"That's what we call bad follow-through," I joked.I was more aware of Erin when I held her during her next practice swing. I was aware of how her body...felt in my arms, the scent of her hair, and the smell of her perfume. My dick stirred and was semi-hard the rest of our time. My dick caused a disturbance in my own game.We only played the front nine. By that time, Erin had plenty of experience in the rough and in sand traps because holes four through six were hell for her game, but she kept a. It's really not that big of a deal, but it was really exciting for us. We got a room and went to Patrick's to listen to some music and be ready for anything interesting to happen. We have a pre-arranged plan to play with strangers that we both agree on. We have signals for approval which consist of knowing looks and probably some sort of mental connection. It might just be a nod, smile, verbal, or whatever. Anyways we were having a good time in the crowded bar listening and dancing to a good. The little ding! ding! of the bell over the diner's door greeted her cheerfully. A large black man behind the small kitchen window in the back yelled out to her, "Kelly, ma chère ! Sit down, honey, and I'll bring you your sandwich." Kelly stood by the register in the front, relishing the sudden quiet and familiar smells. The world felt slow here. Looking through the old, dusty large front windows made the city outside seem like a movie playing at a drive-in theater on a warm summer night. Even. Even now she was stopping me from seeing him. But she had to let me know - out of guilt, or to drive the knife deeper in my back? I hated that woman. I knew from my medical experience Damien had a hard fight ahead of him to survive and recover. He was young and strong and that was in his favour but he wasn't invincible. I recalled how he felt when Id stitched his wound. How he hated needles. Was she lying just to keep me away? Was he laying in that bed full of needles and tubes, terrified and.