before replying. “Not anymore.” Her voice was flat. “He’s a politician. Local stuff. City councilman, that sort of thing,” she explained. “He wasn’t too wild about his daughter being a dyke. He sent me down here to school, and I haven’t been back since. We have an understanding. He sends me a big fat check every month, and I don’t go home.” She shrugged.
“I figure I won’t see my folks again until after he retires.” My heart sank a little. “I’m sorry,” I told her.
“Don’t be,” she said as she steadied an iron beside her ball as it lay in the rough. The ball popped into the air and ran onto the green, stopping jut two inches shy of the hole. She grimaced as she looked at me. “Close,” she sighed, then stepped over and tapped the ball into the hole.
I watched her as she retrieved her ball, and she stepped when she caught me watching. She straightened up and looked at me steadily. “It really doesn’t bother me much anymore. Besides, if it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t get to do this every day.” Her arms swept out as she indicated the golf course around her.
I let the subject drop as I focused on my next shot. The ball skidded and bounced, running far beyond and to the right of its intended destination. It was hopeless. Two putts later, I finally put the ball where it belonged.
After eighteen holes of golf, I was discouraged by my score. It was nearly twice what Michelle had shot.
“Perhaps you should consider professional lessons.” She grinned broadly as I unlaced my shoes in the empty clubhouse.
I laughed. “Perhaps I should.”
“I make house calls,” she teased, her voice barely above a whisper.
I stopped what I was doing and looked at her, caught off guard by her sudden flirtation. My mouth hung slightly open as I eyed her. She grinned again, and bent over to cover my mouth with hers in a brief, thorough kiss. I looked around quickly to make sure no one had heard the loud smack, which brought another chuckle to her lips. “Don’t worry. Everybody here knows about me.”
I went back to changing my shoes, thinking hard about her comment. In my best southern drawl, I asked her, “You bring a whole lotta gals here, do ya ma’am?”
“Why, never a one before you, I swear.” She batted her eyelashes in southern belle imitation.
I eyed her speculatively, and my voice returned to normal.
“Yeah, I’ll bet.”
After a brief dinner at a local deli, we drove back across town to the gay club. I tried to convince Michelle that I should go back to my hotel to change, but she insisted that I not bother. “Besides, if we go back to your room, then its likely that I won’t want to leave,” she told me sweetly before reaching over and slipping her hand into mine. I continued to be surprised by her innuendos, even as they became more frequent.
It was early when we arrived, only nine o’clock. The place was quiet. No music was playing, so all I could hear were conversations, laughter, and clinking glasses.
We settled on a table beside the unlit dance floor, and I soon found out that everyone, it seemed, was a friend of Michelle’s. She was even more popular than Billy had been the other night, and I found myself surrounded by both men and women. Michelle introduced me to each and every one as the jokes and laughter and alcohol flowed.
Over the next two hours, the place began to fill up, becoming even more crowded than it had been that previous Thursday night. At precisely eleven o’clock, the dance floor was lit, the speakers thumped into life, and the drag queens began their show. I enjoyed myself immensely. By midnight, the show was over and the dancing began. Michelle and I danced nonstop for a solid hour before falling back into our seats, tired and sweaty.
Michelle ordered another round of drinks for our table, and I finished mine easily. “I’m exhausted,” I called above the music.
She placed her hand on my thigh and leaned her head close to mine so
“I figure I won’t see my folks again until after he retires.” My heart sank a little. “I’m sorry,” I told her.
“Don’t be,” she said as she steadied an iron beside her ball as it lay in the rough. The ball popped into the air and ran onto the green, stopping jut two inches shy of the hole. She grimaced as she looked at me. “Close,” she sighed, then stepped over and tapped the ball into the hole.
I watched her as she retrieved her ball, and she stepped when she caught me watching. She straightened up and looked at me steadily. “It really doesn’t bother me much anymore. Besides, if it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t get to do this every day.” Her arms swept out as she indicated the golf course around her.
I let the subject drop as I focused on my next shot. The ball skidded and bounced, running far beyond and to the right of its intended destination. It was hopeless. Two putts later, I finally put the ball where it belonged.
After eighteen holes of golf, I was discouraged by my score. It was nearly twice what Michelle had shot.
“Perhaps you should consider professional lessons.” She grinned broadly as I unlaced my shoes in the empty clubhouse.
I laughed. “Perhaps I should.”
“I make house calls,” she teased, her voice barely above a whisper.
I stopped what I was doing and looked at her, caught off guard by her sudden flirtation. My mouth hung slightly open as I eyed her. She grinned again, and bent over to cover my mouth with hers in a brief, thorough kiss. I looked around quickly to make sure no one had heard the loud smack, which brought another chuckle to her lips. “Don’t worry. Everybody here knows about me.”
I went back to changing my shoes, thinking hard about her comment. In my best southern drawl, I asked her, “You bring a whole lotta gals here, do ya ma’am?”
“Why, never a one before you, I swear.” She batted her eyelashes in southern belle imitation.
I eyed her speculatively, and my voice returned to normal.
“Yeah, I’ll bet.”
After a brief dinner at a local deli, we drove back across town to the gay club. I tried to convince Michelle that I should go back to my hotel to change, but she insisted that I not bother. “Besides, if we go back to your room, then its likely that I won’t want to leave,” she told me sweetly before reaching over and slipping her hand into mine. I continued to be surprised by her innuendos, even as they became more frequent.
It was early when we arrived, only nine o’clock. The place was quiet. No music was playing, so all I could hear were conversations, laughter, and clinking glasses.
We settled on a table beside the unlit dance floor, and I soon found out that everyone, it seemed, was a friend of Michelle’s. She was even more popular than Billy had been the other night, and I found myself surrounded by both men and women. Michelle introduced me to each and every one as the jokes and laughter and alcohol flowed.
Over the next two hours, the place began to fill up, becoming even more crowded than it had been that previous Thursday night. At precisely eleven o’clock, the dance floor was lit, the speakers thumped into life, and the drag queens began their show. I enjoyed myself immensely. By midnight, the show was over and the dancing began. Michelle and I danced nonstop for a solid hour before falling back into our seats, tired and sweaty.
Michelle ordered another round of drinks for our table, and I finished mine easily. “I’m exhausted,” I called above the music.
She placed her hand on my thigh and leaned her head close to mine so
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