Chapter 2

Being hooked up with Tess was as stimulating to the senses as being an astronaut, or maybe a movie stuntman. Our little romance had been torrid throughout the last half of the previous year's Futures Golf Tour, where Tess had tried -- with considerable success -- to make her mark as a rookie pro golfer, despite only having been on the tour for a little more than half a season.

We were living together, in her bus-sized luxury RV, whenever we were on the road, and the intimacy hadn't seemed to have been affected negatively by our constant contact. As Tess' driver, caddy, and bed-partner, I was with her 24/7, unless she had to maybe hit the ladies' room at some tournament country club, or attend some club luncheon where mere caddies weren't invited.

Sometimes, couples can't bear up under such constant contact, but, so far at least, Tess and I were doing great. It helped that we were awfully good together in the sack, but as any experienced couple eventually learns, there's a lot more to getting along well than just giving your partner reliable orgasms.

There had to be mutual respect, for one thing. We seemed to have that, despite the fact that Tess and I weren't all that much alike. She came from wealth, and I was lower middle-class, at best. She was a professional-caliber athlete who, quite possibly, would soon be famous. I was a recent college graduate whose prospects weren't that great, and whose only long-term employment, so far, had been as a golf caddy.

OK, so if it hadn't been for hooking up with Tess, I'd have been an executive trainee somewhere by now, trying to become a Corporate Drone. Or I'd have been scrounging for funds so that I could attend graduate school and become -- drum roll, please -- an Assistant Professor of History at some as-yet-undetermined, probably second-rate, institution of higher learning.

All those plans -- junior executive, assistant professor, etc. -- were (somewhat vaguely) still in my "future," but for now, I was on an extended Road Trip with the Amazing Ton 'a Tits Tess, Girl Golfer.

There wasn't a lot of money in it, but the fringe benefits -- goodness gracious!

Tess' finances were handled by one of her father's associates -- an accountant and tax lawyer who was better-suited to the task than either Tess or I would have been. He had set her up with a comprehensive computer program designed to keep track of every dime she spent, for maximum tax-related advantage.

But all other aspects of Tess' personal and professional life were in her own hands -- or, by default, in mine. Tess wasn't dumb and she wasn't ditsy; between the two of us, we managed her travel schedule, made generally intelligent decisions about such things as breaks from the grind of the tour, her practice schedule, and other aspects of her life as a professional athlete.

"Managing" those aspects of Tess' life -- if that's what I was doing -- was relatively easy, because the two of us didn't have many significant differences about how such matters should be handled.

The difficulty we were beginning to encounter, however, was associated with Tess' personal proclivities. I'm talking about her sexuality, here. It wasn't just the question of with whom she was currently sleeping: So far, at least, that would be just me. We'd had an exclusive going since her recent spectacular parting of the ways with her Old College Boyfriend, "Hal."

Now, that had been a traumatic experience -- especially for me. That guy's relationship with Tess, and my runaway jealousy about it, had almost led to the end of our partnership.

But I had won out over The Other Guy, and now he was history. I wasn't worried about him.

Nor was I worried about any other guy who was on the horizon. Oh, I knew it could happen. Tess was, to say the least, highly sexed. The day very well might come when she would be tempted. Her attitude toward sex was closer to a typical man's attitude than it was to that of most other females.

Tess wasn't cheating on me. I didn't think she ever would -- "cheat" on me, that is.

What I was less confident about was whether she'd stay satisfied, forever, with just plain ol' Will. I was not, after all, anything all that special. I could make her come like a banshee, but I was pretty sure I wasn't the only guy who could, and I knew damned well I wasn't the only guy who ever had.

Tess seemed to have quite a bit of natural banshee in her.

The prospect of losing her -- or losing my exclusivity -- someday, was not the immediate problem, however. Not yet. Although the problem about Tess that worried me was sexual, it was a different sort of issue than who else might, someday, share Tess' bed and body.

You see, Tess is a blatant exhibitionist. Along with that, she's got a reckless streak that is kept under wraps most of the time, but which is subject to breaking out of captivity and running off into the middle distance at almost any time.

She is dedicated to her golf game. That keeps her on the straight-and-narrow most of the time. But her sexuality resembles a nuclear power plant -- powerful even when under control, and terrifying when something causes those cooling rods to overheat.

Now, if you're like me, you might feel that there's nothing sexier than a big, beautiful woman who was so pleased with her own robust womanhood that she almost couldn't resist showing it off. God knows that I had been the personal beneficiary of her exhibitionism on more than one occasion in the past half-year. It could be tremendously exciting -- stirring, even -- and it often led, later, when we were alone -- to runaway, mad-dog sexual encounters where we practically blew each other away with frantic fucking.

So one of the quite-wonderful by-products of Tess' exhibitionist streak was lots of fantastic sex for Good Old Will, her all-purpose Boon Companion.

Nevertheless, the exhibitionism could be a problem, and it worried me frequently that, unlike Tess, I could see more and bigger problems emerging from it, right down the road. Already, Tess had created a minor sensation on the Futures Tour last season, because of her outsized breasts and the graphic way that she engaged them when she hit those long, long drives. Some of the photographs of her tee shots were truly memorable.

The fact that the Futures Tour was small potatoes in the sports world had kept Tess' notoriety down to something manageable. I knew that if she successfully gained access to the Ladies Professional Golf Association's main tour, she would suddenly become a far higher-visibility sports phenomenon.

And that's just if she behaved herself, wore less provocative golfing clothes, and kept her mouth shut.

I didn't have much faith that Tess would do any of those things. God, how she loved to show off! She loved to get naked. She loved to shock and awe. And for Tess, shock and awe came very easily. If she had an opportunity to behave in such a way as to give some strange man -- or a whole gallery of strange men -- erections, without getting herself arrested in the process, she was likely going to give it a try. Unfortunately, I knew my Tess pretty well by now. I knew that, sometimes, she'd overestimate her need to cause those erections, and perhaps underestimate the chances of her getting arrested in the process.