Kit's Stories - Sofia Pt. 01

"Sofia, quit it!" she scolded herself. "You are acting like a mare in heat." The mental image of a mare with swollen, pulsating vulva prancing with raised tail before a fully erect stallion did not cool her ardor. Sofia pulled her blouse over her head as she went to her armoire. She removed the heavy bra that supported her large breasts and slipped on one of the new sports bras that she usually played golf in. They were much more comfortable and less confining while swinging a club. She pulled the sleeveless top back on; it looked good with this skirt, and pulled on a pair of cotton bikini panties for coolness outdoors. As she started out the door, Sofia stopped and went back to her dresser. Picking up the bottle of Chanel, she touched the perfume behind each ear; raising her shirt, she touched between her breasts, and after hesitating briefly, she reached under her skirt to scent high on the inside of both thighs.

"Maybe that will keep him from smelling my sex," she thought.

When Sofia walked into the library, Kit stood up from the sofa and smiled a warm welcome to her. Sofia felt her heart give an extra thump that traveled through her belly to her crotch. To hide her blush, she turned to the hall saying, "Let's get going and see if Andre can do anything with that mane of yours. We can let everyone at Joske's know that Senora Arredondo has herself a new man."

"What is this Andre going to do with my hair?" Kit asked.

"Would you tell Lee Trevino how to hit iron shots? Well, don't tell Andre what to do with your hair. He is a pro and I guarantee you will like it when he is through."

At the front door, the dour older fellow in the guayabera stood frowning at Kit. As he opened the door, Sofia said, "Goodness, Urbano, if you frown any harder, your face will break into pieces."

<"The Senora is a married woman and should not lower herself to play with gringos.">

<"I have been legally divorced from my former husband for some time now, Urbano.">

<"The church says that...">

<"I do not need advice from priests on marriage or birth control, Urbano. Those are subjects about which they have no personal knowledge.">

<"The church says...">

<"Enough, I will hear no more of this from you and be courteous to my guest.">

<"The gringo is...">

<"Enough, if you cannot do as I ask, you can go to the ranch until I send for you.">

<"The senora should remember who she is.">

<"I think that is exactly what I am doing.">

Kit had stood by helplessly during the interchange. When Sofia stomped out the door, he followed. A gleaming pewter Cadillac Sedan Deville stood in the driveway with a young man a few years older than Kit holding open the rear door.

As Kit hesitated, Sofia said, "The correct etiquette is that you assist me into the door on this side and then go to the other side and let yourself in the back beside me. Jose will shut the door after I am seated."

On the short trip down town to the largest department store in the world, Sofia filled Kit in on the itinerary. "When we get there, we will go up to the salon to Andre. There will probably be people there that I want to see us. I will be all over you, and showing you off to everyone."

"Kind of like a new puppy?" Kit asked.

"Exactly, I will pet and stroke you. If I introduce you to people, be polite, but keep your focus on me. You are my puppy, and I am..."

"My bowl of flan, warm and tan and sweet."

"Ooooh! I like that. Don't you like that, Jose?"

"Si, Senora."

"In English, Jose. You need to pack to go to Galveston for four or five days. How about you drive Mr. Morgan's car most of the way. We can plan better if we are in this one. You and Hortensia can meet us at that last Stuckey's on Highway 6 before you cross the bay. Then we can make a romantic entry in Kit's convertible."

"Yes, ma'am."

Kit said, "No offense, Jose, but are you sure about handling the Houston traffic. The car is really my dad's and I would hate..."

Jose and Sofia both burst out laughing. Kit looked confused since he was trying to protect both Jose and his car.

Sofia said. "Kit, meet Joe—Joe Coronado—honor grad with a MS in electrical engineering from Cal Tech. He has been driving the California freeways the last five years while he was at school out there. He is starting to work for Tandy in two months and is replacing his father who normally does my driving while his mom and dad are in Spain for three weeks. I think your car will be in good hands."

"No problem, man," said Jose/Joe. "My little Triumph can't outrun the cops, but I bet that green monster can."

"Don't, don't, I'm sorry. I'll never live that down will I?"

"No, gringo," the two Hispanics chorused and shrieked with laughter until they stopped in front of Joske's. As Jose walked around to open Sofia's door, she said, "OK, you're on from this point. Try to look a little dimwitted and besotted with me and my money. You will do fine."

Kit sauntered around the car offer his hand to Sofia. She tucked her hand around his arm, pressing her breast firmly into his elbow as they walked to the elevator. Kit looked down at the petite woman and whispered, "That is soft."

Sofia replied wiggling her chest against his bent arm, "That is hard."

"My elbow is not all that is hard."

In the elevator, Sofia said, "The salon, Clarence. This is my friend Kit. How is Clara?"

The black elevator operator smiled. "Much better, Miz Sofia. Since that eye doctor you told us about put those glasses on her, her headaches have gone away almost and she be winning most all of her tennis games now. I didn't know they had special doctor prices for black folks that played tennis.. She likes that Head racket that you sent over too. It's just like the one Arthur Ashe uses."

"Well, my daughter decided to work at ballet instead of tennis so it was just lying around taking up space. I'm glad someone could use it." The bell dinged as the car reached the fourth floor. As they got out, they were met by an emaciated man in English half boots, skin tight black pants, and a pink tuxedo shirt open half way down his chest.

"Sofia, dear!" He air kissed Sofia on both cheeks and turned to stare at Kit. "My, my, what have you brought me?" he twinkled.

"I didn't bring him for you, Andre. He is mine, but I want him polished up a bit before I take him to the foundation golf tournament this weekend. Can you do something with his hair?"

"Sweetie, I can do more than just something with his hair. Why don't you run along and come back later. You might be surprised."

"I don't think so, Andre. I will stay right here and protect my claim."

"He is so tall that I think I will have to sit in his lap to cut his hair. Sofia."

"Forget that. If anyone's butt is in his lap, it will be mine."

"Sofia, you are a spoilsport."

"Just cut his hair, Andre."

As Andre snipped, combed, and cooed over Kit, Sofia sat in a nearby chair and leafed through a magazine. Kit became increasingly apprehensive as more and more of his golden tresses fell to the floor. Andre had turned the chair so that Kit could not see himself in the mirror. A tall slender woman with improbably pointed tits and an unlikely shade of red hair caught his attention as she headed toward him.

"Sofia, what on earth are you doing waiting here with Andre? The platform shoes are in another department." Her laugh echoed hollowly through the salon as a hard glint formed in Sofia's eyes.

"Oh, oh," said Andre. "Boy, you might get ready to duck."

Sofia stood and walked to stand beside Kit's chair. She slipped her hand beneath the cover sheet and began stroking Kit's thigh slowly from the knee to the crotch. Her hand moved plainly beneath the thin cloth. Kit felt something else begin to stir beneath the cloth.

"Hello, Elise. You have always been so witty, or at least half. This is my new golf partner, Kit. We are getting his hair shaped up before we leave for Galveston. We are going to do a little shopping and then hit a few balls." Sofia's hand stopped obviously and possessively over Kit's cock. She gave it a little squeeze. "Kit is taking Primo's place. If he were interested, he would give you much more of a mouthful than Primo." She smiled thinly at the befuddled redhead.

Sofia continued, "Are you going to be in Galveston, or is Charles playing with someone else with real tits?"

"Bitch!" the redhead muttered as she whirled and walked away.

Sofia gave Kit's rock hard equipment a final squeeze and a pat. "Hurry up, Andre. We have other people to see this afternoon. Excuse me; I'll be back in a minute." Sofia walked to the ladies room.

"I wish I could do that," said Andre. Kit thought it was best to say nothing. Andre turned the chair around. In the mirror, Kit saw that his hair was wonderful.

"How did you do that?" he asked. "It looks great, fuller, but neater. I look better than I really do. How did you do that?"

"It's a skill and a talent," shrugged Andre. "It is practice and paying attention and having an eye for beauty. You are easier to work with than some. Here comes your lady back"

"I don't really think she is my lady." Kit said.

"If you treat her like she is, you will both benefit. The advice is free; the cut I will bill her for." André removed the cloth and brushed Kit off.

Sofia eyed him carefully and nodded. "Very nice, Andre. Give yourself double your normal tip for keeping your mouth shut while I dealt with that poisonous bitch. Come on, Kit. I see that you have deflated enough to try on some shorts." She marched off toward the elevators.

Kit turned to Andre, "Thank you. I'll remember the advice."

"Do that. She is worth the effort."

Kit followed the square set shoulders and swaying navy skirt to the elevators. In the elevator Sofia clutched Kit's arm and said, "Close your ears, Clarence."

"I can't hear you, Miz Sofia."

"Elise Ritter's husband, Charles, has been screwing his way through the San Antonio social register since he was a teenager. Elise has ignored it; I suppose, because she likes his money. After Primo moved out, I was to take the kids to the ranch for a week, but before we got out of San Antonio, I ruined a tire and we came home in a taxi. The kids and I walked into a wonderful scene of Elise's scrawny naked ass pointing at us as she was giving Primo a poolside blowjob."

Clarence's snicker was met with a glare of black eyes that made Kit wary.

"I'm sorry, Miz Sofia, did you day something?" Clarence recovered.

"No, and be sure that you don't." Sofia replied.

'Yas'm, Miz Scarlet, I means Miz Sofia."

"If you don't stop that Step-n-fetch-it shit, I'm going to kick your ass, Clarence."

"Precisely as you should, madam." Clarence replied in a perfect English butler accent.

All three burst out laughing as the doors opened at men's wear. "If I might have a word alone with the young gentleman, please." Clarence said.

Sofia asked, "Kit?" and with his nod left the car.

The door shut. Clarence turned to face Kit and seemingly began to take up more space. "I don't know you, but I am presuming that Miz Sofia is putting some trust in you. She is a fine person and usually a good judge of character. I know that she paid for my daughter's eyeglasses and she bought the tennis rackets new, there wasn't just one and her daughter has too girly to ever look at a tennis ball. I just want to say that if you can help her, you will make a number of friends. If you hurt her as that stumpy son of a bitch did, San Antonio might never be a good place for you. Please don't take this as a threat, but rather as a plea to someone who may be able help her." Clarence's diction had become educated and precise. Kit wondered if anyone here was really what they seemed.

"Who are you?" Kit asked. "Really, who are you?"

"I am proud to say that I am a friend of Senora Sofia Seguin. Have a nice day." The elevator door slid open and Kit stepped out a bit dazed. Sofia gathered him in and as she led him to the waiting salesman, Kit asked again, "Who is Clarence?"

Sofia stopped and turned to face Kit. "What did he say?"

Kit temporized, "He just wished us luck, but who is he really."

"Clarence is the head of the NAACP action committee in San Antonio. He is also 90% disabled from wounds suffered in Korea where he won a Silver Star for heroism. He spends himself prodigiously for every project that he thinks will improve life for all the people of San Antonio. He is one of my personal heroes. Now let's spend some money on my toy boy."

Sofia slipped an arm around Kit's waist and resting her hand on his buttock squeezed him enthusiastically. Kit was afraid that with his woody he would not be able to try on clothes. After four new pair of shorts with knit golf shirts to match, two new swim suits, a gold necklace with a rather large gold ingot hanging from it, a thick gold bracelet, a set of diamond tuxedo studs, and a cashmere pullover sweater (that island wind can get cold at night), Kit convinced Sofia it was time to hit golf balls.

As they walked to the elevator, Sofia again draped an arm around Kit's waist and fondled his ass cheek.

"I think I could learn to walk this way," she said. "We have to keep practicing to make a good show in Galveston."

When they reached the front door, Jose/Joe was waiting and opened the rear door for Sofia. He took the packages from Kit and as Kit went around the car to get in, Joe said,

"Looking good, man." Kit just smiled.

When they were in the car and headed to the country club, Kit reached over Sofia's shoulder and pulled her across the seat to him. "We need more practice," he murmured before he took her mouth is a more serious kiss. His right arm held her tight to him in the back seat of the Cadillac as his tongue flicked across her lips until she opened slightly. Kit's tongue immediately darted in to find hers and begin an age old rhythm of thrust and withdraw. His left hand slid down her neck to her breast and firmly cupped, then squeezed, then milked it to the hard nipple.

Sofia gasped. She had been so angry at Elise and then so busy playing the rich bitch with a new toy throughout Joske's that she had forgotten how she had reacted to Kit's kiss before. Her right hand moved to his thigh and as she began to return the kiss by trying to find his tonsils, her hand again reached the hard lump beneath his fly. As she grasped and squeezed, Kit pinched her nipple and began a gently shaking motion. Sofia's panties immediately flooded and she began to crawl on top of her golf partner.

Joe called out, "Turning into the country club, Sofia. Do you want to go to the clubhouse or the bag drop?"

Sofia plopped back on her side of the back seat, unable to answer. Golf was incomprehensible at the moment.

"Take us to the bag drop, Joe." Kit said

At the bag drop, Kit and Joe unloaded the golf bags from the car as the attendant brought a cart to them. Sofia was recovered enough that she stepped out of the car and took control of the situation again.

"Jose, there is no need for you to wait. Kit and I will hit some practice balls and then have a drink at the bar. We may eat something here instead of going out. Take the car on home and we will call when we want you to come pick us up. Does that suit you, Kit?"

Kit nodded and started to the cart.

"Wait, put on your new necklace and bracelet. Let's give the country club crowd a show."

"Sofia, I've never played in jewelry and..."

"Well, you will just have to practice, won't you." She said.

Kit grinned, "I'm looking forward to it."

Sofia drove the golf cart to the pro shop and picked up two mesh bags of practice balls. As she drove to the practice range, she said, "I should apologize, I suppose, for the way I acted."

"I'm not complaining, but exactly what are you referring to/"

"When I was so furious to be confronted by that husband-poaching whore that I had to show her I was OK by teasing you under Andre's sheet, and then going off to cry in the ladies room, and then crawling all over you when you kissed me in the car. I am not usually so...so expressive."

"Don't apologize, I like you like that. What do you think you would do if I kissed you again?'

"I'm not sure."

"You better think about it, because I plan on doing it again...soon."

"Oh, I guess I better think about how I should react."

"Practice, practice, practice," said Kit.

The cart pulled up to the parking area behind the range. Kit carried the two bags of balls to the hitting area. Sofia carried three irons and her driver to the first set of balls and beginning with the wedge, began hitting short shots perfectly with a metronomic regularity. Kit only watched while he walked back to get a wedge, 7 iron, 3 iron, and driver.

When he returned, Sofia had switched to the longer irons, but the perfection of her rhythm and swing repeated itself over and over. Kit only watched in admiration. When she picked up her driver and pulled the cover off, she suddenly realized that Kit was not hitting shots, but only watching her.

Sofia smiled sheepishly. "I get so focused into the swing that I don't know what else is going on. I don't have a tee for the driver. My caddie usually tees the ball for me."

"Your admiring toy boy with the shiny new bracelet and necklace will do it. Your swing is beautiful." Kit knelt to tee up a ball and watched the professionalism of the shot send the ball straight down the practice range. He teed another ball, and she repeated the shot. After 6 more perfectly straight drives, Sofia put the cover back on her driver.

"I'll take a break and watch you" she said.

"It won't be so boring, straight down the middle stuff. I have much more variety in my shots."

Kit began with his wedge and kept most on the range. When he switched to the mid-iron, his shots became more erratic. With the 3 iron, perhaps only slightly over half stayed on the range. Kit reached for his favorite club, the driver. All of Kit's clubs had been specially shafted to accommodate his height, but the driver was the maximum legal length. Together with his long arms and strength, when all the factors came together, the ball exploded from the club head and traveled an astounding distance. Just as often it traveled and equally astounding distance in the wrong direction. He stopped and looked at Sofia.

"What did Royce Rinehart tell you?" she asked.

"To stay calm, try to make clean contact, trust my partner, and hope for the best."

"I have to agree," Sofia said. "How do you putt?"

"I am streaky, but usually the streak is a streak of horrible. But I do have a new putter that you will have to hear to believe."

They gathered their clubs and drove to the practice putting green. Located just below the clubhouse veranda, a number of people called out to Sofia when they walked onto the green. Kit dropped a couple of balls on the green and assumed his putting stance—toes pointed in, knees locked, hands holding the putter resting against his right thigh.

Sofia snorted, then laughed out loud. "What the hell is that?"

"This is how I putt." Kit growled out with an injured air.

"When the people in Galveston see that, it ought to keep our price in the calcutta down." She chortled.

Moving nothing except his hands, Kit rapped the ball toward the closest hole. The new putter made the now familiar, to Kit, ping sound as the ball rolled smoothly into the cup.

"See," said Kit. "It's the same way Arnold Palmer putts."

"But you're not Arnold Palmer and you admit that you are not a good putter. What was that sound?"

"It is called a Ping putter made by a new company in California. I really like how it feels. Do you want to try it?"

Sofia dropped a pair of balls and took the putter. She assumed her putting stance—feet parallel to the line of the putt, slightly bent over with the ball below her eyes. She made a couple of practice strokes, the with a rocking motion of her shoulders sent the first ball into a hole three times as far away as Kit's had been. She raked the second ball into position and repeated the perfect stroke.