I made a mistake in that. To my surprize she colored up scarlet, her voice trembled, she seemed as agitated as when she met me, saying “nae,” she hadn't come to be treated “like a whure.” Why did I treat her like a common “whure of the streets.” She rose up to go, repeating the word “whure,” over and over again. She evidently was affronted and wanted to be courted, to submit to me. I set to work to correct my error, said I was sorry I had spoken, that I knew she was a widow, and thought from the look of her beautiful eyes (which she had) that she was amative, and didn't mind a little straightforwardness. That the look of the whiteness of the flesh of her beautiful leg, had so upset me, that I had never slept since for thinking of it, and I guessed the exquisiteness of the charms she must have underneath her dress.

Tho I never have much flattered women, and have got on with them very well without it, now I buttered her with flattery till she seemed quite proud. She swallowed all I said like oil, sat down and had a third glass of whiskey, which however she wouldn't let me fill quite full. She was sure, “Ye've sin, mony a bit o whiteness afore ye'ed sin ma legs I ken” — and she laughed, and looked slily at me. “Kiss and forgive me” and I suited the action to the word. Again she asked about my having seen white flesh elsewhere. I told her I had never seen any so white as hers, and with red hair, it must make a beautiful contrast there. — Did I like red hair? — I loved it I replied. Which is about as great a lie as I ever told. The lie however completed her satisfaction with me and herself.

Then she began about the dyeing business. I talked with her for a minute or so about it, but thought that if I couldn't have her, the sooner I knew it the better. I had got her to sit on the sofa by me, a table with the whiskey in front of us, — I turned the subject to her legs. Didn't she catch cold with bare feet and legs? — if her petticoat were still shorter wouldn't she? — “Nae it was all coostom nae, and she'd niver had a pair of drawers on in her life,” what was the good of them. “To keep all warm higher up.” — Nae she was warm enough there and every where. “Let me feel.” — “Nae nae.” — “Well, let me only to where I saw your legs naked on the ladder.” “Weel a dinna mind that, but nae mair.” — “But you've got stockings on, I can't feel the flesh, or see how white it is, pull the stockings down.” — “Nae.” — “Well! If I call at the workshop tomorrow, when they are naked, will you let me feel them there?” — “Nae, nae.” — But the idea convulsed her with laughter. “Let me feel to just under the knee.” — “Ye may then, but nae mair, ye'ar a funny mon.”

All this was interlarded with kisses and pinches. — I still thought she might be coquetting with me, but directly I got permission, I put my hands upon her calves, and fell into rapturous praises of them. — “Now just, above your knees, just where you garters” (she'd placed her hands so as to bar me there, women always do that). — “A weel then, there.” My fingers touched her flesh, and I pushed them between her thighs, which closed, tightly. — Up sprang my cock, and out I pulled it. — “Look, feel it — let me.” — “Nae, nae.” — With a sudden effort, I pushed my hand further, and she further back on the sofa, and my fingers touched her cunt. “Nae, nae, ye promised,” said she. But I was stifling her with kisses, her scuffling was slight, her legs opened to let me, and I got her whole cunt, well in grip. — “Let's fuck you, you knew I wanted it, you know you came for it, now don't be foolish, feel my prick.” A minute or two's sham coyness, and she did. Then we were silently kissing and feeling each other, I frigged away at her clitoris like a steam engine, till she wriggled. Dinna now, dinna, yell mak me be ar doin it mysel.” The courting was at an end. “Don't be foolish now, let's get on the bed properly, undress a little, my dear.” — Soon she was in chemise, and I in shirt. — I saw a spanking white arse, a red haired cunt, ponderous thighs, too big yet handsome, and all so dazzlingly white. What a lovely grind her cunt gave my prick, as I entered it. Soon I spent, and soon she spent. How I wished the thicker sperm had been up her instead of up the lady's cunt of the afternoon. But the forewoman knew nothing about the quality of her lubrication. Playfully she murmured as my prick dwindled in her. “Sure and ye've gat me a bonny bairn,” and we joked about that, my prick still up her, I laying between her ample thighs as we talked.

Then we sat by the fire awhile for it was cold, and talked, waiting for the resurrection of my cunt stopper. I wanted her to strip quite but she would not. She was certainly not a bit like a gay woman in her facility, but by dint of much flattery of her various parts, as I saw and felt them one by one for it was only the stripping quite (“Like a whure!”) that she objected to, at length she did. She was big and full, much bigger than she looked in her clothes. She had almost the frame of a man, and could have knocked one down. Her flesh was as firm as ivory, her shoulders were big and square, her waist large, her breasts big solid globes, not flabby, tho they hung down, but big, solid lumps, and the whiteness of her flesh was dazzling. — Indeed her flesh where it was habitually exposed was white, and all the rest was snow almost, rather than cream.

“Now open your thighs, you shall, I will look at it.” — She opened them, and her cunt looked a horse collar. Its long stretch from arsehole to motte, with its big thick lips, with a full clitoris, and the full haired mount, looked vast. The hair was a bright Scotch red, and there was quantities of it. — I've seen red and reddish sandy haired cunts before, a few of them, and indeed don't know the color I haven't seen on cunts, but I never saw one of such a genuine Scotch red as hers. — The bush was long and thick, and twisting, and curling in masses, half way up to her navel, thick down to her bumhole and round it, and thence it spread about five inches up her arse cheeks, gradually getting shorter there. It filled the buttocks furrow, till slightly past her bum bone. I set her down as thirty-six years of age at least at the sight. — I don't like this hirsuteness now, but in the midst of such white flesh, it looked to me for the moment beautiful, such is the result of novelty (“fresh cunt, fresh courage always”), and my libidinosity increased. Feeling that the sheets were dry (I had ordered clean ones in the afternoon), “Get into bed my dear,” I cried. — On she got. I stopped her progress to see the horse collar from behind. A great, heavy, pouting lipped article it looked from that side, yet I swore it was lovely. She stretched her thighs apart, and it took my whole hand to cover the gap. — That finished starching me, I mounted her directly we were under the sheets, played with the hirsute gap for a while, dallying with my lust, frigging her now and then till we could both bear delay no longer, and then gave her an-other injection. — That completed my evening's exercise, for she said she must get back, her niece would be wondering where she was, and she was up at five o'clock each morning.

Curious about the work girls mostly with naked feet, some of them sandy or red haired, tho mostly dark haired, didn't they do a bit of fucking on the sly I asked. — “A weel — maybe they do.” She didn't know. They often had a wee bairn before they were married; some were married, others had a young man, but they were not “whures” even if they had a bit on the sly. — The young masters (my friend had two young sons in the office) looked sharp when a fresh lass came, if she were good looking, but sure she didn't know if they coupled or not, it wasn't her business, it was a lone-some life for a lass without a man. She was very de-cent in her language, excepting in the use of the word “whure,” as she pronounced it.

I gave her the three sovereigns for instructing me. She smiled and said I'd taught her more than she had taught me — “that I had spilt my seed aboot” pretty freely she expected. She'd put the gold in the savings bank, where she'd already a bit, and would meet me the day but one after without gold, and only for friend-ship. — She'd come for a chat and a glass of whiskey, and she hoped I'd never tell any one how she'd for-gotten herself.