Page 68 of Maid in America

“Fuck yeah!” Barrett shouted, pumping his fist in the air as Chastity stifled a laugh.

Suddenly, he remembered where they were and swallowed hard. He looked around. Two sets of parents, each with several young children, gawked at him. One family was ahead a few holes, the other behind. Both in earshot.

“Sorry!” he shouted, waving at both families apologetically. “I just… uh… got the ball in the thing.”

One of the mothers shook her head.

“Smoooooooth,” Chastity mocked.

Barrett shot her a glance and stepped off the green. “Says theloser.”

“Byonepoint! Hardly a margin to brag about.”

The rustling wind tousled Chastity’s loose curls, setting sun bathing her in a golden glow. Barrett found his brown eyes transfixed on her form as she readied herself on the green, small putter in hand. She bent down, eyed the hole, and shuffled her feet.

Her shoulders peeked out of a salmon-colored top with cutouts, shapely ass tucked into tight, complimentary shorts. Despite the chilly temperatures, she didn’t wear a coat either, a common occurrence for many Wyomingites in the late spring.

His mind flashed to images of himself bending her backward over the hip-height windmill on the next hole, stripping her down, and burying his tongue between her bare thighs. His cock swelled against his denim. He adjusted himself discretely, shifting his weight, crossing his arms over his tight-fitting, heathered Henley shirt.

Chastity gently tapped the ball, watching as it tumbled into the hole.

“This was a par three. Got it in one. Guess who is trailing one point behind now?” she taunted smugly, shimmying her hips as she bent down to retrieve her gold ball.

She caught his eyes lingering and smiled, her cheeks turning a peachy pink as she blushed. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

“I’m looking at the next Tiger Woods. You should think about goin’ pro.”

“Oh.” She leaned up toward his ear. He could feel her hot breath graze the outer shell, sending tingles down his neck and arms. “I thought you were just lookin’ at my ass.”

He chuckled, heading toward the next leg of the course. “Stop trying to distract me.”

Once there, she shook her head. “Me? I am justexisting.”

“That’s distraction enough.” He set his pink golf ball back on the starting marker.

“Why fluorescent pink? Are you trying to prove how secure you are in your masculinity? Or do you just like the color?”

Barrett followed her eyes to his ball, furrowing his brow. “Actually, it’s less of a fluorescent and more of aflamingopink. Working at that picky-ass boutique, you, ofallpeople, should know the subtle nuances of color. Imagine I ordered a flamingo pocket square, and you gave mefluorescentpink?”

“Fair enough.”

He took a swing. His ball bounced off several wooden triangles, falling short of the hole and rolling backward off a sloped platform.

“To answer the question, I just like the color. Women don’t own pink, and men don’t own blue.”

Barrett tapped the ball twice more, finally landing it into the hole.

Chastity placed her ball on the starting mark and wiggled her ass again.

“Would you stop that? These poor kids don’t need to see me get a hard-on.”

Chastity laughed. “What? I’m just getting into position.” She wiggled her butt again.

“You’re amonster.” Barrett groaned.

Despite the comment’s intention being flirtatious, Chastity felt a pang of hurt, as if there was some truth to it. As if he somehow saw through her and saw the same thing she saw in herself, like she had some hideous beast dormant beneath her skin. Even though she knew he didn’t mean it like that, his words felt like they confirmed her worst fears.

Thrown off-kilter, she whacked her ball, giving the ball too much juice and bouncing it off the wooden guides back onto the course they had just finished with.

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