Jack listened attentively as Bill Broomhall stood before the group of members, explaining the rules of the tournament. The club pro stood on his left, clarifying any fine points coming under question. One of the club waitresses stood at his right. The members were all seated on bleachers, which bordered the first tee box. There was a large score board opposite from the bleachers behind Bill, which showed the individual pairings, and provided room for scores to be continuously updated. The fairway of the opening par 4 extended out to their right, cascading majestically down a graceful slope, bordered by mature pines. Impulse sprinklers swung back and forth across the fairway spewing large graceful arcs of water, with a steady FFFPP, FFFPP, FFFPP rhythm in the early morning sun. Jack noticed he was grouped in Bill's foursome, and was number four on the board! Apparently it was traditional for any new members to be included with this foursome on the opening day of the tournament. Dr. Stevens was the third member of the party, with Rich Payner, the club pro, rounding out the group. Jack was feeling very intimidated to be playing with the club owner, plus he still owed Dr. Stevens's big time for getting him a membership.
The group of caddies now approached the back of the tee box, standing off a respectful distance. They each carried their assigned member's bag of clubs; each bag bore a large tag corresponding to the golfers position on the scoreboard. Jack saw his wife struggling up at the back of the group, burdened down by her assigned bag. He shook his head, as the strap had pulled down one side of her sweater, exposing a generous amount of cleavage. He sensed that most of the guys caught the same view! She gave a big sigh, and began rubbing her shoulder as she set the bag down in front of her. As she straightened up, Her dark brown aureoles were shockingly visible through the front of her sweater! There were wet blotches over both areas, as if she had been nursing through the thin material! Both erect nipples were brought into sharp relief. Jenny was oblivious to the exposure, as she continued rubbing her sore shoulder, and arching her back. She clutched a small leather pouch in her other hand. The number one was displayed on the round tag of the clubs now at her side. Color drained from Jack's face as he realized that Bill held the number one position on the scoreboard, and now he was forced to play along with his wife! Too late to back down now though, he realized with a rueful shake of the head.
Bill finished by wishing everyone good luck, and handed the microphone to the waitress. She announced in a clear voice: "First off will be the group of Broomhall, Stevens, Paynor and Richards. Could I have the numbers one through four caddies enter the tee box area please. Next are the Ryan, Johnson, Mitchell and Smith group, followed third by Ankers, Ankers, Simpson and Thomlasen."
When the four men had entered the tee area, they exchanged polite handshakes. Each man then approached the caddies, and introduced himself. When Jack shook Jenny's hand, she looked right through him, pretending he didn't even exist. He couldn't help but stare guiltily at her chest, just like the others. The men asked for their clubs, which the caddies extracted and handed over. Everyone selected a driver except Jack, who selected a three wood. He had a case of opening tee jitters. He had never teed off with this many people watching, and he sure didn't want to skull one now!
After the players had done some quick stretches, Bill stepped up to the black markers and teed up his Titlest balata. Everyone quieted down, and it was suddenly ghostly silent except for the chirping of some birds in the pines, and the continuing FFFPP FFFPP of the impulse sprinklers. After carefully adjusting his stance, he drew back with a slow back-swing, dropping the club back down and through with too much force, cutting underneath the highly teed ball and producing a short ten yard pop fly landing down in front of the tee box.
He raised his arms in triumph, and bellowed out a big, good-natured belly laugh. Seeing he was being a good sport, everyone else joined in. It was a great tension breaker, and when they quieted back down, they all started to chant Mulligan, Mulligan, and Mulligan in unison. "O.K., O.K.!" He said, raising an arm to quiet them. He looked back to Jenny. "Could you grab me a ball dear?" Mistaking his meaning (or grabbing the opportunity?), she bounded forward, and jogged out to retrieve the ball he had just miss-hit. Stunned, everyone watched as she bounced right out directly in front of the spray of one of the fairway sprinklers, bending over at the waist to gracefully retrieve the ball from the grass underneath! The front of her sweater plastered against her pendulous breasts, as she kept her head stretched back out of the spray. She turned, and began jogging back towards Bill, with her breast now clearly defined under the transparent material, bouncing and swaying in rhythm to her paces. The men all cheered aloud as she presented the ball to Bill, first holding it up in triumph to the bleachers! She then gave a cute little curtsy, and returned back to the bag, with Bill following her swaying ass.
