‘I figured you might check up on me, but guess you were too busy.’

Paul quickly erased the words off his mobile messenger as his face heated up with anger.  “You’re such a pussy,” he told himself.  He lifted the two litre bottle of noname diet cola and took a swig.  She’s too busy.  He glanced down at the Blackberry and noted three hours since he had last messaged her.

In the background, Steven Tyler crooned about ‘Living on the Edge’.

Paul gave a blank stare at the taupe walls of his office.  A small scrap of black gothic art hung to his right.  The white of the flat computer screen glared back, awaiting his next words of action.  The dog snored in the hall behind him.

A decent sized window with white moldings covered him on the left  showing over cast gray skies, and large trees of the neighbor’s front lawn.  The lawn was mostly green with spots of yellow for the dandelions.  The neighbor’s house was set back far enough that it could not be seen through the window without twisting around awkwardly.

Paul was, however, able to see the next house over which was currently just being built with it’s trusses still naked on top.  “Bandit!  Time for a walk!”

Bandit, the Norwegian Buhund, groaned as it turned to look at him.  Bandit had a shiny light brown coat with black tipped ears and a line of black that gave him the look of wearing a mask…thus, with the memories of Johnny Quest, Paul had named him appropriately.  Bandit was, however, nearly 15 years old and really starting to show his age with some gray whiskers on his muzzle and a look in his eye that usually suggested he wanted to be left alone.

Paul stood.  “Come on, buddy.  Let’s go.”

Bandit gave him one last ‘seriously?’ stare and than got up on all fours.

The two made their way down the stairs to the kitchen.  Typical farmhouse that it was, the front door entered the kitchen which had six other doors going to all the other rooms in the house.  The painted white cabinets were original and, like the house, about one hundred years old.  The black iron looking hardware and glossy white countertop had been replaced sometime back before Paul bought the place, but it still had an ancient look to it.

Paul found the leash on a small maple table beside the front door.  He bent, attached it to Bandit’s collar, and they were ready.  “We gonna run today?”

Bandit glared at him.

“Guess not.  Let’s go.”  Paul leaned over and picked his MP3 player off the small table and put in the ear buds.  His ears danced as Howard Jones was first up singing ‘Two Souls’.

The two walked out the red front door just as a gravel truck roared past ignoring the 50 km/h speed limit.

Paul turned, locked the door, and then let Bandit lead him down the cement path leading to the sidewalk.  They turned up the small street just to the north of the house and began climbing up the hill there.  They walked up to the top of the hill, about 300 metres, where the street took a hard north turn.  To Paul’s surprise, the gate to the golf course was open.

The golf course was a nine hole semi-private facility that had a parking lot that ran along the far end of Paul’s back yard.

Paul turned south towards the golf course, garnering another glare from Bandit as this was not part of his modus operandi.  Rush began the intro to a live version of “Big Money” on the MP3 as Paul stepped through the gate without much thought.  Something was drawing him this direction even though he knew, with the dog, he would not be welcome on the course.

With all the rain that had been falling, the grass was green and buzzing with insects.  The path quickly led to the parking lot off Paul’s backyard, and then the club house which was a small green building with black shingles.  A large Ford F250 and a Chevy Aveo were the only vehicles parked.  The lights through the window were all off inside.

“Too early for golf anyway, right buddy?”

Bandit gave a slow gravelly growl at something ahead.

“What’s up?”

Bandit took the lead and wandered further up the path.  The path continued to the first tee before it finally faded out.  Bandit’s ears perked and he continued pulling the leash forward and down the first fairway just as rain started spitting.  The fairway was lined with large trees on either side.

“I’d never fucking find my ball here…”, Paul stopped mid-sentence as he heard the noise that had, obviously, caught Bandit’s attention.

Squeak…honk!…“Yes!!!”…squeak…honk!…“Yes!!!”

The sound repeated over and over.

Bandit pulled ahead and rounded a tree where he stopped and stared with his ‘This isn’t right’ glare.

Paul stopped behind the tree and bent his head so he could see around it.  Perhaps ironic, but the MP3 player provided “Weird” Al Yankovic singing a polka version of “Papa Don’t Preach”.

A white golf cart sat under the trees, only a few metres from the duo’s vantage point, and bounced with a squeak.  The young naked blonde woman straddled a gray haired gentleman in the drivers seat.  Though not naked, skin was visible below the gentleman’s blue golf shirt down to his knees.  The blonde proceeded to thrust her ass back against the steering wheel, causing the golf cart horn to honk, and then slammed herself back down on the gentleman while screaming, “Yes!”

At first, Paul pulled his head back due to the automatic reaction of catching someone in an awkward act.  Being they had not seen him, he allowed his eyes to slowly peek around the tree trunk again.

The blonde had her back turned to Paul, but was just positioned enough that he could make out the shape of her huge breasts as they bounced.

Paul wondered if she had back problems with those.

She was rather skinny, with her blonde curls running half down her back.  One last bounce and it was time to change positions for her.  She stood…well, stood-ish, and turned around.  Straddling again, she reached between her legs, grabbed the gentleman’s half-erect penis, and sat back on it.  The man’s hands reached around and fondled her breasts.  The honking stopped.

Paul pulled back and glanced down at the still staring dog.  If Bandit could, Paul was sure it would be something along the lines of ‘what the fuck?’

Bandit gave a quick look up at Paul.  ‘Can we go?’

Paul looked around the tree again to see the blonde with her hands clasped before her, bent forward with her forearms propping her up on the steering wheel.  Her blue eyes met Paul’s with a big smile.

“Shit!”

The gentleman under her froze.  “Who’s there?”

Paul and Bandit sprinted down the path and back through the parking lot.  A quick turn and down the hill left them both panting on the house stoop as Paul fumbled his key into the lock and let them in.  Quickly unleashing Bandit, Paul ran to the laundry room and looked out the back window just in time to see the golf cart pull into the parking lot behind his backyard.

The gentleman got out, and was very tall.  The blonde was struggling to get knee high boots over blue jeans and had a pink tee-shirt that was just a little too tight.  She finally succeeded and quickly ran to the Chevy.  The man glanced around the parking lot, his face beat red even in the cool light rain.  The Chevy backed out and squealed tires as it pulled out of the parking lot.

Paul pulled down the shade so it was just a slit.

After a few minutes, the gentleman walked into the club house as the rain intensity increased.

Paul looked down at Bandit who sat beside the washing machine.  “I think we caught him with the mistress, buddy.  Might even be a hooker.”  Paul stroked his brown whiskers on his chin.  “Mighty expensive hooker considering how far we are from the city.”

Bandit yawned.

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