were as firm and tight as they looked.

"I think you look great, I reckon you'll be fighting off a bunch of horny kilt-wearing men by the end of the night," she concluded.

"That's the idea, and I'm not planning on fighting too hard," Jo said, glancing over her shoulder and winking.

--

One hour and a bottle of wine later, the girls were nearly ready. Florence had intended to wear a very traditional Scottish dress; a heavy ankle-length tartan skirt and a frilly white blouse, with an elaborate ruby broach holding it closed at the neck and a broad matching sash. After a couple of glasses of wine though, she'd let Jo talk her into wearing a quite low-cut, less conservative green-and-black above-the-knee tartan dress, cinched at the waist so that it emphasized what Jo called her 'feminine figure'.

"Don't you think I should wear a pair of tights with this?" she'd asked tugging the hem towards her knees as they examined her in the mirror, but Jo had just laughed.

Jo had tried on a few outfits but had finally settled on a simple, black, short-sleeved top over a red-and-black tartan mini-skirt that emphasized the length of her shapely legs.

"Cheers," Florence said, chinking her glass against Jo's as they examined themselves in the mirror.

"Cheers. Here's to fighting off hordes of horny, kilt-wearing men, eh?" the blonde replied.

They were just about to drain their glasses and leave when there was a faint, hesitant knocking at the door.

"Come in, join the party," Florence shouted.

"Hi, hey, you ladies look lovely," Edward said, stepping through the door. Florence watched as his eyes darted around the room taking in the empty wine bottle on the table and their slightly flushed faces.

"Wow, you don't look too bad yourself," Jo giggled.

He'd clearly made quite an effort and was clothed head-to-toe in the full, traditional Scottish dress; a knee-length green-and-red tartan kilt, the black jacket over a white dress shirt, the knee-length black socks, even a sporran.

"Gosh, someone's looking very Scottish!" Florence said. He looked so serious, and somehow couldn't help giggling, although perhaps that was more to do with the amount of wine she'd consumed.

"Is it okay then? You're Scottish, Florence, what do you think? Do I look like a real Scot?" he said, a broad smile on his lips, obviously proud of his effort.

"Well, it all seems to be in place. The Argyll jacket, the white shirt," she said, stepping closer and fingering the jacket.

"And it looks like a genuine kilt, this looks great," Jo said. She moved closer too, her fingers sliding over the thick fabric.

"Well then ladies, if you think I'll do, shall we head downstairs?" Edward said happily.

"Talking of downstairs, there is one thing we need to check though," Jo said, putting her wine glass down and winking at Florence.

"Oh yes, one very important thing, I mean it looks like a genuine kilt but..." Florence said, grinning as she realised what Jo meant.

"What?"

"We need to check you're wearing the kilt in the traditional way," Jo said, running a finger along one of the pleats in the rough fabric.

"Yes, come on, have you got anything on underneath?" Florence asked.

"Underneath? Um, well, of course not," Edward said, backing away until his back pressed against the door.

"Well, I don't think we can just take his word for it, do you Florence?" Jo said, smiling as she playfully tugged at his kilt.

"Quite right Jo, I think it's vital we check," Florence grinned as she slid the hem up over a hairy knee.

"Come on girls, enough games. Let's get to the party and get on with the drinking, eh?" Edward said hopefully, although it was clear they'd already had a couple of glasses. He squirmed uncomfortably, his hands clasping the hem of his kilt as the girls tried to slide it up over his legs.

Soon they were performing an odd little dance, Edward hopping from foot to foot trying to evade their grasping hands as the two young women skipped around him, tugging at his kilt.

"Come on Edward, don't be shy, we just want a little look," Jo said, laughing as she grabbed a handful of tartan material, revealing his pale, hairy thighs.

"Yes, come on," Florence added as she grabbed one of his wrists. "Just a wee look."

"Wait! Please, ladies, " Edward gasped, shrieking girlishly as he felt one of Jo's slender hands slide beneath the tartan material and pinch his buttocks.

"Oh, Edward! What a cheat!" she exclaimed.

"Och, he's not wearing pants is he?"

"I'm afraid so," Jo said. "Perhaps we should remove them. What do you think, Florence?"

"Well yes, we Scots take this very seriously. I don't think we can let this go," Florence replied, holding both of Edward's wrists now as he desperately tried to twist away. "Come on Jo, get 'em off."

"Come on girls, don't be silly. Come on, you've had your fun," Edward said nervously, tugging one of his hands free and fumbling behind him for the door knob.

"Oh, come on! It'll just take a minute," Jo giggled, reaching beneath his kilt and tugging at the waistband of his shorts.

With a strangled cry, Edward finally managed to twist free and open the door. Florence and Jo watched as he stumbled back through the door and scurried away down the corridor. They watched him go then turned to each other and fell back onto the bed, laughing loudly. Laughing and laughing, until they felt giddy and breathless.

--

As evening turned to night, large overhead lights turned night to day and strings of coloured bulbs strung amongst the bushes lit the pathways. By now, the ceilidh band was in full swing, the lively sounds of the accordion and drums echoing off the walls of the old school.

Florence tapped her foot along in time with the band as she waited for Jo to return with fresh drinks. In front of the band, a 'caller' was trying to organise the dancers, shouting directions as they attempted a dance called 'Strip the Willow'. The men and women had formed two separate lines facing each other and she clapped along with the music, as couples took turns to twirl up and down the gap in the middle.

The traditional music and bright swirling colours of the kilts transported her back to her childhood. She hadn't tried 'Strip the Willow' since she was a schoolgirl, but as she watched the other party-goers laughing and dancing she wished Derek was here so she could participate. Although, thinking about it, he wasn't keen on dancing so maybe she was better off without him.

In the middle of it all, she spotted Edward spinning his way down the line with Annabel Hunter, the biology teacher, and felt relieved that he looked like he was having fun.

The more she thought about it, the more she felt guilty about what had happened earlier. Looking back, she realised she'd acted like a bully. What if it had been the other way around: two men groping a woman? Two drunken men asking if she was wearing underwear? It would surely have been classed as sexual harassment, and she resolved to apologise the next time she saw him.

As she pondered the best way to say sorry, Jo returned with two more whisky cocktails.

"You look thoughtful," she said.

"Aye, I just spotted Edward down there, you know I think we may have been a little over-the-top with him earlier," Florence replied as she sipped her drink.

"In your room? We were just having a bit of fun with him, weren't we?" Jo said, sipping her cocktail.

"I'm not sure, don't you think we were a bit, you know, aggressive? Maybe we should apologise."

"Apologise? Come on, we were just having a laugh."

"You know, I don't think he finds it as much of a laugh as you do. Why do you tease him so much, anyway?"

"Oh, come on Florence, it's just a bit of fun. I reckon he likes the attention. I bet he enjoys it as much as me."

"I wouldn't be so sure; I think you're playing with fire."

"Playing with fire? Edward? Come on, he's harmless."

"Well, I'm just saying, sometimes it's the quiet ones you need to watch."

They paused, lost for a moment in their own thoughts as the song finished, and the raucous cheers and applause drowned out any chance of continuing their conversation.

Florence noticed Jo smiling at someone behind her, then leaning in close.

"Don't look now, but I think we've got a couple of admirers," she whispered as the band paused to take some drinks.

Despite herself, Florence couldn't help glancing over her shoulder and quickly spotted David Lean and Alec Sanders, the history teacher. They'd both made the effort to dress for the occasion: David was wearing a green-and-purple kilt beneath a smart navy jacket, and Mr Sanders a red-and-black kilt with matching tie, over a plain white shirt. They both smiled and nodded as they noticed her staring, and she quickly turned away.

"They're coming over," hissed Jo, a note of suppressed excitement in her voice, her red lips stretching into a smile.

"Evening ladies," Mr Sanders said smoothly.

"Hello David, Mr Sanders," Jo replied.

"Call me Alec, please."

Florence turned, trying to act surprised as the two men appeared next to her.

"Evening Jo, evening Florence. Well, don't you two young ladies look lovely tonight?" David said smoothly.

"Thanks," Florence said, feeling her cheeks redden. She seemed to have spent a lot of her time blushing recently!

"We were just wondering if you'd like to dance," Alec said.

"I've love to," Jo said, taking his arm and leading him towards the band.

"Come on, I've been dying to have a go," David said, smiling and offering his arm as Florence hesitated.

"Och, go on then, " she said finally.

The caller was a short, jolly-looking young woman standing on a box, trying to make herself seen and heard amongst the wheeling throngs of people. She announced that the first, rather chaotic, attempt at 'Strip the Willow' was just a practice, and that they'd be attempting it again now they were properly warmed up. Florence stood opposite David, shifting her weight from foot to foot in time with the music as they watched and soon Jo and Alec were dancing down the line, linking arms and spinning around each person in the two parallel lines.

Alec was in his forties, tall and broad-shouldered with a neat goatee, dark brown hair greying at the temples and cool grey eyes. Florence guessed he hadn't tried Scottish dancing before as she watched him laughing and spinning his way towards her, looking more than a little un-coordinated. Jo seemed to be enjoying it immensely, throwing her head back and whooping loudly as successive men spun her around towards the end of the line.

As each couple spun down the line, Florence and David moved one closer to the end and suddenly it was their turn. She had to grab David and swing him around, pointing him in the right direction. Soon though, he got the hang of it and he was grasping her wrists in his strong hands and spinning her around expertly.

Florence's initial reluctance quickly faded as they cycled through all the dances she learned at school: the Gay Gordons, the Anniversary Reel, Speed the Plough. She remembered being embarrassed back then, when she was nine or ten, being forced to dance with boys but now she was thoroughly enjoying herself. As the night wore on,and the Scottish-themed cocktails kept coming she couldn't help having a few adolescent thoughts about the young men swinging her round with their beefy arms or grasping her hips in their strong hands. How many of them, she wondered, were naked under their kilts?

--

Jo was also enjoying herself, dancing on and on as the night grew darker and the pale, silvery disk of the moon rose behind the trees. She hardly noticed it getting a little colder, a cool breeze stirring the leaves of the trees.

"Phew!" Jo panted, sweeping her blonde hair away from her damp forehead as the band finished another song then joining in with the applause. She felt like she'd been

dancing for hours, and although she'd worn some sensible shoes (well, for her anyway), her feet were beginning to ache. Her head was spinning and she felt a little giddy, although she was sure whether that was because of her amateurish but energetic dancing or the proximity of Alec.

He was exactly the kind of suave, good-looking, tall, worldly-wise older man that she'd always found attractive. It was just a shame he was married, she thought as she noticed his thick gold wedding band catching the light. It was pretty clear he found her attractive too, judging by the way he'd kept stealing glances at her legs as he spun her round, her short skirt flaring, and revealing tantalising glimpses of her toned thighs.

"Grab your partners for the last dance of the evening please!" the caller shouted.

"Shall we?" he said, a firm hand sliding around her slender waist and inviting to step forward with him.

"Actually, I think I might give it a miss, I'm exhausted! Really hot too!" she gasped.

"Perhaps we ought to take a stroll down by the river, it'll be cooler down there," he said, dropping his voice and leaning towards her. She caught the faint aroma of his spicy after-shave and the glint in his intensely grey eyes.

"Was this really a good idea?" Jo thought to herself as she let Alec take her hand and lead her away from the light, away from the noise of the dancers chattering excitedly as they formed squares for the final dance.

"So, um, where's your wife this evening?" she said.

"Oh, she rarely comes to these occasions, she's not really the partying type. But let's talk about you, how are you finding it here?"

Jo said some pleasantly bland things about the school and the other teachers as they strolled by the river and by the time they got to the old boathouse she realised he was right, it was cooler down here. Quiet and secluded too.

"So I hear you've been checking that the men have been dressing in the traditional Scottish way," he said, a crooked smile forming on his lips.

"Oh, you heard about that! We were just having a bit..." she replied.

She never got to finish the sentence; as they slipped behind the boathouse he gently but firmly tugged at her wrist, drawing her to him, his lips suddenly pressed against hers. He was a good kisser and she heard herself moaning, low in her throat as his tongue slipped between her lips.

"Gosh, you don't waste any time!" she gasped, pulling away.

"So you were just having a bit of fun with young Edward?" he said, his lips leaving a trail of soft kisses along her neck.

"Mmm," she moaned happily.

"Perhaps you'd like to check I'm dressed appropriately," he whispered, his lips sucking gently at her earlobe and drawing her hand against his firm thigh. She could feel the warmth through his kilt.

She drew back a little, one hand on his chest, and their eyes met. There was a faint smile on his lips and his twinkling eyes seemed to be daring her.

"Maybe I will," she replied.

Jo slipped a hand beneath the thick tartan material and slowly ran it up over his thighs, her eyes never leaving his. She bit her lip as she inched her hand higher, over the lightly-haired thighs to the smooth, hard muscle of his buttocks, feeling a little frisson of excitement as she realised he was quite naked.

She watched him close his eyes, feel his body quiver as she squeezed his firm buttocks, then ran her hand around to the front, lightly cradling his swollen balls, feeling the soft fuzz of his pubic hair.