I’m lucky. I know I work hard. I know I’m talented, but I’m not stupid enough to think I did this on my own.
I’ve been God dammed fucking lucky.
The first time I ever played golf, I was twenty-two. I’m not sure if Charlie knew it or not, but I loved it.
And I’m good.
Not to sound immodest, but seriously, I have a natural talent. If I wanted to quit performing, it wouldn’t take a whole lot for me to go pro.
Yeah, the afternoon was no hardship.
All in all, not a bad day. I take a quick shower and head for the green– I’ve learned this particular green is referred to as the yoga green.
I’m excited to see her. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been excited about anything.
When I get there, she’s waiting for me. I swear, I have this moment. She takes my breath away. Time stands still. She hasn’t seen me yet, so I stop and just look at her.
She knows I’m here. I can tell the second she senses my presence. She sits up taller, settles her hands on her knees and turns her head.
We have a connection. I doubt she’ll try to deny it after this.
Each step I take has meaning. Each step brings me closer to her.
When I get closer, my eyes trail over her. She’s wearing a tank top and yoga pants. The figure hugging clothes emphasize her bold display of femininity. Lush, ripe. Woman.
She smiles up at me in that smug little way she had earlier. “You look like you’ve had a good day.”
Impudent girl.
Pleased with herself.
She’s already barefoot. I sit beside her and take my shoes off. “You have a file on me,” I say. “Golf? Really?” I laugh and pull my shirt over my head. Immediately her eyes travel down my chest.
I start to lie down and she stops me. “Nope. Sit and face me. We’re going to breathe first.”
“I know how to breathe.” I want her hands on me, but her eyes brook no argument. I’m fine. I’ll pick my battles wisely and sit cross legged in front of her. She’s wedged her feet over her knees. I have to admit, I’m impressed.
Her toenails are painted florescent green.
She leads us both through a series of breathing exercises and stretches. I can hardly believe how flexible she is. Every time she changes positions, she’s grace personified. Baby bump and all.
Another fifteen minutes and I’m feeling an odd combination of arousal and relaxation. She’s scrambling me. Challenging my beliefs about myself. I close my eyes and listen to her voice. When I open them I can only look at her.
She moves, stretches and bends in uninhibited motions, mesmerizing me.
“Now lie down.”
But I shake my head. I know she can still lie on her back because she did it for some of our stretches. “You lie down. And tell me what to do.”
I don’t believe she thinks I’m serious. I point to the grass. “You. Lie down.”
She shrugs and lies on the ground in front of me. I place my hands in her hair. “Touch the top of my head.” She instructs me. “This is the Crown Chakra. It’s considered the connection to divine energy, my understanding and will. I clear it with meditation.” I massage her scalp with my fingertips. Listening to her tell me how she finds peace. I feel tender. But I feel something else, and it makes no sense at all. I feel love.
Not romantic love. This love is tied in with gratitude. An appreciation for this beautiful person allowing me to touch her.
My hands move to her neck and throat.
“The Throat Chakra,” Her voice catches slightly. She must feel this too. This connection. Or maybe she’s just emotional about her beliefs. “It guides my truth, my deepest purpose.” She directs my hands to her brows, her heart, her round, hard, abdomen, and she tells me a little about each point.
