A Highland Fling

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Clouds scurried swiftly across the sky and the early morning air was crisp with the first hints of autumnal frost as I started my southerly drive over Rannoch Moor. I’d set off deliberately early, hoping to avoid the worst of the late summer holiday traffic on the A82. Behind me lay Fort William and a fabulous week’s holiday in the Scottish Highlands, where I’d visited Kilchurn Castle, explored my paternal ancestry on the Isle of Skye and searched unsuccessfully for the Loch Ness Monster. Ahead of me, at the bottom end of the Moor, lay Tyndrum, after which I would make a right hand turn towards the western shores of Loch Fyne and my ultimate destination of Inverary, which lay near the head of the loch. Forty five minutes after leaving Fort William in the gloom of dawn, the sun eventually peaked over the top ridge of one of the numerous fells that littered the horizon. The landscape looked almost desolate. The bracken was yellowing, and the heather, well past its glorious high summer bloom, lay limp to the earth. Pockets of mist hung heavy in the hollows of the uneven ground, with woolly tendrils reaching out and drifting slowly up and down the many gullies and waterways that criss-crossed the moor. I wasn’t at all disheartened by the bleak look of my surroundings. I’d watched the weather report the night before in my hotel room and knew that once the sun got up, the mist would burn away quickly. A fine and sunny autumn day was forecast. It was going to be just the sort of day that was perfect for the Argyll and Bute Highland Games. I’d planned to visit the Games for the last day of my break before the long drive south back to England. I couldn’t wait to have fun and soak up the atmosphere of something so quintessentially Scottish and, though distant, something that was also an integral part of my own heritage. By the time I arrived in Inverary the sun was well up into the now clear blue sky and the last wisps of the morning’s mist were evaporating from the edges of the loch. The water was calm and I could clearly see a perfect reflection of the mountains, sky and town on the mirror like surface of the water. As I drove down the High Street I was amazed to see the whole town was festooned with brightly coloured bunting that seemed to drip from the front of every building and lamp post. After parking outside the bed and breakfast I’d booked for the night, I locked the car and made my way to the show ground at the far end of the town where the Games were being held. Even though it was still early and the Games hadn’t yet started, large crowds were already beginning to gather at the ticket booths. As I queued, I could see numerous hospitality tents strewn across the field and various arenas had been fashioned from bales of hay, placed in circles to separate the spectators from the competitors. Under the awning of the largest marquee was a wooden stage, about ten metres wide and a metre high. I presumed this would play host to the main attraction of the afternoon and thing I most wanted to see, the Highland Dancing. I spent a fun morning cruising round the makeshift arenas watching burly men stretch every sinew in their bodies to throw hammers, toss cabers and put stones. Other parts of the grounds showcased mock battles, displays of ancient armour and all manner of clan related memorabilia. An endless stream of bagpipe and Celtic horn players provided a subtle but beautiful musical backdrop that perfectly complimented the whole Highland Game experience. As it neared lunchtime and the start of the Highland Dancing I bought myself a bowl of Cullen Skink and a bread roll from one of the many take away vendors and made my way to the wooden stage I’d seen earlier. I was both early enough and lucky enough to be able to find a seat on the front row just to the right hand side of the stage. I put my coat over the back of the chair and watched the various pipers, drummers and fiddlers set up their instruments while I ate my soup. Eventually the tannoy crackled into life to announce the start of the afternoon’s competitions. “Ladies and gentlemen, before we start today’s competitions, for those of you unfamiliar with the rules of Highland Dancing, judges will award each competitor marks out of ten in each of the following four categories. Firstly, their timing and ability to follow the rhythm of the music. Secondly, for their technique, execution of the steps and body movements. Thirdly, for their artistic interpretation of the music and finally for their confidence and ability.” The announcer paused momentarily to allow the audience to digest the scoring system before continuing, “Our first competitor this afternoon in the solo ladies category, representing Lanarkshire, and performing the Highland Fling, is…Jenny Wallace.” There was a polite ripple of applause before Jenny Wallace walked confidently to the centre of the stage and stood with her arms extended above her head and her feet turned slightly, one in front of the other as she readied herself for the start of the music. She was dressed in a very deep red woollen tartan kilt with a gold and blue pattern woven across it. Her torso was clad in a black velvet jacket with a white linen lining and gold braid and buttons down the front. The whole outfit was made even more alluring by the matching knee high tartan hose she wore, with a pair of soft black leather shoes with an ornate laced pattern over the top of her foot. Her costume was nothing compared to her looks. She was quite a bit taller than me, very slim and had lovely long fair hair that was scraped back into a neat pony tail. Her eyes were light brown but with enchanting hints of deep green that glinted in the sunlight. Her cheekbones were quite kaçak iddaa high but that was more than compensated for by her beautiful milky white complexion and soft, pink, very kissable lips. She was simply gorgeous! A slow drum beat started up, quickly accompanied by a gentle blare from the bagpipes before Jenny started her routine. I was completely enthralled, not just by how gorgeous she was, but also by her movements. She was quickly onto the balls of her feet, performing different step dance combinations back and forth and side to side across the stage. Her upper body, hands and arms moved in time to the music, performing their own intricate routine that perfectly complemented that of her feet. Jenny’s looks and dancing were just amazing. To say I was totally entranced would have been an understatement to say the least, especially as her kilt had two wide pleats on each hip, giving the fabric a delicious swing and tantalising glimpses of her lovely creamy thighs every time she moved from side to side. It was about half way through her routine that disaster struck. Every time she moved to her left and her heels thudded hard down onto the stage I could see one of the wooden boards starting to bow in the middle, with each end sitting prouder and prouder compared to the rest of the stage. It was almost as if Jenny was being sub-consciously drawn towards the ever growing danger. With every sideways move she got nearer and nearer the trip hazard until eventually, on one particularly daring step where she pushed herself high into the air, the edge of the board caught her heel. The trip caused her to sprawl across the stage, teeter momentarily on the edge, then plunge straight towards me. I flung my arms out in front of myself in a vain attempt to catch her as she flew in my direction. Jenny tumbled unceremoniously into me, the impact tipping both my chair and me over backwards. We landed in an ungainly heap on the grass with Jenny laying directly on top of me with our arms and legs completely entwined. Despite the shock of what had just happened, it was actually a bit of a turn on to have the beautiful figure that I had so admired not moments before, now laying on top of me. I fleetingly wondered if that would ever happen again? “Oh my god. I am so sorry,” Jenny said to me once we’d disentangled ourselves and were laying side by side on the grass. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine,” I replied. “More a little shocked than anything. How about you?” “My ankle really hurts. I think I twisted it a little when I fell. This has just been the worst day. Nothing’s gone right!” Jenny looked absolutely crestfallen. I was hesitant to ask what else had gone wrong with her day but somehow felt she wanted someone to talk to. “Let’s get you up on your feet then,” I said to Jenny, “and have a look at that ankle of yours. Oh, and by the way, I’m Kat. I’m pleased to meet you.” “Be my guest,” Jenny smiled back at me. “I’m Jen, Jen Wallace. The judges at these competitions always seem to call me Jenny. They just love being all stuffy and formal. I much prefer Jen. And it’s nice to meet you too.” I pulled Jen up onto her feet and after signalling to both the judges and a very concerned looking audience that she was okay, I sat her on the chair, unlaced her shoe and gently pulled the tartan hose down over her calf. While Jen had just flown off the stage and was clearly upset, I couldn’t help but think what amazing legs she had. They were beautifully slender and perfectly toned from her dancing. Even though I was only going to assess her sore ankle, it felt a little erotic to be touching Jen’s gorgeous legs. “So Jen, what else has gone wrong today?” I asked as the tartan hose got low enough down her leg to allow me to see her ankle, which I could see was already starting to swell a little. “This was supposed to be a romantic weekend away with my husband. We both came here for the Games. I dance and he throws hammers. He tore a muscle in his shoulder this morning and had to go to hospital. He’s fine and at home resting now. On top of that, I’ve ruined my dance. I was really hoping to do well too!” “Aww,” I replied. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I think your ankle’s going to be fine if we can keep the swelling down. You stay here and I’ll go and get a cold compress from the first aid tent. Back in a sec.” “Kat, that’s so kind. Thank you, but you really don’t have to,” Jen shouted as I turned and started to walk off. “Jen, really it’s no trouble. I want to, and besides, I feel sort of responsible for you now. Don’t go anywhere. Back in a mo,” I said, giving her the warmest matronly smile I could muster. After a quick word with the three dance judges, I got a small bucket of iced water and a large flannel from the St. John’s Ambulance crew in the first aid tent and then made my way back to the side of the stage where Jen sat rubbing at her ankle having taken the hose right off. Two men armed with hammers had quickly nailed down each end of the offending bit of wood that had caused Jen to trip and tumble off the stage and the next competitor was about to start her routine. “I’ve got some stuff for your ankle Jen. Let’s get this foot up and try and sort that swelling out,” I said. “Thanks Kat,” Jen replied. I put my arms round her shoulders and helped her walk to a couple of free chairs on the right hand edge of the last row of seats. I sat Jen on one and put her poorly ankle up on the other. I dipped the flannel in the iced water, squeezed it out, folded it and pressed it to her ankle. Jen flinched a little as the cold flannel touched her skin, but then settled back onto her seat once she got used to the temperature. “I have good news Jen,” I said. “I could do with some of that. What is it?” kaçak bahis she replied. “I had a quick word with the judges. They said it wasn’t your fault you fell over and that you can dance again at the end if you’re well enough. I reckon that gives us about two hours to get your ankle all fixed.” “Oh Kat, thank you. You really didn’t have to do that, but I’m thrilled you did. You’re just the perfect nurse. I think I’ll be fine, especially with your tender touch.” Despite everything she’d said about her husband and the romantic beak they’d planned, it was hard not to believe Jen hadn’t just thrown a little flirt at me. I decided to throw one back. “Well you know I’m your biggest fan now, don’t you? We have two hours for me to give you all the tender touches you need to be ready to dance,” I said, winking playfully at her. “Touch away then. I’m all yours,” Jen giggled. I kept refreshing the flannel in the cold water and applying it over and over to Jen’s ankle. I couldn’t help but massage her foot and calf too, stroking tenderly up and down her soft skin. Jen had an almost permanent smile on her face as she watched my warm hand caress her up and down. She looked almost hypnotised by my ministrations. “My ankle’s feeling much better already,” said Jen after about twenty minutes, “and I really like the way you’re rubbing my leg,” she added with just the tiniest hint of a blush in her cheeks. “Well you’re getting the full two hours worth,” I replied. “I don’t want the swelling to even think about coming back, and besides, you have such lovely legs.” I couldn’t resist giving Jen a second playful wink before adding, “and I kind of like rubbing them too.” Time just seemed to stand still as we chatted non stop like old friends and before we knew it the two hours had gone. Luckily, the swelling had dropped quite dramatically and Jen was feeling very confident she could get through her routine again relatively pain free. The judges looked in our direction after the last of the competitors had taken her turn to perform, looking for a signal that Jen was able and wanted to dance again. We both nodded our heads in reply which was all the cue they needed to beckon Jen’s return to the stage. “It’s time to dance Jen,” I said. “Are you sure you’re up for this?” “Thanks to you and all that lovely rubbing, I’m up for anything!” she replied quite boldly. “Then this is for luck,” I said, bending down and softly kissing her ankle. “Thanks Kat. I need all the luck I can get,” she replied. “Then have this too.” Before Jen knew what I was doing, I leant in and kissed her quickly on the lips. “That’s my special lucky kiss. You’ll be fabulous. Now go.” Jen blushed a deep red. “Thank you,” she said, before turning and making her way to the stage. Jen’s second dance was arguably more impressive than her first. I clapped and whistled at her every step, jump, and turn like an over enthusiastic cheerleader. While her face was racked with concentration, she couldn’t resist a very subtle smile in my direction every time she came to my side of the stage. At the end of her routine, I was straight on my feet applauding. The rest of the audience needed little encouragement to do the same. Jen was positively glowing when she bounced down the steps from the stage and into my arms. “That was brilliant,” I said as we hugged. “Thanks Kat. That felt so good. You’ve given me a real energy. I hope the judges saw that too?” “I’m sure they did. Even if they didn’t, your new biggest fan thinks you’re amazing,” I replied, gazing at her as we finally broke our embrace. All eyes were on the judges as they looked pensively at the pile of scorecards spread out on the table in front of them. Their deliberations only took ten minutes, but for the assembled competitors it must have felt much longer. Finally, they selected three scorecards, placed them in order and passed them to a runner who took them to the master of ceremonies to deliver the results. I could see him clear his throat before flicking the switch on his microphone to bring the tannoy to life again. “Ladies and gentlemen, here are the results of the solo ladies competition. In third place, representing Ross and Cromarty is…Heather McDonald.” The audience clapped enthusiastically as Heather McDonald made her way to the stage and collected a small engraved shield and an even smaller blue rosette. She waved briefly at the crowd then walked off to the side to await the announcement of the winner and runner up. “In second place, a fantastic achievement considering what happened earlier, representing Lanarkshire is…Jenny Wallace.” Jen turned and looked at me completely agog before flinging her arms around my neck and giving me the biggest hug imaginable. “I did it, I did it!” Jen squealed in my ear. “I’ve never been placed before. This is amazing!” I didn’t think she’d ever let me go. I’m not sure I wanted her to either. “Thank you Kat,” she added, before bounding up the steps and onto the stage where she received a small silver trophy and a bright red rosette for her efforts. She stood next to Heather McDonald, just about hopping up and down in excitement at her placing. I was almost in tears of happiness for Jen. She looked like she was welling up too as we stared at each other through our smiles. We were both totally lost that moment of sheer bliss and barely heard the tannoy’s final announcement of the afternoon, “…and this afternoon’s winner, representing Moray, please give a big hand to… Aileen Stewart.” When Jen finally came off the stage we hugged briefly again before she excused herself to call her husband with the news. While she chatted away on her mobile, I couldn’t help but feel how lucky he was. Although we barely illegal bahis knew each other, Jen was one of the nicest and most sincere people I’d met in a very long time. She was also stunning and my attraction to her had been instant. “My husband’s thrilled about my placing,” Jen said after she’d finished her call. “I also told him all about you and he wanted me to thank you too. This is the really good bit. He also said I needn’t come home tonight and should buy you dinner as a thank you. What do you think? Dinner…with me?” “You don’t have to do that,” I replied quickly, but already my mind was racing about the possibilities of an evening with Jen. “Well it’s all paid for anyway, so why not? Besides, don’t you think it would be a shame to waste my romantic break? Say yes…please!” It took me less than a second to decide. “Deal,” I replied. “Where are you staying?” “I’m at The Waterside Arms. It’s right in the middle of town facing the loch. You can’t miss it. How about eight o’clock?” “I’ll be there Jen. See you later then.” Jen and I hugged again before parting our ways for the rest of the afternoon. While I knew I could never hope to match her dancing prowess, I did a silly skip and dance of my own on my way back to the lodge I’d booked for the night. I had brilliant fun swishing my feet through the little piles of crisp crimson and gold leaves from Autumn’s first sheds that now lay like a thick duvet where they’d been windswept into corners. All the time I kept playing Jen’s parting words over and over in my mind. “It would be a shame to waste my romantic break,” she’d said. What did that mean? As I stared at the clothes in my suitcase deciding what to wear for the evening I wondered if it was just dinner I’d been invited for, or whether it was something much more than that. I decided to dress for “more than that.” After all, I had nothing to lose. I hadn’t brought my naughtiest lingerie to Scotland with me as I wasn’t expecting to need it. Despite that, I still managed to find a pair of sheer black hold ups and a matching black lace bra and panty set buried in amongst my other stuff. I had a long soak in the bath, washed and dried my hair and dressed in the lingerie. Standing in front of the full length mirror on the wall by the bed, I wondered if I’d get the chance to show Jen what I was wearing. I hoped I would. I also hoped she’d like what she saw. As I looked at my scantily clad body, it was all I could do to resist starting to touch myself and imagine my own fingers were Jen’s. I spent quite a bit of time playing with my mascara and blusher and applying a subtle shade of red lip stick. My special bottle of Beyond Paradise stared temptingly at me from my vanity bag. I couldn’t resist giving a little squirt of the elegant scent on my arms and neck. When I’d bought it, the fragrance was described as being all about fantasy, with a tropical wetness and hints of exotic blooms. The description alone sounded so deliciously naughty that I’d felt compelled to buy it. It was while I was thinking about that description, and the fantasy of what it would be like to be with Jen, that without even realising what I was doing, I sprayed a little on my tummy and my inner thighs right next to my own growing wetness and burgeoning blooms. I smiled at myself in the mirror at how ridiculous my efforts probably were. On the other hand, if Jen wanted to share her romantic break with me in that way, then I knew she’d appreciate what I’d done. I quickly dressed in a black skirt, red blouse to match my lipstick and a pair of low heeled black shoes. As I left my bed and breakfast to walk the mile along the cobbled street to meet Jen for dinner at The Waterside Arms I could see the evening mist already starting to form over the loch as the last rays of the setting sun got weaker and weaker. After the sun had finally kissed the horizon at the western end of the loch and melted slowly down into the water, the mist quickly turned into a thick fog, swallowing everything in an enveloping whiteness. I could barely see ten feet in front of me. The only way to stop myself wandering in an unwanted direction was to follow the raised kerb at the side of the road and hope that took me to Jen’s hotel. The fog shrouded everything and even familiar sights such as benches and lamp posts were given a ghost like mysteriousness in the dense white shroud that now hung over the town. After ten minutes of walking I started to notice a faint odour of wood smoke pervading the air. I changed course to follow it and two minutes later the white stone walls and brightly lit lamps above the thick wooden door of The Waterside Arms loomed up at me through the fog. I opened the door and entered the reception area of the hotel, glad to be out of the chill night air. The bar was well signed and I was amazed with what I saw when I got there. The solid flag stoned floor was surrounded by ornate oak panelled walls that were adorned with a variety of Highland themed oil portraits and paintings. To the left of the bar there was a large log and peat fire roaring away behind a wrought iron grate. To the right of the bar was a second, much larger fireplace. It wasn’t lit, but instead was stacked high with seasoned beech logs ready to top up the other fire should the flames die down too much. Each table in the bar was seductively lit by a tea light candle placed in a thistle shaped brass holder. Solid oak sofas and armchairs, with thick red velvet padded cushions, surrounded each table. I spotted Jen sitting waiting for me on the sofa nearest the fire, already half way through her first glass of red wine. She’d obviously had similar ideas to me regarding her attire. The glorious Highland Dance costume had been replaced by a cream cap sleeved blouse and a knee length forest green pencil skirt that perfectly complimented the green flashes in her eyes and rode up her delicious thighs as she relaxed back on the sofa.

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