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I am playing golf with Dita Von Teese.
Dita is of course decked out in classy white lingerie – lace robe, bustier, panties, garters, stockings, stilettos, etc. It’s something to do with a charity event, so there is an audience watching. I am also the MC for it.
We are playing on a course that’s like a real golf course but with mini-golf hazards and challenges. And as MC I get to set the rules for each shot.
One hole is like a pyramid of little green hills, with pockets of flat ground. Dita has to putt the ball over the peak and down to the hole in one of the flat bits. If she misses, the ball will roll all the way down the hill and she’ll have to work her way back up.
She misses, and the ball rolls all the way back to the clubhouse. She looks at me with that smirky smile of hers and removes her lacy white robe – apparently the unspoken rule is that for every stroke it takes her to get the ball in the hole she has to take something off.
Since this is for charity, and since she will clearly be naked long before she ever gets anywhere close to the hole again, and since I want to be a gentleman to Ms Von Teese, I change the rules. She can take another shot from the top, and instead of a ball she can hit a slice of chopped onion sitting in a bowl of water. That way if she misses it won’t roll far. She graciously agrees, but says she wants to use raw onion, not one that’s been marinated in a bowl of garlic sauce.
“That’s too soggy, it’ll just stick to the putter,” she explains.
And then I woke up.
Cheese and onions,
This is dF
Dita is of course decked out in classy white lingerie – lace robe, bustier, panties, garters, stockings, stilettos, etc. It’s something to do with a charity event, so there is an audience watching. I am also the MC for it.
We are playing on a course that’s like a real golf course but with mini-golf hazards and challenges. And as MC I get to set the rules for each shot.
One hole is like a pyramid of little green hills, with pockets of flat ground. Dita has to putt the ball over the peak and down to the hole in one of the flat bits. If she misses, the ball will roll all the way down the hill and she’ll have to work her way back up.
She misses, and the ball rolls all the way back to the clubhouse. She looks at me with that smirky smile of hers and removes her lacy white robe – apparently the unspoken rule is that for every stroke it takes her to get the ball in the hole she has to take something off.
Since this is for charity, and since she will clearly be naked long before she ever gets anywhere close to the hole again, and since I want to be a gentleman to Ms Von Teese, I change the rules. She can take another shot from the top, and instead of a ball she can hit a slice of chopped onion sitting in a bowl of water. That way if she misses it won’t roll far. She graciously agrees, but says she wants to use raw onion, not one that’s been marinated in a bowl of garlic sauce.
“That’s too soggy, it’ll just stick to the putter,” she explains.
And then I woke up.
Cheese and onions,
This is dF
