Long after the sun had set, Wade locked the door of the field house.
Since the course had closed that day, he and his team had sprayed insecticides and applied growth enhancers to the grass. They had seeded trees and laid sod. Following the numerous bad golfers, they had even repaired divots and ball marks.
By this hour, Wade’s summer employees had left for home or their girlfriends. He worked them hard. The job forced them to question whether maintaining a golf course was worth a career. Many never returned for a second summer of work. Some even had quit before the summer was done.
Yet, working the boys hard wore out Wade too.
He felt his shoulders hurt and neck ache in his walk from the field house to the three-story clubhouse. The pain and soreness were exacerbated by the frustration of bottlenecks on the course and complaining club members—along with the everyday maintenance duties.
Wade pulled open the doors to the bar on the ground floor of the clubhouse, Hole 10. The room was darkened with the deeply stained oak walls and ceiling—a mid-century smoke room.
Wade plopped onto a barstool. His head slumped and shoulders rolled forward, arching his back.
The bartender, Richie, appeared. “What can I get for a tired old man?”
“The cheapest beer you got.”
Richie set down a see-through beer in a glass.
But a loud voice interrupted Wade before he could drink.
“You putting that beer on the rest of the day’s tab, Wade?”
Charles set a stack of papers heavily on the corner of the bar.
“Giving members multiple rounds of drinks on the house. You better have a damn good reason for that.” Charles, the club manager, lowered his thick eyebrows and squinted harshly, waiting for Wade’s answer.
“Bottlenecks. Trying to appease the players held back on the course.”
“What time was that today?”
“Around 3, maybe half-past two. I don’t know exactly.” Wade grabbed his wet glass.
Charles scanned through his paperwork. He pulled out a folder and shuffled through the receipts inside.
“Well, there was $132.12 of free drinks at 11 this morning. Then there was another $126.56 at 3:30. See how much money that is? And now I have a $4 beer to add to it. You really messed up today. Really, really messed up.”
“I had to calm down the angry members. One group was playing too slow and I heard complaints and then one member offered them free drinks to not be so mad. That was the 3 o’clock drink orders.”
“Don’t tell me that member is Debbie Dearing again.”
Wade only blew out his frustration. “She’s been a hassle since she became a member. Beautiful women can get away with murder.”
“Or, worse, give away $250 in free drinks.”
“And it all comes back to me.”
Charles flapped closed the folder and plopped the other paperwork on top of it. “Frustrating. Someone’s got to take the fall for her murder. We can’t just let it go. The tab’s got to be paid.”
“Fine, Charles, I’ll cover the cost, dammit.” He pushed the full beer glass forward.
“Better drink that shit-beer. It’s on your tab too,” Charles said.
Wade guzzled the beer in several gulps and then wiped his mouth.
As Charles was leaving, Wade called out, “Debbie’s making me hate tits. You know that? They’re like … like …”
Charles paused. “What let her get away with her crimes.”
“Exactly,” Wade agreed. “She actually flashed me, thinking it would solve all my problems.”
Wade shook his head angrily.
Richie slid over, wiping a white towel down the bar top.
“Sorry to interrupt, guys,” Richie said, setting his forearms on the bar, “but never diss boobs. It’s misogyny, and I will not—never—stand by and let tits be hated on and belittled. For god’s sake, tits are precious. It’s peace, love, and tits.”
“Fuck you,” Wade said.
Charles agreed. “Shut up and get cleaning.”
Richie smeared the damp, white hand towel across the oak bar. “Hey, it’s my attempt at standing up for women. It’s the one thing I can do.”
Wade turned to him. “If you love tits so much, help me cover this drink bill.”
“I said speaking up for their rights is all I can do. I work here. I don’t get paid enough to help with the bill. Sorry.” Then he dragged the towel to the far end of the bar.
Wade looked at Charles.
“Sorry about this. I will control the course better and keep an eye out when Debbie reserves a tee time. That may help.”
“Head it off at the pass,” Charles said. But he eased his stern face. “Just pay half the drink cost. The club will absorb the rest. But don’t let it get that far again. The margins are small already for us.”
Charles nodded. He left for his office, paperwork in hand.
“Head it off at the pass,” Wade repeated Charles’s maxim quietly. He stood up from the bar. Wade went to Charles’s office.
“Can you look up Debbie’s phone number? I need to have a chat about reserving tee times. If she comes through me, I can arrange things.”
Charles didn’t say anything, scrolling through the database. He grabbed a pen, clicked its end and jotted down the number.
Sitting at the Hole 10 bar, Wade called Debbie.
“Good evening, Ms. Dearing. Wade here—Wade from the country club.”
“This is unexpected. Is something wrong?” she asked.
“No, no.” And Wade chuckled lightly. “I want to work out a deal with you. After today—”
“Oh, yes, today. The angry members.”
Wade twisted on the barstool and rested his right elbow on the hard wood.
“Yes, well, I’m trying to avoid that happening again. To do so, I would like you to contact me directly to reserve a tee time.”
“Am I special? No online reservations or talking to teenie-boppers to schedule a time?”
“I think it’ll work out for the best, as far as I can see. Work with me for a few months. Nothing against you or you being a member—all our members are important—and, because of that, talking to me directly can help everyone out. Fair?”
“I guess so. I’ve got your number now, so I’ll call when I want to play. I can do that.”
He released a slight breath of frustration over the phone. “That’d be nice. It will, I think, make my days less frustrating.”
“Frustrating, me?”
“No, not you exactly. Grumpy, old men to deal with.”
“That bad a day, huh?”
Wade now rested his left arm on the bar as he spoke into the phone.
“The drink costs were up, and I had complaints raised to the boss …”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Debbie said softly. “I knew golfers were bitchy, but enough to ruin your day? The day couldn’t have been—wasn’t—saved by two good things?”
He sighed his pent-up frustration into the phone and vented, as if speaking to a therapist.
“The complaints never stop, and I try to keep things operating as best as possible. As soon as it gets settled and operating smoothly, a tiny tweak, and it’s all fucked up—worse than it had been.” He huffed. “Some days though. Some fucking days.”
“Life always needs to be reorganized.”
“Yep, hey, it’s life.”
“It’s life in the service industry,” Debbie said.
Their call was silent for a moment, and Wade began to say goodbye when Debbie spoke again.
“I feel bad about today, really bad—how I ruined everything.”
“Now wait, Ms. Dearing. You didn’t ruin everything. Don’t take my comment like I’m blaming you for …”
“I will make it up to you. How much was the drink cost? I can pay for it all. I don’t want you to get stuck with the bill.”
“The club is fine with the bill—not a problem. We’ve got the funds to handle it. They—it’s covered the cost.”
Their conversation quieted again. Wade checked his watch.
“I appreciate your willingness and understanding. On behalf of the club, I’d like to—”
“Quit the ‘club’ bullshit, Wade,” she gruffed. “Anyway, I will do my part, because you’re good to me. Good to me as Wade, the man—not Wade, a club representative.”
“Thank you, Debbie, on behalf of Wade. Have a good night.”
Wade set down his phone on the bar. The clack echoed off the walls in the silent Hole 10. Wade’s shoulders steadied again, having headed off a problem at the pass.
His beer was gone and the mug was cleaned and drying in the sink. He stood to leave for home.
His phone buzzed. He rolled his eyes.
“Yes, Ms. Dearing. How may I help you?”
“Hi, Wade. I would like to reserve a tee time. Can you do that for me?”
“I’m out of the office,” he said with a tinge of frustration. “I don’t have access to the reservation calendar at the moment.”
“I’m sure no one has reserved the time. Positive no one has it.”
“Oh really. What is the time, Ms. Dearing?” He added her name in his frustration at her absurdity.
“At 12 midnight tonight.”
Wade laughed once. “Appreciate you for following our arrangement. But the course is closed.”
“Well, Wade, open the course for me. A night game.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Dearing, but no. I’m going home.”
“Then you and me. All drinks on me.”
“You’re feeling pretty guilty about today. I told you it wasn’t a problem. All taken care of. You’ve made my day great.”
“Not from what you told me a few minutes ago.”
“Our arrangement erased all my frustrations. Every last one of them.”
“Okay. If you say so,” she said, although her voice conveyed that she didn’t believe him.
“I do say so.”
Again, he set down his phone and heard the echoing clack on the bar. He stretched. His feet hurt and his neck was still tense. He checked his watch and realized he would be back here in just a few hours before sunrise.
At home, he pulled open his refrigerator and found only a box of baking soda, a to-go container from Hole 10, and a single tall can of beer. He checked his watch. His stomach growled, so he grabbed his phone.
“It’s only 10:15,” he said before Debbie could say hello. “Have you had anything to eat tonight?”
“Nope.”
A half-hour later, the pair had put in the last orders at the local Frostie Freeze. He set down the tray on a pink picnic table underneath the large, glowing ice cream cone. He ate half of his first chili dog in a bite and grabbed several fries at once. Debbie nonchalantly noshed her soft-serve ice cream. She let her mouth smooth the cream. She shaped a pointed tip with a tiny curl. Then she slid her tongue around the contour to narrow the cone.
Wade slurped on his soda and wiped his mouth. “I needed that. Teenage food satisfies at any age.”
“Teenage food. Good description.” Sharon watched the teens in the crown caps and matching duds cleaning inside the tiny food stand and wrestling trash bags from the dented, pink trash cans.
“So, Debbie,” Wade said, “how long you been a golfer?”
“Since a little girl. My dad loved to golf and got me on the course before I was a teen.”
“High school, college teams?”
“Both. In fact,” she brushed the fingernails of her free hand on her blouse, “we won our division in college.”
“What does a women’s golf team do after winning a championship like that?”
Before answering, she again shaped the ice cream cone with her mouth. Then she dragged her tongue up the ice cream.
Wade squinted at the woman across the picnic table. “You did not. Your team did not.”
“Did what?” she answered with a slight, sarcastic gasp. “I don’t know what you are insinuating.”
“You probably went to a movie.”
“What would guys do—Wait! You’d never know, would you?”
Wade stopped his slurping and set aside the large-size cup.
A smile broke his face. “You’re so, so bad. Disrespecting me like that. I can show you what they’d do. It’s not complicated or philosophical.”
Debbie nibbled off the tip of the ice cream.
“Debbie, you’re playing some games with a tired man. It may end up bad for you.”
She ran her tongue, wide, up the side of the cone. “It’ll be bad for me?”
“For all you’ve done today, I might just take you behind the Frostie Freeze and rough you up.”
She looked at him aghast. “Too many kids around.”
“Too bad.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get back to work soon.”
“Soon? It’s only 11 o’clock,” she asked.
He stood from the picnic table and dumped his refuse into the pink trashcan that the teen had just cleaned out.
“Yep, I got a midnight tee time—at my place.”
“Odd time. How about I come along.”
“Got to follow me fast in the car. I don’t want to be late.”
The pair of cars zipped through the empty streets, dashing under the odd streetlights. They then quickstepped into Wade’s bungalow.
Wade left Debbie in the living room.
“It’s quarter to 12,” Debbie called, looking at the digits on his oven.
Wade stepped into view in only his shorts.
“Then we’re right on time.” He grabbed Debbie and shoved her against the wall, expelling a minute gasp from her. And he kissed her viciously. They panted and grunted and wheezed in their furious make-out.
Then his lips moved down her neck and to her collarbones.
Debbie’s face winced in the pleasure and Wade’s veracity.
“Yes,” she panted, “so good, so good.” Her head twisted to the side as his hands slid under her blouse.
He took hold of the flesh she had bared to him on the golf course hours ago.
He felt Debbie’s fingernails grip his back, but he pushed her harder against the wall, pressuring her whole body.
Debbie’s arms raised up high on the wall to give no encumbrances to his feast. Her face continued to wince and her head twisted as he gobbled her.
In a sudden pause, Wade grabbed her shirt and yanked it over her head. To help, Debbie slipped out of her bra. Without speaking, Wade ravaged her breasts, sucking and biting and squashing the flesh.
Debbie tried to grab him but before she had a chance, he lifted her off the floor. Her legs wrapped around his waist as her back slid upward higher on the wall. Her shoulders knocked down a picture. It was of Wade and his friends standing on a famous golf course in Scotland. The glass shattered and the frame cracked on the linoleum floor. But it did not deter Wade’s ferocity.
Debbie grabbed Wade’s ears, tugging them until his lips reached hers again.
Their tension had been boiling since earlier that afternoon at Hole 5. Now both were unleashing frustration, passion, desire. They were furious—almost angry.
Wade removed her as his wall pinup and pinned her to his couch.
He undid his belt. The buckle hit Debbie’s knee. However, she was in a state of wildness and did not feel it. Wade stripped off his shorts and jockeys.
Debbie’s hand immediately took a restricting grasp on his freed erection. Her hand, cooler than his pulsing cock, paused him for a moment. But this wasn’t about a few strokes.
Wade yanked at the bands of both Debbie’s shorts and her panties at once. She raised her hips, so the man above her slid them off in one swoosh. Ms. Dearing was fully naked—exposed above a man with piercing eyes.
She opened her legs. Left leg slung over the couch back. Right leg angled toward the TV.
“Give it to me,” she demanded. “Fuck me.”
She squealed when his cock speared her slippery pussy. He rammed her hard, making her grunt in quick succession. Their heated bodies slapped together. They each growled with the thrusts. Debbie’s tits bounced and whorled. Wade’s muscles tightened.
Soon, Wade paused to catch his breath. In the pause, he shifted Debbie so she was hanging over the arm of the couch. Her leg was lost among the couch cushions. Her other foot fought to keep its hold on the floor.
With a low gnarr, he reentered her slippery pussy and fucked her. He snarled with each deep thrust, forcing her back to straighten with each one. In the midst of the ferocity, he wrapped his arm around her neck, so her face directed toward the ceiling. Debbie’s hands gripped Wade’s constricting forearm. She grimaced and bit her bottom lip as Wade administered his cock to her without remorse.
Soon Wade felt sweat bead on his forehead and his chest heaving for breath.
He paused again and flipped Debbie onto her back. He locked her legs high over her head. Debbie’s pussy was squished between the secured thighs. He worked his dick between her tightened lips. And the fucking continued. With a nearly folded body pushing deep into the plush couch, Debbie expelled roars with each of Wade’s thrusts.
Wade rammed harder and faster and meaner. His face reddened in weariness and tiredness and a sexual collapse. Debbie knew what was happening. Simply seeing him on the brink of cumming brought her over the edge. A last few bumps and he went still.
The pair orgasmed together. Release and pleasure, shivering and stiffness. They were quiet. Finally, Debbie smiled at Wade. He was exhausted.
He fell back to the other end of the couch. His arms stretched wide as if he was sitting in a hot tub.
Soon, the pair eased into the shower to clean up, and then they slept.
Wade awoke three minutes before his alarm bleeped. He turned it off so it didn’t blare. He rolled over and beside him, sleeping soundly on her stomach, was a naked Debbie.
He slipped from the bed. Before leaving for work, he kissed her cheek and jotted a note for her:
Call me about a midnight tee time.
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