Chapter 1
Buttering sandwiches for the kids’ lunches, James comes up behind me—his bulk pushing into the back of my body, pushing me into the stone top counter, one hand snakes around my slender waist as it dips down to rest just in front of my pussy.
The other hand pulls my long brown hair to the side to expose the side of my neck as he leans in close to whisper, “You’re going to smash it this morning,” in my ear.
I turn to meet his playful smile and light blue eyes twinkling back at me. This man knows how to leave me in a puddle and he’s doing it on purpose.
“Seriously, Rosie, go smash it. Be yourself, they won’t be able to resist you.
We don’t need the money that much if you hate anyone or anything about The Clarendon.
I’ve been to Golf Clubs like this one, they’ll just expect things done in a certain way and that is nothing you can’t do.
Just flash them that beautiful smile, push your shoulders back and keep your chin held high.
Yes, we do need money, but, in my opinion they cannot afford to not give you a chance. Go get them tiger.”
And with that, my mountain of a man bends down to land a kiss that doesn’t last long enough on my lips and pats my bottom goodbye. That goofball of a man is always touching me in some shape or form.
Thirty minutes later, I’ve packed the kids into the car, dropped them off at school and am making the twenty-minute drive to The Clarendon.
Turns out where we live in Melbourne there are plenty of golf courses to choose from.
The Clarendon is however the most exclusive and desired of them all.
It certainly attracts the highest annual fees of $54k a year or thereabouts.
To me, that is someone’s actual annual salary.
What kind of people can afford to pay that for a hobby?
Nerves start to bubble inside of me as I drive through black iron gates, entering the estate’s property in good time for my interview.
I follow the palm tree lined driveway a kilometre before it opens out to a stunning white horse fountain in the middle of a roundabout with a backdrop of the most—what I can only describe as a castle manor type building.
Not at all what I was expecting. When I was on the website, only the inside and golf grounds were shown in all their verdant glory.
I drive past the fountain and building, the road leading to a carpark on the right.
There are only a handful of cars currently parked.
All are black, have blacked out windows, are shiny and look expensive.
Not quite the grey Volvo I’ve just pulled in with.
I check myself in the mirror before forcing myself out of the car.
This is a lot more regal than I had imagined.
In fact, this is nothing like I had imagined.
I almost kick myself, what on earth was I thinking? Why would they hire someone like me?
I’m wearing the only black pair of heels I own, which I paired with a black pencil skirt and cream blouse.
I’m hoping it gives me an air of sophistication, but tottering along the gravel driveway, I’m not sure what I look like just trying to stay upright.
Heels are not my usual daytime attire. Working for myself, I wear whatever the heck I like and most often that’s comfy leggings and a sweater and Converse.
When I get to the giant double door, I wonder if I should push through or ring a bell.
Looking up, I can see a camera and try and hold myself back from giving a little wave.
I decide on the doorbell seeing as the door is closed.
I press once and wait a mere second before the heavy door is swung open slowly and a petite blonde lady is waiting on the other side.
“Hi Rosie, I’m Sandy.”
Sandy reaches out her dainty hand and gives me a firm but gentle shake. It’s been a long time since I even had to shake someone’s hand. Come on Rosie, pull yourself together now. It’s game time.
“Really lovely to meet you Sandy, thank you so much for seeing me today,” I say earnestly. I hope that didn’t come across as too desperate already. I smile brightly and hope that takes the edge off my nervousness.
Sandy is wearing a cream skirt suit, her blond hair neatly curved into a bob that touches her shoulders. She must be in her 50s and is certainly under my 5'5". “Follow me Rosie, I realised you wouldn’t know where our meeting point is so let me take you there now.”
Sandy leads me through the foyer that is large, open with shiny parquet wooden floors, a grand chandelier, wooden benches below huge windows adorned with pretty pastel flowers.
The room has an old world feeling that speaks of class and money.
At the back of the foyer room, we turn right and I take in a breath.
In complete contrast to the front of the building, this room has floor to ceiling windows that look out onto the endless greenery of the golf range.
The room feels light and airy and reminds me of the wineries I’ve visited in the Yarra Valley.
Sandy leads us past the bar that is all black, with back lighting on all the wines and spirits they clearly stock. Sandy shows me to a seat by the window overlooking the grounds in the right corner. Before my bottom hits the plush black chair, a pretty tall waitress in her mid 30s is by our side.
“Hi Sandy, will it be your regular for this morning?”
“Yes please Sophie. Rosie, what would you like?”
“A black tea please.” I smile shyly up at the beautiful auburn-haired lady.
“Rosie, your email came at the exact time I was about to put a new job description together. I think the universe was giving me a gift, especially as you have bar and café experience, albeit a few years ago now. What made you reach out to us?” Sandy is direct but her brown eyes are warm.
“This sounds strange, but I’ve had this feeling for a little while now about the Clarendon, like a niggle in the back of my mind that I’d like to work for you.
I have been working for myself for the past eight years which has done me well but, in all honesty, I’m looking for some additional work and shifts to boost my income while things are a bit slow.
” I watch Sandy’s face intently. Was that too much information?
Am I being too honest? It’s been such a long time since I’ve interviewed for anything.
I pass Sandy the resume I hastily put together yesterday.
“Is that so…” Sandy nods and takes the resume.
Sandy takes out a pair of Prada reading glasses and runs her eyes over my work history.
It’s not long before she’s folding it back up and looking intently at me.
Like she’s sizing me up—looks, body and all.
I flush a bit under the scrutiny of her gaze and the silent seconds leave me wondering if I should fill them.
“Rosie, we are looking for an all-rounder to be part of our team. A Jack, or Jill should I say, of all trades. Someone who can pitch in wherever is needed. Someone who has a good work ethic and is up for any challenge or request that is thrown their way. Could this type of role suit you?” Sandy’s eyes are now piercing.
Like she’s looking into my soul to see if she can get the answers just by looking into my eyes.
“Absolutely. I am really hard working; I aim to please and do whatever is needed. When I was a PA I was used to taking care of all of my Directors’ needs and whims. And since working for myself, I am no stranger to a challenge and doing what is necessary to get the job done,” I answer earnestly, hoping I sound confident and competent.
Sandy seems pleased with my response. She nods and replies, “In addition to working hard, we expect complete confidentiality and we ask all our staff and golf club members to sign a non-disclosure agreement. Will that be a problem for you?”
“Oh no, no problem at all. I am not a gossip and take my work very seriously. What kind of work do you have in mind?” Strange though I think.
How many jobs ask you to sign a non-disclosure agreement?
What kind of role do they need filing here?
Heck, what even goes on here if you aren’t allowed to tell anyone about it?
“I like that you have café and bar experience, we will of course show you the ropes on our coffee machine and drinks selection at the bar. You’ll also be shown reception and the golf buggy hire.
We like our staff to be able to cover each other.
Most of our staff work part time shifts and we are flexible on scheduling in order for our staff to work the hours they choose.
It works quite well, and morale is pretty high, especially once our staff hit the six month mark.
Speaking of which: we have a six-month trial period, mainly to see if we’re both a good fit for each other—The Clarendon and yourself I mean. Does that sound reasonable to you?”
“Yes, of course. In fact, the whole job sounds really reasonable. I love that you offer so much flexibility and there is so much variety within the roles. Do you need to see references or anything from me?”
“We like to be our own references. We will know within the first six months if we’re compatible.
One thing I do need to tell you is, at The Clarendon we pride ourselves on customer service and confidentiality.
Nothing comes before these two. We look after our staff and our customers with equal care.
The first thing anyone who joins our club does—whether they are a club member or staff—is choose an alias.
” Sandy said that last part as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“Do you mean everyone here does not use their real name? Even Sandy is not your real name?”
“Yes, that’s correct.” Sandy smiles, probably at the astonishment on my face. “We have a few strict rules and one of those is anonymity and we request that no one ask or give their actual names.”
“No problem. I can certainly abide by those rules.”
“Great. I think you’ll fit in with our team really well Roxy. Training starts whenever you would like to start. Would Wednesday morning work?” Sandy winks at me and I grin wide. I’m guessing I’ll be known as Roxy then. And I got the job?
Trying to hold a shrill of joy inside my head, I keep my hands on my lap to grip my thighs rather than clap with glee.
Considering I was so nervous, that was the easiest and most relaxed interview I’ve ever had.
What is it about this job and place that is drawing me in? Why does it feel like it’s meant to be?
Sandy starts to stand.
“Roxy, I’ll show you out. When I’m back at my desk later today, I’ll send you a form to complete and a contract to sign.
I’m looking forward to working with you, I really do think you’ll make a wonderful addition to the team.
” There is an odd twinkle in Sandy’s eyes.
I can’t put my finger on it but I’m sure there is something she’s trying to say but without words. Or maybe it’s in my head.
I follow Sandy out of the Marion Cafe, noting that I can see two or three golf carts driving across the grounds now. She walks me back to the lavish entrance and holds her hand out.
“It’s been a pleasure, Roxy. See you tomorrow.”