Daddy’s Girl

Shona McLeod walked down Princes Street watched admiringly by all the men she passed. Watched mainly from behind as her neat little bum wiggled in the shortest and tightest pair of shorts imaginable. The type of shorts she would never have been allowed to wear in Gullane, that backwater of Scottish prurience; the minister would have had a fit.

But Shona was now twenty years old and a student in the Big City. Edinburgh! That Mecca for the gifted and artistic, among whose ranks Shona definitely counted herself. She was, even though she said it herself, a girl who could wear the shortest and tightest of shorts and get away with it. It required a rear that was neither too big nor too small and that was an accurate description of her attributes. She could also get away with a tight tee shirt as she had a slim and willowy figure. Her breasts were neither too big nor too small, and her nipples could poke suggestively beneath the thin cotton material as they were firm enough not to require any artificial support. Her hair was chestnut and worn long, though usually tied back in a pony tail, her face was delightful even if her nose was ever so slightly retroussé and her face ever so slightly too round and freckly. Her eyes were sage green and given character by the slightest of divergent squints which alternated from one side to the other. Altogether she was a girl to turn heads as she marched purposefully down Princes Street from Waverley station in the direction of the National Gallery of Scotland.

Daddy's money was enough, well after all with a house in Gullane (pronounced Gillen according to Daddy to show that they lived 'up the hill' and not down with the peasants) - for her to have found a little flat out past the rugby ground to share with two other girls. Morag and Catriona were not the sort of girls who would turn men's heads. Morag cut her hair short and wore dungarees. Catriona, felt Shona, had let herself go.

Shona walked past the bizarre monument to the memory of Sir Walter Scott wondering, as many others have done, what a writer whom nobody ever read had done to deserve a gigantic edifice bigger than all those dedicated to the heroes of Scotland put together.

She turned into the gallery and descended the stairs to the lecture theatre. It was her first week as an art student and she was keen to learn. Daddy had said she'd never stick it, but then at his age, old Daddy, over fifty, what did he know!

She had determined to attend all the public lectures at the gallery. Learning about the history of art was so important. Not that Daddy would have understood that.

The lecture was on Burne-Jones, the Pre-Raphaelite painter of willowy young ladies with chestnut hair and sage green eyes, more often than not not wearing any clothes. At the post-lecture drinks Shona attracted much attention as the most Pre-Raphaelite beauty there. She was the subject of much flattery, and with Shona flattery got you everywhere. It got Shona into the nightmare she was in now: hiding on a Scottish hillside, shivering in the cool breeze, trembling with fear - and stark naked.

****

Shona could hear voices from down below her, getting nearer, she would have to run. Though she risked being seen, she would have to run and she would have to run fast.

**********

"Hello, I'm Archie Gillespie," Shona saw that the smooth cultured 'Posh Scots' accent belonged to a smooth cultured posh Scotsman more than a few years older than the impressionable Shona, but not old like Daddy. He was tall, he was dark and he was handsome and Shona felt her knees wobble a bit at being addressed by him. Archie noticed the wobble in her knees and the tremble in her voice as she replied. He was used to it. He knew the effect he had on women and he knew how to exploit it. He enjoyed exploiting it.

"Shona McLeod," Shona held out a shaky hand which Archie gripped firmly.

"I do so admire Burne-Jones," purred Archie, "a much underrated painter in my opinion."

"A very good artist," Shona knew her response was a bit pathetic, but her mind seemed to have gone a blank.

"Painter, darling," said Archie in his lilting posh Scots accent. He liked to call girls 'Darling', it somehow established his authority, "Artists perform in the Music Hall - works such as this," and his hand swept round the gallery, "are created by painters."

"Yes, of course," gabbled Shona, feeling her provincial inadequacies acutely at this put-down, "I meant painter, of course."

Archie, his intellectual superiority established, smiled benignly, "No you didn't," he said, and Shona felt even smaller than before.

"Burne-Jones," continued Archie, "was a true aficionado of the female nude. Don't you think so Miss McLeod? Or may I call you Shona?"

"Er yes..." Shona's mouth moved but fearful of a further intellectual solecism no more words came out.

"Er yes... You agree with me concerning the merits of Burne-Jones or 'Er..Yes' I may call you 'Shona'? But it is the latter of course. As I am right about Burne-Jones any disagreement would be simply deliberate rudeness for the sake of argument, and you do not look to me like a girl who would be deliberately rude," this was said without a trace of irony, and Shona suddenly realized that it was her turn to speak.

She had quite liked the pictures, or were they paintings? She found herself quite tongue-tied.

"Shona, you can call me Shona," she gabbled. It seemed the safest thing to say.

"Has anybody ever told you, Shona, that you are quite the Pre-Raphaelite beauty yourself?"

Of course nobody ever had. Daddy hadn't, he liked pictures of Scottish glens with stags and purple heather. He would felt that pictures of willowy ladies with no clothes on were the work of dissolute foreigners and the like.

Shona was at the same time both deeply flattered and deeply embarrassed by the remark. It seemed to her that Archie must be imagining her with no clothes on, which in turn made her feel that she had no clothes on. It was a sensation which awakened in her an extraordinary feeling of eroticism. Which of course had been the intention.

Archie saw the reaction, saw the touch of colour come to her face and spread down her neck and he smiled to himself. It was the smile that set Shona on the path to where she found herself now.

********

Where to run to? That was the problem. She had to get completely away. It was still hours to sunset. She had to get somewhere where she could hide. But she was completely naked. She had nothing on her feet. That was the big problem. Running in bare feet was going to be difficult. But she had no choice. She was going to have to run and risk being seen. Suddenly she broke cover and ran for it. Half a mile down the valley the hunter put his binoculars to his eyes and saw the naked figure running.

"There she goes," he said, and quickened his pace.

*******

"Thank you," stammered Shona at last, trying to accept the compliment gracefully.

"And are you a painter yourself?" Archie raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"I'm studying art at Raeburn College," said Shona proudly, relieved that the conversation had moved on from her personal attributes.

"Indeed," said Archie, "you know what - I'm having a few people round my place tonight. A few drinks. A few nibbles. Why don't you come? You'll meet some... Some interesting people."

Shona couldn't believe her luck. An invitation to a party; a party at which she would meet, in her mind at least, a cross-section of the Edinburgh glitterati. Daddy would never believe it.

"Oh yes," she gasped, "where is it you live."

"I've a small place in the New Town - in Queen Street."

Queen Street! The guy must be rolling in it! She just had to find out how he got the money.

"Very nice. Er... Did your father buy it for you?"

Archie gave a condescending smile, "The Old Man! No chance of that. No - I work in the city. Edinburgh is fast becoming the financial capital of Europe you know."

Shona didn't know.

"But I thought. With the recession. The banking collapse. The stock market going down and everything, there wasn't any money to be made any more."

Archie gave a wry look, "In a banking crisis the little people lose money," he said, "The money doesn't disappear. It goes somewhere. It goes to people like me. We bankers love a crisis. That's when we make our money. God bless the little people!"

Shona looked at him in awe. Daddy had had shares in the Royal Bank and had lost pots of money. Daddy... a little person. She wasn't going to be a little person like Daddy.

"Of course I'll come," she said, "What time?"

Archie smiled. The trap had been set.

********

Looking behind her down the valley Shona saw the sun glinting off the lens of the binoculars and knew she had been seen. She could see the little figure moving left, cutting off her escape routes, making sure he would catch her. She pushed through the bracken, the stiff fronds cutting at her bare legs and headed for a small copse of Norway spruce. It was hard going. She had to hold her breasts to stop them bouncing and to protect her tender nipples from the branches of the trees as she pushed through. Suddenly she came to the edge of a steep sided dene with a fast flowing burn at the bottom. After the recent rain the brown peaty water swirled and gurgled as it raced along. They were behind her. She had no choice. She plunged headlong down the bank, her foot caught in a tree root and she tumbled, rolling and sliding down into the freezing water.

********************

Shona looked round the strange bedroom. It was sumptuously furnished. The walls were decorated with modern art murals and the sheets were black silk. How had she got there? She had gone to a party. She could remember that. And she had drunk too much. But after that - nothing. And how had she got naked and had she... She felt between her legs. Surely not. Surely she would know if she had. Wouldn't she? She racked her brains but it was a total blank.

Queen Street, Shona thought, was the most beautiful place she had ever seen. Its Georgian facades in honey coloured stone, its magnificent vista to the summit of Calton Hill, its imposing grandeur were a monument to the first Scottish Enlightenment and a striking symbol of the New Enlightenment, the new resurgent Scotland, the Scotland of people like Archie.

At the thought of Archie she felt a little twist in the pit of her stomach, a little flare of that feeling of erotic excitement that she had felt in the gallery. Was she falling in love with him, or was it just the first awakenings of a desire for sex. Proper sex. Not hole in the corner stuff. Should she sleep with him if he asked? Daddy wouldn't have approved. But Daddy, she now realised, for all his domineering ways... just a little person. She no longer had to do what Daddy said.

*****************

She rang the bell of Archie's 'place'. She had expected a decent New Town flat. But the word 'flat' did not do justice to what she saw. This was a luxury apartment. There, in the most prestigious part of the city, it must have cost millions.

She had somehow expected a sort of formal affair, with stuffy bankers in kilts, Bonny Prince Charlie jackets and black ties, what she saw was quite different.

The men wore the obligatory fashionable pastel coloured velvet cords with shirts by Pink or Hilfiger, worn open necked and turned back at the cuffs. Gold medallions were out, but gold bracelets were in. Hair was gelled and combed en-brosse.

The women, regardless of age, wore short cocktail dresses. White was 'in'. Black was 'in'. Yellow was very much last year. Shona was wearing yellow. And her hemline was two inches too long.

She looked round and the noise in the room stopped as the people took in the newcomer.

Archie looked across at her nervous smile and her gauche expression. She was perfect. Just perfect.

*******

Shona gasped as her body hit the freezing water. The burn was only a foot deep but she tumbled headlong into it so that she was immersed in brown peaty slime. She scrambled to her feet and looked quickly round. No sign of pursuit yet. She scrambled out the water and started to claw her way up the other side of the dene. Then she heard it. The rustle from the other side of the burn as someone burst out from the trees. Gun in hand. Pointed at her.

********

"Well, hello Shona, lovely to see you."

Archie's smile was broad, but didn't extend to his eyes.

Shona smiled back, still overawed by the grandeur of the apartment.

"What a lovely place you have here," she gasped, "it must have cost..." she pulled up short, aware of the fact that she was about to commit the social solecism of talking about money.

"Cost a fortune," you were about to say. Archie didn't seem to be bothered about social solecisms. "It's bought through the firm's offshore arm based in Jersey. Good old Jersey. No stamp duty. Next to no tax. You know Shona, only little people pay tax. Anyone with anything about them doesn't."

Shona nodded her head vigorously. Daddy was always complaining about his tax bill, but of course Daddy was a little person so he would.

"A glass of Krug?" Archie proffered a glass, holding the bottle in the other hand, "the only Champagne worth drinking you must agree."

Shona did agree. Daddy drank Moet, but what would he know.

The party was not quite what Shona had expected. Less restrained, more louche was the only way she could describe it. She liked that word louche, with its connotations of a lifestyle unknown in Gullane.

"Can I introduce you to Gregor," Archie pointed to a tall, fair haired man dressed in a pale pink striped shirt and canary yellow trousers. His hair was unfashionable long so that he resembled nothing so much as a member of a nineteen-seventies glam rock band, "Here Gregor," Archie motioned him over, "This is Shona. She is studying art. At Raeburn College."

Did Shona catch a hint of sarcasm in his voice, as if Raeburn College was a place to be sneered at?

"Gregor's people own half of highland Perthshire," smiled Archie.

"I thought that was the Duke of Atholl," said Shona trying to be clever.

"He owns the other half," Gregor's voice was public school English, "Here, meet my little friends."

Gregor pointed out two giggling girls that he had in tow, dressed in micro-skirts, impossibly high heels and far too much make-up.

Shona was dragged over to the two girls who had obviously been indulging in something a bit more potent than Krug.

"Kaylee, Bobbi," said Gregor with a flourish, "say hello to Shona."

"Not their real names you know," he added winking.

"Hello Shona," they said in unison.

From their accents and everything else Shona guessed they were a couple of Dundee tarts shipped in for the occasion.

"Here girls, little treat for you," Gregor poured out a line of white powder on the table. The girls snorted the powder up while Shona looked on in amazement. Surely it wasn't... But it was. The Krug had gone to her head and she started to flirt outrageously with Archie.

"Shona."

"Yes Archie dear," Shona accentuated the 'Dear' licking her lips provocatively as she did so.

"Would you like to score a line?"

"A what?" Shona was bemused. The provision of cocaine was not the norm in parties in Gullane and the expression was totally unknown to her. Archie had to explain and Shona felt like the silly provincial fool. Then she couldn't be so provincial as to refuse could she? Daddy wouldn't have approved. But then she didn't have to do what Daddy told her to any more, did she? She inexpertly inhaled the white powder and rubbed the residue round her gums as Archie explained.

She didn't remember much after that. Not till she awoke in the strange bed. Naked.

********

Thud. She heard a noise as something slammed into a tree trunk next to her. She looked back. The figure was reloading. One shot used. She had been lucky this time she might not be so lucky the next.

Her breasts and torso covered in mud and scratched by the wild brambles that grew in the wood she crawled on hands and knees up the slope praying that she would be out of sight before he, or she, reloaded.

The figure though did not hurry. He had had no intention of hitting his target. It would be no fun to end it all so soon. The fun was in the chase. The quarry had to be given some hope. She had to be given the incentive to keep running.

And the naked figure was running again. He liked to watch a naked girl run. Yes she could run for the moment. The time to bring her down would come later.

**************

She thought she had better get up and see what was going on, but she was naked. Wrapping the black sheet round her she gingerly opened the door and peered round. The smell of bacon assailed her nostrils. Archie, dressed in a silk kimono dressing gown, was frying eggs and bacon. Shona suddenly felt very sick.

"Where's the loo?" she gasped and dashed across the kitchen-dining room when Archie pointed out the door. In her haste she tripped over the trailing sheet which fell to the floor leaving her in a naked dash across the room. Archie smiled at her retreating figure admiring her picturesque behind. He smiled. Perfect.

Five minutes later Shona poked her head round the door having managed to avoid being sick.

"Archie, can you hand me the sheet please?"

But Archie just answered with a shake of his head. "Can't leave these," he said, indicating the eggs and bacon. Shona realised she was going to have to scamper back across the room naked. It was all too humiliating. All too like those games with Daddy. When she had been younger.

She retrieved the sheet. Those games... Daddy had enjoyed them but she felt he wouldn't approve...

"Shona..."

"Yes Daddy... I mean yes Archie."

Why had she called him Daddy? For a moment it had been as if she had been transported back to the old days. When she had played those games with Daddy.

Archie looked at her and raised his eyebrows.

"Shona Darling, you look lovely without the sheet. And Shona darling. I love it when you call me Daddy. It'll be our little game."

"Yes Daddy," Shona dropped the sheet. What was she doing, playing Daddy games with this older man? She didn't know. She just knew she wanted to.

"Daddy..."

"Yes Darling."

"Was I?"

"Were you what?"

"You know... Last night. Was I a naughty girl?"

"Darling you were flat out and sick all over your nice dress. We had to take all your clothes off and throw them out. Then we had to put you to bed. That is what happened."

"Yes Daddy. But was I a naughty girl?"

Realisation dawned on Archie.

"Yes you were a naughty girl. And you're going to get what naughty girls get."

*********

Shona stumbled through the wood. She was being hunted like an animal. She knew why they had stripped her naked. To make her feel vulnerable, to make her afraid, so she would be totally exposed to their gaze, to their power. She had seen how the fear had overcome the other girl. Shona had watched, out of sight, as the girl stood naked and trembling, waiting for them to come. Like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Like a skinny naked rabbit as they took aim and fired.

*********

Morag put down the phone. She had been on the point of ringing Shona's parents in Gullane, to see if by any chance she had gone there, but she was stopped by the sound of frantic knocking on the door of the apartment. She hurried to open it, and there to her amazement, and it must be admitted horror, stood Shona: bedraggled, red eyed, giggling and most astonishing of all - stark naked. Even though the girls shared a flat Morag had never seen Shona even in her underwear before, never mind naked. Shona was not the sort of girl, unlike Catriona who made a habit of it, to wander round the flat in the nude.

"Shona! What on earth! Come in," and she grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her into the flat.