Lily, the Cat and I decided to have a quiet few days up at the lodge for Burns night. The weather was crisp as we left London, and by the time we had crossed the border into Scotland it was positively freezing. The Cat sat in the front of the Land Rover and Lily lounged in the back. Both had decided to dress the part in identical white ruffled blouses, long black boots, tam o’shanters and kilts. The further we drove the more the Cat’s tartan would ride higher up her thighs, with the regular crossing and uncrossing of her legs – by the time we got to Gretna Green the white of her knickers peaked out from under the pleats.. …and by Glasgow she had abandonded the skirt all together. Lily, on the other hand, did not make it nearly so far…. at the Watford Gap a kilt pin arrived in the front… then a hat….. by Nottingham two naked legs slid over the shoulders of the Cat from the back of the car….. at the A1 turn off, Lily giggled then somehow slid herself over the head rest and joinded us, half naked, in the front – sat on the Cat’s lap, and unbuttoned her blouse with a sigh.
It took all my powers of concentration to keep the vehicle on the road, and not be drawn by the panting and the slight squeak of skin on leather, coming from the seat next to me – not even when, from time to time, a hand would reach over and grab my gearlever, would my eyes wander from the road – Lily hung her knickers on the rearview mirror……..
By the time we reached the lodge, Lily had returned to the back seat, stretched out and sleeping so soundly we had to carry her up to bed.