Chapter 12

Tess' tee time was pretty early -- 9:12 a.m., but many groupings had teed off earlier, and there were many more to come. The field at the CIGNA tournament seemed bigger, and the first-tee craziness more unnerving, than it had been at the Hammond tournament.

Maybe it was because I was so much more invested in Tess' success than I had been. In Hammond, I'd been her caddie, her driver, and her newfound friend.

Now, our friendship, if that's what it was, had become more intimate by light years. Tess had changed from a big, intimidating, sexy girl to my big, hyper-sexy lover.

Oh, I hadn't forgotten our agreement that this wasn't supposed to be serious. We had that understanding, right from the beginning. We were going to be friends with benefits. We were going to be recreational bed-partners.

And, although Tess had never said it in so many words, last night's 3 a.m. blowjob was evidence of what I had been suspecting all along: Our sexual encounters were serving as tension-releasers for her.

I was her Prozac on a stick. Maybe nothing more than that.

Our relationship was, unfortunately, starting to mean a lot more than that, to me. If I could relieve some of Tess' tension, calm her nerves; if I could help to prepare her for battle, well, that was fine by me. I hoped I meant more to her than that, but, hey, was I complaining?

Fuck, no! Is your job this good? Oh, but you say you've got a nice 401(k)? Well, lah-dee-dah! Just keep it, Henry! The only retirement plan I'm concerned about, right now, is what time Tess and I are gonna hit the sack tonight!

OK, so the tournament, displaying all the organization of a fire drill in a nursing home, lurched along in excellent weather. Tess' foursome didn't get off on time, but they eventually got their shot at the first tee and Tess, who had the honor, really laid into her drive. It looked like damned close to 300 yards, and I smiled as I watched her three rivals look at each other with fear in their eyes.

After everybody had hit (with the longest competing drive 30 yards shy of Tess' ball and in the second cut of rough), the two of us strolled down the fairway together and I asked her how she felt.

"I hit the snot out of that one, didn't I?" she said, grinning like an idiot. "I feel fantastic!"

"Keep it going," I told her quietly. "You're going to get tired, but just tell yourself, 'Bullshit, I ain't tired, ' and keep it going."

"No, I'm good," she said.

She was, too. She was fine. She birdied that first hole and sliced and diced the front nine for four under at the turn. Nobody else in her foursome was even playing par golf.

Things got a little hairier on the back nine. Her lack of sleep was starting to take a toll. She gave back a stroke on thirteen, and carded a couple of listless pars on the next two holes -- including a long Par Five that, normally, she would have expected to birdie with some ease.

Waiting at the sixteenth tee for the group ahead of them to move on, I spoke softly into her ear again. "No practice tonight. No going out to dinner. I'm gonna take you back to the bus, and tuck you in, and serve you dinner in bed. The finest dinner that Lean Cuisine can concoct!"

She smiled. "That sounds nice. I'm really whipped," she said.

"Three more. The leaderboard in this place sucks wind, but I wouldn't be surprised to find out you're ahead of the whole field, right this minute! Three more holes."

"I know. But I'm really whipped," she said.

"Listen," I told her in a whisper, "I'd like to help, but I just can't let you suck my cock, right out here in public."

She sputtered with laughter. "But maybe later," she said, still chuckling.

I don't take credit for it, but I think she got a second wind. The wait at sixteen was interminable, but it was a kind-of blessing, too. Gillette Ridge was a grueling course to walk, and after the Thursday pro-am events, the golf carts had, of course, disappeared.

Hell, I was tired myself, and I had slept like a baby all night. But then of course, I had lost quite a quantity of precious bodily fluids.

And so, my tuckered-out Tess birdied sixteen and seventeen, and finished the round with a five-under 67!

My wild, unsupported statement at the 16^th tee about where she stood in the tournament turned out to be dead-on. When the sun went down, Tess was alone in first place.