Chapter 11

We rented a car at the airport in Honolulu and enjoyed the lengthy drive across Oahu to Turtle Bay Resort, the home of the SBS Open and the first stop on the year's LPGA Tour.

Our suite in this expensive hotel was going to run close to $450 a day, and that kind of money could make even Tess swallow a little hard. But the tournament golf course was right there, walking distance from our rooms. And the Pacific Ocean was right outside the bedroom window. Well, it was on the other side of the bay, actually. But you could see it, out there. All things considered, I thought the rates seemed pretty reasonable.

Of course, none of it was coming out of my salary.

We'd be at the resort until the competition ended on February 17 -- or until Tess missed the cut, whichever came first. If either Tess or Kim was still competing after Friday, we would stay through the 17^th anyway.

The second Hawaiian event, the Fields Open, was in Kapolei, back closer to Honolulu and too far for a convenient daily commute from Turtle Bay. We'd be staying at a different, slightly less expensive hotel there, and for a shorter span of days. Tess' travel agent had squared all this away for her, back in early January.

It wasn't Tess' first time in Hawaii, but she'd never seen Turtle Bay Resort before, or the tournament course there. It was a gorgeous spot, and I could tell that, despite the long flight over from Phoenix, Tess was eager to get a round in.

"You've got tomorrow -- the tenth, and the eleventh, for practice rounds on the Turtle Bay course," I told her. After that, you know it's going to become super-crowded. There's a qualifying round Monday that'll occupy the course for the whole day, and there's a pro-am on Wednesday. Tuesday's supposed to be open for pro practice rounds, but I'll bet Tuesday will also be a real zoo."

"We'll try to do 36 holes tomorrow," Tess said. "And play another round on Sunday. After that, if we have difficulty getting course time, I'll be reasonably satisfied just to practice my putting, and do some routine drills on the range. I just hope Kim can get at least all day Tuesday on the course, before Thursday's opening round."

"She's gonna like this suite," I told Tess. "You might not be able to get her out of the room."

"Oh, yeah, and that's always been such a problem, with our girl Kim!"

Saturday -- five days before the tournament officially would begin -- the Turtle Bay course already was a madhouse. Oh, it was impeccably managed, but it was mass confusion, all the same. There were dozens of frantic professionals, trying to learn the course, and most of them acting as if the tournament would begin the next morning. And there were more dozens of regular members of the club, trying to get in a weekend round before the pros officially took the place over, starting Monday.

Tess managed, however, to get on the course pretty early for a practice round. She played with a married couple members of the club and distant acquaintances of her family. Without their intercession, her tee time would likely have been around 4 p.m.

Tess shot a 76 in the wind, but she didn't seem unduly concerned about her inflated score for the round. Her hosts, Mr. and Mrs. Matsazuki, thought she was fantastic. They both seemed thrilled at the opportunity to play the round with a genuine tour professional -- however green Tess might be.

Mr. Matsazuki, in particular, seemed to be taken with my Tess. He stayed cool and polite all day, and I doubt whether even his own wife noticed anything unusual in his behavior.

But, I noticed. The man had pussy on his mind: North Carolina pussy.

Hell, who could blame him?

"I hit some decent drives," Tess told me after we had said our goodbyes to our hosts and left the course for a late lunch. "The wind is really wicked here, though. Still, I've gotta think it'll affect the other women as much as it does me."

"As early as we got here, it still doesn't seem early enough, does it?" I said. "I mean, you're not going to get in your second round today, as you planned, and all the time you'll really have, after that, is tomorrow and then, Tuesday."

"I'm not going to fret about it," Tess said. "Let's get a good lunch, take a quick nap -- no sex! -- and come back out to the driving range later this afternoon."

"Whatever you say, boss."

On the way back to the room after lunch, I smiled at Tess and said, "Hey, you made a conquest today."

"How's that?" she said.

"Mr. Matsazuki. He was pretty cool about it, but he took some long, long looks at you today, anytime he thought nobody else would notice."

"Yes, well. That might have been my fault."

"Hell, yes, it was your 'fault!' He's not the first poor male to suffer from Hanging-Tongue Syndrome because of you."

"No, I'm not talking about that, exactly," Tess said. "I gave the little man a couple of pretty good shots out there."

"Shots?... Oh! You mean you gave him a peek at your white-cotton scanties?"

"No. I mean, I showed him the real thing. I went commando out there today!"

"Tess! Jesus! You don't mean you..."

"Yep. I showed Mr. Matsazuki the True Path to Enlightenment."

"Tess, you've just gotta stop with this kind of stuff! I'm telling you, it's... dangerous!"

"What dangerous? I had complete control of it. Nobody saw the goodies except Mr. M. Not even you."

"Yeah -- but..."

"It's your doing, anyway," she said.

"It's my doing? How do you arrive at that cockeyed conclusion?"

"You're the one who's always policing what kind of tops I wear on the golf course, and making me wear those cast-iron bras, and making sure nobody gets a peek at my navel, when I lean forward too far. If I can't show off my boobies, what else can I do?"

"So you decide to show off your vagina instead?... And that's my fault?"

"I didn't say anything about 'fault, '" Tess said. "I said it was your doing. You're the reason I have to... look elsewhere for opportunities to... express myself."

"Mrs. Matsazuki's going to know something's up," I said.

"Why?"

"'Cause you probably got the poor man so overheated, he'll go home and fuck his poor wife silly."

"That would be a dumb thing for him to do," Tess said. "Women know, when men do that, that some other woman has lit his fuse. And it's pretty insulting behavior!"

"Anyway, she'll blame you," I said.

"Aw, she probably would blame me anyway," Tess said reasonably. "Even if I hadn't done my Britney Spears, I think he might have gotten a little turned on, out there."

"Show me," I said.

"Show you?... What?"

"Show me that you're 'commando'... Right now."

Tess laughed. "You think I just made it all up, to get you riled?"

"I just want to see. We haven't been apart, you and I, since the round ended. If you were bare-assed then, you're still bare-assed now."

"Don't you want to wait until we get back to the room?" Tess said. We were in an interior hallway, some distance, still, from our suite.

"Nope. Now."

Tess looked down the hallway in both directions, and, seeming only too pleased to do so, reached down to her knees and pulled up her golfing skirt in one swoop. She pulled it all the way up until it covered her chest, demonstrating that she was bare from her waist to her socks.

There it was, shaved smooth and looking snappy. Tess had a contented expression on her face. Showing me her twat in the hotel's hallway was 'way more fun for her than it would have been, behind closed doors.

"Damn!" I said. "You're one crazy white woman, Tess Henderson!... What if the wind had blown your dress up, out there?"

"This kind of skirt doesn't get 'blown up' by a wind," she said. "Not even a major updraft. Actually, the breeze felt pretty good when it whispered sweet nothings to my bare little lips, down there. I may go commando every day!"

She still hadn't dropped her skirt back down. She was probably hoping somebody would open a nearby door and emerge into the hallway.

"Tess, you have got to shut down the sex store, here, and just play golf."

"I think it helps my game," she said.

"You think anything you really like doing helps your game," I said.

"So?... You didn't contradict me when I told you I thought sucking your cock helped my game," Tess argued.

"Well, hell -- that's different," I said, smiling. "That's a proven scientific fact!... Hey! Wait a minute! This Matsanaga guy..."

"Matsazuki," Tess corrected.

"Yeah. He knows your Old Man! What if he calls your dad, tells him you're flashing people on the golf course?"

"Will, that's the silliest thing I've ever heard of! Imagine what that phone call would sound like! 'Listen, Mr. Henderson, I thought you should know that your daughter showed me her shaved pussy on the golf course this afternoon!'"

"Maybe your dad knows enough about you to recognize that it wasn't just Mr. -- Mr. -- his friend's voyeurism going on, here. Maybe he'd know, right off, that his Sweet Little Girl was out taking folks' pictures, halfway around the world."

"Relax, Will. That's just not gonna happen. You don't understand the concept of fatherhood. Sure, my dad might already know that I'm a show-off. It doesn't matter. Whatever happens to his daughter, if it involves something sexual with a male person, it's going to be the male person's fault. No exceptions."

"Well, you could be right. Your whole family's pretty weird. Your mom's the only normal one of the bunch."

"Yeah, and what about you? You're so prim and proper. I'll bet, if my mom flashed you at our dining room table, you'd check her out. You'd look!"

"Sure, I would. It's just natural."

"OK. Maybe so. But you would peek. And if you saw anything, and my dad heard about it, you can bet it would be your fault! It wouldn't even occur to him to wonder why Mom wasn't wearing any underwear."

I was good in bed, during our nap. That is, I kept my contact with Tess limited to above-the-neck only. After one chaste little kiss, I allowed her to snooze, untouched by human hands, for 45 minutes. I wasn't very good, myself, at afternoon napping, but the laid-back atmosphere of our suite was relaxing. While Tess slept, I carefully got back up, and sat out on the balcony, watching the Pacific Ocean, far out past the quiet waters of Turtle Bay itself.

Later, Tess' late-afternoon practice went well, and we headed back to the suite around dusk. We showered together, fooled around a little, very low-key, and then just lazed around, naked on the big bed.

"What time is it now, in Phoenix?" Tess asked me.

"I don't know. Three? Four?"

"No, no. They're ahead of us."

"Oh, yeah. Right. OK, then. It's maybe 9 or 10 there. Not too late."

Tess called Kim on the RV's cell phone. She answered immediately. "I'm putting you on the speaker phone here, so Will can hear you," Tess told her. "Don't say anything you don't want Will to hear."

"I've got my period," Kim said.

"That's something I didn't want to hear," I hollered, from across the room.

"When?" Tess asked Kim, ignoring my rapier wit. I figured the two of them were calculating what effect, if any, Kim's menses might have on her condition on Thursday -- the tournament's opening day.

"Started yesterday," Kim said. "That's not so bad. Mine are only bad for four days. The worst will be over by Tuesday morning. That's the open practice day there -- right?"

"Right," Tess said. "And the way things look around here, it might be the only on-course practice day you get. I think we'd both better try to play in the Wednesday Pro-Am, because you're going to need the extra course time."

"Yes -- please get me into it, if you can," Kim agreed.

We got all of Kim's flight information and arranged for me to pick her up at the airport in Honolulu the following evening -- Sunday -- at 8:30 p.m.

"None of that Far Eastern pussy for you tomorrow night," Tess teased, after she'd hung up.

"Women's menses are overrated as barriers to hot sex," I declared. "Hell, you just put a warm towel under it, and go for broke!"

"Ancient taboo," Tess said. "Besides, it's all sloppy in there, when you're having your period. With a penis inside you, it always feels like somebody's getting thirds, instead of firsts."

"Obviously, this is the Voice of Experience talking, here," I said. "I gather that, in some past relationship, you've had one or more Bloody-Hairies of your own?"

"Oh, yeah," Tess said. "A horny-enough man can talk a poor, impressionable girl into anything... But it certainly wasn't a memorable experience. Unfortunately, I can't say it was exactly forgettable, either. Anyway, I'm not overeager to try it again."