"No, no; I'm not gay." What kind of question was that,did I look gay? Maybe letting Camille buy me a drink was a mistake."Okay," she shrugged. "But...look at me, do I look like a guy?"She definitely didn't, she was gorgeous; as she took a sip of her ownbeer she left a chocolate coloured lipstick stain on the glass. If I hadnot seen the bulge in her tight leather pants I would never have guessedshe was anything but a woman. "No," I eventually admitted. "I'm sorry,I've never met a woman with. His ball lazily arched towards the green before touching down and rolling off a few feet into the fringe past the hole. ‘Dammit. What am I doing wrong this time?’ ‘Swung too hard. Plus, you’re not thinking about your swing.’ ‘You don’t play golf to think about golf. You think about golf when you wish you were on the course, then you get there and realize that your wishes were horrendously ill-conceived.’ ‘Well, there’s something.’ ‘What’s that?’ ‘I can at least write about your extensive. More

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