It was time for the Thanksgiving Formal at Barton Hills. I had spent the last four weeks trying to figure out a way to seduce Mim. My roadblock was that I didn't think Mim would fall for any cheap tricks. She was not only beautiful, but smart and sophisticated. In the end, I decided to just go and have a good time. Maybe karma would be with me. At the very least, I would spend an evening with Mim.
There are not many occasions that I can dress in formal Scottish attire. My great grandparents emigrated in the early part of the twentieth century. Along with their meager possessions, they brought a strong sense of their culture. My great grandfather worked hard, opened a small bank that soon became a big bank, catering to immigrants. My grandfather took over and he increased the family's prosperity, along with a sense of propriety. He instituted the tradition of a formal family dinner every Sunday. He would take the family to the local Episcopal Church and then back to his house for a splendid meal. He also insisted on formal Scottish attire.
Thus from an early age I learned how to wear a kilt. As I grew, I also developed a special kinship with the Scottish customs. I wore a kilt to my wedding and every other formal event. I loved proclaiming my heritage in such an obvious and stylish way.
I adjust my sporran while evaluating my reflection in the full length mirror. From the ghille brogues on my feet to the Prince Charlie jacket, I look the perfect Scottish gentleman. I hope Mim will find me well turned out, but maybe not a "perfect" gentleman.
Arriving at the Academy I park and head over to the main administration building for a small reception.
Ruthann greets me at the door.
"Wow, Mac," she gushes, "you look really cool. And handsome." She blushes a bit with that admission.
"And you, my bonnie lass, are a sight of beauty."
Ruthann blushes deeper. But it's true. She's wearing a cocktail dress of soft black crepe that reaches her knees. Standing in two inch pumps, she is as tall as I am. Her hair is braided into one long plait and rests over her shoulder. The dress accents her young curves and small breasts that do not appear to be encumbered by a bra and the shoes make her long legs even more appealing. Her make-up is not over-done and I wonder if Mim might have had a hand in it. My suspicions increase as I lean forward to kiss her cheek and inhale the same delicate scent that Mim wears.
"Thanks, Mac," she coos and kisses me back on my cheek. "Let me go and let Ms. Collins know you're here," she says and turns away.
I look around the formal entry hall and study the portraits of former Heads of School. They all look fairly stiff and quite formidable. I don't know the current head, but heard she is not as rigid as her predecessors. She understood that today's parents and students want order but not a stranglehold on their burgeoning daughters.
I sense movement and turn. I stop breathing.
Mim is crossing toward me. I did not think such beauty existed.
Mim is wearing a floor-length white soft silk gown with a tartan sash flowing from her right shoulder to her left hip, where it is knotted together. A brooch pins the sash to her shoulder. Her dress is slit halfway up her right side and a flash of leg appears with every step. The silk clings to her body, subtly defining her feminine figure. I can see her breasts move feely under the fabric and notice no visible break in the fall of the dress over her hips. I wonder if she too is naked under her clothing.
Her golden hair is piled high and pulled into a loose bun in the back. With her hair out of the way of her long, elegant neck, my gaze falls to the slightly scooped neckline. She has accented her green eyes with enough mascara to make them appear to be two emeralds set in ivory. Her lips are a deep pink to help highlight the blush on her cheekbones.
She seems to glide toward me. I look down to see a black patent leather pump appear as the slit that reaches half-way up her thigh exposes a shapely leg.
As with Ruthann, her shoes bring her to eye level with me. She rests her hand on my shoulder and leans in to kiss my cheek. I am not sure what swooning is, but I think I may have done so as her lips touch my skin.
Pulling back she smiles and then a cloud crosses her face.
"Mac, are you all right? It looks like you've seen a ghost."
Recovering, I try to make light, "A bit early in the evening for Macbeth, Mim."
She smiles but asks again.
"Seriously, are you feeling all right?"
I decide to go for it.
"Mim, I am feeling a bit weak in the knees."
She frowns and then I continue.
"I have never seen a more beautiful woman than the one before me."
She beams and slips her arm through mine.
"Thank you."
Guiding me toward the main hall, she adds, "And, I must add that I have never seen a Scottish gentleman look better."
We enter the hall and I swear there is a moment of silence as heads turn toward us. I catch Ruthann out of the corner of my eye and she silently applauds.
I wink and then feel Mim moving us forward. We begin the introductions.
After forty minutes of champagne and light conversation, the Head of School makes a few remarks thanking everyone, especially the generous patrons of the Academy. She then instructs us to head to the ballroom attached to the original mansion.
As we are moving along with the crowd, with Mim easily resting her hand on my arm, a different hand slips under my other arm. I turn to see my friend Jennifer.
"My God, Mac, you are beyond handsome tonight."
Mim peeks her head around and says, "Hell-o Jennifer. Nice to see you. Here with your husband?"
Hmm, I sense the beginning of a cat fight, or at least one feline marking her territory.
"Actually, Caroline and I are here together. The boys are off to Bermuda for golfing and whatever."
I notice Caroline, another mutual friend from my married days, standing alongside of Jennifer.
"Too bad," purrs Mim. "I understand the band is quite good."
Not to be pushed aside, "Well, maybe Mac can find a spot on his dance card for an old friend."
"Maybe," replies Mim, "but I think it just may be full."
"Well," says Jennifer as she squeezes my bicep, "we'll just have to see." She and Caroline move off. I think Jennifer is wiggling her ass a bit as she moves in front of us.
"You can retract your claws now," I say lightly.
Mim blushes then smiles. "That obvious?"
"No matter," I say. "I do feel a bit flattered."
"Why so?" she replies. "I do think your dance card may be full. I know I love to dance and I did promise Ruthann and Chrissy they each could have a turn or two. And, our dear Head of School whispered that she wouldn't mind a spin around the floor. So, your friendly flirtatious friend may just be shite out of luck."
I explode with her last statement and pat her hand resting on my forearm.
"I am your guest and am at your complete disposal."
"Complete! Hmm."
I leave that hanging as we enter the grand ballroom. There are round tables set along the perimeter and the middle left open for dancing. A five piece combo occupies one end of the room and is playing soft background music as we take our seats.
The table conversation is both spirited and entertaining. Each person contributes stories and observations. As the wait staff is clearing the dinner in preparation for dessert, a young woman rushes to our table and whispers into Mim's ear. She nods and the young woman leaves.
"I'm afraid you must excuse me for a bit. Seems one of the girls in my dorm has taken sick. I'll look in on her and see if she needs the nurse. Please enjoy yourselves and I'll be back as soon as I can."
She turns to me and says softly, "Sorry, Mac. I'll ask Ruthann and Chrissy to look after you. Save me a dance."
Mim stands and quickly leaves the ballroom. My eyes trail her as her bottom moves seductively under the silk.
We enjoy dessert and the band picks up the pace and the dancing begins.
Chrissy and Ruthann approach me.
"How about a dance?" Chrissy asks.
We make our way into the crowd. There's a slow ballad and I take the young blond in my arms.
She rests her head on my shoulder and we slowly move to the music. I am amazed at the womanly feel of her body. Her surprisingly full breasts press into me. She softly sighs and pushes into me. Our thighs rub and my hand rests on her muscled lower back.
The song ends and Chrissy whispers in my ear, "That was dreamy, Mac. Thanks."
"Thank you," I reply and lead her back to where Ruthann is waiting.
"Com'on, Mac," calls Ruthann as she grabs my hand and pulls me to the dance floor as the band revs up.
"I doubt if I'm any good at this type of dancing," I say.
"Hey, we're a bunch of white folks. Nobody is good at dancing."
The band makes its way through a couple covers of modern pop songs and then takes the tempo down with a slow tune.
"Now, this is something I can do," I say to Ruthann.
"I hope so, 'cause I suck at real dancing. I noticed Chrissy was doing great."
"It's not hard."
I slide my hand around her waist. She looks at me with doe eyes.
"Put your hand on my shoulder. I'll guide you and just slide your feet along with me."
She's athletic enough to be able to control her body and we manage to get through the dance. She smiles broadly at the end.
"Thanks, Mac. That was cool. I think we actually danced."
"We did, indeed. And no need for thanks. The pleasure is all mine."
"Mac, you're cool." She hugs me. I felt her young body tight against mine, her small breasts pushing into my chest. Alarm bells started going off and I step back.
The band starts another slow tune. Ruthann looks at me and smiles. She comes into my arms and we dance. After a minute, she moves her body close to mine and entwines her arms behind my neck. Her body conforms to mine. I feel her breasts push into my chest, sense her nipples digging in, her legs brush my thighs and her groin rubs against me.
Although she is just a young girl, I am just a man. I feel my body begin to react. She must feel my growing reaction and pushes slightly harder into my crotch. She sighs softly into my ear.
I gently unclasp her hands from my neck. Stepping back, I smile at her.
"I need a break."
She looks at me through half-closed eyes.
"This is so sweet, Mac. Do we hafta' stop?"
I then nod and stroke her cheek.
"I need something cool to drink."
"Yeah, me too," she sighs understanding that whatever was starting to happen was not going to continue. "Let's find Chrissy and get a drink."
We see her friend at the bar. The girls get diet colas and I order a beer.
"Let's go out on the terrace. I need to cool down," says Ruthann.
The night is cool, but not cold. We stand looking at the cloudless sky with its endless band of stars.
"You guys looked totally together in that slow dance," offers Chrissy.
"Mac, is smooth."
"Amen!" says Chrissy.
