This is the first of two planned chapters of a story about Jay, a newly out Chicago businessman, and Alex, a Scottish tour guide, who first met as schoolboys and reunite in their mid 30s. Like most of my past stories, this is an in-depth romance story with a plot, a limited number of characters, and more emotions than physical sex. Warning - it'll build slowly.
I'll make you a deal, gentle reader - I'll try to give you a good read and you send me your feedback and tell me what you think. Agreed?
No minors were harmed in the writing of this story, but if you are one please go find something else to do. Please do not reproduce this story in any form without the permission of the author.
Damian nvtahoeus@yahoo.com
ALEX IN HIS KILT
Part 1
I was beyond excited that morning in 2011 as I was enjoying my breakfast in a gay B & B in Edinburgh. Not only was I about to get started on a five-day private tour of Scotland, but my driver/tour guide would be someone I had longed to see again after many years. It was only a great coincidence that it was going to happen at all.
As I pushed my chair back and asked for another cup of coffee to top off my meal, my host said that he'd just received a phone message for me.
"A Mr. Duncan just called, Jay, and asked me to tell you that he'd be a few minutes late picking you up. Seems there was a crash on the highway from Glasgow and all eastbound lanes were blocked for a bit. He expects to be here by 9:15."
"Thanks, Craig," I said.
I was a little disappointed, but at least Alex had been thoughtful enough to let me know of the delay. I was all packed and ready to go - save for a last-minute tooth brushing - so I soon climbed the stairs back to my room, finished what I had to do, came back down with my bag, and waited by the window for Alex's arrival. It gave me time to reflect back on how I had first met the guy and why I was so happy to finally get a chance to reunite with him after more than 25 years.
I grew up in a small city in northern Indiana with little in the way of diversity. All the kids in my elementary school were lily white, and I had never met anyone the least bit "exotic." Before I met Alex, even someone from the next state would've aroused my curiosity.
Alex wasn't even from the States at all - he was from across the ocean. Glasgow, Scotland! It sounded as far away as China in my 10-year-old mind. He had moved to my city with his family temporarily, due to his father's employment, and as luck would have it he had been assigned to my fourth grade classroom.
I had been told that my family roots were in Scotland and England, so that made Alex's unexpected appearance that much more personal. We became instant playground friends at recess and at lunch, and I loved everything about him, especially his pleasant Scottish brogue.
I was too young back then to think of him in a sexual way, but I realized later that that's exactly what it was - physical attraction mixed with a deep desire for a personal connection with this very sweet, good-looking kid.
I don't remember now just how long he was there, but it certainly wasn't long enough for me. A few months perhaps. I still remember that he had the unusual habit of sitting in class with his right forearm resting on the top of his head - kind of like one might do in a contemplative mood. No one else I knew did that, so I thought it was intriguing in a way. Like I said, it wouldn't have taken much for anyone like that to stand out in my limited world view.
One night Alex invited me to a sleepover at his house, which was within walking distance of our school. It was my first-ever sleepover with another boy, and I counted down the hours, minutes, and seconds until it was time for my folks to drop me off there. It was a Friday night, so we had lots of time to enjoy each other's company and sleep late the next morning.
One of the things that caught my eye in his bedroom that night was a framed photo of Alex and his family.
"Why are you and your dad wearing a skirt?" I naively asked.
"Those aren't skirts, silly," he said. "They're kilts, and lots of men and boys wear them where I come from. I brought one with me - do you want to see what I look like in it?"
"Sure," I said, hoping he'd just take off his pants right then and there and put the odd-looking garment on. To my disappointment, he took the kilt to his bathroom to change. When he came out in it, I almost laughed. I'm glad I didn't, because I wouldn't have wanted to embarrass him.
He looked really cute dressed that way. It was the first time I had seen his bare legs, and I was enjoying the view.
"Like it?" he asked.
"It's like - wow! - I never could go around dressed like that, Alex. Don't you get teased for dressing like a girl?"
His face clouded over at my insensitive remark, but he was too nice to say anything other than "No, it's just the way things are in Scotland. It's a long tradition, so I don't feel odd at all when I put one on. We often wear them for special occasions - like you Americans when you put on a suit or sport jacket."
He had brought his pants out in his hands and had thrown them on a chair in his room. To my utter astonishment, I noticed that his underwear was in the pile, too! And he noticed that I noticed.
"Uh, you mean you don't wear anything under your kilt?" I asked, blushing.
"Not usually, unless it's really cold out. Some men and boys do, and some don't. It's a matter of personal choice. My dad doesn't, so I don't either. To tell you the truth, it feels kinda good not to."
It was now his turn to blush as he gave me a devilish little smile.
We hadn't started phys. ed. classes at my school yet, so I had never seen any of my classmates - or even any of the boys in my neighborhood - undressed. But as we sat there playing checkers on his floor, I saw more of Alex than I ever expected to. Once or twice that evening I even saw all the way to his pre-puberty boyhood, and it excited the heck out of me.
I had only recently started getting erections, and I certainly had a doozie of one watching Alex squirm around on the floor in his skirt - er, kilt. I was too young then to realize what was going on, but it was clear to me later on that the cause of my hard little dick was directly attributable to the amount of skin I was seeing under my friend's kilt.
I was fascinated! But it only got better.
After we had finished our checkers game (I lost because of my utter lack of concentration on the game), Alex surprised me by saying, "Jay, do you want to try on my kilt to see what it feels like?"
My lips moved, but no sound came out as I nodded. He slipped out of the kilt and handed it over to me, seemingly having put his former modesty aside. He quickly put on some pajama bottoms and waited impatiently for me to get undressed and put his kilt on.
After some hesitation, I unbuckled my belt and slipped my pants off. Turning away from him - I didn't want him to see my stiffy - I dropped my briefs and wrapped the strange garment around me.
"You've got it on backwards, Jay," he said, chuckling under his breath. "Here, let me help you."
It wasn't like a pair of pants, where you had to take them off to turn them around. He just slipped his fingers inside the waistband and turned it the right way. The feel of his fingers on my skin made my little cocklet all the harder, and the rubbing of the fabric on my bare skin was not helping matters any.
"There! How does that feel? You look like a true Scottish boy now!"
I had to admit that it felt great. My erection was making the front of it tent out a little. Alex noticed, I'm sure, but was nice enough not to mention it. I looked at myself in the mirror in his room and almost laughed out loud. If only my family and classmates could see me now!
After a few minutes, Alex left the room to brush his teeth for bed, and I took the opportunity to strip myself out of his kilt and put my pajamas on. Nothing more happened after we got into bed, but I wanted desperately to hold him and tell him how much I liked him. I think he wanted it, too, but we were both too shy to make the first move. Sadly, it had been our first and apparently last chance for some kind of physical intimacy, because it wasn't long before he had to pack up and move back to Glasgow.
It was the second time in my elementary years that a close friend had done that - move away - and it really hurt to lose him so soon. We stayed in touch for a while by mail. His letters were always written on a piece of blue onionskin paper that could be folded and addressed, requiring no separate envelope. I guess it was a way to keep the postage down. I so looked forward to getting each one.
After a while - I don't recall just how long - our correspondence began to trickle to nothing, and we lost touch. I had always regretted that.
Now we were about to meet up again as adults, and I was nervous about it. I had married a woman as a young man and moved to Chicago, but that marriage had recently ended when I finally - at age 35 - decided to come out. To celebrate my new freedom, I started in 2010 to plan a vacation to the U.K. and invited a friend of mine to go with me.
We wanted a tour, but we didn't really want to be a part of a large bus tour with 40 heterosexuals and all their luggage. We researched our tour options online, and I was thunderstruck to find that an Alex Duncan was offering private tours out of Glasgow in his minivan. Could it possibly be the same guy as my former childhood friend? There must be lots of Alex Duncans in Scotland.
I sent him an inquiry on his web site, asking him if he'd ever lived temporarily in Indiana as a child, and held my breath.
Bingo! A reply came the next morning in my e-mail. He had indeed, and he remembered me! He was as surprised by this development as I was, and he eagerly asked when I could make the trip. He said he was quite booked up but hoped that we could find a mutually agreeable time. He even offered us a special rate, although his "rack rate" was already more affordable than we had expected.
After some negotiation back and forth among the three of us, we agreed on a week in September 2011. Alex would meet us in Edinburgh and spend five days touring us around northern Scotland. I told him I was especially interested in seeing the Isle of Skye, off Scotland's west coast, since I had heard that some of my father's relatives had come from there.
In the months preceding our trip, my friend's mother had developed a terminal illness, and he reluctantly decided that he just couldn't make the trip after all. I was disappointed and tried in vain to find someone else to go with me. My plan was to visit England in my second week over there, and I really didn't want to travel alone. As it turned out, however, I was lucky that it was just Alex and me doing the Scotland part of the touring, as our friendship would rekindle in ways that I never expected.
About 9:20 that morning a minivan pulled up to the curb, and the driver emerged. My mouth nearly dropped when I saw him. Not only was he stunningly handsome, but he was wearing a kilt! A shock of curly dark hair on his head stood out against his angular face - a rather pale complexion that seemed common so far in my brief time in Edinburgh. Tall and lean, he had broad shoulders and a trim waistline. He was definitely a head turner, and my heart was racing as I hurried to the front door and opened it.
Even though 25 years had passed, and he had changed from a schoolboy to a man, I could see the Alex I remembered reflected in his facial features. No longer a skinny kid, he'd become a perfect male specimen that simply took my breath away. I noticed with some pleasure that he also looked me over from head to toe before settling on my eyes. Unlike my own very brown ones, his were an intense blue.
"Alex? I'm Jay," I blurted out the obvious. He extended his hand and gripped mine solidly, seemingly not in a hurry to let go. I could tell already that this was probably going to be a week I'd never forget.
"Hello, Jay! It's great to see you again after all these years. I'm so sorry I was delayed, but there was a traffic snarl on the highway from Glasgow. I hope you got my message."
"Yes, I got it. No problem. Thanks for phoning here to let me know."
"Welcome to Scotland. I'm sure you're eager to get started on your tour. Let me grab your bag and we'll be on our way."
My bag probably weighed over 30 pounds - I don't travel light - but Alex picked it up like it was nothing and led me out to his van.
"Hop in," he said, as he opened the passenger door. "I'll just throw your bag in the back with mine, and we'll be off."
As Alex got the car, his kilt hiked up a bit on his lightly haired legs, and I noticed how sexy they looked. Before he started the ignition, I had to say what I was thinking.
"You look great in your kilt, Alex. I thought you told me when I first saw you in one all those years ago that they were only usually worn on special occasions."
"This IS a special occasion, Jay. We haven't seen each other since we were kids, and I'm honored that you got in touch with me. You look great, too, if I may say so."
You certainly may, I thought, but I just smiled at the compliment.
As a very tactile sort of guy, I couldn't resist an impulse to touch the fabric of his tartan kilt.
"What's this made of? Wool?" I said, holding the hem of it between my thumb and fingers. Of course, this resulted in my thumb being on the front of the kilt and my fingers on the inside. The back of my fingers grazed the silky skin of his thigh - a move that I made no apology for, even though I detected a slight catch in his breath before he spoke again.
"It's a, uh, wool blend actually - more comfortable than all wool."
"Nice," I said, referring not only to the fabric but the electric feeling I got from the brief skin-on-skin contact. I noticed a growing tightness inside my zipper that hadn't been there before, and I wondered if anything similar was going on under that kilt of his - and whether or not he was wearing anything under it.
"Shall we head out?" he said, trying to get us back to our original mission.
Reluctantly, I let go of the hem and said, "Ready when you are." I realized after I said it that it could have been construed as something other than pulling out into traffic. But "something other" would have to wait.
In my two solo days in Edinburgh already, I had taken in the annual Military Tattoo spectacle on the Royal Mile, Edinburgh Castle, Holyrood Palace, and the Queen's former royal yacht, the Britannia, now a permanently moored museum. These were all places I could get to on foot easily from my B & B.
Alex showed me a few other interesting sights in Scotland's capital before we left it, but I had trouble concentrating on his narratives. I was finding the most interesting "sight" to be the one behind the steering wheel.
He located a Barclay's ATM for me so I could replenish my already dwindling cash reserves, and soon we were on our way to Glasgow, an hour away, where Alex had been born and raised.
"I'm sorry your friend couldn't have come along, Jay," he said as we wended our way westward.
"Me, too," I replied, although the way things were turning out I was now pretty happy that he hadn't. It would have changed the dynamics in ways that I really wouldn't have wanted, now that I saw Alex again. I was eagerly looking forward to five days of touring with just the two of us.
"Is he just a friend, or maybe something more?" he inquired without taking his eyes off the road. I hadn't come out to Alex before the trip, so I was more than surprised by the question. He had asked it so casually, but it wasn't the sort of idle question that one might normally raise.
"Just a friend actually. I've been enjoying my new freedom too much to get into anything serious."
He did know that my marriage had recently ended, as I had mentioned it in our pre-trip correspondence, but I hadn't said anything yet about the reason for it. But he had opened the door a crack to see if I would reveal more.
"What about you, Alex? You married?"
"Never took the plunge myself. I've had a few relationships," he added, without alluding to gender, "but I just haven't found the right person to settle down with, I guess. I'm on the road most of the year anyway."
That about told me all I needed to know. If Alex were straight, he would've said "woman" rather than "person." Right? I felt suddenly more euphoric than I had felt for a long time. But I wouldn't push it further just yet. After all, we'd only been back together for a couple of hours, and we had the whole week ahead of us. Take it slow and just enjoy the ride, I told myself.
Glasgow was very different from Edinburgh, but it had some interesting sights. After stopping for a while at the Glasgow Cathedral, Alex took me to a tenement apartment typical of 1930's Glasgow that had been frozen in time after the long-time occupant died. It was now open to the public. We also toured the Kelvingrove Museum and Art Gallery, which was quite spectacular.
Then it was off to Grenock, a quaint port town on a wide stretch of the River Clyde, for dinner and our first overnight stay. Alex told me that he didn't usually have meals with his tour customers, preferring to use that down time to answer his many emails and take care of other parts of his business while on the road, but I persuaded him to have dinner with me that night before we retired to our separate quarters.
Over drinks and dinner we reminisced about our childhood friendship back in Indiana and began catching up on our lives in the 25 years since then.
"Jay, I have to tell you something," he said. "I was really scared and uncomfortable going to school in Indiana. It was so different from what I was used to, and I didn't like being the center of attention when I walked into your classroom for the first time.
"I was so happy when you made me feel welcome and wanted to play together at recess and have lunch with me. You were the one bright spot in what was for me a big adjustment to living temporarily in the States, and I'll be forever grateful to you for that."
I almost cried when he said that. I had no idea what that experience had been like for him, but it made me feel good that he remembered me so fondly. If he wanted to "play together" again this week, I was all for it!
"I also liked the fact that we wrote to each other from time to time after I returned to Glasgow. I really looked forward to your letters."
"And I yours," I assured him. "It was exciting for me to get mail from someone so far away - especially someone I liked as much as you."
Alex's eyes glistened, and he didn't say anything for a minute. But then he reached over the table with a big smile on his face and squeezed my hand briefly.
"I'm so sorry we lost touch with each other, Jay. I've thought of you many times over the years. Thank you for getting back in touch with me. I hope we can pick up where we left off and become good friends once again. Would that be all right with you?"
His words were music to my ears.
"All right with me? You bet, Alex. I feel exactly the same way. We're going to have a great week together, but after it's over let's not lose touch again."
"Definitely not. Friendships are important - especially ones that go back as far as ours does."
Suddenly Alex's demeanor changed, as if he were a bit uncomfortable with getting too personal with a "customer," even though I was likely not like the ones he usually toured with.
"Oh, look at the time, Jay. I really have to go to my room now and take care of some business. I have so many requests for tour bookings, and emails from people who already have them. There's never a break from it all. Would you excuse me now?"
"Certainly, Alex," I said, with some disappointment. I was tired from the day of travel, but I hated to see it end already - just as we were starting to bare our feelings to each other.
"I'll knock on your door at 7 in the morning, if that's okay. I have a little something for you before we go down to breakfast."
"Sure thing. I'll be ready," I said, wondering what "little something" he could possibly have for me. I retired to my room still reeling from Alex's squeeze of my hand at the dinner table. My head was a jumble of thoughts, and I tossed and turned a lot before finally dozing off.
When Alex knocked on my door the next morning, he was carrying a small shopping bag. I was in just my boxers and a tee shirt.
"Rise and shine, my friend. We have another full day of sightseeing to do. How did you sleep?"
"Pretty well, I guess. Sorry I'm not dressed yet - I dozed off again after the alarm went off," I said, rubbing my eyes. "What's in the bag?"
"It's actually good that you're not dressed yet. Take a look."
He handed me the bag, and I took a peek.
"Oh, my god, Alex, it's a kilt! It's beautiful. Are you loaning it to me to wear today?"
"I bought it for you, Jay. If you're going to tour Scotland, you don't want to look like a tourist, do you? You may as well look like a true Scotsman, at least for the next four days. I put a white shirt in the bag, too, in case you didn't bring one, but that's a loaner. It looks like we're about the same size."
"That's really thoughtful of you, Alex. Thanks! I'll put it on right now," I said, pulling my tee off and revealing my buff chest.
"Uh, why don't I go down and get us a table, Jay," he said, trying unsuccessfully to avert his eyes. "I'll meet you down there in a bit."
He seemed to have an approach/avoidance conflict going on in his head, though, as his feet were slow to move toward the door.
"Okay. I'll just wash my face and dress and be right down."
The brief brush with exposing my top half to Alex had started my cock in an upward direction, so I was relieved in a way that he'd left me alone to finish getting ready. Still...what might he have thought if I'd pulled my boxers off, too, I wondered.
Naked and alone now, I washed my face and brushed my teeth and then slipped on Alex's white shirt and "my" beautiful new kilt - intentionally leaving my underwear in my luggage. Looking at myself in the mirror, I liked what I was seeing. Last time I had worn a kilt, I looked like - and was - a skinny little schoolboy. Now I was a 36-year-old man, and the image in the mirror was entirely different.
Walking down the stairs and into the dining room in the unfamiliar garb, I was feeling a little awkward, but the look on Alex's face when he saw me put me at ease.
"You look great!" he said, giving me the once-over. "But you did it again - you put it on backwards. We'll take care of that when we go back to your room to get your bag."
Actually, I had done that on purpose as kind of a joke, remembering that I'd done it that way 25 years ago, but I didn't tell Alex that. I sat down to have breakfast with him and looked forward to his help back in my room putting my kilt on right.
He followed me back to my room 45 minutes later, and I stood in front of the mirror while Alex loosened the strap around my waist, slipped his fingers into the waistband of my kilt, and turned it 180 degrees to face the right direction.
"There," he said emphatically. "All done. Just let me tuck your shirt in better here in the back. You can also wear a black shirt with this kilt, but please no shirts with a pattern!" he said with a grin that I saw in the mirror.
Holding my arms out, I just let him do whatever he wanted to do with my outfit, savoring every touch. I was trying desperately not to embarrass myself by getting a hard-on and tenting out the front of my kilt. Our eyes locked in the mirror, and I turned around to face him.
"Do you have a hug for an old friend?" I said, hoping that he did because I surely had one for him. Not waiting for an answer, I pulled him into a tight embrace, which he returned with equal enthusiasm. We held it longer than most guys would have and then broke it off, not quite knowing where else to take it right at that moment.
"Thanks, Alex. That felt good."
One step at a time, I told my impatient self. One step at a time.
"Yes, indeed it did, my friend. You ready to head out now? I'll take your bag whenever it's ready."
I stuffed the last of my toiletries in the bag and then wondered what to do with the stuff I usually put in the pockets of my pants.
"These things don't have pockets, Alex. Where do I put my wallet, coins, and so forth?"
"Oh, we forgot the sporran, didn't we?"
"What's a sporran?"
"It's a leather bag that you hang in front of your kilt - like mine. See? We'll pick one up for you. In the meantime, you can put your stuff in the bag I brought the kilt in. Let's go - we have a lot of ground to cover before we get to Fort William tonight."
He packed both our bags in his car, and we were off again. First we boarded a small car ferry to cross the River Clyde. Not long after, the scenery just got better and better as we entered the storied Highlands of Scotland, with their lochs, mountains, occasional castles, and acres of purple heather and other flora. It was spectacular and every bit as beautiful as the pictures I had seen online and on calendars.
We stopped for a while in Inveraray, a quaint little town with mostly white buildings with black roofs. While Alex checked his email, I toured the stunning Inveraray Castle, built for the Duke of Argyll in 1745. It would later be featured in the Season 3 Christmas episode of "Downton Abbey." Then, since it was just the two of us, he joined me for lunch in a delightful old place in the center of town called The George Hotel.
We traded stories and laughed a lot over that lunch, and I felt a growing sexual tension building between us as our bare knees occasionally came in contact under the table. As he was our driver, Alex didn't allow himself to drink, but I had a beer with my lunch and was feeling my inhibitions slip away - something that often happens to me after only one drink.
The delicious lunch, the beer, the company of Alex, and the direct friction of my kilt on my bare genitals caused my cock to stir as we drove on through the gorgeous countryside. I tried to conceal it, but it was hard (pun intended).
The afternoon took us through the Glen Coe area, which was just amazingly beautiful. We got out once and strolled through the wildflowers and along a mountain stream.
As we approached Fort William, I wanted to suggest something, but I wasn't sure how Alex would react to it. Things were going amazingly well between us, and I didn't want to do anything to blow it. But finally I took a deep breath and said what was on my mind.
"Alex, it's just the two of us this week, and we're good friends once again. Why don't we just bunk up together for the rest of the week? No need for you to spend the extra money for a separate room, if you're comfortable with that idea."
I held my breath and waited for a reply. It took him a while to respond.
"I don't know, Jay. I appreciate the thought, but I always have business to attend to every evening. Besides, I've been told that I snore sometimes." He said the latter with a grin. I wondered just who had slept with him to know that.
"No problem for me, man. I could sleep through a sonic boom, so I'd probably not hear snoring. As for your business, you could tend to that while I read or watch TV. I might even have some emails to tend to myself. Besides, I'd enjoy your company."
"You have me all day long - don't you need a little alone time?"
"Not really. I'm going to be alone next week down in England, and that's all the alone time I'll need on this trip. What do you say?"
"Well, I guess we could try it for a night and see how it goes. I've seldom even stayed in the same establishment with my customers before, much less the same room, so I'm not sure..."
"Would you please stop thinking of me as a `customer,' Alex? We've known each other since we were 10, for God's sake."
"Yes, that's true, but there was this 25-year gap. You don't really know me all that well."
"I know you well enough to share a room with you for a couple of nights, Alex. I'm not asking for a long-term commitment," I replied, knowing full well that the thought of the latter had crossed my mind a time or two in the past two days. I wondered if it had crossed his mind, too.
He didn't say anything more as we were just about to pull into the B & B he'd booked for me in Fort William. He got out of his car and walked into the reception area. When he came back he grabbed our luggage and wheeled it to room 7. It had two beds, I noticed - twin beds with only a small space between them.
"Here we are, Jay. In you go." He followed me with both bags, and we proceeded to unpack what we needed for our evening dinner attire.
"I'd like to take a shower before dinner, Alex. Hope you don't mind waiting for me."
"No problem. I'll do the same when you're done. Do you need help getting out of your new duds?"
That was an intriguing question, I thought.
"Sure, but before you do that I want to know something."
"What's that, Jay?"
"Come here," I said, as I sat on my bed.
When he was standing before me, I'm sure from the grin on his face that he knew what was about to happen. I slowly reached up inside the back of his kilt and found what I was looking for. He jumped a little when I touched his bare butt and gave it a little squeeze.
"Just wanted to be sure you had the same lack of underwear as I do before you help me get undressed," I said with a smile.
"I've been wondering the same thing myself about you all day."
"Well, you're about to find out, aren't you?"
"I guess I am."
With shaky fingers I began unbuttoning my shirt as he removed my newly purchased sporran, which we had picked up en route, and proceeded to unfasten the strap around my kilt. I pulled my shirt all the way off. As I stood there bare chested, he unwrapped the kilt and let it fall to the floor. Neither of us spoke a word as he took in the sight of my now-naked body. My cock was about half inflated, but he didn't touch it, much to my disappointment.
"Now you know how hard it is not to get a stiffy when wearing a kilt bare-ass, don't you?" he said, smiling at the obvious, but it wasn't so much the kilt as his presence that was making me chub up. "I forgot that you American boys are usually circumcised. You'll soon see the difference between us."
I can't wait, I thought, turning toward the bathroom. I left the door open and climbed into the shower enclosure, which had a clear-glass door on it. I could see him on his bed as he read his emails on his laptop, but I couldn't quite see his face. I hoped that he was sneaking glances as I proceeded to lather up.
After I was done, I toweled myself dry and wrapped the towel around my waist before I did a quick shave and applied some deodorant.
"All yours," I said to him, hoping he would get the intended double meaning.
"Thanks," I heard him say as he entered the small bathroom behind me, gloriously kilt-less. My heart rate nearly doubled, and my mouth went dry at the sight. He had to be the best-looking hunk in all of Scotland.
"I see what you mean," I remarked, pointing with unbridled curiosity to his uncut appendage. "You can tell me later how that works for you."
"Probably a lot like yours works for you, I imagine," he said with a grin, stepping into the shower and lathering up.
As it had turned chilly, we put on some long pants, a long-sleeved shirt, and a light sweater for dinner. We walked through the car-free downtown shopping area and wound up at a well-appointed seafood restaurant situated on a pier over Loch Linnhe. This time Alex allowed himself a glass or two of wine with his dinner, which was some sort of locally caught fish that I didn't recognize the name of. It was delicious, and I found myself mellowing out nicely. Good food, good wine, a world-class view, and a wonderful handsome man across the table from me. Does it get any better?
Well, yes, I guess it might, as I continued to exercise great patience and restraint. But tomorrow our week would be half over already. I didn't want to think about that just yet.
We were both exhausted after the 20-minute walk back in the nippy night air. This had been an even nicer day than our first one together, and I savored every moment of it as we drifted off to sleep nude in our separate but nearby beds. I longed for one of us to abandon his and snuggle up in together in the other, but he had made no move in that direction. I don't usually make the first move in such situations, and apparently neither did he.
Would either of us ever take the first step before our time ran out?
(To be continued soon)
Thanks for reading Part 1 of my story. If you have any comments, I'd be more than happy to hear them. Your feedback is the only "pay" we Nifty authors get for our efforts. Please put "Alex" in the subject line so I know your message is not spam. Sign your first name and location, if you don't mind, so I can respond appropriately. I answer every message.
Please don't reproduce any part of this story, or any of my stories, without permission. For personal reasons my past stories are not currently listed under Nifty's Prolific Authors. However, if you want to see a list of them, just say so and I'll include it with my reply.
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Damian nvtahoeus@yahoo.com