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clever girl.’
    I ran my palm softly over Binky’s bottom, and looked back again at the Laird.
    â€˜It’s my clan: the tartan plaid of the Black Watch.’
    Binky had finally caught her breath. I put my arms around her waist as she slipped to her feet. The Laird crossed the room to the piano, grabbed the carved stool, and placed it at the end of the table facing the place settings at the far end.
    â€˜You can sit here, lassies, you must be famished,’ the Laird said, and I felt grateful for his kindness. He turned to Byron, waving his hand towards the fire. ‘Do you think we live in a barn, laddie, all this stuff hanging aboot. Put it away, for heaven’s sake, mon.’
    I watched without fully taking in what was happening as Byron gathered our damp clothing. My heart was pounding, and only slowly did I become conscious of us sitting there naked, my breasts throbbing, my nipples still erect, Binky holding my hand like a lost girl. My bottom stung, but all my senses were soalive, the sting was more pleasure than pain. The Laird found a piece of cloth in the chest beside the fire. He gazed up at the portrait of the woman, turned momentarily to me, then turned his attention to the shiny wet discharges we’d deposited on the table.
    â€˜Here, lassie, look at the mess you’ve made,’ he said, and obediently I polished the puddles of sperm from the table.
    I had just finished the task when the door opened. Byron returned pushing an old-fashioned serving trolley, the wheels squeaking. Mrs McTavish carried two bowls and soupspoons; she was sucking at her gums and tutting to herself. She set the bowls down in front of us. Byron placed an enormous tureen in front of the Laird and Mrs McTavish served three plates of stew. She glanced in our direction as she sat opposite Byron. The Laird was between them at the head of the table.
    â€˜Come on then, eat if you’re going to,’ he said.
    We ladled soup into our bowls, filling them to the brim. The steam was hot and the smell was delicious. We sat and ate like two little animals. Soup dribbled from my mouth, down my chin and fell, burning my breast. As I wiped the drips away with my hand, the Laird caught my eye and smiled.
    â€˜Tell me, Mrs McTavish, have you ever seen finer titties?’
    â€˜What are you talking about, mon?’
    â€˜Look at them, bright as wee buttons.’
    â€˜You’re disgusting,’ she said, and the Laird grinned as he ate his soup.
    His eyes were flicking constantly from the bowl in front of him to the two of us, squeezed together on the stool like ornaments on a shelf. I tried to picture us both in the Laird’s eyes, two naked girls like twolittle animals, our breasts perky, our cheeks and eyes bright, our bodies electric with life, with new sensations.
    It was only as I filled my tummy and my heart began to beat more normally that I became aware that our clothes had been taken away. I gazed back along the table at the Laird.
    He nodded.
    â€˜Aye, lassie,’ he said. ‘You can bed down in the woodshed. If you piddle in the straw like wee animals you cannae expect a bed to sleep in.’
    â€˜What about our clothes?’
    â€˜You won’t be needing those. Not tonight.’
    Binky looked at me for an explanation but there wasn’t one. I looked back at the Laird and felt a warm dribble leak on his piano stool.

3
Primal Urge
    I WASN’T A girl any more. I was a woman. I had lost my virginity. Did I look different? Did I smell different? When I sashayed by in the street could men sense that I had gone through some subtle transformation? Subtle? Perhaps
total
is the right word. I think I may have grown an inch taller! And as for the little monkeys, they were just so
out there!
    I stared for hours at my face in the mirror. I looked at my reflection in every shop window. I was even studying my eyes in the shiny side of the butter knife that day in the restaurant when we