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In the Rough



You’re coaching: ‘Head down, follow through.’ I’m not listening. I’m picturing the buggy locker, the clubhouse storeroom, that thicket on the ninth fairway. I’m feeling your hands, warm around mine around the shaft. Your zipper teasing my buttocks, forearms skimming my waist, breath on my nape. We backswing together, peaking high and slow.


I was club champion for a decade; the lessons are a ploy. It’s your flesh I want. I’d been asleep for years – midlife loins sluggish, appetite nowhere – when you showed up with your crisp polos and lazy smile, smelling of grass and leather. Now I’m hungry.



'In the Rough' won a Globe Soup 'Lust' monthly micro contest in 2021.

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