Yes, Sir Ch. 01: The Old Dog

Chapter 1 - The Old Dog

Kayla

Being the first person in your year at school to hit eighteen has certain... connotations, don't you think?

Nevermind the fact that I was never the kind of girl to go out chasing boys, or anything like that - the mere fact that I was 'of age' - which is an ugly turn of phrase if ever I've heard one - meant that all of a sudden people would look at me in one of two ways.

To some, I was an overnight harlet; a slut, fuckable and breedable - how dare she have the NERVE to age?!

And, to others, I was a waste of space; a prude, wasting a body that clearly wanted to be used and abused - why did SHE have to get the arse like that?!

In truth, I was somewhere else entirely. As horny as any eighteen year old can be, with a year group's worth of eyes watching and waiting for me to give the green light for them to try it one. The green light, of course, would be me offering a blowjob or letting some weirdo from the year above put a finger in me.

And, frankly, some of the guys in the year above wouldn't be the worst way to lose my virginity - but I had no intention of giving the rest of the weirdos around me that green light.

What that meant was that I needed to wait until I was far, far away from this school, and the thick-as-shit boys inside it, to do anything. Which, for me, was going to be the October half-term, when I was going to Glasgow for a concert.

Angus

I fucking hated half-term.

A full week of no work which, as someone who was effectively on commission, meant a week of being a leech on your friends to keep a roof overhead.

It wasn't a bad roof, mind - I'd managed to buy the house before everything went to shit, and the mortgage was easier to keep on top of than rent, so all in all it wasn't too bad. It just meant that things were a bit... tense.

And, to release tension, there really was nothing better than a good drink. Away from kids, badly-handled by parents in the town, I could let loose. Yeah, that would be good. That's what was needed.

In fact, a cousin of mine had just started up his bar on the other side of town - that would be a good place to start; somewhere new and cheap, if family rates still counted. The Old Dog, he'd called it - a carry-0ver from the pub he'd converted it from. The locals hated him for it, or at least the older ones did. The younger ones, students - or wanted to look like students - were a good crowd to aim for.

So, as the last Saturday evening of half-term rolled in, I made the short walk between my just-about-bought house and The Old Dog, past low hedges and graffitied shop windows. The outskirts of Glasgow were never going to be described as pleasant, but there was a certain charm to it. Outside of the stabbings, and so long as you kept to the lit streets.

In any case it was home, and I was comfortable.

Kayla

Fuck me.

An hour away from home, in a city I didn't know, and the bus was just taking me further and further away from civilisation. It wasn't like I was posh, or anything, but to see an old man shooting up on a curb two bus stops from my Airbnb wasn't exactly encouraging.

Blip. My phone chimed in my pocket to tell me something, but I wasn't prepared to look down - quite frankly, there were more than a couple dodgy characters on the bus with me. More than one had 'brushed past me' as they were getting off at their stop, a wandering hand making me freeze like a deer in headlights.

But, aside from that, I had been left alone, and didn't want to give anyone an... opportunity.

I just pulled on the tassels of my hoodie, kept my backpack firmly under my arm, and waited for the stop.

When we rolled up and staggered to a stop outside the place that was putting me up, an old pub called The Old Dog, I felt my stomach as it managed to drop another level. It was... decrepit. The wood of the window sills and doorway was flaking, the glass was dirty and probably cracked in places - though it was hard to tell with the amount of flyers in the window there were for local acts. I squinted to read one as I stepped off the bus, and noted that most of them were at least a year out of date.

'Fuck,' I muttered to myself, as the bus chuttered away. A quick look at the timetable on the lamppost told me it would be an hour before one was going the other way - so I might as well get comfortable.

I checked my phone. 17:47 - I had plenty of time to drop my bag, get changed, and get the bus into town for the concert, which didn't start until nine.

So, I sucked in a breath, and tried the door.

With a creak, it opened, and before me I found what looked a lot less like a pub, and more like... a bar. Like, the kind of bar you'd find in a city. The floor was that sort of stone designed to soak up liquid - slate, or something - and there were a myriad of lights set up across the ceiling and walls, all currently turned off. It was... eerie. Like I'd just walked into a portal that had sent me a few miles closer to Glasgow's city centre.

'We're closed,' I heard, the thickest accent making me jump as I turned to the bar - a black, glossy top with drinks of all colours; the reason I hadn't seen the person there before was that all of it was shrouded in shadow, none of the backlights on yet.

He was... big. Muscled, and wearing a tee that clung to his body like it was painted on. A great black beard covered his chin, and the top of his head was balding, with dark eyes peering out at me.

'Sorry,' I said instinctively. 'I'm, uh-'

'Airbnb?' he asked, his voice lifting slightly from get out to oh! Hello!

I nodded. 'Kayla?' I offered as he rounded the bar, planting a glass somewhere out of sight.

'Alright! Sorry - you wouldn't believe the amount of weirdos you get 'round here.'

I laughed a little, as his demeanour shifted on a dime. 'Yeah.'

'You're going to a concert?' he asked, and I remembered messaging him about it beforehand. 'I'm Jack, by the way.'

'Hi, Jack,' I said, trying to shake the nerves in my chest. 'And, yeah - tonight.'

He paused, frowning, before shrugging it off. 'You're upstairs,' he said, nodding for me to follow him. 'We're open six till two in the morning, so you might not get the best night's sleep if you're back before that - though, if you're at a concert, you'll probably black out just as well.'

I smiled, following him round the venue, and through a Staff Only doorway. After that, we went upstairs, and there was a moment of panic in my chest when I realised how stupid I could be acting if everything went wrong at this point; how much this would only be my responsibility.

Then, we arrived at an equally-squalid looking doorway, and he pushed it open. 'This is you,' he said with a nod, and let me pass him. There was a single bed, with thankfully-clean looking sheets, a dresser and a wardrobe, with little else to speak of. The floor was open original wood, with a bad rug thrown over it to stop the splinters, and the window was clean on the inside, and manky as all hell on the outside.

'Thanks,' I said, as Jack gave me a firm nod and shut the door. I noted the lock on the inside, dropped my bag on the crisp bedding, and leaned over to lock it.

After a breath, I pulled out my phone, and checked that notification.

'Fuck off,' I whined as I read the tweets about the band getting ill from some food poisoning in Manchester last night, and the fact they'd had to cancel the event. Just as I was reading, I got the refund notification on my banking app, and sighed.

That was that, then.

Angus

The sun was still struggling to set when I wandered up the front step, letting myself into The Old Dog.

'Ey-Oh!' I called out, and Jack frowned at me from behind the bar, shrouded in dark.

'We're closed,' he said.

'Fuck off,' I laughed, sitting at the bar. 'What kind of bar's shut at six on a Saturday?'

'We open at six,' he said. 'It's five to.'

'Ah,' I said. 'I'd best be nice, then. Wouldn't want throwin' out before the place even opens.'

The door to the back creaked open, and out through it walked a slip of a woman - hoodie on her top, jeans and boots telling me she wasn't exactly dressed for the bar experience. She peered round a little, unsure of where she was, it was easy to see. After a moment, she spotted Jack and made her way for him.

'Okay,' she started with, making Jack turn with a bit of a laugh. 'My, uh, concert has been cancelled - do you think there's any way I'd be able to get a refund there?'

Jack smiled at her, ever the host. 'Aye, I thought I'd heard about that; didn't want to say anything.'

I listened in as she gave her spiel, trying for a full refund of the Airbnb and, while Jack's a nice guy, he's not much of a charity.

'Sorry - you've paid, the room's yours for the night. Anything outside of that's got nothing to do wi' me.'

With that, he wandered off to sort something out, pulling up some of the lights and welcoming a few of the staff who were sauntering in, only minutes before they were supposed to open.

'Where you from?' I asked, wandering over.

She sighed. 'Doesn't seem smart to tell anyone that sort of thing,' she said. 'But, point is, a train would be near-on seventy quid.'

'Which you don't have?'

'Nope,' she said. 'Not without a refund, anyway. Bastard.'

I gave a chuckle. 'Careful - that's my cousin, there.'

'Oh,' she mumbled, straightening. Then, 'even so. Tightarse.'

'That he is,' I laughed. 'Look - save your money, you've got the room. Have a drink - it's a long night ahead if you're trying to sleep above this place, so if I were you, I'd lean into it. You get a bit of money back from the ticket?'

She nodded.

'Then - expert advice - spend it. Don't waste a night seventy quid away from home.'

Kayla

He was older. Scottish. Handsome, there was no doubt - and he wasn't a creep. At least, not the kind that made your stomach turn. If he was a creep, it was the kind of creepy you only cared about after he fucked your brains out.

And, oh god, I wanted him to.

It was terrible, right?

I'd been so good - staying away from boys who saw me as an easy target and everything. But, he was right - why waste a night so far from home? Why not give myself this, so I could go home knowing that I'd lost my v-card (god, that was an ugly phrase), and that it wasn't anybody's business.

Even if I waited for someone 'right', it would be public news the next morning, and I knew that. I didn't want something so personal to be gossip. And, quite frankly, I didn't care much about it being the 'right' guy. It was a bit old fashioned, I thought, to want to marry the guy you lose it to - and that was the intention behind that sentiment, right? To be pure for your husband. It was only one step away from 'waiting till marriage', and that made my head spin.

So, as I sat there on a barstool, money in my pocket and nothing else to do with myself, I realised I'd made a decision. Even if it wasn't this guy - the cousin of the bar's owner, whatever his name was - I was going to do it here. In a bed that wasn't mine, miles away from anyone who knew me.

Fuck, this was stupid.

And yet, the idea of it seemed... right. Like, it solved all the problems I'd had up until now. I just had to make sure I was safe, and smart.

So, I decided at that point, no drinking. I wasn't going to risk it. In fact, I should probably tell a few people I wasn't drinking, so that if I ended up stumbling around, they'd know something was up.

How miserable is it, that I need to make plans for that happening to me?

So, as evening turned to night, I tried to make the best of it. I changed into my concert-going clothes, with a dress that clung to my hips and what I had of a chest, with flat shoes that made walking and dancing easier; Scottish girls put me to shame quickly, with their near-naked shows of skin accompanied by an apparent lack of ability to feel the cold, drinking until they staggered to the bathrooms, made an awful sound, and came back out hollering to Abba.

Jack, who seemed to meander around the bar as it slowly turned into a club, did his best to contain the mess to the bathrooms, and to the outside, showing that this was a learned skill. His cousin, Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome, stuck to the bar and refused each and every drunk-as-shit Glaswegian who tried to pull him up, as the in-house DJ ran through a decade-out-of-date list of hits.

All in all, the best part of the early night was certainly just watching the chaos unfold, even if it was staggeringly obvious how sober I was in comparison to the rest of the room, bar the staff.

Well, the staff, and the cousin.

It must have been about eleven when I went upstairs, my legs sore from some ill-advised dancing tempted out of me by the Abba girls, only to find that the volume was basically the same up here as it was in the bar itself.

'Not a chance,' I sighed to myself, lamenting the sleep I wasn't going to get, fearing for the morning ahead of me, and that train ride back with a sound-induced and sleep-deprived headache that was certain to have worked its way in.

As I sat there, I heard a flush nearby, somehow breaking above the music. It was through the wall behind the headboard of the bed, and I realised it must have been a staff toilet. Then, the thought of a toilet reminded me that it had been hours since I'd been, and I'd just been downstairs drinking diet coke and mocktails for hours now, and the physical need to go caught up quite suddenly.

I went to the door, unlocked, and poked my head out just as he stepped out.

The hot cousin.

He paused, frowning at me. 'Hey,' he said.

Angus

'Oh,' she sputtered, probably realising how weird it was for her to watch me leave the bathroom. 'Hi.'

I tried not to laugh in her face, and the shape it pulled as she backed up a little, letting me pass by.

'You often watch people as they leave the bog?' I asked, before catching myself using the gross word. 'Toilet.'

'No,' she said quickly. 'I just need to pee.'

'Oh,' I said, pointing at the door, and the sign on it that read STAFF ONLY. 'Sorry.'

'You're not staff,' she shot back.

I nodded. 'True. Fair. Go ahead.'

'Yessir,' she said, with a bit of an attitude in her voice, before catching herself. 'Sorry. Not sure why I said that.'

At that, I just laughed, and let her go in.

Then, as the mischief-maker in me decided that, hell, she was cute and kinda weird, I decided to stay.

Wait.

Watching the door.

After a minute or two, I realised how odd this would be to anyone walking past - but I felt I needed to prove a point.

In a moment or two, she flushed, and a moment later emerged, stopping dead as she saw me waiting for her.

'That is weird,' she said, making me feel better that my practical joke had landed.

'You sound awfully sober,' I said. 'Not drinking?'

She shook her head. 'Not a chance.'

'Me neither - care to join me for some awful sober fun?'

Her eyebrow raised as she followed me back down towards the source of the horrid music. 'Why not - I've got nothing else going on.'

I realised what it might have sounded like, me asking for fun, and just as I took a step or two down the way, I turned to put that to bed as quickly as I could.

'I didn't mean-' I said, before I turned enough for us to realise that, being a couple steps down, we were now at eye level.

And, then, she kissed me.

It was short, fleeting, and sweet, and she quickly backed up, blushing like nothing else.

'Sorry,' she said.

I could have roared with laughter. 'Sorry, she says! And what should you be apologising for?'

'I... that came out of nowhere.'

I looked her up and down - she did look stunning in that dress. 'Not nowhere, I don't think.'

Then, she steeled, something inside her head clicking into place. She'd decided. 'Okay - I'm a long way from home, and you're hot, and you're not drunk, and you're funny, and I could do with something to take my mind off the shit day I'm having.'

There was a moment, where we both seemed to realise how close we were; she was almost up on me, so much I could feel her breath on my lips as she chased a reason. Her dress was black, and cute, and beneath the hand of mine that had found its way to her waist during the kiss, it was soft.

'You're having a bad day?' I asked.

She nodded, her eyes flitting to my lips, and then back again.

'I'm sure we can do something about that.'

Kayla

Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god.

What the fuck was I doing?!

He was gorgeous, and his lips tasted like cherry for some reason, and I wanted to be stupid, and he was so pretty, but-but-but-

This wasn't happening. It couldn't be.

He wasn't resting his hand on my hips, pulling me in for- oh!

Fuck, he was a good kisser. So much better than the idiot 18-year olds I'd been stuck with so far - this wasn't a boy, it was a man.

Go on, Kayla, I told myself. Just go with it. He wants you, you want him, and you're tired of waiting, of worrying about the pressure. There's no pressure here.

As his tongue slipped into my mouth, I made a slight moan that seemed to push him onwards, his hand on my hip squeezing me slightly. My hands ended up in his hair, thick and black as it was, as I got lost in his lips.

When we eventually gave each other room to breathe, it was with a nervous laugh and a string of unfortunate spittle between our lips.

'Fuck,' he muttered, wiping it away with his sleeve.

I nodded, trying to catch my breath. 'Yeah.'

A beat passed - a moment of heat between us. I didn't know how to do this - to make this go... further. But I wanted it to.

So, when I couldn't think of anything to say, I let him take charge. He came up those last few steps, reminding me that he was perhaps a full foot taller than me, and never let his gaze down into my eyes waver.

Except, notably, when he looked up to my bedroom door, slightly ajar, waiting for us.

He looked back to me, and in that moment the thought between us matched up.

And then, we were chasing each other into the room. It was brash, and stupid, and thoughtless, and hot, our hands and smiles chasing each other as we slammed the door shut behind us.

Then, his hands were on me, lifting me easily into the crisp sheets, and he loomed over me, a smile on his face almost matching my own.

It was a blur, as my stomach fluttered and my heart hastened, feeling something... new as he found himself above me, his lips on my neck, hands on my neck and waist, legs between mine.

'Tell me if this is too fast,' he muttered, his lips on my throat like a wolf waiting to bite.

'Keep going,' I told him.

Angus

Once she gave me permission, I was off.

She'd said all that shit about needing to improve her day, and I was long-overdue a good night myself. And, she was hot. Slim, but with the right kinds of curves to let me keep hold as I got to work gearing things up.

My hands found her slender wrists as my lips found her neck, cheek, clavicle, chest - I pulled her arms up, giving me access to her body as her legs spread beneath me. I felt her moan and lift beneath me, her body pressing into me with each moan, each gasp, each whimper.