Iron Girders and Steel Springs

Her claws raked his back, drawing blood and jolting him deeper into the tight pull of her sex. The pain reinforced his feelings of returning vitality. Uncaring, he howled into the night sky, a beast wearing human skin.

A trembling sensation announced his imminence. Marshall thrust deep into her. Kath wrapped her arms and legs around him and hugged him close. Her vagina quivered around him in ferocious orgasm even as he boiled over and poured his semen into her. As one they howled, their cries racing through the silver-lit trees lining the slopes of the sheltered loch.

* * * *

Marshall woke up and blinked. The sun was shining through the cabin windows and into his eyes. The height of the sun indicated he'd slept through most of the morning.

What an odd—extraordinary—dream, Marshall thought.

He was not alone on the bed. Kath lay next to him, her spiky ginger hair resting on a pillow.

Marshall's head throbbed. Whew, he really must have hit the beers last night, and maybe a few spirits as well. Had they? They must have. She said she'd jump his bones and it had been the last night.

The last night. Marshall felt a small twinge of regret.

He flipped back the sheets, got out of bed and padded across to the bathroom. He felt a few twinges of pain all down his back. After relieving himself he walked back into the bedroom and checked himself in the full-length mirror on the wardrobe door. Livid red scratches were drawn down his pale skin.

"What time is it?" Kath murmured sleepily from the bed.

"What did you do to me?" Marshall asked, looking at the angry red lines on his back.

"Oh, um, sorry," Kath giggled. "Nymphomaniac. We go a little wild in bed."

"I see." Marshall said. He laughed.

"So we did it?" he asked.

"Like beasts," Kath said. She bared her teeth and her green eyes flashed.

"My head feels like I've just gone ten rounds with the Klitschko brothers. My memories are all scrambled. I think I remember, but it's all mixed up with this crazy dream."

Kath glanced away and smiled.

"That'll be the Russian vodka," she said. "We get the proper stuff here, not the wussy stuff they let everyone else have."

"Packs a punch."

There was a knock at the door. Still naked, Marshall padded over and opened it. The tall, blonde and extremely busty Vasya was standing in the doorway. Marshall felt an old blast of fear, like an icy wind rushing through him, though he had no idea why. It was only Vasya, and while Marshall had thought her a little aloof and imposing at first, she seemed more subservient and demure this morning. She carried a tray with two plates piled high with eggs, sausage and bacon.

"The kitchen is closing," she said in accented English. "I thought you might like some breakfast."

Marshall was surprised to find he felt ravenous. Normally a big pile of greasy food was the last thing he wanted after a night of heavy drinking, but he devoured the contents of his plate with gusto.

Vasya said something to Kath in Russian. Kath shook her head and replied in her Scots-accented Russian that sounded so charming to Marshall. Vasya said some more words. Marshall couldn't understand what they were saying, but it seemed like the taller girl was apologising for something.

Marshall shrugged and tucked into another fried egg. They must have been really active last night, he thought wryly. Steel springs indeed.

"McCurdy will be here shortly with the bus," Vasya said. "I hope you've enjoyed your time at Gàrradh-Sionnach."

"I have, very much," Marshall replied. "Thank you."

"Typical," Kath said with a laugh. "I finally get you walking around with no clothes on and it's time to leave."

Marshall finished his breakfast and packed his things together. Kath put an arm around his waist and they left the cabin. Marshall blinked in the bright sunlight. What a beautiful day.

They walked to the main building and he finally got to see the occupant of the neighbouring cabin. She was a striking brunette with long wavy hair and a lithe figure. Marshall saw she was bringing out the laundry—a big pile of sheets wrapped up in black bin liners. She looked up and gave him a friendly wave.

Marshall wondered where the London bankers and the American were. They must already be waiting at the bus.

They passed Maruska. She was scrubbing away at a patch on the stone paving slabs, a bucket of sudsy water standing next to her. Marshall was surprised to see her engaged in such a mundane activity, but then he hadn't seen any cleaners during his time here either. She looked up from her work and gave them a friendly greeting as they walked by.

They reached the car park. The minibus was already waiting.

"I'd like to see you again," Marshall said. He knew what she was and what she did here, but it didn't matter to him at all.

"Oh you never know," Kath said. "I'm a stray. One day I might just show up on your doorstep."

"I'd like that."

"No, you wouldn't," Kath laughed. "I'm insatiable. I'd be working my way through all your friends before you knew it, pissing off their wives and girlfriends."

"That's fine," Marshall said. "Just so long as you bring Maruska down with you," he added with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Ooh, you." Kath slapped him playfully on the ass.

They shared a final kiss and Marshall lingered over watching as Kath walked away.

McCurdy was leaning against the side of the bus. The driver was wearing the same traditional tartan regalia and Tam o'Shanter Marshall had seen him in when he'd picked Marshall up at the train station a couple of days ago. The fox-faced man was currently chewing on a cocktail stick. He took Marshall's bag and put it into the back of the bus.

Marshall looked around.

"Where are the others?"

McCurdy gave Marshall a vulpine smile. He used the cocktail stick to pick at a piece of flesh caught between two teeth.

"They weren't sent here by Inari Kitson."