Erotica By Bravo - Dighton & Forrest: A Game of Golf

Part 3 of 3

I. The 4th hole

“It’s so sexist of me to go first all the time,” Sasha said as they approached the 4th tee. “Why don’t you go first this time, Peter.”

“It’s not a question of sexism,” said Peter, loftily. “The person who is losing the contest should go first.”

Sasha waggled her driver at him. “Go first, Peter. I insist.”

Peter grinned and approached the tee. He swung his club back, but just as he started swinging forward, Sasha coughed loudly.

Peter mis-hit the ball and sent it skittering into the trees.

“Oh, Peter, I’m so sorry,” said Sasha, contritely. She coughed again. “Something in my throat.”

“Not to worry, darling,” said Peter, grimly.

Sasha went to her own tee, set up her ball, and addressed it. Taking a deep breath, she swung with all her might. She smacked the ball solidly and it sailed through the air further than any of her previous attempts.”

“Yeah, baby!” cried Sasha.

“You’re getting better,” said Peter grimly.

Sasha found her ball, and stood there while Peter rooted around for his. Eventually he gave up and fetched another ball from the bucket. He dropped it just outside the line of woods, and made a note on his scorecard of the extra stroke.

Full of confidence, Sasha took her iron and swung with all her might. The ball ricocheted off the club at practically a 90 degree angle and disappeared into the trees.

“Argh!” cried Sasha, shaking her golf club at the woods in rage, as Peter burst out laughing.

Peter won the hole, and as they returned to the cart Sasha removed her yellow vest and stuffed it behind her seat. She undid a couple more buttons on her white shirt and breathed deeply.

II. The 5th Hole

“After you, Peter,” Sasha said.

Peter grinned. “You don’t think you’re going to catch me out again, do you?” he asked.

Sasha looked hurt. “There was something in my throat!”

Peter teed up his ball, assumed his stance, closed his eyes and attempted to center his concentration, then swung the club smoothly and smacked the ball with authority. It sailed gracefully through the air and bounded forward several more yards once it hit the ground.

Sasha grimaced. “Very good,” she said.

She addressed her own ball. Just as she started swinging her club forward, Peter yelled, “Fore!”

Sasha’s ball shot sideways and into the woods once more.

As Sasha walked past Peter towards the trees she said out of the corner of her mouth, “You’re going to pay for this.”

Peter grinned.

As they walked back to the golf cart at the conclusion of the hole, Sasha undid the buckle and slipped her belt out of its loops. She stuffed it behind her seat as Peter drove blithely to the next tee.

III. The Sixth Hole

“The wind is picking up,” Peter noted, as they stood at the sixth tee. “And look at those clouds over there. Very dark.”

Sasha nodded. “We’re going to have some rain pretty soon.”

“Might be all for the best,” said Peter. “More privacy for us if its pouring down.”

“I don’t think so,” said Sasha. “From what I’ve heard, neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail shall keep a golfer from his appointed round.”

“Well, we’d better not dally then. Four holes to go. I assume you want me to tee off first.”

Sasha grinned. “You assume correctly.”

Peter teed off, while Sasha watched in silence. “You are getting better,” she said grudgingly. “Every time you tee off the ball goes further.”

“Except those times when they go into the trees,” Peter said cheerfully. “But I think I’ve got the knack of it now.”

“Yeah. Let’s see what I can do.”

Sasha also teed off in Peter’s silence. He nodded his approbation. “Not bad. Just a few yards shorter than mine. And right on the fairway.”

“Yeah, unlike Phil Mickelson who apparently can’t hit a fairway to save his life.” (Sasha spoke with some bitterness. She and Peter had spent the last four days watching the Bridgestone Open in order to get some visual training for their little golf game, and to make it interesting they’d had a side bet. Sasha had bet that Mickelson would be able to place 4th or better, and wrest the title of #1 golfer from Tiger Woods. But Mickelson had ended up playing the final round as poorly as had Tiger Woods, and from his 6th place start he had plummeted all the way down to finish in 46th. 46th! As a result, she’d had to bear the entire cost of this round of golf herself, and would have to treat Peter to dinner later on that night, as well. Maddening.)

After Sasha reached the green, she approached the ball with her putter confidently. Three putts later, she kicked the ball in the hole with her foot.

“How much did you pay for these clubs, Peter?” she asked as they headed back toward the golf cart. She held the putter at both ends, and tested its rigidity briefly.It refused to bend.

Once at the cart, Sasha peeled off her white shirt and stuffed it behind her seat.

Peter’s eyes took in her long neck, and her well tanned shoulders appreciatively, then descended downward, to see her perfect breasts not swelling out of her bra but rather filling out a white tube top rather nicely.

“What the hell?” said Peter. “Tube top??”

Sasha shrugged her perfect shoulders, and grinned wickedly. “I thought it best to be prepared for the worst…. And hell…my golf game…who would’ve thought putting would be the hardest thing about this stupid game?”

As Peter drove toward the next hole, Sasha rested her left arm across the back of his seat, while she held on to the top of the cart with her right hand. This gave Peter an excellent view of her toned arms and décolletage, had he not been forced to concentrate on his driving.

He smiled to himself. Three more holes to go. And then...