Kit's Stories - Sofia Pt. 02

Bill ran up on the edge of the green; he was covered with mud and glory as the crowd cheered for the miracle shot. Kit, Betty, and Greta hugged the slimy Bill in their joy. As Kit was pounding him on the back, Primo ran up in front of Bill.

"Bill Miller," Primo screamed, "you are the luckiest piece of shit that ever existed. You could hit that shot a million more times and never even get it on the green. I can't believe you stole it from me with that piece of fucking luck!" Primo's face was red and his hands were clenched in fists at his chest. Kit thought he looked more primate than man.

"Primo, it was luck. Everyone here knows that, but I would much rather go home with my forty-five bucks feeling like a lucky man, than go home knowing that I was a cheating, sawed-off mother-fucker like you." The words hung heavy over the crowd and the moment seemed to freeze for everyone.

Primo roared his rage and began a huge roundhouse swing at Bill's muddy face. Partway through the arc of the fist, a long arm intervened and Kit's large hand enveloped Primo's fist. Primo's hand was rotated thumb inward as the swing was redirected downward. Primo was as surprised as anyone when his arm was twisted up behind his back and he was spun away from Bill. He did feel Kit's size 14 golf shoe, spikes and all, press into his ass as he was bent forward. Suddenly his arm was released and Kit's Foot Joy propelled him reeling and stumbling into the crowd.

Catching his balance, Primo whirled back toward Bill and Kit. Looking at the crowd, he realized that he had no support at that time. Looking farther into the crowd, he said, "Come on, Betty. We are leaving. I think we can pass on the buffet." When she hesitated, he grasped her arm. When several people started forward, she said, "No, it's OK. We'll go now." As they started to Primo's cart, she looked back over her shoulder, "I'll get your golf ball back to you later, Kit." She and Primo headed toward the clubhouse.

Sofia walked to Kit and wrapped her arm around his waist. She looked up at him and whispered, "Thank-you." Her black eyes sparkled with amusement and satisfaction. Kit felt a surge of lust that all Betty's and Greta's teasing could not match. He hugged her to his side and asked, "Have I earned that bonus yet?" "We can negotiate later," she replied.

The victorious team was escorted loudly to the clubhouse where the team members were awarded their envelope with the winnings. As captain, Bill carefully counted out the money to each team member before they adjourned to the locker rooms to clean up before the buffet and calcutta. Kit took his $45 to the tip box in the locker room and was dropping it in when he heard a throat being cleared behind him. He turned to see the stern face of Mr. Ross frowning at him.

"Are you trying to buy some balm for a guilty conscience with the only answer that rich white boys know?" the elderly man asked.

"Perhaps," Kit answered. "But perhaps since my verbal apology for past behavior was not accepted, I am looking for another way to say that I am sorry and that I have learned from the experience."

"I don't need your money, Mr. Morgan."

"I didn't think you did, Mr. Ross, but perhaps you do know someone who could benefit with whatever small boost this might give him. My mother said that a gentleman must not only know how to apologize, but also how to accept an apology from someone else."

The two men stood silently regarding each other. As Kit started to turn toward his locker, Mr. Ross said, "Mr. Morgan... forgive me." Kit turned back and was shocked to see tears begin a crooked path down the wrinkled cheeks. "Your mother is a very wise woman and I think that perhaps she has reared a gentleman. I on the other hand have allowed the bitterness of a generation or two before you to make me behave in a despicably prejudiced fashion. I also apologize and I also may have learned a lesson. I also thank you for your assumption that I also could be a gentleman."

"I never thought of you as anything else, Mr. Ross." Kit replied. The two nodded respectfully to each other as Kit headed to the showers.

After a shower and shave, Kit ran a brush through his hair and was again amazed at the talent that had tamed his locks. He dressed quickly in the outfit, Sofia had picked for him—grey casual slacks, white golf shirt, navy blazer, black alligator shoes and belt, and all the gold she had insisted he wear. He carefully policed the area around his locker, placing the used towels in the hamper and locking the door. As he left, he saw the ever-present Mr. Ross standing by the door.

"Have a pleasant evening, Mr. Morgan." the older man said.

"Thank you, Mr. Ross, I plan on it. It is very nice to be back in Galveston." Kit moved into the dining room to wait on Sofia. His appetite for both food and sex were at a high peak. The excitement of the afternoon had washed out the weariness of the late night before and the long drive to Galveston. As he waited for Sofia, the staff ushered him into line to pick up his ID badge. A chubby middle-aged staff lady assured him that for the next two days at least he would be accorded all the privileges of a club member and what did he want to drink?

With his badge clipped to his lapel and his Dr Pepper in a tall high-ball glass, Kit scanned the buffet table. White coated waiters were already serving the early arrivers. Kit's stomach made a low growl as he surveyed the bounty. John Seguin had modeled the menu after the twin themes of his Hispanic heritage and the bounty of the Gulf of Mexico. Enchiladas of several sorts with various toppings waited along with tamales, chile rellenos, chalupas, flautas, and tacos stuffed with chicken, beef, and fish. Fish were baked, fried, and grilled; and shrimp in every conceivable fashion. Dishes of pico do gallo, red and green sausa, corn and flour tortillas, guacamole, Spanish rice, and refried beans waited for the hungry.

As Kit's stomach repeated its insistence a pair of arms reached around him from behind in a tight hug. He recognized the glass of salty dog in one hand. The firm breasts poking into his back were obviously not Sofia's much larger tits. He grinned at Greta's voice. "A hug for the hero who kicked Primo's ass. I personally think we should give you a parade"

As Kit turned to his right and wrapped his arm around Greta, he felt her left hand slip from him stomach down to brush his crotch and then continue around to grab and honk his left ass cheek like the rubber bulb on a horn. As he moved her around his side with a right arm hug, her hand continued around to sample his right side.

A familiar voice pierced his embarrassment. "Greta, if you don't stop putting fingerprints all over my young man, I may kick your butt." Sofia had arrived in the nick of time. In relief, Kit's eyes swung around to find his savior. His eyes widened as he saw the beauty grinning at him. Sofia wore a red sundress with a halter top leaving her smooth brown shoulders bare. The top dipped deeply into her cleavage showing the tops of her tan tatas. The dress pinched in to accentuate the tiny waist, but flared loosely over her voluptuous hips to sway just about the knees. White sandals with gold accents matched the gold and white orchid patterns that covered the dress. Her hair was up in a French twist showing the delicate line of her neck and jaw.

Kit dropped his arm from around Greta and stepped toward Sofia. The rest of the room seemed to fade out as his attention riveted on the beautiful woman who stood still looking into his eyes. Kits' eyes were everywhere. He saw the red polish on nails and toes, the dinner ring of red stones (rubies?) as big as a quarter on her left hand, the matching stones in pendants from her ears, and the red rock as big a pigeon's egg on a chain between her breasts. He took another step toward her and saw her nipples begin to swell the fabric in the orchids centered over each breast.

"Holy shit, Sofia, you look amazing. You are so beautiful. You look good enough to eat." Kit's stomach unleashed its loudest growl yet.

Sofia mouth twitched, then pursed, then burst out with a loud peal of laughter. "Oh, Kit, you are perfect. Was that for me or for the buffet?

"I don't know...it was just...I don't know. Both...you're gorgeous and I'm hungry and the food looks wonderful." His hands were flapping hopelessly. He stopped and smiled at her. When in trouble, it is best to shut up, he thought.

Sofia led Kit through the buffet line and his appetite caused him to fill his plate before they were half way through. She offered space on her plate, but soon realized that even that was insufficient She dragooned a waiter to carry Kit's full plate to the table and handed him a fresh one. They spent the meal sharing the dishes and getting Kit filled in on all the family and friends who stopped by to visit. Kit was introduced as "my golf partner", "Don Morgan's son", and "my good friend." Kit smiled and kept his attention on Sofia.

When the meal was completed, Juan called for everyone's attention and began the calcutta bidding for the teams. He began working his way through the field with most teams beginning the bidding on themselves at five hundred per team. A few teams stayed at the opening bid, but most were good naturedly driven to a higher price by friends. For a few teams that had a real chance to win, the bidding was very spirited. Bill Miller and his partner were pushed to $1,500 before Bill shut everyone else down with a preemptive bid of $1,750. Kit and Sofia were the next team up and Bill kept pushing Kit upward intil he hesitated. Sofia nodded that he should continue so he took a page from Bill's bood and bid $2,000. That won the bid to much applause.

The last team remaining was Primo and Betty. After the fiasco on the last green today, they were not present to answer their opening bid. An uncomfortable silence settled on the crowd. No one knew how to handle the situation.

""Am I offered $500 for the Arredondo/Kidd team?' asked Juan. When no one answered, he continued, "What about $400?"

"$1,000 for the Kidd/ Arredondo team," said Kit. After a moment of startled surprise, there was a swelling of applause for the gracious move.

"Sold—for $1,000 to Mr, Kit Morgan," said John with a relieved sigh that the awkward situation was over as was the calcutta. "Remember that tee times are a 8:00 AM sharp tomorrow. The bar will remain open, but I suggest that everyone get a good night's rest. On behalf of the Seguin Family Foundation, we thank you for your support."

With general applause, the group stood and began milling, drinks in hand. Most came by to check out Sofia's tall young man who had smoothed a rough spot in the evening. As on of Sofia's friends said, "I didn't know what to do. I wouldn't offer five bucks for that sawed-off son of a bitch to get a front row seat in Hell." Bill Miller had a different take,"That may be a smart move, Kit. Primo and Betty could compete if everything falls their way and his partners don't watch his cheating."

Sofia said nothing until they were momentarily alone. "Thank you, Kit. That was a gracious gesture that no one else here was capable of. I am in your debt, but I will pay you back for the money you bid."

"I don't think so, Sofia. Like Bill said it may be a smart move and I'm a very clever fellow these days." This was followed by his Groucho Marx smile and wiggling eyebrows.

"I don't think you did it for a smart bet. I think you did it to get me and my family aout of a situation...and what are you grinning so about?"

"Why wouldn't I grin, Sofia? I have had a fun day of golf, a great meal, more of same tomorrow, and tonight a beautiful woman, who says she is grateful to me, is taking me to her suite for an intimate barbering session and then a walk on the beach in the moonlight. Why wouldn't I smile?"

"If you are ready, we can go now."

"Sofia, I can't even tell you how ready I am."