Joyce

I love to play golf. I'm thirty-four years old, married to a wonderful understanding woman and I play golf in a company-sponsored league once a week during the season and with some friends most weekends. The only thing I like more than golf is sex. My wife, Penni, is very understanding about both of my obsessions. She encourages me to play golf since she says it helps take the edge off the pressures from my job. She encourages me to have as much sex with her as she can handle and more even when she isn't in the mood. She tells me to have fun since it takes the pressure off her when she's reached her limit. She has an incredible limit so I don't play outside our home field very often and only when she tells me to. Her only requirement is that I don't bring it home or brag about it to my friends. I have the same agreement with her although I don't think she's ever exercised the option.

Once a year I go on a ten-day golf trip with seven of my male friends. Each year, one of us has the responsibility to arrange a golfing vacation for all eight of us. We usually pick a resort area with enough challenging golf courses for us to play a different course each day. We stay at one resort and play there and at the neighboring resorts as well. We fly to the nearest airport and rent four cars so that we have freedom of travel when we're not playing golf. That's necessary since not everyone likes the same type of dinners and some of us find other activities to fill in the down time. Like me.

Penni looks forward to my annual away from home golf outing. She encourages me to pursue both my proclivities while I'm away. She refers to it as a long distance hall pass. Since we have a mutual agreement, I don't hesitate to take her advice. What she does when I'm away is not something we discuss.

Last February, the guys and I went to Tucson. The Tucson area has a large number of resorts and enough golf courses to satisfy our needs. Ted, this year's outing organizer, used a Tucson based golf service to create a package including flights, accommodations, transportation and tee times at ten different golf courses. We stayed at a four-bedroom suite in a resort that we rented for forty-eight hundred dollars, or just sixty dollars per night per golfer. All together, the ten-day odyssey set each of us back just under three thousand dollars, including airfare and food.

We had four mid-sized SUV's for transportation. I kept the keys for one of them since I was the one who usually wandered far and wide during our outings while many of the others spend the non-golfing time watching sports, playing cards or napping. I, on the other hand, usually showered after golf, ate dinner with the rest of the gang and then left for the evening looking for more attractive entertainment. That meant I usually returned long after the rest of them were asleep.

The first night we were in town, we checked in, ate early and planned to rest for the next day. I, on the other hand, took the set of car keys and planned to scout the nearby bars and clubs for whatever action Tucson might provide. I wandered through the resort lounge on the way out.

It was early and the lounge was almost empty. However, there was an attractive woman sitting at the very end of the u-shaped bar sipping what looked like neat whiskey. She appeared to be alone. "Could I really be this lucky?" I thought. "Could I be lucky right in the resort bar where I was staying? Maybe I was a little hasty taking the car keys."

I watched her for a short time and then walked over to the stool next to her. "Is this seat taken?" I asked.

She shrugged her shoulders in a manner that I took for a no and I sat down. I paid her little attention as the equally attractive, thirties something bartender wearing short shorts and a man's shirt unbuttoned half way down and tied under her bust line, came over to me to take my order. Her nametag told me her name was Susan. "I'll have what she's having," I said.

Susan returned with an old-fashioned glass with three ice cubes and half full of an amber liquor. "Thank you, Susan," I said as she placed the glass in front of me and walked away. I took a small sip of the dark liquid and smiled. The lady had good taste in alcohol. I guessed the glass contained high quality bourbon, at least fifteen-years old, possibly Elijah Craig Single Barrel.

I looked over at the woman on my left for the first time since sitting down. I was surprised to see her head turned to the right and she was looking directly at me.

"Hi," I said.

She tipped her glass in my direction in greeting.

I held up my glass in return. "Nice stuff. Elijah Craig Single Barrel 18?" I asked.

"Actually its 23," she replied.

Her voice was as attractive as the rest of her. "Roger," I said as I tipped my glass in her direction in reply.

She continued to stare in my direction. My guess is she was considering whether to begin a conversation with me.

"Surely you can tell me your name?" I suggested.

"Joyce," she offered.

Her name was as attractive as her voice and the rest of her. "Well, Joyce, was that so difficult?" I asked.

She shrugged her shoulders and smiled. The list of attractions she offered was getting longer by the second. "Joyce, in the interest of full disclosure, I'm here with a bunch of boring fellows to play golf every day. I came down here to find conversation that wasn't full of sports terms and foul language and I found you. I'll be the first to admit that the conversation hasn't been high quality yet but I'm willing to give it a little time. How about you?"

Her quiet laugh made the attraction list. "Okay. I'm here with my ungrateful husband who would rather drink with his salesmen buddies than spend quality time with his wife. I came down here to find peace and consider my options. Did you forget to mention that you're married as well?"

Busted. "Yes, I'm married and happily so. I love my wife. I believe she loves me. We're realists. She issues me a hall pass whenever I travel and I offer her the same consideration while she's home alone. It works well for us."

"So, you're hunting for pussy?" Joyce asked.

"Classy," I thought. "I wasn't. I just wandered in to avoid the pseudo athletes upstairs. I saw you alone here at the end of the bar and knew you wanted to converse with someone and I was available. So here I am."

Her laughter was real this time and climbed to the top of the attractiveness list. She leaned in, placed her right hand on my leg and said, "I stand corrected. You weren't hunting."

"Right, I wasn't hunting, just hoping," I said as I placed my right hand on her thigh.

She leaned back slightly, never removing her hand from my leg, like she was considering her next move. She apparently made a decision. She used her left hand to slide her skirt up under my hand until it was resting on the bare skin of her thigh. Simultaneously, she moved her right hand higher on my thigh.

Trusting I was on the same page as her, I slid my hand further up under her skirt. She picked up her glass and drained the remaining liquid in one gulp. She put the glass back on the bar and said, "Could you excuse me for a few moments?" she asked.

In response, I removed my hand, picked up my glass and took a small sip of the bourbon. She stood up, straightened her skirt and walked away, hopefully in the direction of the lady's room. While she was gone, I finished my drink and wondered if she was coming back or if I had just been given a failing grade and a gentle jilt. In an expression of over confidence, I ordered a second round for both of us.

She was gone for almost ten minutes. I sat at the bar, sipping my drink and fingering the car keys in my pocket. When I'd almost decided to give up, she returned. She was smiling broadly. Decision made? At least I hoped so.

She pulled her stool closer to mine. She turned me slightly away from the bar and wiggled up on her stool with her legs between mine and the bar. We were sitting, almost alongside and facing each other. In this position, we were almost completely isolated from sight by anyone else in the lounge. I had my back to most of the lounge effectively blocking their view of us. There was a short wall behind her at the end of the bar that prevented anyone from watching us from that side. Anyone interested in what we might be up to would have to move to a conspicuous location and would immediately be seen by either of us.

She took a swallow of her new drink. "Thanks," she said as she put her right hand on my thigh again. I put my right hand on her thigh in return.

She gave me a look that said, "Really." I got the message. I slid my hand down toward her knee and back up her thigh under her skirt.

"Better," she whispered.

She slid her hand up until her fingers were rubbing against the seam between the legs of my trousers.

I slid my hand further up her thigh. I was only mildly surprised when I discovered she wasn't wearing any panties and she was unshaven. The closeness of the bar kept her from separating her legs very far but I was able to find the bump of her clitoris with my fingers.

She gasped slightly as I touched her and moved her hand up fully on my rapidly growing penis.

I rubbed her clitoris with two fingers in a slow circular motion. I could hear her breathing quicken and feel her hand gripping my cock more firmly. When she held her breath and her body stiffened, I paused my activity with her clit.

"No. Don't stop. It's okay," she gasped.

I moved my fingers slightly, her eyes closed and she covered her mouth with her free hand. She shook for several seconds and then relaxed. When she opened her eyes, they were shining with small tears in them. "Thank you," she said. "I'd almost forgotten that was possible."

We withdrew our hands and turned our stools toward the bar again. We sat quietly, sipping our drinks for several minutes.

"You must think I'm quite the slut," she said finally.

"To the contrary. I think you're a beautiful woman with wants and needs and lonely for the attention she deserves."

"Honestly, I'm very conflicted at this moment."

"I'm listening," I said. "Trust me. I think you'll find I'm more than just a cheap thrill."

"You have no idea what you're asking for."

"Try me. I'm in sales. I've heard it all. I've been rejected more times than sour milk. I can take it."

"I have a thousand questions for myself and most of them don't have answers."

"For example?"

"Okay. Here goes. Why did I not object to your sitting next to me? Why did I start talking to you? Why did I put my hand on your leg? Why did I allow you to put your hand on my thigh? Why did I move my skirt so you could place your hand on the skin of my thigh? Why did I excuse myself to go to the lady's room? Why did I remove my panties before coming back? Why did I come back at all? Why did I sit so close to you? Why did I turn to make your touching me easier? Why didn't I stop you when you moved you hand up my thigh? Why did I move my hand up your thigh? Why did I allow you to touch my vagina? Why did I rub your cock through your pants? Why did I allow you to rub my clitoris? Why did I stroke your penis? Why didn't I stop you when I felt an orgasm building? Why did I allow you to give me an orgasm? Why did I enjoy it so much? Why do I want more? I have no answers for any of those questions, yet I'm still sitting next to you. Is that enough?"

"That's quite a list. Pretty much covers our entire relationship to this moment. I have two possibilities that might simplify your confliction. Either you're a mind reader that stayed because I wanted you to or you stayed because you wanted to. Either way, I'm still here and so are you.

"Okay. Maybe I wanted to do everything that happened. Maybe now I want to fuck you. Is that mind reading?"

"Does it make a difference if we don't disagree about what happens next? I have only one concern. Is what happens next a retribution screw aimed at your ungrateful husband?

"He may be an ass-hole but I'm not. I never act from a negative emotion. He may deserve it but it would ruin the experience for me and probably you as well. No, if we get naked and go a little crazy its only because I want it that way and you deserve my undivided attention."

"I can't possibly do better than that. How do you want to do this?"

"Are you staying in the resort?" she asked.

"Yes, but I'm in a four bedroom suite with seven other guys. Privacy is non-existent and those clowns aren't worthy of a sophisticated dame like you. How about you?"

"I'm here with my husband. I don't know when he'll come back but I'm certain we'll need more time than he'll give us. Also, he may be an ass-hole but he's not dumb. He's bound to notice the condition of the sheets even if you leave before he gets there."

"Fair enough. We need a neutral location. Any thoughts?"

"I might have," she said. Joyce took out a small notebook and wrote something in it before tearing out the page and handing it to me. "Here's my cell number. Call me tomorrow after you get back from your game and I'll have everything arranged."

"I can't wait. I'm disappointed about tonight but I'm euphoric about tomorrow." I tore off the bottom of the paper, borrowed her pen and gave her my phone number.

Joyce looked at me for a moment and said, "I guessing you have set of car keys in your pocket. Are you going pussy hunting later this evening?"

"I was before I came into the lounge and sat next to you. Now, I don't know."

"Please don't. Save yourself for me. I promise you won't be sorry."

"As difficult at that will be, I'll take you at your word and spend the rest of the evening trying to keep my expectations in check. How about you?"

"Oh, if my husband already hasn't gotten laid before he comes in, he'll have to make love to his right hand. I'm not in the mood for his brand of crap. He'll be sleeping alone tonight. You're the next hit tune on my play list."

"Okay. We have a deal," I said as I extended my hand to shake hers. She smiled and shook my hand enthusiastically. "I'll call you mid afternoon."

"I'll be waiting."

We sat and talked about nothing and everything. Getting to know each other better. I thought of it as a form of foreplay. But I'm still a guy and Joyce caught me looking at her breasts on more than one occasion over the next hour. Eventually, she looked at me and asked, "Like what you see?"

"Sorry. Can't help myself. It's the guy in me."

"I get that but do you like what you see?"

"Very much. At least what I can see."

Joyce began playing with the buttons on her blouse until she had the top three undone. "How about now?" she asked.

I could see the fabric of a very lacy bra through the gap in the opening of her blouse. "You're an incredible tease. Waiting until tomorrow is hard enough without inflaming my libido as well as other things."

"I am, aren't I," she said. "Would you excuse me for a moment?"

"I'll be right here," I said as she stood up and went in the direction of the restroom again.

When she returned, she positioned her stool to maximize my ability to stare and sat down. The top three buttons on her blouse were still undone but I forced myself not to look.

"You can look. In fact, I'd be disappointed if you didn't."

I looked and I took a quick breath. I could easily see between the opening of her blouse and her bra was no longer obstructing my view. I could see most of her left breast moving slowly up and down as she breathed. "Do you like what you see now?" she asked.

"I take it back. You're not a tease. You're a tart."

She laughed heartily and undid another button of her blouse. She held the blouse open with one hand so I could see her entire breast including the soft pink of a very erect nipple. She laughed again as I adjusted myself in my pants.

"You've raised the stakes considerably. I'm barely breathing," I admitted.

"I just want you to understand the commitment I have to the deal we made."

"Message received," I said as I reached with my right hand for second base.

She took my hand before I reached the opening in her blouse. "That's all for tonight," she said as she buttoned up her blouse again.

We ended the evening a short time later. Joyce leaned in and kissed me goodnight. She lingered in the kiss and didn't object when I slid into second and briefly cupped her breast through her blouse.

She walked away without looking back. I know because my eyes never left her ass as she left. I sat at the bar for a few minutes while I finished the remains of my drink. Susan, the bartender, came over to me and asked, "Did you strike out? If you did, I get off in twenty minutes."

"Susan," I said, "I'm more than appreciative of what I think you're suggesting but the lady who just left and I have a firm agreement and I'd like to keep things in the order they appear. I have no idea how long our agreement will last but, if you're willing to be patient, I'd like a rain check for later in the week."

"Well, even if it doesn't rain, I'm here every night and I'm very good at drying the tears of disappointment."

I left shortly afterward. I walked on air all the way back to the suite. I was also a little shaken. "That was easy," I thought. "Maybe even too easy. I wonder if there's a catch somewhere." I was early enough that several of the guys were still awake playing poker. I greeted them and went to my room to sleep.

Sleep was difficult. I couldn't get Joyce out of my mind and my imagination worked overtime creating scenarios for the next evening.

It's probably not a surprise that I played lousy golf the next morning. I was tired and my concentration was shit. We had formed two four-man teams and I lost all three parts of the Nassau bet, dragging my partners with me and I didn't care. When we got back to the suite just before two pm, I went to my room and called Joyce. She sounded delighted that I had called. She quickly told me that she had told her husband she was going home and left. She had reserved a room in a resort about two miles up the road and she would be ready for me about four. She would leave an envelope for me with a room key at the front desk. All I had to do was show up, get the key and come to the room.

With a plan in place, I took a shower and set the alarm for a ninety-minute nap. I knew I would need the time to rest since I didn't think I was going to sleep much later. Ninety minutes later, I woke up refreshed, dressed and called my wife. I then grabbed the car keys, told the guys not to wait up and drove the two miles up the road.

The envelope was waiting as promised. I moved away from the check-in counter before I opened it. There was a short note on the paper from her notebook and a plastic card. The short note was written with lavender ink. Joyce was waiting in room 1323 in the north tower. It was signed with a small drawing of a heart.

I found the north tower and took the elevator to the thirteenth floor. A sign on the wall outside the elevator showed the way to room 1323. At the door, I took a deep breath and knocked lightly. I could hear somebody in the room come to the door and I sensed they looked through the security lens in the door. The door opened and I walked into an empty room. Joyce was behind the door and closed it behind me.

I turned to face her. "You idiot," she said, "I was planning a special welcome for you and you made me get out of bed to answer the door. Why didn't you use the key?"

"Respect. I didn't want to catch you unexpectedly."

"I can believe that, but you spoiled my grand surprise."

I looked at the way she was dressed or rather partly dressed. "Believe me, I'm more than happily surprised," I said. She was wearing a short, flowing, semi-transparent robe. I needed only a little imagination to notice she was wearing nothing under it. I looked up and noticed her hair. "You got a haircut," I said.