"Oh fuck, I'm late!"
Speaking quickly into her cell phone, 41-year old Natalie Franklin grinds her white high heel harder down on the accelerator of the BMW. On the other end of the line, a very girlish laugh is heard.
"What are you giggling at, Tracy?"
"It's just funny," she vaguely announces in a very soft voice.
"What?" demands Natalie, already frustrated.
"Hearing you say the F word. You never used to say it before."
In fact, Natalie looks like about the last person in the world who would say it. Appearing very business like and professional, she's a little embarrassed, but then remembers that Tracy swears all the time, and checks her watch again.
"Crystal better be at the course already," warns Natalie. "This is the pro's last lesson of the day. He might leave if neither of us show up on time. We've already canceled twice. I don't know what Jim would do if we missed this one. He's even going to quiz us tonight about the first lesson, and he said we better know 'em all. That meeting would just never end!"
"Why does he want you two to golf so badly?" wonders Tracy.
"Oh, I don't know," says Natalie, exasperated. "He met this golf pro last month at a football game, and the guy convinced him to take it up. Jim always thought golf was for sissies, but I guess since this guy was at a football game, he thought it must be manly enough. And now he loves it, and won't stop talking about it."
"Right, so why does he want you and Crystal to golf so badly?" repeats Tracy, still confused.
"He's convinced it will be good for us, and that golf," chuckles Natalie, "will somehow magically make our lives complete or some shit like that."
Tracy's girlish giggles start up again.
"What?" asks Natalie, who then realizes. "Hey, I'm allowed to say 'shit,' all right? And 'fuck.' Shit, shit, shit! Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
"Hey!" fights back Tracy, struggling to contain her laughter. "I was just laughing about golf completing people's lives, not you!"
"Sure you were. Hey, could you hold on a minute? I'm coming up to a red light, and I'm gonna have to change on the way to give myself any chance, just in case Crystal's still at cheerleading practice and isn't holding him there."
"Changing in the car now, Natalie?" says Tracy, amazed. "You're like a whole new person."
Not having time to worry about that, although she wishes she did, Natalie just repeats "hold on a minute," slows to a stop at the light, tosses the phone on the passenger seat, and starts peeling off her clothes.
Starting with her silky black chemise, she hurriedly untucks it from within her knee length white skirt, reaches behind her head with both hands and pulls it up and off by the collar, finding no resistance from her short, but cute blonde hair. Revealing no bra, she suddenly remembers she's in public, and takes a fast look around while clutching her bare breasts in her hands. No cars on either side, she sees, but one behind her, which honks twice as Natalie reaches for her new golf shirt. "Oh fuck," she whispers, and steps on the gas at the waiting green light.
Putting her left hand on the wheel, she carefully conceals both breasts with her right arm and starts talking to herself. "Did I just say 'fuck' again? I've gotta stop doing that. And what does she mean I'm 'like a whole new person'?" And with that, she puts her right hand on the wheel also and briefly glances down at her nude breasts. "My tits are as firm as they were twenty years ago. I'd like to hear Tracy say that with a straight face." Although not large, they were as perky a pair as a woman over 40 could hope for, with no tan lines to speak of.
She checks the time again and sighs, half hoping for a red light so she can put on her shirt, half hoping for green so she can get there quicker.
------------
Meanwhile at the golf course, 18-year old Robert Jones crushes a drive, which bangs high off the driving range fence, over 250 yards away.
"You still haven't gotten one over?" asks Mike, the golf pro, wiping the smile off of the young man's face, who just shakes his head.
"Like you could," he says under his breath once the pro's out of earshot.
"Hey, I'm locking up," the pro announces. "Looks like they're not gonna show. Too bad, too -- Jim's daughter is a knock out. He showed me a picture of her in her little cheerleader's uniform. His wife's not bad, either."
Robert half smiles, glad they won't have to deal with the sexual harassment Mike inflicts on all his good looking female students.
"Hey, that's not your driver," the pro says accusingly. "You didn't even bring your clubs tonight. Shit, Robert, I told you you can't just take clubs from the pro shop anymore. Those are for customers to try out. Now don't do it again, unless you plan on buying it."
"I might."
"Yeah, right," laughs the pro. "That's worth three hundred bucks. Shit, you could have chipped it. Now hand it over."
"I didn't chip --"
"Fine, fine," interrupts the pro as he takes the club. "Go get all the range buckets. Carlos better be back tomorrow. Home sick, my ass. I'm locking up. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Asshole," breathes Robert, who picks up his watch from the bench -- "damn!" -- and starts running down the long range.
------------
Still driving topless, Natalie picks up the phone with a stunned look on her face. "Tracy? Are you still there? Tracy? Tracy!"
"I'm here," she says after a small wait.
"You would not believe what just happened!" exclaims Natalie. "I finally got to a red light so I can put my shirt on, and then this asshole in the car next to me whistles, and when I look over he gives me a thumbs up and he's sitting there with his, you know, with his thing out! And he's, you know, he's..."
"Jacking off?"
"Yes!" screams Natalie, stunned at how calmly her friend is taking this. "Can you believe that?!"
"You know, it's funny," starts Tracy.
"What is?!"
"For someone who says the F word so often, you get all tongue tied talking about 'his thing' and can't even say 'jacking off.'"
"Well I'm in shock, all right?" says Natalie, defending herself. "And I don't say the F word that often!"
After a longer than normal pause, Natalie hears Tracy moan slightly. "Tracy? Are you OK?"
"Wonderful," she groans.
"You don't sound wonderful," states Natalie, starting to get worried.