6. Tennessee Whiskey
CHAPTER SIX
tennessee whiskey
ROMAN
It’s been a struggle to take my eyes off her.
Her long, lavender hair flows down her back, and her warm brown eyes shimmer with a touch of mischief. The thing I like most about her, though, is her smile. She’s got a slightly crooked tooth that she doesn’t seem at all ashamed to show off.
She showed up casual, dressed in a pair of light washed jeans, bright green sneakers, and a white crop top with her hoodie tied around her waist. She’s also got a septum ring, and tattoos scattered across her arms; I keep finding my gaze wandering up and down her body, wanting to ask about them as I try to count them. I’m glad we didn’t agree to a nice dinner at a place that’s fancy enough to demand a dress code. I feel like I can be myself a little more.
Jade walks with confidence, swinging her club gently back and forth as we head to the next course. She puts her hands on her hips, staring at an obnoxious windmill lit up with neon lights, the whole thing surrounded by fake palm trees. There’s a small, very thin path leading right to the hole that’s flanked by large sand traps on either side, and the windmill’s arms spin just quickly enough to force the timing. A little too late, or angled just slightly wrong, and you’re digging your ball out of the sand.
“How do you want to approach this, Tiger?” I ask.
She drops her ball onto the ground, grinning at me.
“Carefully. Now step back and don’t steal my strategy.”
I give her some space, watching her take a breath as she figures out how to get the best shot.
“So, um, do you take all of your potential… partners to play mini golf?”
“No,” she replies casually, kneeling down to better judge the position of the hole. “Coffee dates, lunch, sometimes a walk around the park. Anywhere where I can get a feel for someone.”
“That’s smart.”
“Do you think you’re ready for the ‘what are you into’ conversation?” She asks, still not looking up from the green.
I glance around, slightly paranoid. I’ve never really voiced these desires before, and no matter how foolish it sounds, this almost feels like I’m doing something I shouldn’t.
“I… I like the idea of submission.” My voice is shaky, and Jade’s clearly noticed, glancing up at me with curiosity. “Spanking, humiliation, stuff like that.”
“And domination? Any interest there?”
My mind flashes back to one video I saw of a woman on her knees with a tie wrapped around her eyes and her mouth gagged with a massive cock. She was choking, spittle dripping down her chin like honey while she rode a vibrator, coming over and over again until she was shaking.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “Yeah, definitely.”
Since research is my job it didn’t feel odd to spend a lot of time googling shit that would make my internet company blush: Ball gags, blindfolds, rope bondage, spanking. I watched pain turn to ecstasy, a kind of joy I’ve never seen or experienced before. It made me envious. I wanted to do it, and I wanted it done to me.
“Okay, so you’re a switch. That’s cool.” She takes her shot, watching the ball until it comes to a stop just in front of the windmill before turning back to me. “But I want to be up front: I don’t sub for people I don’t know well.”
“I understand. I read somewhere that it’s a good idea to be submissive first, before moving on to domination.”
She smiles as I chip the ball, and it sails off the path and right into the sand.
“Very good, Henry.”
I can’t tell if she’s talking about my submission comment, or if it was a jab at my shitty golf abilities, but the teasing nature of her tone makes me blush.
“That was terrible.”
“True,” she sighs dramatically. “Come on, I wanna see you hit that thing for real.”
“Yeah?” I saunter into the sand trap, gearing up to take a swing. “You wanna watch complete and utter embarrassment?”
“It’ll be good practice for when I’m calling you a slut one day.”
I miss so hard I think I might need to join the mini golf witness protection program, and Jade raises her club as that rich laughter of hers rings through the night.
“Yes! Got you!”
“When did this become competitive?” I ask, shaking some of the sand off my boot.
“Isn’t golf always competitive, or are you just afraid of losing?”
She wanders over to her ball and takes another shot, trying to inch it past the arms of the windmill. Unfortunately she hits it a little too hard, and we both watch it soar through the air, bouncing off the roof before nearly hitting her on the way down.
“It kinda looks like we’re both losing.”
She frowns, her hands on her hips as I stifle my own laughter.
“Well, now it’s a competition to see who’s losing worse and you…”
“You’re saying I’m winning at losing?” I tease, getting the jab in before she can even finish her sentence.
Jade pauses, her eyes volleying between me and the golf ball.
“Fuck. Looks like you’re right.”
She strides over to pick up her ball and hurls it across the park, straight into the water; I stare at her with a look of total confusion as she tosses her hair back.
“New game strategy! Team work, we get this done together.”
“Oh, now that I’m winning the humiliation game, you wanna change the rules?”
“Hey, I paid for the entry fee! My rules now.”
Jade lifts her club and rests it on the back of her shoulders, giving me a playful shrug before licking her lips. That’s when I spot her tongue ring.
“Fine, I can get on board with that,” I reply, doing my best to seem calm.
“Perfect!”
She bounces back toward me and chips our remaining ball, sending sand flying up into the air as it sails across the path and into another trap.
“Chill out!”
“Well, I had to get out of the sand!” She shouts.
“And into more sand?”
“Just take your turn, tough guy.”
I cross the path while she stays behind in the opposite sand trap, but it’s hard to care about the ball when all I can think about is how gorgeous she looks, and I take a quick moment to steal a glance. Her little crop top rides up her stomach, giving me a good look at more tattoos. Flowers and leaves mostly, all disappearing into the waistband of her jeans.
I find myself unable to stop thinking about how much I’d like to trace them with my tongue.
“So.” I clear my throat as I try and fail to focus on my shot. “What happens when you decide someone might be a good kink partner?”
“We’d start you out slow since it’s your first time. We’d figure out limits, a safe word, and then get into our roles. Lots of teasing and getting you comfortable with submitting.” I can hear her making her way over to me, but I keep my focus as best I can. “I’m here to guide you; you can say the safe word any time you want, and we stop.”
I nod.
“How long are the sessions?”
“As long as you want,” she replies, her voice coming from right behind me now. “I like meeting people in this scene and connecting with them. It doesn’t always have to be kink or sex. But I… I don’t do relationships. Just want to make that clear.”
“So, it’s friends with benefits.”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
We keep playing the hole for quite some time, resulting in a lot more failure and laughter trailing off into the evening. I was skeptical of a mini golf date to begin with, but I ended up having more fun than I’ve had in a long time.
Finally, on what has to be our hundredth combined attempt, I manage to hit the ball just right for it to slip past the arm of the windmill to the other side.
“Heeeey!” She laughs. “Does that make you our loser-winner, or winner-loser?”
As the night stretches on, and our focus moves further and further from the greens, I get to understand more about Jade and her limits. She draws the line at true sadism, doesn’t enjoy making people bleed or truly hurt. She also doesn’t do stuff like water sports, which I had to look up on my phone while her back was turned.
Definitely not my thing.
“What about you? What are your limits?” She asks.
“I don’t really know. For now let’s just say… don’t punch me in the balls?”
“Got it. No ball punching.” She snorts. “And turn ons? What do you like?”
I clear my throat and look around to make sure we’re out of ear shot. Jade doesn’t really seem to care, she’s probably had these conversations dozens of times, but I’m still a bit flustered by the topic.
“I like the idea of getting slapped, some light humiliation. I also like um… compliments?”
I figured that out pretty fast from watching those videos.
“Praised and degraded. It’s a fine line, but I can walk it,” she replies, flashing me an approving grin.
“Does that kind of stuff work for you too?”
She slinks towards me, getting so close the toes of her sneakers touch my boots.
“There’s a laundry list of shit that turns me on, Henry. Right now what I’m interested in is your pleasure.”
She smells delicious. Amber, tobacco, and vanilla with a hint of something floral that I can’t put my finger on.
“O— okay,” I stammer. “So, you wanna do this?”
“Well, the night’s not over yet, but I think it’s going pretty well so far, don’t you?”
“Yeah. You, uh…” She licks her lips as butterflies torment my stomach. “You seem really cool.”
“You too.”
“Now, I know you’re bullshitting me,” I chuckle.
I take in the soft freckles on her cheeks, the little sparkle in her eyes, and her long, thick lashes.
“Trust me, Henry. I’ve faked a lot of stuff, but?—”
“Like being the Tiger Woods of mini golf?”
She snickers, her smile so big I find myself smiling right back.
“You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”
“Not a chance, darlin’.”
Blush cascades down her neck and onto her chest. Maybe I’ve still got it after all these years.
“I was going to say, I’ve faked a lot of stuff, but I’ve never faked interest in someone just to get some dick.”
Before I can respond she turns around and takes a final putt. The two of us watch in silence as it creeps toward the hole, lingering for a moment on the edge before it slips in.
“Yes!”
Jade thrusts her arm in the air, full of excitement and glee.
“Nice job!” I exclaim, the two of us going in for an awkward high-five.
We debate going to another course, but ultimately decide against it, watching a few small groups of people play almost as bad as we did while we walk the grounds. Our conversation continues, quickly taking a left turn into our less private interests. Jade likes horror flicks, whereas I prefer my cooking shows and romantic comedies. She likes Stephen King, I like Virginia Woolf. It’s a fun little exercise.
“Desert island. Top five movies,” she says, grabbing my arm. “Go.”
“That’s too hard. Ten.”
“Five!”
She’s firm, in control even here.
“Fine, fine. I’ll play along.” I stroke my beard, racking my brain for an answer. “Okay, first one: When Harry Met Sally.”
“Great pick.”
“Thank you.” I grimace, struggling for more. “Second… Erin Brockovich.”
“Solid,” she replies, nodding enthusiastically. “Julia Roberts is so good in that.”
“She really is… but for my last three, let’s say the Lord of the Rings trilogy.”
Jade narrows her eyes.
“Extended version, or regular?”
“If you’re not watching the extended version, is it even The Lord of the Rings?”
She grins.
“Amen.”
We find a bench, sitting for a while as the conversation turns to music. She says she likes classic rock, although her definition of ‘classic’ is the stuff I listened to when I was 19 or 20. I tell her it stings a little, and she gets a kick out of that.
I’m 43, but I don’t feel old, other than the fact that my knees suck, and if I sleep on one side for too long my hip goes numb. Most days, though, I still feel like I’m the same idiot I was when I was 20, and I’m not really sure what that says about me.
“Attention Lucky Strokes golfers, we’ll be closing in 30 minutes.”
The crackle of the PA system makes me jump, but Jade just sighs, scrolling through her phone as my anxiety begins to gnaw away at me. The last thing I want to do is go back to my empty apartment, alone, but before I can say a word she takes the reins.
“Are you hungry? I haven't eaten dinner yet, and I know a place nearby.”
“Starved.”
It’s like she read my mind.