Kneel

Once inside his private office, Tom changed from his khakis and pullover shirt into his customary black suit, crisp white shirt, and black and gold tie. He slipped into his black wingtip oxfords and sat at his polished ebony desk.

"Michelle, I am back," Tom then alerted his personal assistant.

"Yes sir, Mr. Thibodaux," Michelle said.

It did irk Tom somewhat; Tom had requested that the woman address him as 'Tom.' But the dour faced woman refused. For whatever reason, the sixty one year old woman felt that to address him by his first name would be improper.

"Any messages?" Tom asked, already knowing the answer.

"No sir, Mr. Thibodaux," Michelle responded.

At four forty nine, Tom was already shutting everything down. The sun was finally making an appearance; he could see it just over his right shoulder.

"Mr. Thibodaux? A Ms. Lowry on line one for you, sir," Michelle's voice came through his intercom.

"Hmm?" Tom asked; the name meant nothing to him.

"The miniature golf course?" Michelle suggested.

"Mina... Oh, yeah," Tom said, picking up the handset and hitting the button for line one.

"Okay, seven twelve times three is..." Kimberly said when Tom said 'hello.'

"No ma'am. I only paid for two," Tom said. "So, that's fourteen twenty four, not twenty one thirty six."

"Huh? Oh! Oh yeah, okay, fourteen twenty four and..."

"Eight fourteen for the snow cones," Tom said.

"Uh huh, and that's..." Kimberly struggled.

"Twenty two twenty eight," Tom smiled.

"Hmm, yeah," Kimberly agreed. "Damn. I don't know when I'll..."

"You doing anything tomorrow? About nine?" Tom asked. "I'm going need a caddy. We've got a tee time for nine ten at the Hardington Acres. That's why I was out, practicing my putting. I'm okay on teeing off; not as good as I'd like to be, but who is? But my putting? And that's a new putter."

"What kind of tea? I'm not real crazy about that lemon zinger stuff," Kimberly asked.

"Huh?" Tom asked, then smiled. "No, no, Kimberly, I'm talking about golf. Golf tees, not drinking tea."

"Oh!" Kimberly said, then laughed, a sweet, musical laugh.

"I normally pay my caddies fifty, so, do this and we'll just take the twenty two twenty eight out of that. So wear khakis, a nice pull over shirt," Tom said, preparing to enter her address into his cell phone.

"Mr. Thibodaux, you serious?" Kimberly asked.

"Call me Tom," Tom said. "Now, what's your address?"

"Dude, what are you doing?" Tom asked himself as he hung up the telephone.

He had no need of a caddy. He certainly had no need of a caddy that didn't know what a 'tee time' meant.

Tom drove home after eating a quick bite at Acapulco Grande. Once inside of his home, he looked through his books, finally settling on an old tome of Moliere's plays, written in French.

His mother had not held back her disappointment when he'd dropped out of high school. Tom's smile and shrug had infuriated her.

"Well, gee, Mom," Tom had smiled. "I been disappointing you since you spat me out into the world. Why should this be any different?"

His marriage to Linda was another disappointment to her. Again, Tom just smiled. His divorce was just another disappointment, and again Tom just shrugged it off.

"But, golly gosh, gee whiz, I wonder why I'm a misogynist," Tom smirked, no longer paying attention to the words in front of him.

In the morning, a check of the weather told Tom it would be a broiling hot day by the time he and Henry Marchon reached the clubhouse for their business lunch. So he dressed in lightweight clothing and made sure to cover himself with sunscreen. At the last minute, he grabbed another tube of sunscreen for Kimberly.

The apartment building looked as if it was ready to be torn down. It wasn't even eight thirty in the morning, and there was a drunk man sitting on the concrete steps in front of the building. The man talked to himself and every now and then took sips out of a paper bag.

"Ready?" Tom texted.

'K' was the response. A moment later, a third floor apartment door opened and Kimberly stepped out onto the landing. She looked around and Tom gave a quick honk.

The drunk dropped his bag when the car horn honked and he jumped up. He muttered a stream of profanities and even shook his fist at the automobile.

"Ooh, made him mad," Kimberly said, getting into the car.

"Yeah, might have caused him break his bottle of breakfast," Tom agreed.

Kimberly had on a faded blue pullover shirt. Her small breasts were obviously braless; Tom could see two small bullets poking the material of the blouse.

Her shorts were khaki, with a small cuff in the hem. The cuffs looked as if they were cutting into her thick legs. They did not look comfortable.

Her feet were jammed into some flip flops; Tom was sure she'd not be able to walk all eighteen holes in the cheap footwear. But they would be using a cart anyway.

She had obviously applied some makeup, had tried to brush the frizzy mop of straw colored blonde. Looking at her horrible hair, Tom was sure it also had the consistency of straw.

"Tube of sunscreen right there," Tom said, indicating the cup holder. "Supposed be a really hot one today."

"Thank you," Kimberly said.

She opened the tube of sunscreen and smelled the tube's contents. She sniffed the air, then leaned toward him.

What is that?" she asked.

"Aramis," Tom smiled. "Girlfriend once gave me this counterfeit gift set, you know, cologne, after-shave, deodorant, shave gel kind of stuff. I really liked it; it's all I've ever worn since then."

"Well, it's nice," Kimberly complimented.

Tom soon found out that Kimberly Lowry was eighteen, had just graduated from Northside High School a few days earlier and had been steadily looking for work ever since then. She did earn some money from babysitting, from running errands for her neighbors.

"So, Tyra's the baby of the family," Tom deduced.

"Uh huh, and sometimes? She acts like the baby," Kimberly smiled.

Tom smiled. Kimberly might be complaining, but it was obvious that she loved her sisters, loved her fourteen year old brother.

At the Hardington Acres Country Club, Tom signed in for his tee time and rented a cart. A few minutes later, Henry and his 'caddy' came in and Tom greeted the man.

Henry Marchon was sixty three years of age, stood only five feet, five inches with a pear shaped body and spindly arms and legs. His 'caddy' appeared to be in her late teens, early twenties and had a swimsuit model's physique. Her pullover blouse was stretched taut over her monumental breasts and her khakis showed a prominent camel-toe. She had at least three inches of height on Henry as they stood in the small building.

"This is, man! Uh..." Henry said, pointing to the buxom brunette.

"Mawy! Henwy, don't tell me you forgot," the girl lisped.

"Right, this is Mary," Henry agreed.

"And this is my caddy, Kimberly," Tom smiled.

Henry frowned at the sight of the unattractive girl. But with a shrug, he signed in, then they stepped out to the line of electric carts.

"Just like a regular car," Tom smiled, pointing to the floorboard. "Got your gas pedal, got your brakes."

Kimberly let out a small squeal when the cart lurched. Tom smiled when Mary did the same thing in Henry's cart.

"All right, right here's good," Tom said, stepping out of the cart.

"What I do?" Kimberly asked, getting out of the cart.

"Sit in the cart, wait for me to get back," Tom said. "Unless you can tell what club I'll need, what iron I'd need, just stay in the cart."

"And you pay people fifty bucks do this?" Kimberly asked, not believing him.

"Uh huh. Eighteen holes of driving, stopping, driving, stopping, sitting waiting, you'll think I'm a cheap bastard by the time we're starting the back nine, hear?" Tom chuckled.

Henry hit an impressive drive that bounded nearly a hundred and fifty yards. His 'caddy' jumped up and down and gave him a hug and kiss that had Henry smiling.

"Thibodaux, what's riding on this hole?" Henry asked as Tom gave a few practice swings.

"What'd you have in mind?" Tom asked.

"Fifty," Henry suggested.

"Sure," Tom said.

His drive put him a few yards short of the green and Henry scowled. Mary draped her lush body against Henry and assured him, he'd win.

"I don't got do all that, huh?" Kimberly asked, brown eyes wide as she witnessed Mary's antics.

"Kimberly, I told you; I just want you drive the cart," Tom smiled.

Tom leaned close to Kimberly as Mary drove the other cart to where Henry's ball waited.

"Believe me; Henry is paying her to do all that silliness. And he's paying her a whole heck of a lot more than fifty bucks," Tom whispered.

"Huh!" Kimberly gasped, but dutifully drove the cart.

"Yeah, yeah, we'll just keep it running, fifty a hole," Henry grumbled when Tom bested him by two strokes.

"And, that's fifty, right?" Tom verified as Henry prepared to tee off for the second hole.

"Uh huh," Henry said.

"Thousand, right?" Tom said.

"Huh?" Henry gasped.

Tom smirked. He knew Henry Marchon's type. They both said fifty. If Henry came out ahead, he'd get to the clubhouse and insist that he had meant fifty thousand. In the case of Tom besting him, Henry would claim that it was fifty dollars.

"Mr. Tom," Kimberly whispered when Tom got back into the cart. "You got fifty thousand? Dollars?"

Tom just laughed and nodded his head. The truth was, if he needed it, Tom could lay his hands on twenty one million dollars in less than twenty four hours. If he sold off everything he owned, except for his Mustang, he had close to seventy million dollars.

Tom again leaned close to Kimberly as Mary drove the other cart close to the roughs that Henry had sliced his ball into. Kimberly looked up, brown eyes wide with wonder.

"But Henry? Doesn't have fifty thousand he can lay his hands on," Tom whispered. "That's why we're out here. He's desperate for some cash input for his business."

"Then why he's paying that Mary girl?" Kimberly asked.

"That is a deal sweetener," Tom smiled. "See? I agree to invest in his company? He'll 'let' me have her for the night."

"And you going do that?" Kimberly gasped, abruptly stopping the cart.

"Hmm? No, probably not," Tom lied.

Both Mary and Kimberly's khaki shorts were far too short, far too snug. Kimberly's legs were thick where they led into her large globes. Mary's legs were sculpted, leading in to those rounded hillocks of flesh.

Tom did wonder just how much the cute girl was costing Henry. He wasn't fooled; the girl did not have any affection for the squat toad of a man. But, she draped herself against him, she kissed him, she giggled and cooed when he grabbed her large breasts or sweet backside.

All four were sweating profusely by the time they reached the eighth tee. Henry looked like he'd walked through a sprinkler system; his clothes clung to him. The fact that he was down by nine strokes may have had something to do with his sodden condition.

"Baby? Mawy needs go potty," Mary lisped as Henry prepared to tee off.

"Told you, do that shit before we leave the house, huh?" Henry barked.

"Kimberly, you and Mary run back to the clubhouse, huh?" Tom said, pulling his clubs from the rear of the cart.

"So, Thibodaux, what's the deal here. What it would take you look into Marchon Vacations?" Henry asked as Kimberly and Mary raced back to the clubhouse.

"Henry, what's going on?" Tom asked. "And I'm asking you, man to man, what's going on? Numbers are good, sales are good. But you're losing money faster than you can put it in. What's going on?"

Henry tried to bamboozle Tom. Tom let the man talk for a few minutes, then shook his head.

Again, he put his ball onto the green. Henry took three strokes to get his ball onto the green.

"Henry, this what I can expect? Ask you level with me, man to man? None of the usual bullshit, man to man, and I don't just get a pile of bullshit? I get a fucking mountain of it?" Tom asked and smiled as Kimberly and Mary returned.

"Hey now," Henry protested.

"Just play, Henry," Tom said, putting his clubs back into the rear of his cart.

"She's getting three hundred bucks an hour," Kimberly whispered as Mary drove to the next tee.

"Oh?" Tom smiled. "I suppose now you wanting a raise?"

"No!" Kimberly squealed, slapping his shoulder.

She giggled when she saw Tom's playful smile. She edged their cart near Henry's card, then leaned close to Tom.

"She gets five hundred an hour she lets him, you know, do THAT," Kimberly whispered hoarsely.

Hmm," Tom agreed.

Henry did hit a beautiful drive that bounded to the beginning of the dog leg. Mary clapped and kissed Henry's smug face.

Tom looked at the trees. He knew where the green was; he played this course at least twice a week, weather permitting. He looked over at Kimberly, puzzled. He wondered why she wasn't in the cart, out of the hot sun.

"What?" Henry asked when Tom drove the ball straight toward the pine trees.

Kimberly clapped her hands happily, then leaned against Tom. Tom looked down into her beaming face and almost laughed.

"Green's just past that tall sycamore," Tom smiled. "Come on Henry; you've played this course before."

"What are you doing?" Tom chuckled when they got back into their cart.

"Earning my fifty bucks," Kimberly hissed.

"You already earned it, plus a big old tip," Tom chuckled.

"Said that stuff's Aramis?" Kimberly asked, leaning over and smelling him again. "I really like it."

"God, Kimberly, how can you smell anything over my stinky ass arm pits?" Tom smiled.

Kimberly did another little handclap when they saw that Tom's drive had put the ball just off the green. When he got the ball onto the green, he was again rewarded with a little hug.

"Baby, Mawy's getting thirsty," Mary whined as they finished the twelfth hole.

"Six more holes. Huh? Six more God damned holes here," Henry snapped.

"Yes, could you sent a drink cart to the thirteenth tee?" Tom asked in his cell phone. "Wow, look at that; they're at the fourteenth; y'all are quick!"

The Hardington Acres Country Club employee pulled the drink cart up to the four people, smiling. Kimberly again leaned heavily against Tom as they waited to place their drink orders.

"How's that for quick?" the young man smiled.

"Kimberly, what would you like?" Tom asked.

"I'll have a Bloody Mary," Mary said, jumping in front of Kimberly.

"Two," Henry growled.

"Ma'am?" the young man smiled as he quickly made the drinks.

"I uh, ew! I that tomato juice? I don't like tomato juice," Kimberly said.

"How about a lemon spritzer?" the young man suggested. "Already opened the bottle of wine."

"Um, okay," Kimberly agreed.

"Just a Coke for me," Tom said and paid for the drinks.

"Thank you, Mr. Thibodaux," Mary lisped, drinking her drink.

"Um! This is good," Kimberly enthused.

"Almost as good as a green apple snow cone?" Tom teased her.

"Quit!" Kimberly squealed, lightly slapping him. "I like those!"

Then, to Tom's surprise and pleasure, Kimberly stretched up on her toes and lightly kissed him on his lips.

"Thank you," she said and sipped some more of her drink.

"Welcome," Tom said as the drink cart drove away.

"Now can we play?" Henry snarled at Mary.

"Uh huh," Mary said, swiveling from side to side.

"All right, dining room's special of the day is snow crab," Tom said as they reached the eighteenth hole. "But the nineteenth hole here has got a one pound burger that is hard to beat."

"So what you want?" Kimberly asked.

"No, no, Kimberly, I'm asking you. What do you want?" Tom smiled.

"I don't know," Kimberly shrugged.

Mary demanded steak. Henry glowered at the attractive young woman but nodded his head in agreement.

"All right, Henry," Tom said as they finished the game. "Let's go feed these two beautiful caddies, hmm?"

"Mr. Tom, I'm not beautiful," Kimberly blushed as she drove the cart to the small building.

"Kimberly, there is a lot about you that is actually very beautiful," Tom said sincerely.

"Not like that Mary," Kimberly protested.

"Kimberly, Sweetheart, Mary is a whore," Tom said. "She is a whore. She makes her living off of her looks. But, the four hours I've been around her? I'd rather be around someone like you."

Kimberly gawked at Tom. He chuckled and patted her on her bare thigh.

"Again, Thibodaux, what's it going take?" Henry demanded as they were seated in the main dining room.

Tom smiled down at Kimberly. She had not stopped gawking around from the moment they'd entered the opulent country club's main building. Now, in the dining room, her little head swiveled all around.

The air conditioning was set to 'low freeze' and the effect on her damp skin was evident. Kimberly's nipples were poking through her damp top, crinkled and hard points.

"Henry, I asked you, man to man, level with me. Give it to me straight," Tom sighed and nodded as the waiter filled their water glasses. "Annette Collier? My accountant? Looked at what you sent over and she can't figure out why you're hemorrhaging money like a sieve."

"Well, see..." Henry started.

Even Kimberly, with no head for business could tell that Henry was not telling them the truth. She looked up at Tom and could see he was not fooled. Across the table, Mary had a vacuous smile pasted on her face.

They ordered their lunch. During the delicious meal, Henry continued to try to sell Marchon Vacations as a viable investment.

"Kimberly? Dessert?" Tom asked as the waiter cleared away their plates.

"You kidding? I'm stuffed!" Kimberly said.

"Girl, should always, always order dessert," Mary hissed at Kimberly. "Even if you are stuffed. Take two bites then ask for a doggy bag. In this business? Never know when your next dessert's going be."

"This bus...I'm not, I'm not in this business," Kimberly gasped.

"Girl? We're ALL in this business," Mary said smugly.

"Henry, twice. Two times I asked you, just tell me the truth," Tom said as the waiter put three cups of coffee and Mary's raspberry cheesecake on the table. "And two times in a row? Couldn't get an honest answer to save my life."

Henry's entire body sagged. His cup of coffee sat, untouched. Tom sipped his own cup of coffee and nodded in approval.

Mary slipped Tom her business card. She smiled a knowing little smile, even as she clutched onto Henry's arm.

"Henry, the money on our game?" Tom said and Henry's face paled. "Don't worry about it. I don't need it and I don't want it. It was a fun way to spend a morning, wasn't it?"

"But, there's no way..." Henry sighed, shaking Tom's hand.

"No, Henry, there's no way I'm saving Marchon Vacations from Chapter thirteen," Tom said.

"That Mary girl," Kimberly said as the Mustang drove them toward DeGarde. "Said we're all in her business."

"We are," Tom agreed. "In one way or another? We're all whores."

"I am not!" Kimberly gasped.

"Kimberly, what do you want?" Tom asked. "What would you like, most of all. If you could have anything you wanted, what would it be?"

"A house," Kimberly immediately said. "A nice house where Tyra and Krysta and me? We each have our own bedroom. Oh! And our own bathrooms! Got any idea what it's like, standing there, hopping up and down on one foot while Danny's just taking his sweet old time? Like none of us can tell what he's doing in there?"

"And if I said I would buy you that house, what would you give me?" Tom asked and turned west onto Highway 52.

"What you want?" Kimberly asked.

"No, Kimberly. You tell me. What would you give me. What would you give me if I bought you a five bedroom, ten bathroom house?" Tom said.

"Ten bathrooms?" Kimberly laughed.

"Uh huh, get tired of one? Just go on to the next one," Tom smiled.

"I don't know," Kimberly said quietly.

"Five bedrooms, nice back yard, get a puppy," Tom said and smiled when Kimberly let out a little squeak. "You'd probably do just about anything I'd tell you to do, huh?"