"Hold on. This is the best part!"

He yelped at the sudden blast of bubbles, then he grinned and sat down again.

"Hey - this is great!"

It was too. The feeling was they coursed over my body was just brilliant - it was like getting an all-over massage. We soaked for a while and then I turned it off and reached for my soap.

"We only get half an hour. Better wash now."

We started to soap our upper bodies and my armpits felt grateful for the cleansing. Then the door opened and a guy entered. He was tall and blonde with the sort of musculature that took many hours in a gym to achieve. He was stark naked and he was casually stroking a huge boner.

"Hi guys! Room for another one in there?"

He eyed us up with interest as I recovered from the shock. Charles made a strangled noise and I yelled at the intruder.

"Get out of here before I call the cops!"

He sniggered.

"There are three of them next door. You want me to go get them?"

"Just get the hell out of here."

He still stared at us, then he sighed.

"All right. You might have shared him though - he's a beautiful boy and it's just plain selfish to want that incredible dong all to yourself."

He flounced out and I turned back to Charles. He cowered away from me.

"Get away from me, you homo! Now I understand."

I raised my hands.

"Hey - I'm not queer. I threatened to call the cops, remember? I didn't know there would be anyone like that in here - the city runs this place."

He stared at me and then I saw him slowly relax. We finished soaping ourselves and then I turned the bubbles back on until the foam overflowed and started to spread over the floor. The problem was that when we left and headed towards the locker room, the word had obviously gone round. Every door was open and we had to run a gauntlet of lascivious stares. Then someone grabbed Chuck's towel and tore it away from his body to the accompaniment of cheers from the audience. I yelled at the guy and he just leered at me.

"Want some, pretty boy?"

"Yeah. How about a Glasgow Kiss?"

The Black Watch had been an education in fighting dirty and the 'Glasgow Kiss' was a speciality of theirs. I grabbed the guy by the throat and brought my brow down on his nose as hard as I could. It worked. I felt a crunching sound as it broke and then he fell to his knees, screaming with pain as blood poured between his fingers. I picked up Chuck's towel and handed it to him.

"Let's get out of here."

I swung round and glared at the row of silent men, challenging them with my eyes and stance. Then I heard a whisper.

"Killer!"

Suddenly we were totally alone and I stood with my rage still seeking an outlet. Memories of the incident when I had killed Greta's husband came flooding back. I was a killer and they had sensed that I was in a killing rage and had backed off. The guy behind the desk had our things waiting for us and we dressed and left to his howl of despair.

"They put SOAP in the Jacuzzi! Oh my GOD!"

We were halfway back to the ship when Chuck spoke.

"Where did you learn to do that? What did you call it?"

"It's called a 'Glasgow Kiss' and I learned it in Germany from the toughest soldiers I ever met."

"I really thought you were going to kill him!"

"So did I, Chuck. So did I."

I couldn't have stopped him telling his parents about it and he blurted out the story as soon as we got back. His dad looked at me with astonishment.

"Didn't you know about bath houses?"

"I do now. I thought you just went there for a bath."

He sighed.

"That's how it was years ago, but things have changed. You were lucky to get out without anything bad happening to you."

Charles broke in.

"It wasn't lucky, Dad. One of them tried it on and Jason just squashed his nose all over his face like a tomato! It was incredible - the man just fell down and he was screaming with pain. The rest of them just got out of our way!"

That kinda broke the ice between us. I told them about being an army brat, about the wild Scottish soldiers, even about my father's death.

"..and I have to spend a year before I can continue, so I reckoned I would go to see some friends in Scotland."

Mr Watson grunted.

"Good idea, otherwise you're likely to get drafted."

I stared at him as I suddenly realised that he was right. I had applied for deferment, of course, but that only lasted as long as I was actually enrolled in college.

"I didn't think of that!"

"In that case, you're just plain lucky. Get your place all sewn up before you return, otherwise you'll be running around in the mud for a couple of years. Wait until you get your MD - then you'll be an officer."

I thought about things a lot that night as the ship finally put to sea. I had a lot to think about and none of it was good - I really was not a nice guy. Maybe I should just let them draft me - the army must have some place for a soldier who could kill people at the drop of a hat and who could leave his father to work himself to death. In fact, I knew that wasn't true. The army wanted discipline, not someone who could go into a killing frenzy - killers ended up in Leavenworth being beaten insensible with billy clubs every time they even looked at a guard. Or sometimes they made them guards.

I could hardly become a doctor though. Medicine was a noble calling, not a place for the homicidal. Maybe I should get a job in a bank like Robbie.

By morning I had forgotten about that because the wind and sea rose during the night. It wasn't quite a storm but the sea was at an angle to the ship and that gave it two motions - pitching and rolling. A passenger ship would have changed course to make the ride more comfortable, but we just kept ploughing through. Only three of us did not get seasick - the two old ladies who probably had more sea-time than the captain, and me. For some reason I was completely unaffected by the corkscrew progress of the ship - I had always loved roller coasters and this was just a larger version. I wandered around and read my medical books while the others groaned and sat with buckets between their knees - it was forbidden to lean over the rails and throw up into the sea in case anyone fell (or maybe jumped) overboard.

By the following morning, everyone except Charles had gotten their sea legs. He just lay and moaned in his bunk and threw up anything that went down his throat. By evening, his mom and I were getting real worried about him - he was still throwing up and he looked real bad. His face was bloodless, his skin was dry and his tongue was starting to show cracks in its disgusting coating. I surreptitiously looked up seasickness in one of my books and decided that he was in need of treatment. Then I remembered my pack of medicines - I opened it up and it was indeed for use at sea, including a small book that was obviously written for non- medical people.

His mother returned just as I was opening the box which contained the remedy for long-term seasickness.

"What have you got there, Jason?"

I was too worried about him to get into a pissing contest with his mother. Or maybe I was starting to learn how to act like a doctor.

"Ten milligram hyoscine hydrobromide suppositories. Chuck - roll on your side while I give you one of these."

He groaned and I rolled him over, then I unwrapped one of the suppositories, smeared it with vaseline and pushed it as far as I could up his ass.

Mrs Martin stared at me.

"Do you know what you are doing?"

"Of course. It will take effect quite soon."

I crossed my fingers but the chemistry worked anyway. It was magical - he stopped convulsing and retching and his whole body relaxed. Mrs Martin looked astonished.

"Well, I wouldn't have believed that if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. Will he be all right now?"

The book had been sombre about this stage.

"Ma'am, I really don't know. He's dehydrated - we have to get some fluids into him."

Chuck was only semi-conscious and I supported him while his mother held a cup of water to his lips. He spluttered and coughed but he didn't swallow. She looked at me.

"What now?"

I uttered a prayer of thanks for my retentive memory.

"Well, if he was in hospital, he would need fluids straight into a vein, but I can't do that here."

Or anywhere, for that matter, but I didn't volunteer that information.

"The old way isn't as good but it's worth trying. You give him enemas, I assume?"

"Well, not lately. He just won't let me do them these days."

"He's not in any state to object - give him a very slow cold water enema - some of it will get absorbed."

"COLD water?"

"That's what they recommend. Use one of these disposable bags."

Chuck might have been semi conscious, but he still reacted when his mother started to give him the enema. I held him firmly and soothed him while she inserted the tube - he finally gave up struggling and lay quietly while she ran in half a bag of water over a period of 30 minutes.

It was like watching a wilted plant stand up after it was watered. By the time she had finished his enema, Chuck was well aware of what was going on - and he sure didn't like it! He didn't even need to expel any liquid after the enema - it looked like his body had soaked up every drop.

Normal mealtimes had been suspended in the rough weather, but I was hungry by this stage. We left Chuck sleeping peacefully and I attacked the sandwiches and coffee in the dining room while Mrs Martin told the world about the miracle suppository and enema. That annoyed me and I realised that I was really growing up, because I wasn't prepared to defer to her just because she was an adult - I was one as well, and I was damned if I was going to stand for her making her boy the subject of public interest.

"Mrs Martin - don't you think that Charles is entitled to some privacy?"

She seemed genuinely taken aback by the idea.

"But he's only a child!"

"Actually, he isn't, but even children are entitled not to have the intimate details of their medical treatment made into a topic of conversation."

"Just who do you think you are, young man, to tell me what I can and cannot say about my own child?"

"I'm a man with respect for other people and their feelings, not a garrulous woman who runs off at the mouth in public."

"You can't speak to me like that!"

"I just did - and I'll say it again. Keep your damn mouth shut and don't embarrass that boy like this."

She opened her mouth to say something and I felt my anger rising within me as I stared straight into her eyes. At that precise moment I wanted nothing more than to strangle the silly bitch. It must have shown, because she abruptly closed her mouth and swept out of the room.

It left me deflated and wondering again about my own stability. That was interrupted by Mr Martin who slapped me on the back.

"Well said, Jason. And well done too - that's the first time I ever saw her run off with her tail between her legs!"

I checked on Chuck when I got back to the cabin - he was sleeping peacefully and you didn't have to be a physician to see that he was much improved. I got up early the following morning and persuaded the cook to make some beef tea - an ersatz version produced by pounding steak to a mush and then boiling it up for a while. Beef tea was my mother's equivalent of chicken soup and it had always worked for me when I was a kid. I carried it to the cabin and found Chuck awake and starting to feel queasy again. I opened my bag and unwrapped another suppository.

"Okay, Chuck - let's have you sunny side up."

"Aw, do I have to have one of those?"

The mantle of adulthood was being forced on me by his attitude.

"Come on, Chuck, you know it will stop you throwing up. Let's just get it over with - turn on your side."

He scowled, but did as I said. I pulled his PJ pants down and thrust the greased suppository as deep as I could reach, then I let Chuck sort out his pyjamas and his bunk while I washed my hands in the small basin.

"This is beef tea. Drink it slowly."

He took a sip and then started to drink it. When he had finished he lay back on his pillows as the suppository took effect and he became drowsy. He sighed deeply.

"You let my mother give me an enema."

"Yeah. So what?"

"So I just managed to get her to stop doing them. Now she'll start over. I just hate those fucking enemas."

It dawned on me that the stuff was relaxing his mind as well as his body and loosening his tongue like some sort of truth drug. I already knew that talking about something was the best way to get it out of your system and the anguish in his voice told me that he was feeling pretty bad. Maybe if I encouraged him to speak, it would help.

"She gave you a lot of enemas?"

"I'll say. Whenever she saw the slightest thing, it was straight into the bathroom and a bag of soapy water emptied up my ass."

"Hell, all kids need enemas. I got plenty myself."

"You didn't get as many as me. My mother just loves that enema bag and she was always using it on me."

"You're exaggerating."

"I'm not! You know she always carries one of those bulbs in her purse? I even got an enema in the ladies restroom of a hotel once because I said I was too full to eat desert! I was only a little kid and she just hauled me in there and filled the bulb with soapsuds from the sink. There were other ladies there too, but mom didn't care - she just told them that I had problems and that I needed an enema. They all just stood around talking and watching while she emptied that fucking thing into me until I couldn't take any more!"

"She really did that?"

"Oh yes - she even rinsed me out afterwards."

"What does that mean?"

"You never just get one enema from my mother. First you get a soapy one and then you get a plain water one to rinse the soap out."

I stared at him - I'd never heard of that procedure and it didn't seem to make any sense. When I had been constipated, my mother had just given me one soapsuds enema and that had done the trick every time and given me immediate relief. Chuck sounded angry as he continued.

"She's just obsessed with giving enemas. A couple of years ago, when I was twelve, my cousin Joe came to stay for a month while his mother was in hospital. He was fifteen, but the first thing she did when he arrived was to give him an enema. It was late when his bus got in and he was hot and exhausted, so she told us both to go to bed. He was down to his undershorts when she barged in with the enema bag on its stand and made him take them off and lie on his bed while she gave him an enema right there in front of me. The poor kid didn't know what hit him - he started to argue but she just grabbed his shorts, pulled them down and forced him to lie on the bed. It scared me."

"How come? What scared you?"

The words came tumbling out.

"I never knew that you got hairs on your dick when you grew up, and I never knew it grew so big. That was bad enough, but the enema gave him a boner and that scared me almost out of my mind - it was huge and red and he tried to hide it but it was just so... threatening, I guess."

"That was bad. I didn't have that problem because I sometimes shared a shower with my dad and I guess I always knew what happened when you grew up. He never had a boner in front of me, though. Did she give you an enema after him?"

"How did you know that?"

"It wasn't hard to guess. And I guess you got a boner too."

He stared at me in amazement.

"I did. It was the first time I got one when she gave me an enema, but it happened every time after that. I always hated enemas, but I wasn't embarrassed until then."

He stopped speaking, but I reckoned there was more to come. Then I remembered his terror when he thought that I was homosexual and things fell into place.

"That wasn't all though, was it? You want to tell me the rest? About Cousin Joe?"

He stared at me and then he seemed to collapse internally.

"Yeah. You guessed. The first thing he did when my mother had gone was to jerk off. I didn't know anything about it and just seeing his huge thing was bad enough, but then he went crazy and started to make noises and roll about and then he came and the white stuff shot out. Then he did it to me. He said it was time for me to do what the big boys did."

"And how did that make you feel?"

"Guilty. I knew it was wrong, but it was nice too."

I laughed.

"Hey - when I was your age, they sent me to a boarding school and everybody jerked off - a lot of them did it to other boys as well. It didn't mean that we were homos. It was just something to do. There's nothing to feel guilty about."

"Honest?"

"Honest."

I had forgotten what it was like to be his age. All it needed was for somebody to tell him that everything was all right and he just accepted it. He smiled happily and went to sleep.

The weather was now magnificent - clear blue skies and a flat calm. What we didn't know was that a weather system was slowly overhauling the ship - the first storm was due to the leading edge and the blue skies represented the centre. By evening the wind was rising again, only this time it came from astern and it produced an even worse motion as it lifted the stern of the ship and sent us diving into the troughs of waves and then twisting as we climbed out again. It was uncomfortable, but everyone had by that stage become immune to motion sickness - everybody except Mrs Martin.

I have to admit that woman had guts. She spent the day ignoring her condition and controlling herself by willpower alone. She turned up at breakfast the following morning looking like death - her eyes and cheeks were sunken and she could barely stand. The sight of bacon and eggs was too much for her and she staggered out again. Mr Martin beckoned to me.

"Jason, I'm worried about Mary. She hasn't eaten or drunk anything - or at least she hasn't kept anything down - for almost 36 hours. Do me a favour and check up on her, will you?"

I didn't know what to say. Mrs Martin wasn't a kid - she was a grown woman, old enough to be my mother. He was going to have to give her any enemas she needed.

"I don't need to look at her. The first thing she needs is a cold water enema to reverse her rehydration. I'll get the stuff for you to administer it."

He looked at me, then shook his head.

"She won't take it from me. She hands them out, but nobody gets near her butt."

"So what makes you think she will let me treat her?"

"I don't know. There's something about you - just be firm with her."

I really didn't want to have anything to do with Mrs Martin, but she really was ill and my medical books were very pessimistic about the probability of kidney damage if it continued. I collected my medical bag and marched to her cabin while the two male members of the family found other things to do as far away as possible. I knocked on the door and heard a faint noise, so I went inside.

Mrs Martin looked like hell. Her vomit-covered dress was lying on the floor and she lay on the bed wearing a slip. I decided to go through the entire doctor ritual, even if I didn't know what I was doing.

"Well now, let's just have a look at you, Mary. Open your mouth."

I popped a thermometer in before she could object and then took her pulse - it seemed awful fast to me and her temperature was above normal.

"You're definitely dehydrated and you need fluids right now."

I moved over to the basin in the corner of the cabin and started to fill one of the enema bags. Mrs Martin looked horrified and spoke in a croaking whisper.

"What do you think you're doing, young man?"

"I'm going to give you a cold water enema, just like the one you gave to your boy."

"I don't want an enema."

"It's long past the stage where you can have what you want. If you don't take it now, then you are going to go into a coma and you'll end up getting it while you are unconscious. Now be a good girl and take your enema."

"But..."

"No arguments. This is a medical necessity. Remove your underwear now, please. Unless you want to die, of course."

She looked like she was going to cry, but then managed to stagger to her feet. She lifted her slip and revealed that she was wearing a panty-girdle. I supported her while she managed to remove it with a great deal of difficulty.

"Really, Mary, a girdle will only make things worse. Now lie down and I'll start your enema."

She groaned as I folded her slip up and arranged her legs to permit access. Mrs Martin was no girl, but she had stayed slim. Her body was more rounded than that of a girl, her thighs were thicker and... voluptuous, I guess. I found myself indulging in thoughts that were distinctly non-medical as I gazed at her gorgeous bare ass. I finally managed to collect my wits and use my fingers to open her anus before I gently slid the thin tube into its centre. She groaned deeply.

"Oh my god - I can't believe you're doing this to me!"

"You must have had enemas before. From what Chuck says you seem to be a firm believer in them."

"For children. I haven't taken one myself for years!"

"Just lie quietly. This will take a while."

It took a few minutes before I realised that the water was not flowing. I extracted the tube and saw that the end was blocked with a solid brown plug.

"I need to unblock this. When was your last BM?"

"I just can't use the bathroom on this ship. It's foul!"

"I think maybe I should give you a warm water enema first."

She hid her face in the pillows as I refilled the bag with warm water. I undid the clip while I was still inserting the tube - I'd had experience of blockages before. She moaned in despair as the warm liquid flooded in to her rectum.

"This is just humiliating! I haven't taken an enema since I was a girl living with my parents!"

"Well, you're taking one now. I'm surprised at you - a grown woman letting herself get into this state."

I was experienced enough to see the signs of sexual excitement building up in her. So even adults could be stimulated by taking an enema - that was interesting. And it made me feel randy too - I could not believe that I found this woman sexually exciting!

I ran in the whole bag and then helped her to stand up.

"You're just going to have to use the bathroom now! I'll help you."

I closed the door once she was installed on the toilet and let her have privacy while she expelled the enema. She looked relieved and much better when she finally emerged, but I wasn't about to let her off the hook.

"Now just a small cold-water enema to get some fluid in to you."

This time she giggled - just like a little kid - before she settled down on the bunk. I slid the tube into place - she was much further developed than any girl and I watched with growing desire as she became more and more moist. This was insane - more than insane, it was sick! How the hell could I find a woman who was probably forty years old even remotely desirable?

What I did not expect was that she obviously felt the same way. As soon as I extracted the pipe, she displayed a remarkable recovery from her illness. She sat up and grabbed the front of my pants and contacted my erection.

From then on, everything was out of control. She quickly undid everything and pushed my pants right down to my ankles. I tried to resist, but then she opened her mouth and took my joint in it. I had sometimes fantasised about meeting a girl who gave head and I had always wondered what it was like. I quickly discovered that it was fantastic as she somehow swallowed its entire length!

My efforts to stop were futile. I stepped out of my clothes and she dragged me back on top of her. Boy - she was incredible. I had reckoned I knew just about everything there was to know about screwing, but I discovered that I was barely at kindergarten level - and she took me to advanced degree in the most incredible hour I had ever experienced.

I kept well out of the way for the remainder of that day - I sought out the captain and asked him if I could visit the bridge. Once there it was easy - he was delighted to find someone with such an interest in weather and navigation and I spent the rest of the day giving me a truly erudite but almost totally incomprehensible introduction to solar and celestial navigation. I finally crept to bed to find Chuck peacefully asleep.

Mrs Martin was not at breakfast next morning. After we had eaten, Mr Martin took me to one side.

"Mary says can you call on her - she needs more treatment."

I couldn't handle that. What had happened the previous day had been unexpected and I could just about square it with my conscience. But I just couldn't casually have sex with a married woman - that was adultery and not acceptable in the early fifties when both parties could find themselves the subject of very public criticism and hostility. I took him to my cabin and extracted the remaining disposable enema bag.

"Harry, Mary is going to need more than one enema - in fact she should really have been taking them on a regular basis. It's going to be your job to attend to it from now on."

"I have to give her an enema?"

"On a regular basis, Harry. I suggest one every week from now on."

"She won't let me. She's never let me."

"Just be forceful. Don't take no for an answer."

He was turning the enema bag over in his hands and he was obviously interested in it - in fact I suspected he was more than interested.

"What she needs is a plain warm water enema, Harry. Why don't you go and do it right now?"

I lay on my bunk and waited to see what happened. Harry returned after about an hour with a glazed expression on his face.

"You knew what would happen, didn't you?"

"I guessed."

He looked bashful, then he started to chuckle.

"I haven't had such a good time since our honeymoon!"

I started to say something, then I heard Mrs Martin calling his name. Harry grinned.

"My turn now. See you later."

I felt real proud. With a minimum of luck, they would be too busy with each other for her to even think about giving Chuck another enema! It had been quite a voyage - we were in the English Channel by this stage, ready to turn the corner and unload cargo and passengers in the centre of London.

I wasn't quite sure what I should do. I could either head for Scotland or stay in London and maybe get a job for a while.....

I asked a cabbie to take me to a mid-price hotel and then I set about trying to contact Robbie - he was now working at the London office of the bank. The English phone system was as inefficient as usual but I eventually got through to his secretary (he had a secretary?) who informed me that Mr Campbell was vacationing on the Continent and was not expected back for a month. London was just as miserable and dreary as it had been the last time I passed through as a fifteen year old boy - god, it was nearly seven years ago! There was nothing to do but head north and I cursed the fact that I could not even call ahead to let The Campbell know that I was coming.

It seemed like the same train too. Grossly overcrowded with stops every few miles, no food and a long line for the bathrooms. I was stiff as a board and I stunk like a horse when I finally alighted at Carlisle. I had missed the bus, of course, and there was no taxi prepared to take me into the country, so I wearily picked up my cases and trudged along in search of a hotel for the night. That's when I saw the large board advertising army surplus goods, and in the adjacent lot several trucks and a couple of jeeps. I hurried in and enquired what the guy wanted for a jeep.

"Hundred quid."

That was about 250 bucks, but a jeep would be ideal transport for me - those things could go absolutely anywhere. He started them up and I selected the one which seemed to be the better of the two.

"I'll give you a hundred and fifty dollars for it."

"Dollars? American dollars?"

"Yes. Greenbacks. Currency. Money."

He wasn't as stupid as he looked. We haggled and eventually settled on two hundred bucks that I paid in cash. He stashed them away real fast - I only found out later that the British weren't allowed to own any foreign currency at that time and that he could sell the dollars for twice their value into the black market. He even gave me a full tank of gas and a set of tools, but I guess he still came out well ahead on the deal.

It was great to be able to get to the castle under my own steam. As usual, cook came out to see what had arrived and her screams of joy brought everyone else running. I endured back- slaps fit to knock me down, hugs and kisses before I was finally taken to the dining room and fed on mutton stew, filled with meat and vegetables and accompanied by thick slices of crusty bread.

Afterwards, The Cameron, Mrs Cameron and I sat with glasses of malt whisky and I had to tell the story of what had happened since we last met. I edited out the most personal bits, of course, but I covered most of the bases right up to my father's sudden death and I asked The Campbell to add my windfall to my growing investment fund. When I finally ground to a halt, Mrs Campbell gave me one of her special looks.

"What's troubling you, Jason?"

"Ma'am...."

She held up a hand to stop me.

"My name is Caireann, Jason. You're not a child any more."

I took a deep breath.

"Caireann, I'm frightened of what I have done and what I might do. I came close to killing another person and those who were watching knew it. They called me 'Killer'."

"Tell me about it."

I explained about being accosted by the homo and how I had injured him badly. I told them that I was afraid that next time I would kill someone. The Campbell grunted.

"You just need control, boy. The Seaforth Highlanders have moved in to the base at Ayr - I'll have a wee word with their colonel."

I discovered that they had acquired a phone since the last time I had visited with them. The Campbell spent a long time arranging things, then announced that one of their sergeants was prepared to give me a few lessons - starting at nine the next morning.

I drove over the hill track in my jeep and I was admitted to the camp and taken to a large gymnasium in which stood a small, grizzled soldier in shirt and shorts. He looked me up and down when I explained who I was.

"Aye. Well, I'm no surprised a queer came up to ye. Ye look awfu' queer tae me."

"I'm not a homo."

"Ye look like wan tae me. Fucking pansy Yank kid - all mouth and no guts."

"Hey - I won't take that from anybody."

"Oh aye? And just what are ye going tae do about it? Ye winna fight, I know that!"

I lost my temper and launched myself at him - and suddenly found myself flat on my face with my arm on the point of breaking as he forced it up my back. His broad accent had suddenly disappeared as he hissed in my ear.

"Lesson one, laddie. The first to lose his temper usually loses the fight."

That was the start of a long and painful day as he contemptuously brushed aside all my efforts to hurt him. He even handed me a real knife and riled me until I actually did try to stab him with it. I ended up with a small red dot on the front of my throat as he demonstrated that he was well able to disarm me and then use the knife against me.

Once he had reduced me to a feeling of total impotence, he started to demonstrate how to defend myself and how to turn from defence to attack.

"But mainly you never need to attack. Just knock them down hard and they'll usually run away."

The Cameron obviously had a great deal of influence with the colonel, because the lesson was continued over five days. I learned to control myself, to defend myself against fists, boots and weapons and how to incapacitate my opponent without doing permanent damage. Finally the sergeant announced that I would 'do' and shook my hand.

"Good luck, laddie. And always remember - a swift kick to the balls will fell the strongest man. Never warn, never threaten, never signal your blow - just kick him in the goolies when he least expects it."

I asked The Campbell what I should do to show my gratitude and on his recommendation I dispatched several bottles of whisky to the sergeant and to the colonel - and I still reckoned it was cheap! Then The Campbell sprang another surprise.

"Get in your wee car and take us down to Glasgow. There's someone you need to meet."

'Someone' turned out to be the Dean of the medical school at Glasgow University, a bearded patriarch who looked old enough to have carried the lamp for Florence Nightingale. Apparently The Cameron was an old friend and had asked him if there was some way of me keeping up with my medical studies during my enforced year of idleness. I was astonished at the fact that the British had no pre-med courses and that they started medical school proper at eighteen, straight out of highschool! Even more astonishing was the fact that there were no school fees, not since their Labour government had passed a law making all education totally free!

I would have expected a mob storming the place and demanding to be admitted, but apparently there was such a need for people to repair the damage of the war that kids dropped out of school at the age of fourteen and made big money in manual jobs. Few of them were prepared to wait for more than ten years before they earned a red cent - and their parents apparently agreed with that. The contrast with the American system could hardly have been greater - only 3% of British kids graduated highschool and only 1 in 100 went on to university. Medical schools actually had vacancies that they could not fill.

They sent me off to see one of the professors and he greeted me enthusiastically - and he was American. He told me that he had been an army doctor during the war and that he had married a local girl, fallen in love with the country and decided to stay. I had to agree with that - the weather was lousy and the food was scarce, but there was something very special about the rolling hills and the people who lived there. I asked him what his speciality was.

"Heart surgery."

"You operate on hearts? Doesn't it kill people when you cut into them?"

"No - for the first time ever we are learning how to repair hearts just like any other muscle."

"But HOW?"

He looked serious.

"Well - this isn't secret, but we don't talk about it very much. During the war, the Nazis did a lot of really awful medical experiments on prisoners in concentration camps. They found out how to cool the entire body down so much that it gives time to do the surgery because the body needs very little oxygen."

"They did that?"

He nodded.

"Yes. They killed a lot of innocent people before they worked it all out. Some doctors thought that we should just have destroyed all records, but most of us decided that would mean those people had died totally in vain. This way their suffering at least helps others. It wasn't an easy decision, but I know it was the right one whenever I see a child walk out of here instead of being bedridden for a short and miserable life."

He took me over to the hospital and I saw kids whose lips were blue and whose bodies were feeble waiting for surgery and others with large vertical "zippers" on their chests, pink and hungry, just raring to be out of the hospital to catch up on their lives. That's when I knew what I was going to do as a doctor - I too was going to give the gift of life to kids born with defective hearts.

The professor walked me back to the Dean's office where I discovered that a deal had been done to save my lost year. I was offered a place on their first year course and both Dean and Professor were certain that they had plenty of contacts with American med-schools to ensure that they would accept it for full credit when I went back. At the very least, it would give me something to fill my time - and all for free! I accepted immediately, of course.

It wasn't practical to commute from the castle, particularly when winter came, so I had to find somewhere to live. I rejected the idea of a lodging house - I was far too independent now to have someone supervising my life. The Campbell proved invaluable - where realtors might have been wary about renting to a young foreign man, his stature eased the way and reassured them. Finally we found the ideal place - a small cottage on the side of a hill just outside the city, close enough to commute, distant enough to provide privacy. It was cheap too - cars were very much a rarity and nobody wanted a place that involved a walk of five miles to the nearest bus stop.

The Campbell indicated that we should leave the office and as soon as we were outside he astonished me again.

"Don't rent it. Buy the place."

"What? Buy a house?"

"Surely. I saw that it was on sale for four hundred pounds and that makes it a great investment - just $1000. He wants two pounds per week in rent - that's a 25% return on your capital. It's in a good location too - in a couple of years time you will be able to double your money if you want to sell. If you decide to stay here for the full university course, you will live rent free and still make a killing when you sell it. Things are starting to move, laddie - housing is going to really rise in price, believe me."

I stared at him. Until that moment it had never crossed my mind that I might not go back to the US after one year. But things had changed a lot in my life - the nearest thing I had to a family was the Campbells. If I went back to the States, I would be entirely on my own. The thing that really clinched it, though, was Professor Miller's heart surgery unit - maybe he would give me a job in it after I graduated so that I could learn the techniques.

"Yeah. Let's do it."

The realtor was surprised when we returned and I offered him three-fifty cash for the cottage. He took it so fast that I reckon I could have gotten away with less, but it was an incredibly low price for my own place. It even had electricity - the poles ran along the road and someone had arranged for it to be connected. The water came from a well and needed pumping each morning to a storage tank in the attic. The place had a bathroom, but the toilet was outside - that was normal for those days, but I made a mental note to see if I could move it inside. Winter would mean a frozen butt!

Furnishing it was no problem. The Campbell supplied most of the stuff from items stored in one of his barns. On his advice I bought a huge rectangular stove called an 'AGA' - it burned just about anything, it cooked on the top, produced as much hot water as anyone could need and it would warm the entire place in the winter. The only other thing I bought was a second- hand bed with a brand new mattress - a big bed just in case I found someone who might share it with me.

I got an immense amount of literature from the university telling me what books to buy and what equipment I would need for my first year. I was already familiar with the fact that every university has at least one second-hand bookshop near to it where graduating students recycle their textbooks and, sure enough, there were notices in the entrance hall of the medical school for both books and equipment. The rest of the students had not yet arrived, so they still had copies of all of the required books at about half of the cost of new ones. I also needed to supplement my instruments - I needed dissecting probes, a dental mirror, scissors and a few other minor items, so I called at the large store which seemed to sell everything up to and including an iron lung. They filled my order immediately and I also bought a couple of new items - stainless steel scalpels which did not rust and which they claimed needed much less sharpening than the old ones.

I also noticed that they had the usual array of rubber bags and pipes and my asshole began to twitch and send out signals that it had been neglected for far too long - it was months since I had taken an enema. The clerk was most obliging and recommended a strange round enema bag that reminded me of a pumpkin and whose capacity seemed to be enormous. Then he displayed another item.

"This is the Higginson pattern syringe. It's our biggest seller by far - no bags, no clips, just a bowl of warm water. Very popular for the busy mother."

I had never seen anything like it. Basically it was a bulb syringe but one which sucked as well as blew - a round rubber bulb in the centre of a rubber tube that could be used as a pump. I bought one, of course, and then asked for a rectal tube. They had a wide selection, so I purchased one of the longest - you didn't have to put it all in, did you?

I drove back to the cottage and unpacked my purchases. It was just wonderful being alone in my own place, knowing that I could do anything I wanted without fear of interruption. I filled up the big pumpkin bag and then stripped naked before I lay on the bed and slid the shaped nozzle into place. Then I gave myself a slow, erotic enema while my mind dwelled on girls I had known - and one married woman, of course. It was easy to roll on to my back with the tube still in place and that allowed me to indulge myself in a long, slow session of masturbation, made extra special by smearing my hand with vaseline to provide lubrication. I didn't even need to put any clothes on when my system finally rebelled against the quantity of liquid which had entered and I had to run outside to use the fairly primitive toilet. Even there I was able to leave the door open!

The final thing I needed to do before term started was to take a physical, something which was compulsory for all medical students - I guessed they either wanted to be sure we wouldn't infect that patients or that we didn't blame them for some disease we already had. That brought back memories of my childhood physicals and the preparation for them.

My mother always insisted that I had to be perfect. The preparation started with trimming my nails and then a long session with a Q-tip to make sure that my ears were clean. All the while I knew what was waiting for me - what mom called 'a really good enema'. It involved more liquid than usual and warmer too, and it took about half an hour of tantalisingly slow injection before my young bowels finally signalled that they could take no more.

Then I had to have my main BM, but remain close to the toilet as two or three more emerged, leaving me feeling totally and completely drained of all material. Finally came the bath, the only time that mom insisted on personally cleaning every square inch of my skin - including the couple of square inches that hung out in front. When I was little, that was the really nice part of the procedure because it made my little dinkie stand up straight and produce really nice feelings when she did it. I had finally rebelled against the bath, but not the enema, when I was twelve and I had discovered just what a boner meant. Mom had accepted it with some annoyance and only because I was just about as tall as she was at that age.

The idea of repeating mom's preparation seemed like a really good excuse for trying out the rectal tube. I pulled it out of its packet and slid it between my fingers, trying to imagine what it would feel like in use - it was thicker and longer than the one I had experienced with Hannah and I took the time to savour the anticipation before I finally filled the bag and attached the greased tube to it.

I eased it gently into my ass and enjoyed the sensation as the blunt end penetrated into my rectum. It made me think of the different types of pipe that could deliver an enema. The simple straight pipe was businesslike - it was there for one simple purpose and it achieved it with a minimum of cost and complexity - just a kind of mailman doing a liquid delivery.

The shaped nozzle was different. It was like someone you had known for years, comfortable and easy going, someone who fitted snugly into your life with ease - and then told you dirty stories.

Rubber was different. It was female. It was exciting and threatening at the same time, tamed but unpredictable, sneaking into places where nobody else could go, seeking out your deepest desires and sometimes fulfilling them. Oh yes - definitely female.

I let the tube just lie there for a while, then I slid it deeper, savouring the lubricated surface gently caressing my anus and the feeling that wasn't quite a feeling as the end probed tissues which were devoid of nerve endings but could transmit pressure to the underlying flesh. I moved it in and out, enjoying the anal stimulation, something I had never been able to do before.

I started a slow flow of liquid and continued my manipulation of the rectal tube - it was particularly nice when I almost withdrew it and then slowly probed around within my anal canal, but at the same time the slow increase of internal pressure added its own peculiar pleasure. It was incredibly sensuous and immensely enjoyable - and it was really nice to be able to take as long as I wanted, to grunt and pant and then slow things down again and finally to come to a magnificent orgasm before I ran for the outhouse.

When I turned up for my physical, I was surprised to see that it was Professor Miller in the examining room - and it showed on my face. He laughed.

"I'm a member of the teaching staff as well as a surgeon. We all have to take our turn with teaching and with this sort of thing. Just strip to your pants and we'll get this done."