N.F. watched as Hank and her Scotts Lady friends did their inspection of my kilt. He said, “Remember that Friday at the Final Score”…“We’re even for everything"…”. “I just don’t believe she did that” N.F. said in amazement. What he saw was five ladies doing a physical inspection of my kilt. What he saw was, well…kinda provocative.
One of the ‘ladies’, ‘Blair’ a late 40’s woman with long red hair, got on her knees and ran her hand up my kilt on the outside of my thigh. She felt my black running shorts I had on underneath my kilt. Blair barked, “do you really want to wear this kilt in our traditions”, I said ‘of course’. On her knees, looking at me through glowing green eyes she said, “that means without anything underneath”. I said O.K., I’ll take them off. She said, “since I’m down here..” she yanked down my shorts.
I stepped out of the shorts once they hit the floor and looked at her with some shock (I felt like a Catholic school girl in trouble). Hank stood off by the huge fire place nodding her approval. Glenna, the youngest of the ‘ladies’ in her late 30’s, noticed I was having trouble standing (bad back, leg pain, etc.), Glenna said, why don’t ya sit down (the melodious New England accent was very sexy). So I sat down on a tall wooden chair (this kind of chair is used for hip surgery recovery).
Glenna, a single mom with long black hair, stepped behind the chair and started rubbing my shoulders, “relax…were all up here for a good time. We’re not gonna give you any trouble despite what you said a couple of years ago…besides the games will be starting soon.” While Glenna massaged my shoulders, Jeanna and Kirstin both in their early 50’s started asking me questions while Jeanna brought me haggus and some crackers.
(A cultural note about haggus: it is normally made with sheep's 'pluck' that is heart, liver, and lungs, minced with onion, oatmeal, suet, spices, and salt, mixed with stock, and traditionally boiled in the animal's stomach for approximately an hour. Commercial haggis is prepared in a casing rather than an actual stomach. The darker skinned Americans have “chitterlings or chitlins” which is a pig intestine recipe not to far removed from this.)
I didn’t ask questions, I put some haggus on a cracker and tried it, wasn’t too bad. The ladies looked at me and smiled. One of the teens in attendance saw me sitting there in this kilt, eating haggus and he became visibly ill. Turning sheet white he made an about face ran out the door toward the back bushes and tossed his cookies.
Kirstin piped up, “Jeanna, I knew someone here today other than the Old Man could appreciate this dish.” “If he can eat haggus, he can take desert on something a little more delightful” said Glenna as she gave me some sweetly watered down ‘usquaebach’ (pronounced whisk-ay-bay, a single barrel malt scotch). Hank shook her head and walked out of the house while Kirstin turned red.
I thanked them for the light meal and left quickly even given my obvious limp. I took pictures of the games and then walked around to the waterfall by the glen adjacent to this picturesque pond. I had my cane which I never use anywhere in New York for fear of being targeted as a ‘crime victim.’ I was limping noticeably and sat on a wall of old field stones. It was about 4:00 P.M. and I was getting a little tired.
One of the ‘ladies’, ‘Blair’ a late 40’s woman with long red hair, got on her knees and ran her hand up my kilt on the outside of my thigh. She felt my black running shorts I had on underneath my kilt. Blair barked, “do you really want to wear this kilt in our traditions”, I said ‘of course’. On her knees, looking at me through glowing green eyes she said, “that means without anything underneath”. I said O.K., I’ll take them off. She said, “since I’m down here..” she yanked down my shorts.
I stepped out of the shorts once they hit the floor and looked at her with some shock (I felt like a Catholic school girl in trouble). Hank stood off by the huge fire place nodding her approval. Glenna, the youngest of the ‘ladies’ in her late 30’s, noticed I was having trouble standing (bad back, leg pain, etc.), Glenna said, why don’t ya sit down (the melodious New England accent was very sexy). So I sat down on a tall wooden chair (this kind of chair is used for hip surgery recovery).
Glenna, a single mom with long black hair, stepped behind the chair and started rubbing my shoulders, “relax…were all up here for a good time. We’re not gonna give you any trouble despite what you said a couple of years ago…besides the games will be starting soon.” While Glenna massaged my shoulders, Jeanna and Kirstin both in their early 50’s started asking me questions while Jeanna brought me haggus and some crackers.
(A cultural note about haggus: it is normally made with sheep's 'pluck' that is heart, liver, and lungs, minced with onion, oatmeal, suet, spices, and salt, mixed with stock, and traditionally boiled in the animal's stomach for approximately an hour. Commercial haggis is prepared in a casing rather than an actual stomach. The darker skinned Americans have “chitterlings or chitlins” which is a pig intestine recipe not to far removed from this.)
I didn’t ask questions, I put some haggus on a cracker and tried it, wasn’t too bad. The ladies looked at me and smiled. One of the teens in attendance saw me sitting there in this kilt, eating haggus and he became visibly ill. Turning sheet white he made an about face ran out the door toward the back bushes and tossed his cookies.
Kirstin piped up, “Jeanna, I knew someone here today other than the Old Man could appreciate this dish.” “If he can eat haggus, he can take desert on something a little more delightful” said Glenna as she gave me some sweetly watered down ‘usquaebach’ (pronounced whisk-ay-bay, a single barrel malt scotch). Hank shook her head and walked out of the house while Kirstin turned red.
I thanked them for the light meal and left quickly even given my obvious limp. I took pictures of the games and then walked around to the waterfall by the glen adjacent to this picturesque pond. I had my cane which I never use anywhere in New York for fear of being targeted as a ‘crime victim.’ I was limping noticeably and sat on a wall of old field stones. It was about 4:00 P.M. and I was getting a little tired.
Blair and Glenna came walking up to me. Glenna asked “Are you all right sir.” ‘RJ call me RJ, please. I may move like some of the old guys but I’m a bit better off.’ Glenna put her hand on her hip saying, “Really, then why you sitting here and not at the games or by the table.” I jumped up and slammed my hand against my butt, something crawled up my kilt and bit me in the ass.
“My God are you alright” said Blair. ‘No, something bit me.’ Glenna gently bent me over the wall while Blair lifted my kilt for a look.
I limped back to the house (a huge log and wood home with several bedrooms and other off areas) with Blair and Glenna on each arm. N.F. saw me and asked what was wrong, I said ‘don’t worry about it, I’ll be alright’. “Something bit him in the ass” Glenna yelled. N.F., the Old Man and several others broke down laughing. “Not funny” yelled Hank. “If it were one of you geezers got bit in the ass it could be fatal.”
We got in the house. Glenna and Blair argued about who was going to administer first aid. Blair noted that she was an RN and can recognize several different kind of insect and animal bites. Glenna said fine, you work on him, I’ll be here to help….I’m not leavin.” I was light headed, woozy and in all kinds of pain. The wall of modesty I would have insisted on was compromised by my discomfort.
They got me in one of the rooms and Blair pulled off my kilt and went to work. With flashlight, small knife and tweezers she did her thing (tweezers were for the bite). She applied something that burned real bad. As I lay on my stomach, bare ass in plain sight, the sinking feeling of shame and embarrassment overwhelmed me. “His legs are so tight…you get cramps often” said Blair. “Yes, I moaned.” “See a rheumatologist, you may have some other problems…Glenna get over here.”
They took some kind of balm, icy hot or camphor, Blair on one leg, Glenna on the other rubbing me down from waist to ankles. Beside feeling shame, guilt and embarrassment, I prayed to control myself from getting an erection, they knew that as they provoked the matter. Prayer didn’t help. “Turn over” said Blair. “NO. Not right now…I’ll get up in a minuet, give me my kilt and I’ll get my things and change.”
“We didn’t mean to embarrass you RJ. Now turn over!” demanded Blair. Glenna stepped out of the room giggling. I turned over and there it was. Magnificently standing at the position of attention. I won’t get into a lot of what happened next. But with help, my swollen phallus subsided as did the pain of the insect bite. I could walk much better too.
Later that night after changing to my 21st century clothing, we sat around the fire roasted marshmallows, cooked franks and got drunk. N.F. said “You know RJ, I’m gonna talk about this forever. I will hold this over your head until you report to St. Peter.” “Stop it! No ones going to talk about this and embarrass this poor soul anymore tonight, and if you’re a real friend N.F. you’ll keep your mouth shut”, Blair then held my hand and leaned on me.
The Old Man chimed in, “which one of you ladies want to rub me down.” We all quickly dispersed. So much for my adventure in the hills, I couldn’t wait to get back to New York.
Love
RJ
2 comments:
Hehehe...
Good post, those are some very good friends you have there! Sounds like they are always willing to lend a hand!
Oh Yeah....
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