The Curse of the Scots Ch. 03


I was dressed in a summer weight tan suit with a blue shirt, dark tie, and a pair of brown wing tips that hurt worse than a bear trap. Caprice came out in her salmon jacket, skirt and blouse. Like the first time I thought I would shit my pants, "Jesus Caprice you're so beautiful, you're tangible proof there is a god."

I watched her, she blushed. Here was this woman who was supposed to be some old whore, and she looked beautiful. I started feeling like a twelve year old. I know I was a virgin once; that's how she made me feel.

She did another pirouette. She knew I liked it.

She looked at me and got all funny, "There's something about you. I mean there's something that makes you different. You're not like other men.

I smiled, "Well I'm not gay if that's what you're thinking."

She replied, "No I know that, but what I mean is for some stupid reason I keep thinking it's important that I please you. I don't mean like when I did things for other men. I mean you make me want to make you smile."

I smiled. I couldn't tell if she meant it or if it was just whore talk, "See I'm smiling."

She added, "Can I say something and not have you think I'm lying?"

I thought, 'She must have read the look on my face.' I responded, "If you're going to tell me I'm handsome go ahead lie away."

"Well you are handsome. I thought you were handsome the first time I saw you. When I saw you playing cards I liked you right away. I could tell you didn't belong there. I knew they planned on hurting you and getting all your money. But you're not as smart as you think you are. I knew what your down cards were. I let Vince think he had you beat. I gave you that pot."

I hadn't known that. I thought I'd kept things pretty tight, "You almost got killed doing it."

"Yeah, Vince took it kind of personally. He was pretty mean most of the time anyway, but the thing with the bag and the belt was the worst. He used to punch on me for no reason. He treated me worse than any of the other girls. He used to make me sleep on the floor beside his bed. Sometimes he'd chain me by the neck to the floor so I'd be ready to suck him off when he woke up."

I was surprised by what she told me, "You'd go back to him knowing that?"

"Cayden I don't have to now. You own me."

"I told you I'm not a pimp. I don't own you or anyone. No one owns you."

"Cayden I don't know what else to do. I don't know how to do anything. Who wants an old whore?"

Dr. Deane didn't think you were old. He pegged you for thirty right away. Thirty, that's young Caprice."

"I'd like to do you tonight when we get back from church."


"For one I think you need it. Two I want to start paying you back. Three I like you. I wouldn't be doing it as a whore. It would be just to make you feel good."

"You want to make me feel good. Think about something besides being a whore."

"Fuck you Cayden."

"I'd like to. I think you're beautiful, but if I ever did I'd want it to mean something more than just a thank you."

"It would mean a lot to me if I could get you off tonight."

I grabbed my keys, "Come on; you can get me off by helping me stay on key when we sing tonight."

Something must have clicked in her mind. Her eyes seemed to light up. She said, "I can do that."

"What you were a singer or something once I suppose?"

"Maybe, I think so. I don't remember."

I went and got the raincoat I'd bought her, "Here let me help you get this on. I don't want you to catch cold." I chuckled, "You might get hoarse and then I'd lose my singing partner."

I helped her into her coat, helped her through the door, and into the truck. I got in on my side, started the engine, and we headed off to church.

All the way over all kinds of thoughts kept running through my head. Should I let myself be seduced by the woman beside me? God but she was beautiful, and Jesus knew I was horny.

How would Del do at the Wagon Wheel? I hoped Angie didn't get too drunk, and if she did I hoped Bernard didn't do anything to hurt her.

Was Mrs. Bradford right? Should someone, namely me, file a complaint against Angie, and who could I get to help me find her a job. I mean if she reacted at all responsibly to a complaint by me.

If I filed a complaint who could we turn to get Angie some much needed counseling? I was afraid to leave it just with Social Services. I knew the supervisor there, and she was a nasty bitch who'd already been snooping around Angie trying to figure out how to separate my poor ex-wife from my daughter.

Last, I worried about what would happen to me. I felt more and more as if I was becoming like the people who raised me, and I didn't want to end up just another isolated old man like John and Mitchell living alone on a big farm with plenty of money and fanning the sheets every night because no one cared enough about me to share their life with me.

Maybe I was being selfish, and God I knew I was still young, but I didn't want to die alone and have somebody find my body all stiff and cold days after I dropped dead.

I remember when they told me about when Uncle John had died. Uncle Mitchell found him behind one of the sheds. They said he must have been sharpening an axe on one of the grinders when he had a heart attack. The doctor who filled out the death certificate said he most likely died instantly, or almost anyway. He'd been dead at least a whole day before Uncle Mitchell found him. He'd died like he'd lived, alone with no friends and hardly anyone to mourn him.

John lived in a house with his brother, sisters, me, and his mother, but he might as well have lived all alone. All he did was work. For every problem he faced there was only one solution and that was to work. No one missed him. At the end, after his funeral they told me everyone, my brothers and Mitchell, were arguing over things like who'd get John's boots, who would get his double barreled shotgun. They even argued over a half empty box of cartridges.

I realized every day I was getting more and more like Uncle John and Uncle Mitchell. All I did was work. I didn't want to end up like them. It scared me.

I wanted a wife and kids. I wanted big family dinners with me at the head of the table surveying my children while they ate and talked and played. And most of all I wanted a wife; someone I could share the same hopes and dreams and fears and needs with. I wanted to wake up each morning with a warm loving caring woman beside me; someone I could love and care about too. Oh God there had to be somebody out there who'd want me just for me! Was that asking too much?


How Del helped Cayden out.

My girlfriend wasn't happy about my decision to help Uncle Cayden, but she understood. Everybody who mattered was worried about Angie. People used to blame Cayden for Angie's messed up condition, but since he'd been back from the army only the blind couldn't see how much he tried to help her. Damn anybody could see, if he didn't love her, he still cared about her enough to want her safe and sound. I was one of those who knew, Angie was all Uncle Cayden thought about. She drove him crazy.

When I got to the Wagon Wheel I saw Bernard's pick-up was already there. He'd parked right in the middle of a bunch of cars and trucks me and my friends called 'Rat's Row', this was a group of guys who spent most of their time either drunk or in jail. I bet they were the biggest group of liars and losers on the Peninsula. They included Dane Lynch, Paul Satterfield, Brian Harmon, 'Squirrely' Red Combs, and of course the biggest loser of all Bernard Keith. I didn't have anything to do with any of them. My dad warned me if he ever saw me with them he'd kick the shit out of me, and take my car keys away.

I parked my car, went inside and ordered a coke. I saw Angie over at a corner table. Bernard had his arm slouched all over her shoulder and one hand was already in her blouse. Angie saw me too; she knew why I was here. She made a big show of letting Bernard feel on her.


Angie saw Del at the Wagon Wheel.

I saw Del. He's Cayden's nephew; really a nice kid. I know I've got Cayden's number now. I bet before I finish here tonight Cayden will have enough on his mind to make him squirm for a week, and I'm sure I'll be able to push that new woman back into the hole she came from.

I looked at Bernard. I pushed his hand out of my blouse, "Excuse me boys," I ambled over to where Del was seated, "What takes you out on a night like this?"

Del replied, "Oh I just thought I'd drop in and have a soda. What about you?"

I smiled and put my hand on his forearm, "I like the company," I looked over toward Bernard.

"I sure hope you don't get any black eyes tonight."

I didn't like that much, "I'm not with your guy tonight."

"Cayden never hit you Angie; he may have done some pretty despicable things, but he never hit you."

"You sure?"

"Come on Angie, I know Cayden. You know Cayden. You ought to give him a break. Let him see his daughter."

"Emily's not his daughter. She's my daughter. He'll never get his hands on her."

"Damn it Angie. Cayden's her daddy. Everybody knows it. He's a good man. He'd be good to you if you'd let him. He'd take care of both of you, and you know it. Hell girl, he might even agree to marry you again."

"Oh yeah tell me, and what about the new redhead?"

"You mean Caprice," Del exaggerated, "she's a mighty fine looking lady. I think Cayden's taken a shine to her."

I'd heard enough, "You can tell Cayden he can have his new sweetie. Tell him I said he could fuck off."

Del took a sip of his soda, "I'll do that."

I strolled back toward Bernard. I tried extra hard to provocatively swing what little I had. No one in the tavern was impressed; least of all Del. I winked at Bernard. Who did the son-of-a-bitch think he was bringing a new woman into our lives; a chill crossed up my back and spine; what if he'd found somebody? I sat back beside Bernard and pressed my chest against his arm, "I need a drink."

Bernard laughed, "It's your turn to buy bitch."

I reached in my purse and pulled out a five, "Here, get me a Jim Beam on ice."

"Get it yourself, and while you're up there get me another Bud."

I got up and walked back to the bar to buy myself a Jim Beam and Bernard a beer.


Cayden takes Caprice to church.

I took Caprice's arm and helped her in the front door of the church. As we stepped into the narthex we were greeted, or should I say accosted by Mrs. Alice Stump. Mrs. Stump is an octogenarian, a real eighties lady. Her family is one of the anchors of the church. I'd joined her Methodist Church when I found out Angie belonged there. I've known Mrs. Stump all my life; she's one of those people you just have to like.

I remember when I was in the eleventh grade our school's vice-principal decided I shouldn't be allowed to park my truck on the school parking lot. His reasons didn't make any sense to me at the time; they had something to do with the cooler of beer I kept in the cab. Hell, I figured, my truck, my cooler, my beer, what's it to him? Anyway without a place to park I'd have to walk. I stopped by Mrs. Stump's, she lived right across the street from the school, and we had a nice talk. I told her what Mr. Abbot, the V.P., said and why. Mrs. Stump told me I could park my truck in her drive any time I wanted. Did that ever piss Abbot off!

Mrs. Stump grabbed my arm and twisted me around before I got two feet inside the church, "Cayden; my you look nice. Who's the charming lady?"

I told her, "Hi Mrs. Stump. This is my friend Caprice Fischer. She's visiting from out of state. She's an old army friend. Caprice this is Mrs. Stump. She's a sweet lady; and I know you'll like her."

Mrs. Stump took the young woman's hand, "Caprice; what a beautiful name, and aren't you as pretty as a flower in May? An army friend of Cayden's, I love your hair. Those eyes, they're green," she added, "You a Methodist? You aren't Catholic are you?"

Caprice replied, "No, I'm not Catholic, Presbyterian actually."

That surprised me. How did she know she was a Presbyterian? Where did that slip out? She hadn't said anything to me about any churches. I didn't think she'd ever been to church much, what being what she was, but I might be wrong, she had to have gone somewhere otherwise how did she know about the Sand-dollar? Something was fishy; fishy like in Fischer. Something was odd. How did she come up with a last name like that? I mean all of a sudden the way she did.

The old lady turned back to me, "You be nice to her Cayden. She's looks adorable."

I felt like I was back in high school, "Yes ma'am, but we're just good friends."

Mrs. Stump handed each of us a bulletin, "Enjoy the service."

I took Caprice's arm again and we walked into the sanctuary and took a seat in one of the central pews. Another older lady, Mrs. McNeal started playing the organ. She only missed a few notes. Caprice and I sat quietly and perused the bulletin.

I watched Caprice as she surveyed the bulletin; something was wrong, she acted like she couldn't read it. I asked, "Are you all right. Can you read?"

"Of course I can read; the lighting is just poor."

The church lighting was fine. People were still filing in. I didn't think she could read. I wondered if she needed glasses, "Caprice you can't see the print can you?"

"No it's a little blurred. I guess I forgot my glasses."

She didn't have any glasses, "Caprice when I brought you home you didn't have any glasses."

She responded with a mixed confused, concerned, and maybe a little peeved look. I told her, "Well I guess glasses are another thing we'll have to add to the list," then she really surprised me. She presented me another of her special beauteous smiles. I didn't think it was a whore smile. Whores were good at that sort of thing. I hoped it was a real smile. I really liked it when she smiled like that, I told her, "I'll call an optometrist Monday."

She gave me that funny sort of smile, she murmured, "That would be helpful."

I looked around; the church didn't look half bad. I guessed maybe eighteen maybe twenty people, a pretty good number for a service like this. The tone of the music changed; then Pastor Cook came down the aisle.

Pastor Bill Cook was an older gentleman. He'd been pastor here for about ten years; he'd come down from a church about twenty miles away. Methodist pastors don't stay at one church forever.

Pastor Cook made his welcoming remarks, read off a list of names of people we were to pray for, and looked over at me. I gave him a discreet signal not to ask if there were any visitors. He ignored me, "Do we have any visitors this evening?"

I looked at Caprice. I saw she was embarrassed. We were stuck. I raised my hand.

Pastor Cook smiled, "Ah one of our newer members Cayden McLeish has brought someone. Care to introduce us Cayden?"

I stood up and looked down at Caprice. The lighting on her hair and face made her look angelic; the cut of her blouse revealed just enough décolletage to cause my manhood to announce its presence. Just what I needed; to be caught standing with a boner in the middle of church. "This is my friend from the army Caprice Fischer,"

Caprice stood up and sat right back down. The graceful manner in which she rose and sat, the way her breasts seemed to gently swirl under her jacket and blouse caused further alarm bells to go off. I looked around and saw a bunch of smiling people. I hated this shit. I sat back down before the little soldier in my pants made a complete fool of me.

The service, being Holy Thursday, was dark and somber. The hymns were cloudy and sad. Pastor Cook's sermon was short; he led the congregation through the church calendar starting with Christmas to Easter Sunday. I was moved. I glanced at Caprice and could tell she was affected too. Of course we had communion. I was surprised, Caprice, without glasses, couldn't read the hymns, nor could she read the Affirmation of Faith, or any of the Communion Liturgy, but she knew every word from memory. When we knelt at the front for the stuff we could get a thing of wine or grape juice. She got grape juice; so did I.

Imagine a whore with that kind of restraint and spiritual knowledge; something wasn't right. I'd gotten Dr. Deane to get some DNA on her for a possible check, but then the thought hit me, what about fingerprints. I couldn't fathom a whore without a criminal record. I had to get something she used, a glass or something, and take it to the State Police. I had to find out who she really was.

The service ended with the stripping of the altar. Everyone left in silence. Caprice and I drove home without a word being exchanged. I wanted to say something. I wanted to quiz her about what she knew, but she looked so peaceful I decided to leave her alone.

We got home about 9:00 p.m. Caprice went to the bedroom, changed clothes, and came out in a pair of pajamas, the same pair she'd worn the other night. She'd said she'd been a fluffer; a woman who got older men off by looking all sweet and innocent. She sure looked the part tonight; it made me mad. I couldn't be sure if she was being herself or if she was playing a part. I kept my concerns to myself.


It was right after church and Caprice wanted to do something for Cayden.

I wanted to show Cayden that I appreciated what he'd done for me so far. I thought he was setting something up. I've seen it a thousand times; the guy acts all sweet and nice, and then the other shoe drops. Cayden doesn't fit the mold. First he really is a farmer. Second I haven't met anybody that would fit the typical pimp's sidekick, no fawning drooling sycophants, no muscle bound bodyguards, no greasy schemers. Jesus the only people he knows are regular types; a grandmother, a regular nephew, a colored girl he helped get through college, old ladies at church. I was right about him when he was playing cards; he's different, he's a real person.

I walked over to where Cayden was seated at the sofa. He was busy with the remote flicking through the channels when I knelt in front of him.


Cayden looked at Caprice; Jesus she was beautiful. I don't care if she is an old whore, she's beautiful. Those are the most perfect breasts I've seen in years; perfect pears with luscious aureole and nipples that are the perfect shade and shape. Those big green eyes, and that hair, Christ that hair, and that mouth, there ought to be a law.

She reached up and placed her right hand on the inside of my thigh. She saw I had a hard on. She asked me, "Can I help you relax?"

Damn look at those hands, those long slender fingers; I'm going to have an accident right now in my pants, "No," I reached down and pulled her to the couch by her armpits, "I'd like it, I really would, but it wouldn't be right. I don't feel good about it."

"Why, is it because I'm a whore?"

"Yeah, I guess that's it. Jesus Caprice you're heavenly, but I'm not ready for you. I don't know who you are."

She sat beside me and put her hands in her lap, "I see."

"No you don't see. God I want you. I think you're everything any man could want, but I don't think it's exactly what I want."

"What do you mean?"

"Come on Caprice isn't your real name."

She changed the subject, "Are you serious about what you said you're going to do for me?"

"What about the teeth?"

"And the other things too."

"You mean your rectum, vagina, and getting you glasses. Yes I mean it."


"Does it matter?"

"I think so."

"Look when I found you your life didn't look too promising. I've got all is property, money up the ass, and no one to share it with. What's the difference if I drop a few dollars to make your situation a little better?"

"I could say the same. Though everyone I've met that knows you likes you, you act like this terribly lonely man. Look at me. All I've got is a busted ass, a sloppy cunt and a mouth full of broken teeth. What's the difference if I say I want to take your dick in my mouth and give you a little pleasure?"

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