I put on the low-heeled shoe fromKaran. The gray top was form fitting but I decided not to wear thecincher tonight. How I would approach Matt was on m... mind since I'd sentthe text. He would be there ahead of me and at our spot at the far endof the bar, the TV area the pub set for alternative sports. The Tour deFrance wasn't mainstream here. I knew he'd be alone, but the discussionneeded to be considered.'Hi Matt', 'Hello, how'd you know my name?' 'It's me, Michael' 'Get outof here'; it could be. I would loop all morning long, lugging two, sometimes three bags at a time, learning form and etiquette, watching every move the players made and the subtle swing changes needed to draw or fade that ornery white ball. Come afternoon I carried my own bag, playing as many holes as the daylight would permit, fine-tuning the stances and swing planes I had studied earlier that morning. The love affair had begun. Life was glorious. But before you go off thinking that this story is going to be about. She was straddling me in the chair before I could even move. Totally naked, she grabbed my head and gave me on of those slobbering, open mouth, tongue sucking kisses that goes right to the core of your body and starts the blood pumping and the heart beating. “I was only gone for five days, but I really missed this!” she said. “Are you hard?” “Yes I am,” I responded. “Take it out. I want to play with it so bad!” Sarah stood up, displaying her beautiful body. I undid my pants and pulled them. "I think it's starting to permanently affect my spine." Those are The Chipster's girls," he said knowingly."Yeah, no shit," I said."Seriously, man," he said, "I was in there talking to Chipper earlier this afternoon, trying to help him understand the offense — which is, like, well, never mind. Anyway, there's this knock on the door, and he opens it up, and there's this goddess there, with a bunch of guys trailing behind her like the dust behind that Road Runner dude. And Chipper just stands.