The men grumble that her late arrival is petty gamesmanship on her part. However, she's so charming and complimentary of their strong play, they can't...hold a grudge.This woman is a riddle no one can figure out. They have a couple of beers in the Clubhouse, and finally, one of the men asks her, "How do you decide if you're going to golf right-handed or left-handed?"The lady blushes, and grins. "When my Dad taught me to play golf, I learned I was ambidextrous," she replies. "I like to switch back. "No," he takes a small step back, smelling the delicate scent of her, like a clear babbling stream, or a forest after a rain. And those eyes, they are intoxicating.A tiny smile tugs at her long muzzle. She takes the marble out of the box with long, nimble fingers ending in small hooflike bones. She holds the marble up to him, only inches from his face. The snapping of the box cracks the gentle sounds that had thus far been the only things he could hear during the encounter. He jumps, his heart. More

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