It think the original suggestion that we should get out more first came from my wife, Sophie. I immediately had pleasant visions of spring-time walks along the riverside or long drives into the country for relaxing picnics. But Sophie obviously had other ideas.
"Golf?" I exclaimed, "but we don't even know how to play."
"Well, we can learn, can't we? And besides, you look like you could use some exercise!"
Sophie patted my stomach indicating the few extra pounds that I had put on recently. It was true; I could use some exercise, but the thought of chasing a little white ball around a golf course all day did little to enthuse me. But when Sophie has the bit between her teeth, so to speak, there's not much that will dissuade her. She had already made up her mind, and golf it was definitely going to be!
That Monday morning we had both taken the day off work and so, a little petulantly on my part, 10am found us both at the local golf course waiting for some guy to come along and explain to us which end of a golf club hit the ball the furthest. Sophie had taken the liberty of booking a lesson for each of us and I thought that was at least reasonable. There was no way that I wanted to be let loose on the course before I knew a little about what I was supposed to be doing!
The morning was dull and a little cloudy as Sophie and I waited patiently for the professional's arrival. We both sat on a wooden bench beside the practice area and as I breathed the cool, fresh air into my lungs, I began to think that perhaps this wasn't such a bad idea after all; even if I couldn't hit the ball to save my life, at least I could just sit and admire the view. But Sophie was, as usual, more impatient. She fidgeted constantly and referred to her watch every two minutes. I watched her as her curly, flaxen hair - almost yellow - as it tossed and bounced around her shoulders, her head constantly moving as she looked out for our trainer.
Sophie and I had been married for about ten years. She was a little younger than myself I had always thought that I'd done very well to get her. She was - and still is - quite a brazen woman with a personality that usually means she gets what she wants. She possesses a fine, voluptuous figure with large, full breasts and long shapely legs. She enjoys sex - a lot - and on occasions I have found it difficult to keep up with her.
"Sorry I'm a little late."
Sophie was already up on her feet and shaking the hand of the just arrived golf professional. She introduced both of us and the professional introduced himself as Tony Mullen.
The first part of the lesson was easy if not a little boring. Sophie and I were shown how to grip the club properly and swing back and forth. It was hard not to notice how much attention Mullen was giving to my wife and how little was being given to me. I smiled. That sort of thing never bothers me. I've always enjoyed showing Sophie off and my philosophy is that if you don't like your wife receiving male attention, then don't marry a good looking woman!
Sophie really seemed to be getting into her game now. Mullen was encouraging her to take longer and more powerful swings at the ball and I was quite impressed to see the small, white sphere being hurled into the middle distance. Each time that she made a good contact and saw the ball fly off in the right general direction, Sophie would let out a squeal of delight. I tried to copy what she was doing as best I could but after at least ten shots simply dribbled pathetically along the ground, I knew that this was not going to be the game for me.
After an hour or so of this futile (for me anyway) exercise, our instruction time had mercifully come to an end. Mullen walked off in the direction of his office carrying the clubs that we had used and left Sophie and I behind to make our way back to the car.
"I know," Sophie exclaimed, "let's go get something to eat and a drink in the club house. I'm really thirsty!"
"The club house?" I exclaimed despondently, "it'll be full of snobby types all sipping gin and tonic!"
But Sophie didn't care. She wanted to eat and drink and with her new found passion for the game of golf, she wanted to go to the club house. I trailed after her muttering about the fact that the place probably didn't even stock a good pint of beer.
"Sorry, members only."
The officious little Hitler seemed to bristle as his watery eyes inspected our casual dress. His bushy handlebar moustache twitched disapprovingly.
"Come on, Sophie," I said, "seems we are not wanted here."
"No way, Steve!" my wife replied, "I've paid for my lesson and I want something to eat and drink!" She stared at the grey haired sentinel almost daring him to bar her entry into the club house.
"Sophie. Sorry, but the club is members only." Tony Mullen's voice carried through the bar area as he walked towards us; the inevitable gin and tonic in his right hand.
Sophie gave him her best come-on smile and batted her eyelashes petulantly.
"But you can get us in, can't you...Tony?" She rolled his name around on her tongue giving the word overt sexual connotations.
All of a sudden, Mullen seemed to fluster. This brazen approach had taken him by surprise and his usual sleek veneer fractured visibly.
"Er...we...I suppose.....um Graham?" he turned to the aged sentinel. "Can you let my..er..guests in please?"
