Flying Saucer (iii) The Lass

I walked round the island to get my bearings. It was about two miles in circumference. Apart from one house, which was obviously where the Lass lived, there were no signs of civilisation, just sheep and grass. I pitched my tent at the opposite side of the island from the house. Contact with aliens I could deal with, but I wasn't sure I could handle the cultural barriers involved with the Lass, I had little enough experience of women, and none at all of women who spoke only dog whistle and garlic.

 

It was a dark, clear night, perfect for spotting. It was still and quiet, I could hear the sea lapping in and out, as if it were breathing deep, impossible breaths. The moon was a dull red. I inflated my inflatable sofa and relaxed, taking in the universe, wondering if it would come and say hello. It was too idyllic, however, the soporific combination of breathing sea and total silence made it hard to maintain focus, I started to fall asleep. Indeed, unless President Kennedy was on the island with me and had just tweaked my nose and shouted "Wake up Poncho!" I was asleep and dreaming.

 

I woke up with a start. President Kennedy was right to have woken me. There were wee fairee lights all over the sky. A fleet of fairees, not passing over, but whizzing round and round, as if they were watching over me.  A couple of them were low enough for me to see their shape, too round for a standard aircraft (us spotters have a superb working knowledge of all known aircraft, for obvious reasons. It helped that my dad was an RAF man and something of an obsessive). Whatever they were they weren't an aircraft I recognised, and as I knew every plane that existed it could only mean one thing. Aliens.

 

My video camera was already set up on a tripod, so I quickly pointed it to the correct part of the sky, then took out my camera and took four films worth of snaps straight off. And still the lights played, I picked up the video camera and filmed by hand, zooming in on the nearest light to get as good a picture as possible. When the battery died and I had no film left I made notes in my book, taking note of the number, position and direction of the lights, estimating the speeds of the various objects.

 

After an hour the lights finally flew away. I watched the sky avidly for the rest of the night, but there was nothing. As the day started to dawn I returned to my tent to sleep.

 

I set my alarm for the lunchtime boat so that I could rush my film to the Boatman to get developed and gave him instructions to buy more film and to bring them back to me as soon as possible.

 

"Not leaving then?" he said.

 

"No, I daren't. I think I've found the spot."

 

"Ah. Well. See yer this evening."

 

At that point I heard a distinctive whistle. Sure enough Stoaty appeared, followed by the Lass. Barely speaking the Boatman handed her a package, and she handed over some money. She turned and looked at me, then said something to the Boatman.

 

"She's inviting you to lunch," he said.

 

"Is she?"

 

"Yes," the Boatman said.

 

"In which case I'd better accept," I said. "Tell her I'd be delighted."

 

The Boatman translated my response into a single syllable, which I'm guessing edited out my delight. The Boatman made his excuses and left, saying something about the tide waiting for no boatman. I looked at the Lass tentatively, she looked at me ..., well I didn't recognise the look. She followed it with a low pitched whistle and soon we were all three bounding across the island to her house.

 

The house was the sort of house you see on isolated islands. Rugged. Big stone bricks, built to withstand the full force of nature, not distracted by the niceties of architectural fashion. I followed her inside. Without the spoken word to link us we relied on the universal human language. She nodded towards a chair and I sat down. I sat awkwardly, trying to think of something to say, then realised it didn't matter what I said, as she didn't speak a word of English, so started talking about the only subject I found it easy to talk about, UFOs. I told her all about the lights I'd seen overhead, how it corresponded with a series of recent sightings and seemed to be alien in design.

 

She held up her hand to stop me talking. I thought I'd broken some personal record and managed to bore someone who didn't even understand what I was saying, but she just wanted to ask me about lunch. Again we relied on the universal language - she held up a string of sausages. I nodded. She held up some rashers of bacon. Again I nodded. She held up an egg. Again I nodded. This was how mankind would have interacted just after the dawn of time, when there were no linguistic bonds to bind us, communication simply involved holding up a rasher of bacon and seeing what happened.

 

Soon there was fat in a pan and the sound of sizzling.

 

The food smelt good. I realised I hadn't eaten and was stupidly hungry. "The food smells good," I said. "I'm stupidly hungry, I haven't eaten."

 

The words went nowhere.  The only sound in return the sizzle of sausages and the occasional whistle as Lass gave secret instructions to Stoaty. I talked on, giving the Lass a brief history of UK UFO sightings and my small contribution to the supporting canon of literature.

 

With a whistle she signalled to Stoaty that his food was ready. With a glare she signalled to me that my food was ready. The Lass sat next to me on the sofa, Stoaty sat at our feet. The dog, I couldn't help but noticed, had an identical plate to myself and the Lass, even the portions were the same.

 

The Lass and Stoaty had similar table manners, I was the only one using knife and fork. It slowed me down, before I was halfway through Stoaty was licking his plate and the Lass was pouring drinks.

 

She passed me a glass and I took a swig. It was alcohol, it tasted like raw alcohol and I could feel it burning the skin inside my mouth. She drank hers in one gulp.

 

The Lass sat next to me, looking at me in a strange way. I felt awkward, the only one still eating. I passed my plate to Stoaty, thereby making a friend for life. I was about to sit awkwardly wondering what to say when the Lass grabbed my arm and kissed me passionately. I returned her affection as best I could, this was my first time. At my feet I could hear Stoaty enjoying the remnants of my lunch.

 

We kissed for what seemed forever, my jaw muscles were starting to ache and I could no longer feel my tongue. Then suddenly, with a whistle which send Stoaty running out the back door, she nodded towards the stairs.

 

I was terrified. Part of me wanted to follow Stoaty out the door. But I was also delighted. This was what I'd been longing for ever since I hit puberty. A woman. Beckoning me upstairs. Okay, it wasn't exactly as I'd imagined it, she was a total stranger who didn't speak a word of English, and was a bit wild and scary, but all the important features were there. Both of them.

 

In the bedroom the Lass nodded towards the bed. I lay down. She quickly slipped off her clothes and lay next to me. I explored everywhere I'd ever dreamed of exploring, then she showed me how to explore properly. From nowhere she produced a condom, which she expertly fitted onto my very, very erect penis, then climbed onto it, guiding it in like a shepherdess with a hesitant sheep. She whistled again and this time the penis obeyed.

 

The act itself didn't last long. After we'd finished she rooted under the side of the bed and pulled out an A4 card, with English written on it.  "This isn't love," the card read, "I just don't get the opportunity very often."

 

She signalled to me to lie still. I wasn't sure what to do. I could have told her I loved her, but I lacked the requisite signage. Besides, it would have been a lie, and a lie she didn't want to hear. I lay on my back and she explored my naked body. I felt more relaxed than I've ever felt in my life, even more than I felt when lying on my inflatable sofa staring up at an empty night sky imagining the thrill of seeing aliens. Suddenly I felt a twinge in my nether regions. The Lass gave a couple of gentle whistles of encouragement, as if she believed my penis was kin to Stoaty. My penis responded, in no time at all it was erect and pointing at the sky. And so it all began again.

 

Afterwards she reached under the bed, for a different card. It read: 'I still don't love you, but thanks for being persistent'.