Their signal.
Their code.
Dimas wanted to rush over there and hug him, and then punch Carl.
How could you ignore the best caddy in the world?
He wanted to pull off that baseball cap that covered up Hunter’s long, overdue for a haircut, strawberry blond hair, and stare into Hunter’s piercing blue eyes, then laugh when Hunter’s freckles stretched out from smiling. But this definitely wasn’t the time or place to any of that. Hunter and Dimas had agreed three years ago when he turned pro: on the course, it was business. Besides, Hunter got easily embarrassed with any public displays. If he hugged or kissed Hunter in public, or in front of Carl, the shit would hit the fan. He chucked softly to himself as he thought of the idea of Carl losing it.
Carl had always been a homophobe, and that was one reason Dimas didn’t care for him. The other reason was how he treated Hunter.
Dimas teed up his shot and made a perfect swing. The ball sailed more than two hundred yards and landed in the green, just a few inches from the hole. Dimas walked toward the putting green, thankful for some of the shade from the oak trees, and then put his marker where his ball rested. He waited for Carl to resume his play.
Hunter handed the sand wedge to Carl who swung to get the ball out of the sand bunker. He over swung it. The ball landed several feet away, on the edge of the rough. When Carl took his next shot, it sailed past the hole, and several feet away but still on the green.
If Carl made the shot, and Dimas made the shot they would be tied. The crowd held their breath as Carl prepared to make his next shot. Hunter stood and wobbled his shoes to the left. Carl shook his head, and tried to putt the ball straight, but the ball curved left and went past the hole. Dimas’ shiny marker on the green gleamed at him. Dimas wanted to yell but nerves forced him to remain still. The silent crowd unnerved him.
Carl took the next shot. The ball lipped around the cup and moved off an inch from the hole.
Dimas nodded to Carl who glared at him. If looks could kill, Dimas would be on the ground, gasping for breath.
Dimas now stood, his putter in his hands and wished the rules allowed him to have Hunter come over and tell him what to do, or better, for Hunter to putt this final shot. Hunter made this shot over and over.
Dimas eyed the crowd and scanned around. Hunter’s eyes were focused on the hole. No doubt Hunter had measured what it would take to land this shot, make a birdie, and win.
“What do you think, Joe?”
“I heard Hunter tell Carl that the ground’s going to be slower, to putt square but slightly facing right to make the ball straight.”
Dimas nodded. He had hired a guy who never worked the majors, but understood that some caddies knew more about golf courses than some players, especially if there was a caddy who knew Sawgrass like Hunter Mullins.
Hunter grew up in Ponte Vedra, worked this course as a kid, even helped cut the grass as part of the grounds keeping staff as a teenager. And if there was anything about Joe he really liked it was that Joe had street smarts. Joe gathered intel, soaking it up like a sponge. Joe easily picked up in the first round of play two days ago that Hunter knew his shit without being told by anyone.
Joe also knew that he would be getting a large bonus if Dimas won this event.
Dimas breathed, rocked his feet to keep his balance, did a practice short swing with the putter. Then he breathed again. Much longer and deeper to help himself relax.
He had to block out Hunter for the moment. He had to tune out the crowd. He had to block out all the rage he had towards Carl, and his wanting to take one of his clubs and beat Carl with it.
He had to win for him. Dimas Kanashiro.
If he won, he’d be the first Peruvian-Japanese player to win the event.
If he won, he’d have a win over Carl.
He wanted to win to make his secret lover, Hunter Mullins, proud.
He had one hundred one reasons to win.
And one of those was to wipe off that smug, shitty-faced grin that Carl Mullins perennially had when he eyeballed Dimas.
But, fuck, he just wanted to win it.
* * * *
Dimas threw his arm and accidentally knocked over two empty champagne glasses on the nightstand along with a bottle. Luckily, the Armand de Brignac Rosé bottle had been emptied hours ago, along with a bottle of Dom, and a bottle of expensive French brandy. His eyes opened slightly. He struggled with the bright sun coming through. He made out the blonde snapping her bra on. He didn’t say anything as she slid on her dress, picked up her pumps by the second messy double bed, and tiptoed out the door. He didn’t remember her name. The introduction had been fleeting and his memories dulled by celebrating and alcohol.
Once the door closed, Dimas moved closer to Hunter in the double bed they shared. Dimas snuggled up next to him, since Hunter was lying on his side, and ground his dick against Hunter’s boxers.
“Thank God she finally left, she snored worse than you did,” Hunter said, his voice hoarse.
“When did the other girl leave? The redhead…she was a redhead, right?” Dimas asked. He threw his arm over Hunter’s freckled shoulder and pressed his now semi-hard cock against Hunter’s ass crack.
“You and redheads,” Hunter sighed. “The redhead left right after you passed out, Dimey.”
“What I remember is we both watched them make out after they both stripped down to their underwear. I think they thought we would get off on it.”
Hunter groaned. “Yes. Then you passed out. The redhead left. She was disappointed. I think you were a notch on her belt. Fucking a TPC Sawgrass winner. That’s all she wanted from you. The blonde passed out after she finished my bottle of rosé. Then, I tried to bring you back to see if you had any life. Down there. No reaction.”
Dimas laughed. “I’m not sure if you’re madder at me that I couldn’t get a reaction, or that she finished your favorite brut.”
Hunter didn’t say anything so Dimas kissed the back of Hunter’s neck. “I hoped when I came back from the news conference, it’d only me and you.”
“I thought we’d agreed. You and I should always be seen with women. Hot, very attractive women.”
Dimas exhaled. Yeah, that is what they agreed. But, he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up the charade. It was a lot of work. And now? Winning one of the top tournaments would only put more of a microscope on Dimas’ life. His sports agent texted him last night the number of interviews he lined up for today.
“So you didn’t make a move on the blonde? You didn’t try to fuck her?” Dimas asked.
“No. Should I have?”
“You know the answer to that one.” Dimas stroked Hunter’s strawberry blond hair. “You think the blonde’s going to say anything? About what you tried? On me?”
“No, she was out. But if she woke up, and saw anything you could deny it. I’ll deny it. And the rumor gets buried soon as another story comes out on something else. That’s the way the media works these days.”
Dimas sighed. He was tired of the charade. “I think we should stop pretending,” Dimas said. “Your stepdad knows something’s up. He glares at me like he wants to gut me.”
“My stepdad hates you because you’re better than him, and because—”
“Because what?” Hunter lay quietly, not answering, and the silence was killing Dimas.
“Because you punched him a few years ago. He never forgot it.”
“What was I supposed to do? When I saw him slap you when he was drunk, after you failed to make the cut for juniors. I should be at fault because I punched him?
“He was drunk,” Hunter said.
“I just said that. And that scar on your collarbone. You told me it was from his belt buckle.”
“I crashed his car when I was fourteen and I didn’t have permission to drive his Corvette. And he was drunk.”
“God damn it, stop excusing his asshole behavior. He’s a fucking belligerent alcoholic who can’t control his temper.�
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Hunter sighed. “When he’s not drunk, he actually is a good person. He was at my mother’s bedside every day for weeks before she died. He adopted me, provided room and board, paid for my college education.”
“I know. I visited too. Remember? Again, stop rationalizing. You’re still afraid of him. You haven’t even told him you’re gay. What did you say to him last night? How’d you get away? Did you tell him you were hanging out with me?”
“No. I didn’t say anything. I left a bottle of bourbon in the room, told him I’m going for a walk, and left. He already had a few after his portion of last night’s press event was done. None of us were driving home. That’s why we got a hotel suite here. Plus the porch at the house, you know, is going through renovations. The carpenters are noisy. All the hammering. When I told him I was taking a walk, he said ‘Fine, meeting some friends anyway.”
“What friends? Maybe the redhead went to his room.” Dimas chortled. “He was halfway drunk by the time he finished his portion of the news conference. He was mumbling when I saw him later, when I was headed back to the room.” Dimas grabbed Hunter’s face and forced him to look at Dimas. He brushed his hand on the scar, slightly faint under Hunter’s right collarbone. Dimas shuddered to think his lover had been punished so severely as a teenager. “You told me he never sexually abused you, right?”
“Yes, stop asking that question,” Hunter whispered.
“Because if he did, you know—”
“I know. I know. You don’t have to say it. I haven’t lied to you, about anything in the past, so stop looking for hidden faults in him.”
“I’d fucking kill him, if he had done anything to you.” Dimas said. His finger now gently tracing the scar. “I wouldn’t hesitate.”
“I know,” Hunter sighed. “He’s never used the belt after that incident. Mom made sure of that. But let’s stop talking about him. I didn’t sneak in your room last night with a hoodie, trying to be under the radar, after bringing two women to meet you, to talk about my stepfather.”
“Yeah, nice surprise. The champagne, the alcohol, you. Well, I’m glad, we’re alone now. From now on, no more bringing women in. I don’t care if anyone knows. I’m not going to hide it. I’m not going to shout about it either.”
“That’s probably the hangover talking. I’m hungry by the way.”
“You’re always hungry. How you don’t gain weight anyway is amazing.”
“Thanks,” Hunter said. “Going back to what we were talking about, you could lose endorsements, be shunned by the players’ and be the gossip of all of the tour.”
“You know what? That’s fine. I shouldn’t have to have you send me coded messages with your left ear that you love me while I’m playing golf. Besides, there are women in the pros who are out. Tadd Fujikawa is out.” Dimas kissed Hunter, softly, his lips caressing Hunter. “Maybe you don’t want to come out,” Dimas whispered.
“I don’t know how you could be so cocky about coming out. I’m scared to death that my family and friends will know, and that everything will change.” Hunter closed his eyes and pursed his lips.
“Everything will change. Just think of the weight and pressure that goes away by being honest.”
“I don’t know,” Hunter said, his voice in almost defeated resignation. “My whole world…everything I know. Maybe I’m just not as strong as you.”
Dimas kissed Hunter again. “My family knew before I left Lima to go to FSU that I was gay. They were cool with it. I guess if either my Mom or Dad didn’t like it, then it’d be different. Our teammates in college didn’t care.”
“Well, we were a close circle of friends. It’s different now. And if I came out, what would I do for a living? I couldn’t caddy anymore. Who wants to hire a gay caddy?”
“What do you mean? You’d keep working for Carl.”
“You know how he is about homosexuality! He’d be embarrassed to have me on the tour. I can just here him now, playing poker at the clubhouse, when he sees me, and talks to his buddy. ‘Here comes my faggot stepson.’ I would lose my job. He’d think I came out to personally attack him or something.”
Dimas kissed the tip of Hunter’s nose. While Dimas parents had no problems with him, Carl was the stereotypical homophobe. He suspected Hunter’s upbringing to be the major cause of the anxiety and stress of being open to the public about his relationship with Dimas. “That doesn’t make anything sense,” Dimas said. “You’re the best caddy that I know. You know golf. You can read a green like no one else. You’re like the Doctor Doolittle of putting greens. You were giving advice to Carl that he wasn’t taking, and he would be a fool to fire you. He could’ve won the tournament yesterday if he listened to you. And if he says faggot, and I hear it, I’ll knock him out. “
Hunter ignored Dimas’ last comment. “So you and Joe overheard everything I said to Carl?”
“I didn’t. But Joe did.” Dimas hesitated, but continued. “Come work for me. Quit your job with your stepfather.”
“I told you already. He paid for college. I agreed I’d work for him for at least four years if I couldn’t make pro.”
“I could buy you out.”
Hunter’s eyebrows furrowed. “Really? I’m just some commodity that you both sell and trade? And then what? What if we disagreed on the golf course? I give you a suggestion and you ignore it. And you make a bad shot?”
“Or I follow a suggestion of yours, and it’s wrong?” Dimas asked. “So what? At least we’re playing together. On the same team. Like we were in college.”
“Yeah but the dynamics are different. At Florida State, we were teammates, co-equals, and you didn’t have millions of dollars of prize money and endorsements on the line. Do you see any golfers whose girlfriends or wives caddy?”
Dimas shook his head. “No, but so? You and I can be the first.” Dimas ground his pelvis on Hunter’s thigh.
“I know you’re talking this way since you probably have the afterglow of yesterday’s win.”
Dimas sighed. He wanted to tell Hunter he meant what he was saying. He’ll have to prove it to Hunter. Somehow.
Hunter continued. “Let’s take it day by day. We should be getting out of bed soon. You should take a shower. You’ve got some interviews lined up. A lot of people want to see you and talk to you. I have to head back to my stepdad’s suite. See what kind of mess he’s in.”
“Yeah, get rid of the evidence of cocaine, pack up his stuff, bring his drunk ass down to the car, and take him home down to the beach. Let’s face it. Carl’s gone downhill since your mother passed.”
“I know,” Hunter whispered. He turned to the edge of the bed, and inched forward to get out, but Dimas tightened his hold.
“Come on. You have me all alone now.” Dimas pressed his fully erect dick against Hunter. Dimas reached out to stroke Hunter’s flaccid cock through Hunter’s underwear. He wanted the hardness to develop in his palm. Hunter moved back, pushing his body into Dimas’ caress. He pushed Hunter’s boxers down, circled his fingers around the base of Hunter’s dick, his fingers rubbed against the red pubes and stroked as he started thrusting in the warm invite of Hunter’s cheeks.
As Hunter’s dick came alive, Hunter ground his ass against Dimas’ dick.
“Why don’t you show me what you were trying to do to me last night?” Dimas asked. “I don’t want to work out this morning, answer any phone calls. For now anyway. And I definitely don’t want to run this morning.”
Hunter scooted down, throwing his underwear to the floor, kicking the bed sheets so they were both exposed. Dimas closed his eyes as Hunter caddied Dimas’ pole. When Hunter pumped Dimas’ dick, and then licked the head, Dimas stretched out his legs, and curled his toes. Hunter pleasured Dimas for a long while, taking his time with his tongue, fingers, and hand.
This is fucking heaven.
Dimas opened his eyes to find Hunter eyeing him as Hunter licked up and down the shaft.
“Yeah, that’s it baby.”
Hunte
r then moved his mouth up and down on Dimas’ dick, taking him down his throat. Dimas body heated, and his back was wet from perspiration as Hunter showered him with oral and manual attention.
“Fuck, that feels so good.” Dimas grabbed Hunter’s face, and hair and started fucking Hunter’s mouth, his balls slapping Hunter’s chin as he did so as Hunter eagerly strove to accommodate Dimas’ deep and hard thrusts.
Hunter’s moans of appreciation only egged Dimas to face-fuck him faster. After a while, Dimas couldn’t hold back. His breathing had become more pronounced. Hunter’s moans of pleasure spurred him to the edge. “Shit, I’m going to come.” Dimas arched his back, and tried to pull Hunter off his cock, but Hunter resisted and greedily swallowed everything Dimas could give him once he let the dam burst open.
Dimas tried to catch his breath. Hunter moved up to kiss Dimas and shoved some of Dimas’ cum back in Dimas’ impatient mouth, as both their tongues darted in and out of each other’s like greedy teenagers on a first date.
“God, that was so fucking good,” Dimas whispered. “Just like the first time.”
Damn? How many times has Hunter sucked him off since college?
“You say that every time.” Hunter smiled. He laid his sweaty body on top of Dimas. Their chests expanding in tune with each other’s.
“I mean it. Your mouth and your tongue. They fucking drive me wild.”
“You know what drives me crazy?” Hunter asked.
“What?”
They both lay there, trying to catch their breath. Finally, Hunter stood, showcasing his well-toned, gym body, and the ass that Dimas had made his countless of times. Hunter moved his hoodie that covered his book bag, dug through the bag, and then came back to bed with a bottle of lube and a condom.
Dimas smiled. “Let me guess.” Hunter moved in for a kiss and Dimas obliged. He loved this guy with all his heart. He really didn’t give a shit at this moment about anybody else but Hunter.
Fuck everyone.
Chapter 2
“Two chai lattes please,” Hunter ordered. As the barista prepared the hot drinks, a voice interrupted his idle fascination with the workings of the young woman getting the tea ready.
Just the Facts, Volume 1 Page 20
