Before Daryl left her the night before he came up with a brilliant plan for the next day. Carol wasn't sure it was so brilliant as far as she was concerned but spending the day, essentially alone with him, outside in the fresh air… that part was appealing. The rest, not so much. Daryl wanted to take her golfing. Before the celeb life found him he wasn't much of a sports guy, but he'd been on many golf outings for work and the game had really grown on him. She only agreed if he promised he would take her shopping for the perfect 'golf outfit' first.

So he would be there to pick her up at 8:30 to go shopping and they were… Carol couldn't remember the term… teeing off, she thought, at 10:30. She figured they would have time to find her outfit and then have a quick breakfast before heading to the golf course. There were tons of courses in the area, she knew that, but there was one in particular near Newnan that Daryl really liked. He said they were easy going, but it was still a great course.

He arrived right on time and they went to a local golf store. Daryl was checking out balls while she looked for an outfit. There were some really nice things, but their quality was reflected on the price tag. Chances were she would never wear the outfit again, but Carol planned on looking the part at least this once. She picked out a pair of dark purple plaid shorts and a matching collared shirt, then went to look at shoes. There was a very cute pair of black and purple shoes that went perfectly with her outfit. Luckily they had her size. Carol tried them on quickly, and satisfied they would fit she added them to her collection.

Carol may not have known all the terminology, but she knew a lot more than Daryl would expect of her. She decided she was going to play up her ignorance to the max though, just to see how patient he would be. "Daryl, don't I need a set of those… sticks too?"

He looked amused. "They're called clubs and we can rent you a set at the course."

"Oh okay, clubs… I knew that," she flashed him a flirty smile. "Clubs, balls… maybe this game isn't all that bad."

At exactly 10:30 they were standing on the tee blocks. Daryl went first and hit the ball really far. Carol knew he really hadn't golfed that often in the grand scheme of things, so she figured he must be naturally talented. They drove the cart up a bit further to the ladies tees. "Okay grab your driver, a tee and a ball," Daryl instructed. Carol picked a neon pink ball and a tee, then went to her rented golf bag, strapped to the back of the cart, and pulled out her putter. She knew the difference between a driver and a putter, but she was pretending she didn't. "Um Carol, that's your putter. For when we're on the green," Daryl said.

"Oh, well does it really matter? Can't I just whack it with this one?" Carol asked. "It's only gonna go 10 feet no matter what I use anyway."

Daryl rolled his eyes and took the putter from her, returning quickly with her driver. "I'll help you. It'll go farther than 10 feet, I promise." He set her up and then stood behind her, reaching around to show her how to hold the club. Carol was far more interested in the position they were in than actually hitting the ball. "Okay, so swing back, like this…" he pulled her arms back. "Then swing all the way through, like this.." Daryl took her through the motions of a practice swing. "Now you try."

Carol copied what he had just showed her and it went remarkably well. Actually hitting the ball would be a different story though, she was sure. She stepped up to the ball and looked at it. "Okay you little bugger, go far," she whispered to it. She swung, just like the practice, but missed completely. She tried again and same thing. "Fuck," she growled.

"Pretend it's the cue ball," Daryl said, knowing she was an extremely talented pool player.

"You want me to lay on the ground and use the club like a pool cue?" she asked, glaring at him. It wasn't Daryl's fault she was missing the ball, but she needed to blame someone.

"No," he laughed. "It's all about hand eye coordination. You have it when you play pool, this is the same idea, but a different motion. Make sense?"

"I suppose…" Carol lined up again and imagined she was playing pool. That came so naturally to her. It was easy, second nature even. She knew exactly where to aim, where to contact the ball with the cue and where it would go. She took a deep breath and swung again. She made contact and the ball flew straight forward about 50 yards. "Oh my god, it went kinda far," she said, pleased with her first hit.

"See, told you it would go farther than 10 feet," Daryl teased her.

Even though that shot was successful the next few were not. One went less than 10 feet. Another hit a tree. A third one went into the sand trap. And she said goodbye to her pink ball when it plopped right into the middle of a pond. "Well you're getting your money's worth," Daryl joked. "Not many people can hit every single hazard on the first hole."

"When does the fucking beer cart come out?" Carol asked. "If I have to do this 17 more times I plan on being thoroughly drunk by the end of it."

In actual fact, after the beer cart came out at 11am, Carol was thoroughly drunk by the 12th hole. She's had more coolers than she could remember. "Daryl, I have to pee," she announced.

"Bu you just peed 10 minutes ago," he sighed.

"Do you have any idea how many of these delicious things I have drank?" she giggled, taking another sip of the sweet vodka drink. It was a mistake, it made her have to pee even more. "Ohhhh, I really really have to go, like now," she whined.

"You're gonna have to pee in the woods," Daryl said, trying to hide a grin.

Carol stared at him, "In the woods? With the bugs? And the animals? And no toilet paper?"

"I have a napkin," he said, handing it to her.

"I'm way too drunk for this…" Carol muttered. But it was either try it or pee her pants. "Come on, you're coming with me. I'm not going in the woods alone." As they trudged off she wondered when she had become such a princess. She was really quite the tom boy when she was a kid. But over the years bugs and wild animals had lost their appeal.

When they were deep enough in the woods that Carol was confident no one could see her she undid her shorts and took them off. "Hold these," she said to Daryl, throwing them at him, followed by her underwear. He was looking at her strangely. "Fuck you men and your stupid penises that you can just poke through your fly hole," Carol said, glaring at him. "I don't want to pee on my pants." Squatting was a challenge of its own and she was sure she was going to fall over, land in the puddle of pee and end up with urine soaked leaves and twigs stuck to her ass. Somehow she made it through and wiped, then stood back up. Things were spinning a bit, but nothing she couldn't handle. "Ha, success," she cried, very pleased with herself.

She was about to turn to find Daryl when she realized he was already behind her. "There's something else we can do in the woods," he said. "You game?" Carol was drunk, but not too drunk to realize just how badly she wanted him. She nodded eagerly and before she knew it he bent her over and pushed into her. She panicked at first, remembering they were in public, but it felt too good to care if anyone saw them. "Don't worry, this won't take long," he said, thrusting into her over and over.

Daryl had a hold of her so she couldn't fall, which was a good thing because being bent over like that the dizziness was far worse. But her focus easily returned to the way he felt, and the rush of pleasure he was creating inside her. It wasn't just the sex that felt good, but the thrill of someone seeing them intensified it.

It wasn't very often a woman actually got off during a quickie, but unless Daryl was done in the next 10 seconds she was going to. "Oh god," she moaned, trying not to be too loud. The combination of the alcohol, the excitement and her own sexual desire made the orgasm incredibly intense. Daryl shoved into her one last time and gripped her hips tightly until he was finished. He pulled out and tucked himself back in his pants as Carol attempted to stand up and stumbled. He caught her in his arms, "whoa, you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, fine… just a little dizzy," she replied, taking the underwear he was handing her and starting to get redressed.

"Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to let you drink so much," Daryl said. "Not until after the doctor cleared you."

"I'm fine," she insisted, pulling on her shorts. "And I'm really starting to like this game," Carol said, flashing him a smile and weaving her way back to the cart, trying really hard to walk straight. "You know what would be fun?" She asked when they were both back in the cart. "If I just play golf polo the rest of the game. You drive up to the ball and I'll just reach out and swing."

Daryl knew she was far too drunk to golf anyway, so he agreed. And it went fairly well until she leaned too far and fell out on the 17th hole. She was lying in a giggling heap on the grass when Daryl came running around to see if she was okay. Once he noticed she was giggling he quickly snapped a picture on his phone. "Blackmail material," he said, tucking the phone back in and helping her to her feet. Carol was laughing so hard she couldn't have walked even sober so Daryl lifted her in his arms and plopped her back into the cart.

When the beer cart came by Carol frantically waved for another, but Daryl shooed them away. "What are you doing? My drink is gone," she pouted.

"I still have to somehow get you to the car and get you out of here without any fans wanting photos or autographs," he laughed. "I can't imagine that going well in your impatient drunkypants state."

Daryl made her wait in the car while he returned the cart and rented clubs. She waved and smiled at a few people she didn't know while she waited. The last person she waved at before Daryl came back started to head towards the car to talk to her, but he cut them off. She had no idea what they were saying but the man got a selfie with Daryl and his scorecard autographed and then left.

On the way home Daryl hit a drive thru and insisting she eat something. Carol agreed and ate a grilled chicken sandwich. She was still buzzing when the made it back to her place and she wanted to drink some more, but Daryl stopped her. "I really think you should just go to bed," he suggested.

"When did you get all responsible Dixon?" she asked, taking a swig of Jack from the bottle. He wrestled it from her hand and took a drink for himself, before capping it and putting it away.

"To bed," he insisted. When she protested he swept her off her feet and carried her to her bedroom. It was late afternoon and the sun was coming in through the curtains so he closed them, darkening the room significantly.

Sometimes when she was drunk Carol got really sappy and teary. She quickly went from happy drunk to weepy drunk and right back to happy drunk like a teenager with mood swings. And she had absolutely no filter on what came out of her mouth. "Daryl? Don't go, okay? I need you to stay. I think I love you," she sighed, as he helped her get undressed and get into bed. She grabbed his face and squeezed his cheeks, "I'm serious, I love you Daryl." She let go and patted his cheek and started to sing an old David Cassidy song, "I think I love you so what am I so afraid of, I'm afraid that I'm not sure of, a love there is no cure for…"

Daryl shook his head in amusement and gently pushed her back onto the pillow and pulled up the blankets around her. He kissed her lightly on the forehead. "Don't forget it, I love you Pookie," Carol said, closing her eyes, but not sleeping quite yet.

The last thing she remembered was asking Daryl if he would put his club in her hole, but not the back nine and laughing like she was the funniest person on the planet. Sometime in the middle of the night she woke, feeling queasy with a splitting headache. He was lying beside her in bed. "You're still here," she said.

"I'm still here," he repeated. "Sleep Carol, I'll be here in the morning."

"Mmm, ok," she sighed. "Thank you. Daryl?" She asked.

"Yes?" he replied.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm the pounding in her head. "My head hurts and I'm probably going to puke in the morning… I'm never golfing again."