Aprons For Gayle Ch. 05

"Hmm?" she mumbled, the blanket burying her completely up to her chin, her foot sticking out.

"It's time to get up."

"Hmm?" she repeated.

Shaking his head, he said more urgently, "The castle is on fire."

"M'kay. Le' me pee fir't." She didn't move a muscle.

He couldn't help but laugh. Then he remembered she told him she was ticklish. There is more than one way to skin a cat, he thought. Bending over, he scraped his fingertips over the sole of her feet.

"Ah!" she screamed then kicked her leg up and out, the top of her foot slamming right into his thigh, dangerously close to his manhood.

Then she noticed he was standing there in only his jockey shorts. Yes, she had seen him naked in the bath tub, but somehow, with him being in such close proximity, all kinds of lustful images were running through her head.

His deep grunt of pain brought her out of her thoughts. Rubbing the muscle, pretending she had carved a foot-sized crater in him, he said, "That's twenty lashes with the cat-tail, I should think."

Sitting up, she groggily stared up at him baffled as to what just happened. "What? No! That's not fair! It wasn't my fault, Sir."

He finally cracked a smile. "No, it wasn't. But we have to get going. I'm hungry for my bacon sarnies. You have fifteen minutes, we leave at 0730 sharp, remember. Your clothes are in your bathroom. And no butt plug needed today."

He quickly walked out to go to his own bedroom to finish getting dressed.

"Sir! What are bacon sarnies?" she shouted as she slipped out of bed.

"Grilled bacon inside toast!" he called back. "Fine, Bessie, stay in the hallway."

"Hmm, so why couldn't he have just said a bacon sandwich?" she huffed quietly after she heard his bedroom door close.

Heading to the bathroom, she ran the water in the tub and peed, then gratefully removed the butt plug and cleaned it. She made a mental note to ask him if she had to wear it overnight. She'd have to come up with a plausible reason, though.

Putting her hair up in a ponytail, she got into the tub and quickly cleaned herself without the luxury of enjoying the bath. She wasn't planning on washing her hair; she usually did it every other day anyway, but she took extra time and special care to scour between her legs in preparation for the waxing.

After she dried herself off, she put on the blouse and skirt – which she was starting to dread seeing – and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Bessie was sitting at the bottom of the stairs wagging her tail, and when she saw Gayle she ran down the hallway toward Hamish's library.

"Bessie, where are you going?!" Gayle said as she followed her to the back door. "Oh, you have to potty? OK."

Right after she opened the door, Gayle saw several rabbits munching happily on the lawn closest to the house. Bessie started barking and ran after them. They scattered away from the dog's muzzle, but she never got close enough to bite them.

"No. NO!" she yelled.

Going after her, the cold dew bit into her bare feet. The rabbits long gone, every time she got within ten feet of the Bessie, she'd change course and run in a different direction.

"Please, please, don't do this, Bessie," Gayle grumbled; she sure didn't need to be punished for losing Hamish's cherished dog.

Bessie set off in a dead run and she followed her over a small hill to the same path that led to the Title barn. "Shit!" she cursed when the dog disappeared into the edge of the trees. "BESSIE!"

Gayle imagined the damned dog turning around and giving her the finger, or in this case, the middle toe.

"Fuck!"

Heading back to the house as fast as she could to get Hamish, she met him coming down the stairs fully dressed. "Sir! Bessie—"

"I know, I know," he groused as he turned and headed to the kitchen.

"She went into—"

"Ms. Boyce!" he snapped as he turned around and gave her a death glare. "I heard her barking and saw her from my bedroom window. You should have asked me – too late now."

She stopped in her tracks and stood in the kitchen doorway, butterflies fluttering in her stomach like the time she was a three year old. She didn't remember getting into the car, releasing the emergency brake and having it roll down the driveway into the adjacent driveway, stopping a mere two inches from their car.

What she did remember, quite vividly, was staring out of the bedroom window looking at the neighbor's house as she waited for her mother to return to give her a spanking. She didn't remember whether she got punished or not, but years later her mother confessed it shook her up so badly she had her first shot of whisky.

Watching him as he grabbed Bessie's metal food bowl and a big wooden serving spoon, he barked, "Get your trainers by the dryer." Then he walked out of the kitchen.

Quickly she put them on and caught up with him outside. Walking with her tail between her legs, she followed him until they reached the Tithe barn, where he stopped.

He banged the bowl a few times, the high pitched reverberation drilling into her skull as he called out for Bessie.

"Did you think to do this, Ms. Boyce?"

She knew she had to tread lightly. "No Sir."

"Bribing her with bone treats?"

"No Sir. I came to get you as soon as she ran off. She wouldn't listen to me."

"I know how she feels," he huffed.

Hamish knew exactly where Bessie had gone, but he wasn't going to let Gayle in on it. Any excuse for a spanking was fine with him.

"Well, hell," he muttered as he walked into the woods.

With leaves and twigs crunching and snapping under their feet, both listened for any signs of barking from Bessie in between the incessant noise. She could have cried right then and there over her stupidity of letting the dog out. She wasn't happy with herself that she'd practically disobeyed everything he'd told her to do, and she was sure he was just as unhappy, if not more so.

Almost ten minutes went by when the echo of a canine's bark filled the space around them. Gayle stopped in her tracks and scanned the area where it had come from. She saw Bessie running full speed toward them, tail wagging the entire way.

In the distance she noticed a small two-story stone house, and a car pulling away. She recognized the driver as Hodges, and also saw he had a passenger.

"Shit. He's on his way to the house. We have no time for breakfast."

"Sir, I'm really, really sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"No, you weren't," he snapped. Bessie finally reached him and begged for some loving as if nothing had happened. "Bloody dog!" he fussed as he grabbed her red, leather dog collar. "I don't want you bothering Hodges."

He pulled out a leash from his jacket pocket and secured it to her collar then started walking back to the house.

Gayle grew suspicious. She had a feeling that he knew Bessie was at Hodge's all along. Only then did it dawn on her that he'd made a beeline in the same direction the dog was found.

"Sir? Did you think to call Hodges to see if she was there?"

Waiting for him to berate her, he said, "Yes. I've taken her to his place often, especially in the mornings. It's habit to her."

Only after he smiled did she laugh. "That was too mean."

"Who said I wasn't? But please don't let her out without her leash." She nodded. "Damn it. I wanted my sarnies."

"If it's just a bacon sandwich, if you have lettuce and tomatoes I can make BLTs and soup for dinner."

He looked at her appalled. "A bacon sandwich? Just a bacon sandwich? Ms. Boyce, I'll have you know there is nothing better than a fresh local bacon sandwich!"

She was about to explain herself when she saw a twinkle in his eye that made her think he was playing with her. So, she pushed his boundaries. "Parfait. I like parfait," she replied, trying to imitate Donkey from Shrek. "Or chocolate ice cream. M&Ms. NO! Peanut M&Ms. Chicken noodle soup on a cold winter's day."

Hamish shook his head then muttered something under his breath.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't hear what you said."

"Making love on a cold winter's day is better than bacon sarnies," he replied with a grin.

"Okay, you win."

"Of course I do. And for letting Bessie out, I think I will tweeze out your pubes one by one instead of having you waxed."

"What?" She prayed he was kidding. "Okay, you win. Sir? Who was with David?"

"Phil."

"Oh. His boyfriend is coming? Cool. How long have they been together?"

Thinking quickly, he said, "They went to school together."

"Ah. Okay."

When they reached the gardens behind the house, he said, "Go on up and get your heels and be quick about it."

------------------------------

"Oh, my god. We've been crawling along for half an hour," Gayle grumbled.

She'd been sitting up between the front seats talking to David and Phil almost the entire drive to Edinburgh and enjoying their non-stop, conversations. Hamish had been on a business phone call since they left Tentsmuir, being that it was a work day.

"How much further?" Gayle asked impatiently.

"Half an hour, maybe a bit more," David replied patiently. "There's a wonderful bakery a few blocks away called Cuckoo's that we're going to while you two shop."

"We're looking at wedding cakes, but bringing back the best cupcake you will ever eat!" Phil added. "What flavor would you like? I'd recommend the toffee, but the cinnamon apple is delish."

Gayle hadn't heard that gay marriage was legal in Great Britain and didn't want to pry about their impending nuptials. Without any regard to Hamish's thoughts on the sweet treat, she replied, "If it's not too much trouble, the cinnamon apple does sound good. It's thoughtful of you. Thank you."

"Not a problem. I've heard Washington's traffic is the worst in your country," Phil commented.

"It should be, but it isn't. Rush hour is a nightmare, and it's only getting worse. Forget about a quick trip south, it's almost impossible, especially on the weekend. And expect to add two hours on a three hour drive on a holiday weekend."

"That sounds simply ghastly!" David said. "I dread coming into the city, but once I'm here the horror of the drive is forgotten."

Hamish ended his phone call, so Gayle sat back after she felt Hamish's eyes lasering into the back of her head. Turning to him, she smiled. "It looks like we'll be late for the waxing, Sir."

He hesitated a moment. "I can always ring and tell them we're running a tad late, Ms. Boyce. I'm sure they'll have no problem waiting for us," he replied sarcastically.

"I don't know, Sir. I'm sure they have other clients that are just dying to --" That time when he glared at her, it silenced her.

He was immensely thrilled with himself ... but only for a brief moment when she said, "I can always just shave."

Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, "And I can always replace the cat-tails with a cane." That shut her right up. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

Soon enough they reached the city center and Hamish said, "Take the Royal Mile way, Hodges."

"Right oh."

Gayle turned to Hamish with a huge smile on her face. He had said they wouldn't be shopping on the Mile, but she would accept the drive-through. "Thank you, Sir."

He only nodded. She prayed the day would be over quickly, sighed and glued her nose to the car window as she took in the buildings and watched the Scots going about their daily routine. Among the centuries' old buildings was a white-painted brick, two-story building where the second floor looked like it was falling down on the first floor.

Not wanting to miss a thing, she tried to catch the odd names of the shops and businesses lining the street: 'Goat's Beard Pub,' 'The Tainted Pope,' 'Crystal Balls.'

A few minutes later the car pulled alongside the curb on the left and David parked the car, though kept the engine running. Neither David nor Phil got out, and Hamish opened his own door, telling David to pick them up at 9:30.

Gayle was about to open her door when he told her to get out on his side. Scooting over, she kept her skirt down as she said goodbye to David and Phil then walked toward Hamish, who had glanced at his watch beside the shop's front door. The name of the spa was 'The Beauty Quarter.' She had to laugh to herself with the poor name, considering the originality of the other business names.

When she reached him, he warned, "Watch yourself during the procedure. Hold your tongue."

"Yes Sir," she replied, not even bothering to look at him. He had another thing coming if he thought she'd be able to not make a sound.

Looking at her angrily, he said, "Do you think this is a joke, Ms. Boyce? You are an extension of me, and I will not have you humiliating me. Do you understand?"

Finally she tilted her head up and croaked, "Yes Sir. I understand."

------------------------------

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Albannach is pronounced 'Al-bonn-ock,' with the 'ck' gurgling in the back of the throat. They are an incredible Scottish drum and bagpipe group that play at Renaissance Faires (Scooter, we spell it w/the 'e'!) worldwide and have been on Craig Ferguson. Watch them on Youtube, although you don't get the deep-seated feel from the drums as you do in person.