This is really fucking stumping me. My head’s reeling as I try to figure it out.

When my golf caddy removes her shirt, I ought to be enjoying her tits, right?

But all I can fucking think about is whether Golden Acres Country Club is hiring their caddies from the strip club down the road, or if she’s been equipped with these massive breast implants as precautionary flotation devices in case I hit my ball into the lake or something.

“Like what you see?” she coos, shimmying in the dim, flickering light.

The whole course is illuminated with tiki torches right now—because when William fucking Ambrose wants to golf at midnight, even the country club scrambles to oblige.

I shrug and give her a golf clap.

I’ve seen better.

Seen worse, too.

“Bend over,” I say, selecting a driving iron and weighing it in my hands. Feels good. Nice, hard and heavy. Perfect for what I’m about to do.

“Face down, ass up.”

“Oooh,” The caddy giggles, obliging me. “What are you gonna do? Spank me with your big, thick iron?”

“No,” I say, repositioning her hips to my liking and polishing my golf ball on my shirt.

“I’m gonna tee off your ass.”

The woman giggles, and I roll my eyes. She sounds like some valley girl from California.

On the bright side, she has a nice fucking ass.

Though I’ve seen better.

Seen worse, too.

“Better squeeze that ass. I don’t want my tee falling before I take my swing.”

“Ooh. Yes, sir!”

Another swig of whiskey—expensive fucking whiskey, and worth every penny—burns the back of my throat. But it’s fucking good. At two grand a bottle, it had better be.

The caddy giggles and looks at me over her shoulder. She gives her ass a little wiggle that, admittedly, makes my cock twitch just a bit under my pants.

It’s a nice fucking ass after all.

I slip the tee down between her cheeks and balance my ball on it. The smirk on my face widens as I step up to her and line up my shot.

Maybe after I nail this shot, I’ll take a moment to nail her, too. A little quickie between holes never hurt anyone.

“Will? Are you fucking serious right now?”

The sound of a mom voice from behind me completely ruins my swing, and my club hits the cabby right in the ass. I’m more pissed at the ruined swing and less that I just hit the naked bimbo, since she seems to have fucking liked it.

The caddy moans, not in pain, but in delight.

Masochists, right?

But I don’t have time to deal with her saucy little kinks at the moment. I recognize the voice that spoiled my swing—I recognize it all too well.

“I can’t believe how fucking childish you are, Will.”

Sarah’s using the same fucking voice mom used on us when we were caught doing stupid shit as kids.

I fucking loathe that tone.

And she knows it.

Hell, she even looks like mom in her little pencil skirt and heels.

“Do you mind? You’re fucking up my golf game right now.”

“Tough shit, cupcake. You’re thirty-five, and you’re out here shooting golf balls off the ass of some hooker? Your retirement party is still going on inside, you know.”

“Actually, she’s my caddy.”

I bend down and give the caddy a little swat on the ass that makes her coo again.

“You. Stay put.”

“This your plan for the rest of the night, Will?”

I shrug, slinging my golf club over my shoulder, and staring out across the green.

“Mostly, yeah.”

“You should be going home to a wife, Will. A kid or two. Being a fucking adult. Not here with some naked broad, trying to shoot golf balls off her ass.”

“Would have succeeded if you hadn’t come up on me like some creepy fucking ninja.”

“Come on, Will. You’re still acting like you’re some twenty-two year old college student whose only goal in life is to get his dick wet and drink over-priced booze. You should be settling down. Finding a woman to love and have a family with.”

I groan. It’s a spiel I’ve heard from her before. Far too fucking often of late for my own liking.

“Love doesn’t exist, Sarah. The world isn’t some fucking fairy tale Jennifer Aniston movie. Guy doesn’t find girl and fall helpless in love. That’s not how the world works. Love is a joke without a punchline.”

Sarah shakes her head at me. If we were kids, I’d be ripping the heads off all her Barbie dolls tonight just for dragging this shit up.

“You can’t seriously believe that.”

“And why not?” I shrug and take another drink of my whiskey. “Who the fuck are you to lecture me on love? You order men from that creepy-ass dating website like you’re ordering a burger and fries at a drive-thru.”

She shifts in her stance, and I can see I’ve hit a nerve.

“MaleOrder.com is not a drive-through.”

“Yeah,” I chuckle. “I bet you take super-size portions with extra helpings of special sauce, too.”

Her lips twitch, and I know I got her good.

Will, one and Sarah, zero.

“Besides, what classy woman is going to want me? I’m not the guy you take home to mom and dad. The only women I‘d want to have kids with respect themselves too much to want me. I play better to the slut demographic, and you know it.”

“Hey!” the Caddyshack of strippers protests. I just give her another love tap with my club again. She giggles at the attention.

Sarah rolls her eyes. “But if you got married—”

“Marriage is a contract; one I’d rather not sign.”

Sarah’s lip curls in frustration. “Okay, hot shot. How about we try this a different way? A wager of sorts.”

“A wager? You don’t know the difference between a flush and a full house.”

There’s a smirk on Sarah’s lips that I don’t like. Not one fucking bit.

She goes to my golf bag and grabs a club of her own.

“If I can hit this ball off this woman’s ass and score a hole in one, then, you, my dear brother, will put yourself up on MaleOrder.com for purchase.”

I laugh. Not just a regular hey-that-was-a-good-joke kind of laugh.

No, this is the kind of laugh that comes from the stomach. A laugh that hurts so much I can feel my eyes begin to water. The last time I’d laughed so hard, I was fleeing forty horny sorority sisters with tassels around my dick and whipped cream over my nipples.

“Well, considering there’s no fucking way you can make that shot…Yeah, I’ll take that fucking bet.”

She takes my ball and tee from my hands. She looks confident. A little too confident.

We shake hands to seal the deal.

She doesn’t bother to kick off her heels. She just slips the ball and tee between the caddy’s firm ass cheeks and lines up her shot.

“Don’t fuck it up now,” I warn.

She takes her swing. I hold my breath and watch that white ball soar across the sky toward the green. It hits it and rolls with purpose towards its destination. I pray that it just fucking stops there, but it doesn’t.

No, it slides right up to the edge of the hole with the last of its momentum and sits for a moment. I get ready to celebrate.

Not quite, little sis.

Then, the fucking thing tips right over the ledge and into the hole!

Christ. Mocked by a fucking golf ball.

Will, zero; Sarah, fucking infinity.

“Okay,” I level with her, “when the fuck did you turn into Tiger Woods?”

“You’re not the only golfer in the family, big brother.”

With shots like that, apparently fucking not.

I stand there speechless as Sarah grabs my caddy and my whiskey.

“Be sure to use that picture from the Christmas party last year. You looked really good in that Santa hat,” Sarah suggests, draping her arm around the caddy and taking off.

I toss my club onto the green and pull out my phone.

MaleOrder.com. Fuck’s sake.

Well, this will be an adventure, if nothing else.