Chapter 9

It was all go in Edinburgh the night before the stag do. Julian had confirmed with his mates, and his dad had dealt with the others. The coach driver had the order of collection and so everything had been planned as much as possible. That night Julian and Andrew sat at his house with Brian Campbell and one of his mates from university, George who was from just outside Preston, and was staying at the house for the weekend. Brian and Leslie had swapped for the weekend as well, Leslie thinking that it made more sense for her to stay with her mother than to have to deal with the drunken wreckage the following evening. The four of them sat and chatted but didn’t go crazy on the booze aware of the early start the next morning.

When Andrew had returned to the flat the best news was that Suzanne had been there, and recently. There were only two pieces of mail behind the door with the rest piled on the table in the hall. Although it did not look like Suzanne had slept there, her room showed signs that she had brought more stuff over. Just the thought that Suzanne had been in their flat filled him with happiness. So he walked back to the flat from Julian’s house at the end of the night light of heart and looking forward to the next day.

Corralling everyone was painless, no one over slept and after they picked up Julian’s dad they were on their way to the airport. Only the two dads and Andrew knew about the helicopter, everyone else assumed they were in the coach for the day. The reactions as the coach pulled up at the general aviation gate at the airport were extremely funny. It was a day for ‘boys with toys’ and so to start with a short helicopter ride just set the tone. It was only when they landed in the infield at Knockhill and walked up, over the bridge and across to the go kart track that Andrew was accosted by Julian.

“Seriously, a helicopter?”

“Hey, don’t blame me, Brian and your dad’s idea.”

Julian looked at him skeptically.

“It is. They told me they wanted to have fun. It is a small wedding, you are paying for most of it yourself and so they figured why not. Brian knows someone at Bristow’s so here we are.”

Julian just laughed.

“Do you know just for one second when we turned off to the airport I thought you were going to do something crazy like fly to Morocco.”

“Can you imagine what Leslie would have done to me if I had pulled a stunt like that? I am not that brave.”

You can tell who kept them in line when they were working on the software.

There were all sorts of options for the karting and so they ended up running three races. After the first 30 lap race they had a sense of who was crap, Doug; who was manic, Wally and Ken two of Julian’s mates; and who was sneakily good, Julian’s dad. They then reversed the finishing order of the first race for the start of the second, not that it did Doug much good. The second 30 lap race confirmed the abilities demonstrated in the first race and so for the final 50 lap race Julian’s dad was held back for a lap and the race was run. Julian’s dad was consistently faster than anyone else and easily caught up to the mass of carts banging about. Right at the end of the race eight of them were jostling for the lead or close to it, when Ken tried a crazy pass on the third to last corner spinning out not only himself but two others as well and allowing Julian senior to sneak through and coast home three for three in the races.

Andrew was sure that no one was more surprised than Mr. Strong himself that he was inherently good at go karting. He hammed it up appropriately when he received the plastic trophy presented by the circuit but you could tell he was secretly pleased. Someone better warn Christine; this fish was only going to get bigger and bigger.

“Dad, you are wearing a blindfold for the clay pigeons. There is no way you are beating us all at that as well.”

Andrew knew what Julian meant, but did he really want a sixty something lawyer shooting a gun with a blindfold? They would all have to hide in a bunker. Tony and Andrew had been middle of the pack in all three of the races, battling hard against each other in the second one, and walked back to the helicopter together.

“I couldn’t believe it when the coach pulled up at the General Aviation Terminal. Your idea?”

Andrew again explained it was Brian’s idea and contacts.

“Wait until I tell my cousin. No pressure on him for my stag now.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. I don’t even know if you guys have set a date, is there one?”

“That is the thing, there isn’t yet. Maggie wants to see how next week goes, get an idea. Neither of us go to church, although her mum would like Maggie to get married in one. But the idea of a 10 minute ceremony at the City Chambers really appeals. Limits the people to just 10 or 12, and then have a reception in the evening.”

“She doesn’t fancy the big white wedding?”

“It comes back to the point we have talked about before, although in other contexts. She thinks that she should want that, every woman wants the big occasion, right? But truthfully she really doesn’t care. She has seen too many where the event is way over the top, the couple spend a lot of cash and for what? To show off? She told me the fanciest wedding she went to, the couple were divorced within four years, and had broken up after barely two years. Not that we are thinking about breaking up but it just seems a waste. And we both would like to save our money for a house and the business. So I think we will talk about it after next weekend and go for something smaller.”

Tony shook his head.

“I don’t know how we ended up talking about the wedding, oh yes, the stag. Some point over the summer would be my guess, but a lot of these things come down to venue availability. I like the idea of a week before the wedding, not the night before. Just makes so much more sense.”

The racing had helped the group break down some of the inevitable barriers when a disparate group of strangers is thrown together. Tony and Andrew led the way as they all straggled back to the helicopter and then were off for the 12 minute flight up to Dunkeld. The field to the west of the main farmhouse at the range had been passed as suitable for the helicopter to land in and they were at the clay pigeon shooting without delay or problem. The venue provided lunch but three of the group stayed and talked to the pilots about the helicopter, getting an understanding of how it was controlled. For all of them except Brian it was their first helicopter flight. Everyone sat around eating lunch and talking shit, mainly about Julian senior, when Liz showed up. She was looking as good as ever. The fresh-faced innocent country girl look really suited her, that coupled with the fact that Andrew knew she harboured secret stripper ambitions.

“So who is the guest of honour?”

Julian bounded over to stand by her.

“So are you ready to be outshot by a girl. Can you cope with the embarrassment?”

Wow, she might be afraid to strip but the trash talk had started early. Her blunt hassling of Julian had him blushing and encouraged catcalls from the peanut gallery. He had no way of fighting back because he had never handled a gun before. In fact Andrew was the only one of the 12 that had experience with firearms, through the CCF and OTC. A sneaky thought crossed his mind as he listened to Liz big up her abilities and generally cast aspersions on the lot of them. Sitting at the back, as usual, Andrew had not been picked on yet when he saw Liz smile over at him.

“So Julian, do you think you can beat the best man? He told me when he came up to make the reservation that he was going to beat you easily.”

Half the room saw her wink at Andrew but Julian swallowed the bait.

“No way. He is all talk.”

Liz had, with very little effort, got the group all riled up and ready to do, metaphorical, battle. She led them out to the range and the three shooting stations. Although they could have split up into three groups of four they all decided it was more fun to give the other shooters shit than it was to shoot themselves, so they stayed together. Liz dealt with the safety announcement and everyone paid attention. When she had a clay released and they saw it disintegrate into a million pieces everyone realised there was going to be no fucking about while at the firing position.

What they then discovered was that Liz was a very good shot indeed. As in a never miss, very good shot. Egos were suitably deflated and after most of them had taken a shot and realised how tricky it was, the group started to listen to Liz as she gave them pointers. The group started to fracture as some of the guys went to the other stations to try their luck. There was a teenage guy at each of the other stations to ensure gun safety. Liz might have gone through all the rules with them but no one was taking any chances. Soon all three stations had their own separate competitions going between the guys.

“Are you not shooting Andrew?”

He had not taken a shot yet, letting Julian blaze away at his own stag. Plus Andrew was working up the nerve to have a little game with Liz.

“Julian is having fun, it is his stag, so I don’t care.”

Liz was watching closely but was at the back of the shooting station behind Julian, Ken and Doug who were with them.

“So are you still dreaming of being a stripper?”

Andrew spoke quietly but Liz’s head whipped round as if he had shouted from the rooftops. She blushed bright red and turned away for a second.

“Still working up the nerve?”

A silent nod.

“Such a shame. I had budgeted for a stripper but was unable to find anyone.”

Liz continued to watch the shooters but Andrew could hear the gears whirring in her mind.

“I have £100 for the stripper. Are you sure I can’t convince you?”

Liz couldn’t look at him she just needed a final little push.

“I could put £100 in the back pocket of your jeans Liz. All you need to do is waggle your arse and it is yours. Of course you are going to be naked in front of 12 men if you do that. So, all you need to do is waggle your arse.”

A long silence. Just before Andrew said something there was a distinct hip sway. His smile was wide. He quietly pulled the money out of his wallet and carefully slipped into her back pocket.

“How is the heart rate?”

“About to explode. Oh God, I can’t believe I am going to do this.”

“Why don’t you tell everyone to take a 10 minute break, go for a pee, grab a drink, whatever. Then you and I can talk about this.”

She nodded and two minutes later they were the only ones standing at the firing point of the first station.

“Look I don’t want you to think I am forcing you to do this. You seemed pretty keen, in a nervous wreck sort of way.”

“I know. I have had this fantasy for ages. This is perfect, no one local, I won’t see you at the pub next weekend. I am worried I am going to bottle it though.”

“So let’s have some fun with it. Let’s have a competition. Two ways you can lose some clothes. Firstly if you miss, which you have not done so far. The second way is every time I hit three clays in a row you have to lose a piece of clothing. If I miss two out of three or all three I have to lose a piece of clothing. So I will shoot three times and you will shoot once. If I get all three, you take off some clothes. If I miss like I said then I take off a piece of clothing. What you have to do, so that the guys know that you want to be naked in front of them, is you have to miss. Think about it, I shoot three times, and only miss once. You are safe. But you are standing there in your bra and knickers. If you miss the guys will know you want them to see your tits. Me winning is one thing, that would be fun. But you have to throw the game, they need to know that you want to do this.

“So Liz, I am standing there wearing my boxers and a smile. You are standing beside me topless, your chest flushed, your nipples hard. You can feel all 12 pairs of eyes on you, admiring your pantie clad arse. Will you miss and control the show or will you wait for me to hit three clays and ‘make’ you strip.”

Andrew thought poor Liz was having a seizure but then.

“What makes you think that you can hit three clays? I don’t think everyone wants to see you naked, it is me they came to see.”

Andrew nearly hugged her he was so happy. This was going to happen.

“Go and tell the two teenage boys to take a hike. We will wait ‘til they are gone and then start the competition. I am not going to say anything, so let’s see how long it takes until someone twigs what is happening.”

Liz looked nervous but resolute and came up to him. Pulling him down, she gave him a quick kiss.

“Miss a few for me Andrew. It will affect my aim.”

Andrew kissed her back and they wandered over to round everybody up. There was a lot of confusion and questions but finally the two spotty oicks were on their way and Andrew had the group in a big semicircle round the back of 1^st firing station.

“Before we finish up for the afternoon, Liz and I have made a bet.”

Without saying anything else Liz loaded the first clay and when Andrew shouted ‘pull’ the clay sailed off into the distance. A hit. He looked at Liz and her eyes were sparkling. He realised why as she loaded two clays. They were going to have to work to get her naked. Laughing, Andrew shouted ‘pull’ again and both clays sailed off in a diverging pattern. He nailed one but missed the other. Liz laughed at him, and hit her clay easily.

The guys were confused as to the rules and what was going on but were still cheering for Liz and giving Andrew shit. He knew that would change very shortly. He got the single clay without a problem but was worried about the twin clays. The next time his second shot winged the clay which counted as a hit. Liz carefully put her shotgun down and pulled her sweater over her head. Suddenly the cheers for Liz and the crap to Andrew stopped dead. 11 pairs of eyes were going back and forth between them wondering what was going on. Just before she told him to ‘pull’ Liz winked at him and when she shot missed her clay, the first time she had missed all afternoon.

Rather than take a shoe off or something safe like that Liz unbuttoned her shirt, with trembling hands it had to be said, pulled it out of her jeans and threw it at Julian. The firing station exploded with noise, cheers, laughter, whistles, all the noises that 12 men can make in a group setting. When they calmed down Andrew explained the rules and suddenly he was the best supported man in Perthshire. The next two rounds were a wash, he kept missing the second clay when she flung two out at once.

“Can we have a side bet in the competition?”

“Maybe.”

Skepticism reigned within Liz’s voice.

“Julian, his dad and Brian each get one shot. Two out of three one shoe comes off, three out of three both shoes come off.”

“Sure. I don’t think they have the bottle though. I tell you what, three out of three and I will take off socks and shoes.”

Brian stepped up and nailed his shot, the clay exploding before them. He looked more relieved than happy, glad not to have screwed it up. Julian’s dad might have been a natural driver but he was not a good shot. The abuse heaped on him was funny and he did a very good hang dog expression. Suddenly it was up to Julian. He was his father’s son. Liz’s laughter and the group’s taunts drove him to the back of the range hut. But then the tone changed again. Two new shooters were selected with Julian again the third. Everybody had to step up and get their shot. Now this was all theatre, Liz was going to be naked in front of them however long it took them to get her to that state but there is nothing funnier to observe than male pride on the line. The cheers and looks of relief for a successful shot and the cringes and abject horror of missing. Nobody wanted to be the guy that cost them a chance of seeing Liz naked. So five pairs of guys cycled through with Julian joined each group. In five turns they managed the shoes. Two out of five and they had Liz in her socks. Hmmm.

Liz was clearly enjoying herself because she took command for the next stage. Standing holding her loaded shotgun she had Julian cuddle her. You have seen the scene in the movies. The man stands behind the women helping her shoot, play snooker, any excuse to have her close to him. Although Julian was bear-hugging her, it was Liz that had her finger over his on the trigger. When she called ‘pull’ twice in a row she helped him get the clay and suddenly she was barefoot.

Andrew remembered his part in this little stage play and when they returned to the main competition he deliberately missed all three times and pulled his sweater and shirt off all at once. Liz must have been taking faux ‘Victorian ladies with the vapours’ lessons from Helena.

“Oh my, be still my trembling hands. Such a manly vision, how will my aim be true with such a delicious sight before me.”

Of course she promptly nailed her shot, almost cavalierly. Andrew’s revenge was a nice three for three. There was no hesitation and the way she bent over the barrier at the front of the firing station as she slid her jeans down over her arse, hinted at more than a little practice at that manoeuvre. Standing back up Julian was once again the recipient of her warm clothing. At this point Liz was now in her bra and knickers. In Scotland. In March. Liz was lighting half the hillside with those high beams.