Belle

I need to say a huge thank you too a couple of friends who helped me with editing and story development. Robyn, Steve and Randi, all helped to try and create something even mildly readable.

This is a long story.

The day started badly for me: the sun was shining the skies were cloudless and blue. I was at the golf course waiting for some friends to turn up. I was revved up and ready to go, but my mates were late, I kept glancing at my watch, waiting expectantly. loitered by the first tee, watching groups teeing off, when my phone rang.

Lenny, my mate’s, car had broken down and they weren’t turning up.

As I wandered around, I figured what the hell, it’s a nice day, I’ll just play the course by myself. As I waited for the group in front of me to tee off, a rather sexy velvety smooth voice asked, “Would you like some company?”

I turned to see a diminutive but very attractive woman taking the cover off her driver. When I didn’t respond straight away, she said, “I am here by myself, as well. Just thought you might like somebody to keep you company.”

Thinking about it, I shrugged my shoulders. “Yeah, why not.” I reached out my hand to shake hands, “I’m Carl.”

She accepted my handshake, “I’m Belle

As the group headed away, I pulled out my driver as well. The first tee was long, 450 yards from the men’s tee.

Now I’m not the world’s best golfer: I play of an eight handicap. I lined up to play down the left side as the fairway had a dog leg. After a few warm-up swings, I lined up and played a pretty decent drive for me; about 220 yards, and it stayed on the fairway, giving me a reasonable shot for my second.

As Belle walked past to place her tee, she complimented me. “Nice shot.” She was placing her tee on the men’s marker. I said quickly, “You can play from the woman’s mark.”

She gave me a little smile before replying in that sweet syrupy chirpy voice. “No, I’m happy to play with you. It is for fun, right?”

I shrugged. “Yes, of course, it’s your call.”

I watched sneakily as she warmed up. Her figure was incredible, sleek but powerful. I could see the muscles in her thighs as she swung to and fro in her warm-up.

Then crack, the sweet sound of the driver hitting the sweet spot. Her tee shot was a blinder; holy shit, her drive exceeded mine by at least ten yards and it was perfect.

It was her swing, oh my god. It was a thing of sheer beauty. I noticed as she swung her short skirt rode up, exposing more of her incredibly shapely thighs. My heart rate went up a smidgen as I licked my lips.

Sliding my driver into my bag, I offered her my compliment, “Wow, great shot.”

She smiled. “Thanks, yeah it was okay. So Carl, do you play much? That was a pretty good shot.”

Shrugging, I said, “Nah, I get out about maybe twice a month if I’m lucky. What about you? Do you play much?”

She grinned knowingly. “Yeah, a bit. I get out as much as I can.”

As we walked off, she asked, “What do you do?”

“I’m an architect, nothing special. What about yourself?”

“Nothing as fancy as that,” she teased.

For the second shot I pulled out my three-wood, the green was still at least 200 yards away. I played another reasonable shot, although it faded and I ended up in the rough. Belle, who was a further ten or so yards, whipped out her five-wood and played the most magnificent shot. Unlike mine, it sailed straight and true, straight up the middle to roll to the edge of the green.

I looked on in awe, I had never played with a woman before, and I was expecting her to be worse than I was I certainly wasn’t expecting her to be longer.

As we walked off, she asked, “Do you live locally?”

“Yep, home town boy, born and bred. What about you?”

She nodded, “Yeah my parents moved here when I was about ten. I moved away for work, I am back for a visit.”

She went on to explain her folks were retired and had a place down by the beach, only a stone’s throw from the course. She was really warm, and the conversation flowed easily. I’m not much of a talker, in fact I’m a bit of an introvert, but she managed to drag conversation out of me easily.

As I lined up my chip onto the green, I tightened up a little. I liked Belle, but I didn’t want to lose to a woman. I overplayed the shot, leaving the ball laying on the far side of the green with a putt of about twenty yards.

Belle lined up her putt and played a wonderfully weighted shot, leaving about a four-foot final putt. Feeling the tension and having overplayed my previous shot, I choked and the ball rolled feebly towards the hole. Still a twelve-foot putt. She sank her putt and I took another putt to sink mine.

As we walked to the next hole, I was pleased to see it come into view. It was my favourite hole on the course. It was a par three and only 195 yards. Belle pulled out her seven iron, dropped the ball and nailed a beautiful shot right to the edge of the green, it faded a little, ending up on the right side.

I decided on a five iron, my favourite club. I couldn’t loosen up, my muscles felt tense. I could feel her eyes boring into me as I lined it up. I sliced a terrible shot, ending up in the rough, but at least I missed the huge bunker.

As we walked on, she sighed, with the hint of a smirk. “Bad luck.”

It wasn’t said maliciously: most of my mates would have been much harder on me, but from her it felt harsh. I played a horrible chip shot and ended up on the edge of the green. Nothing was working. Belle chipped on ending up only a couple of feet from the hole. I played a pretty good putt leaving a little tap in. When I went to place my marker, she smiled. “Don’t bother, I’ll give you that.”

She putted easily and we walked on. As miserable as I felt about getting my arse kicked by a woman, she was so engaging that the conversation flowed and I found out she lived in Auckland, and was only going to be in town for about seven days.

She kept dragging my story out. Yes, I was single, no girlfriend, owned my own place. She explained she moved around a lot with her job and spent way too much time on the road in hotels. By the halfway stage I had come to grips with the fact I was not only going to lose, but I was getting my arse kicked. To make it worse, she started offering me advice, do this, do that. God damn it, if it wasn’t bad enough getting beaten, I had to put up with her advice.

It was starting to get a bit galling. I, of course, ignored all her advice. In hindsight I probably should have taken it.

We ended up back at the clubhouse and she asked, “Coming in for a drink?”

I laughed, “Yeah, I suppose it’s going to be my shout.”

She nodded in amusement, “Sure is, don’t worry, I’m a cheap date.”

“Date, is it,” I mumbled.

Her confident teasing glance said more than words. We found a table and I ordered some food and got her the tequila sunrise she asked for, grabbing myself a beer.

When I returned to the table, she was relaxing with a glass of water. As I approached the table, I took stock; she was a very pretty woman, about twenty five or so, a few years younger than I was. Her long blonde hair was pulled back tightly in a pony tail, and now that she had removed her cap and sunnies, it exposed beautiful bright hazel eyes. Her makeup was minimal, not that she needed it, just a touch of lipstick.

As I sat down, she picked up her drink and took a sip. “Ahhhh, that hit the spot, thanks.”

“So what is it you do when you’re not hustling at golf?”

She laughed. “Hey that was no hustle, there were no bets.”

“Yeah, I suppose that was a bit harsh. Where did you learn to play like that?”

“My dad is a mad golfer, and I used to go out with him from a young age. He was pretty good in his day.”

Nodding, I said, “He must be.” Just then the food arrived and we picked our way through the snacks.

After the second drink, she said, “Sorry, Carl, but I have to go. Mum is cooking a big dinner.”

I stood up to pull her chair back. “No worries, it has been fun. Thanks for the game.”

Her face was warm with that teasing coy grin she said. “You’re right, it was fun; I enjoyed it. Thanks for the drink.”

As we walked out to the cars, I helped her load her clubs in the boot and held her door open. As she reversed out of her parking spot, she leaned out her window, “You know, mum always cooks too much. If you’re interested in a home cooked dinner?”

That brought a smile to my face. “I would love to.”

I knocked on the door of a very posh house overlooking Tasman Bay, elevated, it had clear views right across the bay. The door was opened by a very attractive woman who was an older version of Belle. She smiled whimsically. “You must be Carl, come in, Belle said you might pop in for dinner.”

She waved me through into the main room and it was immense, huge glass doors giving views every bit as good as those from outside. Wow, what a place. Jesus, they must be bloody loaded. I already felt intimidated and out of my depth.

Her father, Thomas, came up for a handshake and introduction. As Elise waved us towards the deck, Belle walked down the stairs looking spectacular in a light green flowing dress that cascaded seductively over her sinewy curves. My heart jumped and I’m sure my pulse went up twenty percent.

Her hair, which had been in a ponytail, was now framing her face in sexy little curls as it draped down over her shoulders. The dress was low cut, exposing just the right amount of skin.

Her mum brought out a tray of drinks and we sat enjoying the late afternoon sun. Thomas talked about his old life: he had been a Solicitor. As he talked, I realised I had heard his name around the office. He was a very highly respected man, He went on to say, he still helped out his old firm although now he did it for fun.

Belle was reluctant to talk about herself too much; she never really told me what she did. I tried to weasel it out of her, but as I dug, she smirked and jostled revealing nothing. Her parents went along with her teasing and there were a few giggles. It wasn’t until we were on our third round of drinks that Elise snapped, “Oh for heaven’s sake, Belle, enough is enough, put the poor boy out of his misery.”

Her father laughed and Belle sighed somewhat reluctantly, “Okay, okay.” She sighed somewhat reluctantly. “I am a professional golf player.”

I choked on my drink. “Bloody cheek, you could have said that this morning.”

Her father laughed. “Relax, she beats us all. My friends have stopped coming with me when she plays with me. Some men can’t take it.”

She grinned, “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to be sneaky, it’s just when I tell people they get a bit anxious and don’t enjoy the game. I liked playing with you, although, if you don’t mind me saying. You were trying too hard. I think it would have been closer if you had relaxed.”

As we talked, she explained she was in town for the open. As the night carried on, Belle and I ended up out on the deck by ourselves, her parents making excuses to go in to watch TV.

She told me all about her life as a golfer. She had only recently turned professional, and made the cut in a couple of tournaments in Australia, and was starting to climb the ladder. As the night came to an end, she walked out to my car with me. “If you would like to come to the Open, I could get some tickets for you.”

“Thanks, I would love that. I have never been to a tournament.”

As I was about to get in the car, she leaned in close and her lips closed over mine in a sweet delicious little kiss. Her arms circled my neck and mine slid around her waist as I pulled her in closer. Oh damn, what a kiss, I felt it start at the base of my spine, the electric tingles working their way to my failing brain.

Her tongue sliding into my mouth was a moment I will remember forever. It was electric, my mind in overdrive, my body trembled, and if I hadn’t been leaning on the car I might have collapsed.

As she pulled back, she whispered in my ear, “Text me your details and I will organise the tickets. How many do you want?”

“Just one.”

She giggled. “Come on, you must have some friends who would like to come, maybe surprise your boss?”

I drove away with a huge smile plastered stupidly across my face. At home, I pulled up her profile and did some research. She had really underplayed how successful she was. She was actually tipped to be close to the top of the leader board in the open, she had won several local NZ tournaments and the last one she played in Australia, she had also won. She was on her way to the top, that’s for sure.

Researching the tournament, I saw how much tickets were, and they were sold out. Bugger, she probably wouldn’t be able to get any after all.

I went in to work Monday and my head was still spinning. At lunch time, the receptionist brought in a small package. It had been dropped off with my name on it. As I pried it open, the tickets popped out. Not one as asked, but six. I laughed, she had some pull.

Now what to do with the tickets? I had a couple of mates who might like to go, but I heeded her words and offered them around the office to my boss and a couple of the senior partners. My popularity instantly grew exponentially.

At the tournament, I discovered the tickets were in fact VIP tickets, and we were treated like royalty. I decided to follow Belle as she traversed the course. She looked amazing, kitted out in all her endorsed gear. As I followed the crowd, I bumped into her dad who was following and cheering her every shot. We chatted a bit, but he was engrossed with Belle, so I melded back in with the crowd, trying to stay out of the way. I did notice while she was waiting at the tee, she looked around the gallery, looking for me? I could only hope.

The first day was eventful, but she rode it out to be second on the leader board at the end of play. She had to go through the usual interviews and sign autographs. I decided to play eager fan and I brought one of her signature caps at the merch store and walked up, asking if she could sign it for me? She smiled, pulled me into a cheeky kiss and signed it.

I hung around until she had finished, and we walked back to the clubhouse. As we walked in, my boss Steve raced over when he saw us together and he was that eager, I swear he was foaming at the mouth.

Belle played up to him and offered to take some selfies with us both. When she took ours, she planted a big wet sloppy kiss on my cheek.

We had a couple of drinks but she wanted an early night. She fancied her chances of a win.

For the remainder of the tournament, I was there, rain, shine or howling gale. I followed her around like an infatuated obsessive fan. Which I suppose I was. She had certainly made an impact on me.

Long story short, she won going away at the end, finishing five shots clear of her nearest rival. The celebrations went long into the night, and it was incredible. We went back to her folk’s place where the party continued till late. Her father was a seriously hospitable host. My hand was never empty and we drank only the best stuff. Belle was pretty tipsy, as well, by the time her parents went to bed, leaving us out on the swing seat on the deck enjoying the flickering stars and moonlight glistening off the waters of the bay.

She leaned against me and all I could smell was her essence, my nostrils twitched and my heart raced. I’m not sure if it was me kissing her or the other way around, but we fell into a sensuous kiss that went on for what felt like a lifetime. When I opened my eyes, hers were tightly shut and her hand was behind my head, holding on tightly.

My hands roamed over her sinuous body, not an ounce of fat to be found. She was athletic and muscled without losing her womanly form.

As we kissed, our tongues waltzed and fox trotted, slithering and sliding together. Her breast filled my hand and she sighed, swallowing a silent moan of pleasure as my fingers found her jagged erect little nipples. Even her sports bra couldn’t hide the fact she was aroused. Her moans grew louder in my mouth and her hands followed my lead, her hands caressing my chest, sliding down to my abdomen. Now it was my turn to moan, and I couldn’t suppress mine. “Oh god, you tease.”

She giggled as our lips parted, her tongue sliding deliciously over her moist lips. “Who said I was teasing?”

Incensed by her teasing I pulled her back into our kiss, my hands working harder, caressing, fondly squeezing and stroking. Aware that we were in her parents’ house, I tried to slow things down but she was aroused as I was, and it was becoming harder to stay calm. When her roaming hands found my erection straining for release, I just about lost it.

She breathed wetly against my cheek. “Seems like I made an impression here, as well.” She giggled as she kissed her way to my neck, leaving lipstick stains along the way.

With the night dragging on and the darkness becoming cooler, I whispered, “Would you like to come back to my place?”

She laughed, “Why? We can just go up to my room, I am a grown woman, Carl, I’m not a child. Mum and Dad understand I am adult and allow me to live my own life.”

I chuckled, “So how many men do you seduce into your bed?”

“Oh, a few, and by the way, they aren’t all men.”

That shocked me, “You’re Bi?”

She nodded. “I hate labels, but I don’t draw lines in the sand. I am attracted to beautiful people, some men and some women.” With a smile she added, “I just like people.” She tugged on my hair, leading back into a kiss, which she broke to ask, “Does that shock, or horrify you?”

“No… well, I suppose I am a little shocked. Sorry, I come from little old Nelson and I don’t meet too many women who are, how shall I say it… that outgoing.”

She giggled. “Carl, I like you, I would like you to take me to bed and make love.”

I stood quickly. “Then let us not delay, M ‘Lady. Never let it be said I disappointed a lady. Well not intentionally anyway.”

“We’ll see, there won’t be a pop quiz or anything, but I will mark your card, based on performance.”

I must have looked shocked, because she gave me a squeeze. “Wow, relax, I was joking.”

That night we made love like crazy sex starved wanton lovers. It was hot and passionate. Belle fell asleep afterwards, but I lay in her bed staring at the ceiling. It dawned on me that my walk of shame would be in front of her parents in the morning, so I set my alarm for five.

When it went off, I quickly got up and started dressing. I was nearly dressed before I heard Belle whimper, “What the hell are you doing? Come back to bed.”

Shaking my head vigorously, I whispered, “I can’t. Sorry, call me chicken, but I cannot walk down there in front of your parents, sorry, Belle. Perhaps we could catch up for lunch or maybe dinner later.”

She sniggered. “Coward, they don’t bite, shit this isn’t the bloody 1800s.”

I leaned down and kissed her in what I hoped was a sweet kiss. “I like you, Belle, last night was the most incredible night of my life, and I would love to see you again.”

“Well, if you stayed in bed with me, we could see each other, couldn’t we?”

I laughed. “Call me later.” I sneaked away and out the door.

The office was abuzz with gossip about Belle and me. That gossip was further fuelled when she walked in smiling brightly. She was swamped by my golf-mad colleagues. As we walked out to get lunch, my boss grabbed my arm, “Don’t hurry back, we can cover.”

My boss was going to cover my work… will wonders never cease?

During lunch we talked about general stuff, but there was a new depth to the conversation. Of course, we couldn’t get away from the golf, which she was mad about, and she talked endlessly. I guess she was as you would expect obsessed by it. Lunch came and went and she asked, “Aren’t you going to be late?”

“The boss gave me the afternoon off.”

She giggled. “What, did he think you were going to get lucky or something?”

“Nah, I just think he was saying thanks for the tickets.”

She gave me a mock tut, tut sort of look before she purred, “Well, perhaps you could show me your house?”

It felt a bit weird opening the door and welcoming her into my drab little house. Compared to her folks’ place, this was a shit box. To her credit, she never said anything other than, “Nice place.”

I threw her onto the sofa and jumped on her. She giggled crazily as I wrestled with her trying to get a kiss. “What, don’t I at least get a drink?”

“I brought you lunch.” I laughed before crushing her lips in a kiss. Her arms and legs wrapped around me as the passion escalated. My erection was trapped by her grinding pussy. Things quickly escalated and her clothes went the same way as mine: into a big pile on the ground. Before things went too far, I dragged her up to the bedroom where the rest of the day vanished in a whirl of sexual energy. Belle was a sexual dynamo, and enjoyed all aspects of lovemaking. She encouraged and directed, egging me to go further than I ever had.

With the afternoon gone, she dragged me into the shower. “C’mon, I need food.”

We showered together and headed out for dinner. As we were finishing up and the waiter brought the check to the table, I was about to hand over my credit card when Belle grabbed my hand. “My shout.”

Seeing my sour confused expression, she smiled. “C’mon, Hon, I make a whole lot more than you.”

It was a slap in the face and a little demoralising. She chuckled as the waiter walked away with her card. “Don’t be one of those macho pricks, Carl. I can afford it, plus you brought lunch.”

“Belle, growing up my father instilled in me that there are expectations for men. Opening doors, paying. These are things that men do. If my father saw me letting you pay, he would roll over in his grave.”

“Oh phooey, those are old sentiments. Things are different today. Men don’t have to work, to be the bread winner. If a woman is talented enough to make more money, then that is a good thing, not a bad one.”

“Belle, those attributes have been instilled in me my whole life. I can’t just change overnight.”

She shook her head disbelievingly. “That doesn’t wash with me. We can share costs, go Dutch.”

It left a bit of a bitter taste in my mouth, but with her giving me a sweet kiss and her hand stroking my growing erection inside my pants, that soon vanished. We went back to my place and we spent the night making love. When I said she was a dynamo, I wasn’t fooling. She certainly loved sex.

We spent the next couple of days together, although we did have to go to her parents’ place for dinner. She had obligations: she didn’t see them that often, so it was expected.

She told me later that while she tried to establish her career as a pro golfer, they supported her financially. The least she could do was spend as much time as possible with them. It felt weird that they were so open about things, her mum encouraging me to stay the night rather than drive home after her dad made me taste all his favourite whiskeys. No, not to sleep in a spare room, they were happy for me to share Belle’s room, and her mum gave me a telling off. “No running off early in the morning either, young man.”

Wow, I’m sure they must have seen my blushing cheeks. All this was a lot for me to take in. I was just a country boy at heart, with old world principles. No way would my parents have let me bring a bird home. Even now if they were still alive the answer would be no

Two days later, she was gone to play a tournament in Melbourne. I drove her to the airport, it was a bit sad. In just a few short days she had found a way into my heart. I really liked her. We kissed long and hard before she left, both making promises to stay in touch.

At first, we did talk a lot on the phone. When I say talked, I should really have said had phone sex. By the fourth day, my dick ached I had beaten of that often. She had been planning to come back, but received an invitation to a tournament in Brisbane, where she had another top ten finish. That led to another in Hong Kong.

We continued to sext and talk regularly. With her success she was quickly turning into a bit of a celebrity, and it was unnerving when I saw her on TV being escorted to a dinner by a handsome young bloke. There was no phone call that night.

When we talked the next night, she was like nothing happened. She talked about the game and how she was playing. I listened, biting my tongue, but listening to her rabbit on annoyed me. I didn’t want to but I snapped, “Have a good date last night, did you?”

The phone went a little quiet before she replied, “Yes I did actually. Daniel was very nice.”

“Get a good night kiss, did he?” I snapped churlishly.

Obviously annoyed her response was curt. “No, he didn’t, but I did give him a nice blowjob when he left this morning.”

Jesus Christ, she was so open about it. I couldn’t speak. She scoffed, “I hope you aren’t going to be one of those jealous possessive insecure guys. We are friends, Carl, but we made no promises, did we?”

“No, we didn’t, but…”

She interrupted me before I could finish, “Carl, I like you and I want to see you again, but we both have lives to lead. I’m sure you’re seeing other girls as well.”

I wasn’t actually, but that was the last thing I was going to tell her. After that, our phone calls dropped off and when we did talk, it was more about how her game was going and where she was off to next. The sexual side of our relationship seemed to have died.

I followed her career as she climbed the ladder. She had qualified for the LPGA circuit and was flying to America to compete. When we spoke, she was elated and jabbering on like a school kid. We ended with me wishing her well. Throughout the whole conversation we never once talked about my job, projects, what I was doing, nothing; it was all about her.

I guess I am one of those insecure jealous guys, because watching her career it was obvious she had a myriad of guys chasing after her. I followed her Instagram page, her Facebook page and highlighted all over were posts about dates she was going on. The calls evaporated and I consigned her to my memory, a very fond memory, which fuelled many lonely evening wanks. I figured she would be a story I could relate to my Grand kids. “I used to date her, you know?”

It was nearly three months later when she burst into my office looking radiant. “Hey, stranger!” she trilled as I stood to greet her, and she pushed her way into my arms, “Just wondered if you were free for a round this afternoon?”

My boss who must have seen her walk in interrupted, “Take the afternoon if you want, Carl. You’ve done your share lately.” I was going to say no, but his untimely interruption pushed me into a corner. “Yeah, I would love to.”

As we played, we walked and talked. She apologised for being lax and not calling. I said, “No problem, you must be busy.” It was all very polite and warm but there was no intimacy. She noticed, as well. “Okay, Carl, what gives? Why the cold shoulder treatment? I know I have been a bit distracted, but you have to cut me some slack here. The circuit is tough, and I had to put in a big effort.”

“I don’t care about the missed calls or the fact you’re busy. That bit I understand… what I don’t understand is all the guys you’ve been dating. Why come back to me; you’ve obviously got a guy in every port. Who am I? Just the local hick who entertains you when you come home to visit your parents?”

She nodded as if contemplating an answer. “So, you are one of those pathetic possessive insecure arseholes. I should have guessed. It’s a shame, because I really liked you, I thought we had something.”

Disconcerted by her indifferent, casual attitude, I snapped viciously. “Oh bullshit… how could we have something when you’re banging guys all over the god damned planet? Jesus, I hoped we had something, too, because believe it or not, I like you.”

Her frown turned upside down and a cheeky grin crossed her face and she smiled. “What say we approach this differently? If you weren’t stalking me on Facebook and Instagram, and you didn’t know that I dated a few guys and I turned up to see you again, just like today, where would we be now?”

“In bed, making love.” I stated loudly.

“So why aren’t we doing that right now, because it’s what I damned well want.”

“Because I know… it’s different, I know. How can we have something if you’re banging all those guys?”

Her frown returned with a vengeance, “Look, dipshit, I didn’t ask you how many girls you banged while I was away. We aren’t married; we’re just friends. You had sex, I had sex, why does that have to interfere with us… I like you and I liked the idea we would already be in bed because it’s all I have been thinking about since coming home. It’s part of the reason I came home.”

She stood up and reached for my hand. “Come on, Carl, I’m not home for long, let’s not spoil it by fighting.”

Damn it, I wanted to be angry, I wanted to say fuck off. No, my heart was pounding, my palms clammy and looking into her eyes any possible argument I could throw up melted. Damn it, she had me.

We didn’t come out of my place for two days, we made love, we fucked, we laughed, she told me stories about all the top female golfers, a few secrets she probably shouldn’t have, but it was funny, warm, and intimate. We cuddled, we snuggled and when we eventually came out, we headed straight to the golf course where she schooled me, she beat me and she gave me pointers. She showed me how to get backspin on my chip shots, how to get rid of my slice. We ate out and we walked on the beach. It was an amazing few days, but unfortunately it had to end. She had a tournament coming up in Tokyo, and she was leaving the following day. She had to go to her folks’ place for at least one night and I couldn’t face that. We met for lunch just before her flight. “So can I call you still?” she asked.

“Yeah, of course, I want to hear from you every day.”

That’s what happened. Like last time, she called every day, we had phone sex, she sent me some nude snaps and I replied in kind. me a little video.

We talked about it and I think she sent the photos and video just to prove that she trusted me, because, with them in my possession. I could ruin her career. It was her way of saying, “I trust you.”

Her career was blossoming and her winnings were going up. In NZ she was a celebrity, and of course, every women’s magazine had a story about her. Her newest lover, who she was dating, all the usual shit, and of course, I followed her social media stuff as well as all the other stuff, and yeah, it hurt seeing her dating other guys. I wondered every time I saw her on some bozos’ arm whether they were doing it. It burned me up.

I tried to put it to the back of my head. I decided that moping around the house and stalking her on social media wasn’t helping.

Before Belle, I had a couple of girls that I dated occasionally, it wasn’t serious, and I had stopped seeing them while I was with Belle.

I decided, to hell with Belle. I wasn’t waiting around for her. I went back to dating. The girls were fun but I realised that Belle had left an imprint, she was more than a bit special. Even with the distraction of dating other girls I still couldn’t get rid of her image.

Still, at least by dating it made it easier. I had distractions. I also enjoyed when she called me one evening. I took great delight in saying, “Sorry I can’t talk now I’m on a date.” I finally got to inflict some hurt on her.

What spoiled it was when she replied chirpily. “Oh, sorry babe. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Have fun.” After she hung up, I was blown away by her blasé attitude. Totally took the wind out of my sails.

She flipped my world on its head, when she rocked up unexpectedly as a surprise. She had a month between commitments and came to stay. I managed to get some time off work and we went off on a golfing holiday around the South Island. As always, we fought, from the very first day. It started when we wandered up to the hotel front desk to book in. We organised a room and I filled in the paperwork, and I handed over my credit card. Just as the assistant was about to swipe it Belle piped in. “Hang on, use mine.”

She pulled hers out and went to hand it over. I grabbed her hand quickly. “No, I have this.”

She gave me a very angry stare. “Carl, I’m paying. I make a lot more than you. Let’s not argue.”

I felt completely embarrassed as the guy behind the counter stared at us. I said, “I have this,” and pushed her hand away.

That was an argument we had over and over on our otherwise happy little jaunt.

The golf was fun, but it was the night time when the fun really began. By the end of the month, I was hooked. I couldn’t hold back any longer, “Belle, I’m falling in love with you.”

She hugged me. “Yeah, I feel it as well… you are special, Carl. I have never felt this way about anybody before.”

Holding on like grim death, I asked, “So what happens now?”

She grimaced. “I don’t know, I have a tournament in Perth in a couple of days, I have to fly out tomorrow.”

“When will you be back?”

“Two weeks at the earliest, After Perth I’m flying to Manilla, then back to the States. It could be a month.”

“I will wait for you.”

“Why don’t you come with me?”

“Shit, I can’t afford that. I just used all my annual leave.”

She laughed. “Fuck it, resign. I make enough money, just come with me, to hell with your job. Tell them to suck it.”

Shocked I sighed, “I can’t do that, Belle, I love my job, I can’t follow you around unable to pay my way. I can’t be reliant on you, like some loser, with my hand out every time I want to buy something..”

“Bullshit, if you meet a girl and get married and she doesn’t have a job, you would support her, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, but that’s different, I’m a man, I don’t expect or want to be relying on you, or anyone for that matter. Christ, we have talked about this. I need to feel in control of my own destiny. Not dependant on somebody else.”

Snorting, she laughed derisively. “Jesus Carl, what does it matter who pays? We would be like a couple, the only difference would be it would be me paying rather than you.”

That made me think, the determined look on her face, made me shudder. She replied. “Relax, I can afford to pay for it. Tell you what, you can be my caddie.”

I laughed. “You’ve got Billy Jenkins. He’s about as good as they get. No, I’m not jeopardising your career and you should be ashamed for even suggesting it.”

“Stop being a fool; I want you to come, take a sabbatical from work. I can pay your mortgage so you can keep your place. Come on, imagine it, us together, travelling the world. It would just be an incredible adventure, the two of us against the world. I can’t explain what I am about to say. I feel better with you by my side. just knowing you are there, makes me feel stronger.”

With the jubilation beaming on her face and the excitement in her voice, It all sounded great. I had never even been out of the country, but the more I thought about it, I realised how unrealistic it was. I would have to sell my house, all my furniture, even my car. So I could at least have money, try to pay my way. Plus, it would mean coming home to nothing, nowhere to stay, no job. But god, it did sound incredible, the two of us together. Especially if it didn’t work out. What then? Would I have to beg her for money so I could leave?

She stared at me with her big gooey eyes. “Well?”

I hissed in mock anger. “Shut up, I’m thinking, Christ this is a big step. I would have to sell everything I own just to go with you. If it didn’t work out I would have to come home and start from nothing again. I mean we haven’t even discussed our relationship.”

As she stared at me expectantly, I realised it wasn’t that simple, the house would take months to sell. My furniture and belongings even longer. I had just blown my credit card to pieces. The more I thought, the harder it became. I realised I couldn’t do it. As I said earlier, apart from the money, I’m an old-fashioned guy. I have principles. I couldn’t live with myself sponging off somebody else.

“No sorry, Belle, but I can’t do it.”

“Why? Why not. Please Carl, don’t just say no because of the money. I have plenty for both of us and we could make it work.”

“No, I would love to but I can’t be sponging off you, or anybody else for that matter. I like paying my own way. I have my pride.”

She stood up angrily, pushing her chair back noisily, “Pride, stupid male fucking pride. You’re going to let your ego get in the way. Well fuck you then… I love you, what does it matter who pays?”

“It matters to me. I have to be able to hold my head up. I can’t go through life begging for pocket money.”

Frustration, and irritation dripped from her hissing retort. “Shit, forget about the money. I’ll give you money. I don’t care about the money.”

“Yeah, and what would your dad say? How could I look him in the eye knowing I live off you?”

She leaned across the table, her anger unmistakable, and snapped, “Fuck you.”

That was the last thing she said before she stormed out, leaving me sitting staring at her curvy arse as she pushed open the exit doors and stormed out of my life.

I tried to forget all about her, but somehow it was impossible. Not a moment of the day drifted by when I didn’t think about her, see her in my mind. I still stalked her on social media, still followed her career, although lately she had fallen off the pace. She still finished in the top 20 or so, but she seemed to have lost her edge. I read somewhere there is a fine line between winning and losing, and only real champions can maintain the clarity of mind to win continuously.

One Sunday morning, after a couple of months, of just hanging around brooding. I made a decision to get out of the house and stop moping. I went down to the golf course for a hit. As I was picking up my card from the office, I heard a voice behind me. “Hello, Carl, long time no see.”

When I turned around there was Belle’s dad, Thomas. I reached out to shake his hand. “Good morning, sir.”

Frowning unhappily he responded with a thoughtful sigh. “My name is Thomas, I think we are past the sir thing, aren’t we?”

He glanced hopefully at me, and added, “I’m about to tee off, could we play together?”

I nodded. “Yeah, sure, it would be nice to have some company, although I’m not that good.”

He laughed. “Well, that’s not what Belle said; she told me if you listened to advice, you could be very good.”

“Na, I’m just a hack really. I enjoy playing, but that’s about it. Plus, it’s not much fun taking advice from your girlfriend.”

He chuckled in a friendly fatherly way. “Carl, I understand that, how do you think I feel getting my butt kicked by my daughter? She isn’t averse to giving me advice either. I never take it until after she is gone, then I have a rethink. She’s always bloody right you know.”

That made me laugh, and we teed off. He nailed his first tee shot straight down the middle. My shot wasn’t quite so good, but I hadn’t played for a while. We walked off together, he asked about work and he seemed genuinely interested. By the fourth hole my swing returned, and I was hitting a decent ball.

As we walked, he asked, “So what happened between you and Belle? I don’t know what happened, but she came home bawling her eyes out. I have never seen her like that; she is normally so in control.”

Uncomfortable, I stumbled to get the word out. “Sir, Belle and I… well to be honest. I guess we wanted different things.”

He frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”

‘She wanted me to give up my job and go on tour with her.”

He nodded. Contemplating my words. “Yes, she told us. Carl, let me say that I admire your ambition, but I have to say I think you’re a fool. I know my daughter and she has been out with plenty of men and women, but you affected her, you got to her. When she told us that she was in love, I was totally stunned. I have never heard her utter those words before.”

“Sir, this is difficult to talk about, but to put it in plain English. I couldn’t afford to go with her.”

“Carl, I’m sure an intelligent young man like yourself could find ways. Belle did say she offered to pay for your tickets.”

“I can’t live like that, Sir. I need to be able to look at myself in the mirror and like who looks back at me. I have my pride.”

“That’s admirable, Carl. I respect your desire for independence. Those are great qualities, but we live in a different world these days. If a beautiful woman said to me come with me, let me pay for everything and we will travel around the world together, I would jump on that in a second.”

I tried to hide my grin as I replied. “Sir, with all respect, that’s bullshit. Excuse the language, but that is an absolute crock of shit.”

Laughing, he nodded. “Yes, you’re probably right.”

On the thirteenth he played a miserable shot, slicing badly into the rough and we were smacking our way through the scrub looking for his ball when he said, “You know you have single-handedly ruined her career, don’t you?”

I stopped, and stared at him. “What did you just say?”

“Carl, you broke her heart, you stole her confidence. Ever since that day you two broke up, she has played like shit.” He

“We’re never going to find this damn ball…” he grumbled. “Tell me, what about you… do you still think about her, do you miss her?”

“Of course, I do. She is never far from my mind, of course I miss her.”

“Yes, well, I imagine it’s the same for her; it’s destroying her confidence and the longer she goes on without a win, the worse it will get. It will eat right into her core, she will question everything, trust nobody and eventually it will eat her up.”

“Maybe she’s just in a slump, like the scribes say.”

“No, young man, it is you… she as much as told her mother.”

“She can’t be that worried; she has been dating plenty of guys.”

I saw his eyes drop and he winced. “We raised Belle to be a strong independent woman, I make no excuses for that. She dates, big deal. For heaven’s sake Carl, she is lonely. It is you who has her heart.”

By the time we were sinking our last putts, he had won easily. While we were having a drink, he asked, “Carl, would you do something for me?”

Confused, I replied, “Absolutely, sir, how can I help?”

“I want you to go to Florida and meet up with Belle, stay for the tournament and just keep her company.”

I choked on my drink. “Christ, I can’t afford that, I don’t make that much money, I can’t just jet off to the other side of the world.”

“Carl, I will pay all your expenses, and I will have a chat with your boss. I’m sure I can get him to accept it.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Call it an experiment. I know in my heart how she feels about you. If I’m right, you are the tonic she needs to get out of her run of bad form. If I’m wrong, then all that’s lost is a few dollars and you get a pretty good holiday.”

Like a Tom and Jerry cartoon, my mind was spinning wickedly and I could get no traction, I could find no argument. “Sir, what happens if you’re right? All it does is create more tension when I leave.”

He glanced at me. “Carl, how do you think I make my money?”

“Well, you were one of the most successful solicitors in the country. I suppose that’s a good start.”

He chuckled. “Yes, granted, that’s where it started, but I make more money from investments than I de from the law. I am an investor. What would you say if I said I could turn you into a millionaire within two years?”

Disbelievingly, I grimaced. “I don’t have much money; I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

On a roll he asked. “How much equity do you have in your home?”

Flinching, I thought deeply before whispering suspiciously. “About thirty grand I suppose.”

“If you have the balls to put that on the line, I promise that within the year that could be tripled.”

“Why would you do that?”

“There are a couple of reasons. Firstly, I like you; It would be my pleasure to mentor you. Secondly, if the only thing separating you and my daughter is money, then I want to change that.”

When I didn’t answer, he smiled. “Carl, what do you have to lose?”

“Uuuummm, my house, everything I own.”

He clinked his glass in a toast with mine and stated, “No guts no glory, son.” When he noticed I was still unconvinced, he added, “It took me many years to develop my strategy, and these days it’s pretty foolproof. I will sweeten the pot, what if I guarantee your investment? I give you my guarantee that I will repay your initial investment if it doesn’t work out.”

Changing subject, I said, “What if I get over there and she’s dating some other bloke?”

He shrugged. “That’s a chance we will both have to take, do I have to teach you to box as well?”

Noticing my grimace, he laughed. “C’mon, Carl, that was a joke. You have nothing to lose in this venture. I am already losing… I hate seeing my daughter like this, she’s almost too scared to swing the club… a bit like me today. Based on the way you played today, I would beat you 80 times out of a 100, but my mind wasn’t in it and I didn’t have my eye on the ball. Right now, she’s feeling the same.”

As much as I wanted to take him up on his offer, it just wasn’t the way I did things. I couldn’t take his money but I was sold on the trip. When I got home, I checked my bank balance and checked out airfares. I could do it, but it would take every cent I had.

On a whim, I booked the fares. The next bit was convincing my boss to give me the time off. He was not a happy camper when I rang. In fact, he was pretty pissed off. He agreed to let me have the time off unpaid, but he did warn me if they got busy while I was away, he would take on somebody else.

The day before I was about to leave, a large folder turned up at work. When I opened it. There was Thomas’s investment strategy. There were reams of pages, all outlining his well developed plan.

That night I had a laugh. What the fuck was I doing? When Belle and I parted ways, she was pretty angry; I still felt like we had unfinished business. On the plane I started to read Thomas’s business plan and investment strategy. He certainly appeared, at least on the surface anyway, to be on the money. The question was, did I have the balls for it?

It was a hell of a trip before arriving in Boca Raton. My mind was full of doubts. Was I doing the right thing? Could I throw everything I own into Thomas’s investment strategy? I was totally confused.

I found a hotel close to the course and settled in. I toyed with the idea of contacting her, but decided I would surprise her at the course in the morning.

I rocked up early, not expecting the queue. It stretched out into the carpark, and Christ it was expensive. As I got in past the club house, I stood with a huge gallery of fans watching the girls on the driving range practising before the main tee-off. I noticed Belle in the middle, and I have to say her swing looked terrible. She looked tense and didn’t look relaxed at all.

As she finished and stood off to the side, she talked to a guy and it was obvious they were talking about her swing, I figured it had to be her coach.

As she walked away, there was a queue forming next to the gates where fans could wait for autographs and whatever. I got in line and waited. She was signing T-shirts and stuff. She had her head down as she signed stuff, the guy next to me had one of her caps and she signed it.

As she moved onto stand in front of me, she looked up. “What can I do for you?” Her eyes lifted and she recognised me, “Oh my god, Carl… what are you doing here?”

I smiled. “Thought I would come for a visit, give you some support. I figured the way you’re playing, you could use it.”

She laughed with a resigned acceptance. “Yep, no arguments there. I’m playing like shit. I can use all the positives I can get.”

She signalled for me to go through into the players area, but I shook my head. “Nah, I’ve already paid. I’m just a spectator, but I will be following you around.”

She looked disappointed, but grinned. “I’m glad you’re here. It’s so good to see a friendly face; the media have been killing me.”

We shared a hug and a light kiss. As I held her, I whispered, “You have to relax, your swing looks like shit by the way.”

She winced and I offered, “Today, just imagine we are playing the Tasman course, and it’s just you and me… oh and I’m winning so you better be good.”

She snorted provocatively. “As if… you had me up until you said you were winning.”

“Yeah, well the way you were swinging that club on the driving range, I think I could beat you.”

Her face took on a more serious expression and she sniggered. “Not today, not ever.”

“Yeah, well today you can prove it. I played here two days ago and shot a 69, so if you can’t do better than that you lose.”

“Bullshit,” she snarled, “You just said you just got here; I have been here for two days. And I didn’t see you.”

“Yeah, well. Sixty-eight, or I win.”

With a last-minute kiss, she whispered, “God, I can’t believe you’re here. Damn it is good to see you.”

I wandered off to join the gallery. I watched her practising her swing as she waited for her turn to tee off.

She kept peeking into the gallery to see if she could see me. Her turn came and I watched as she absolutely smashed her drive down the middle. It looked impressive and drew a few ooooohhhh’s from the gallery.

She smiled brightly as she looked across to where I was standing, and I gave her the thumbs up.

That first tee shot seemed to give her some confidence, that flowed into her game and she sailed easily around the course. She finished with a 68, four under par, which was probably her best finish in the last few tournaments. It put her 8^th on the leader-board, and being in the top ten for the first time in god knows how long, she was swamped by reporters and well-wishes.

I walked back to loiter as closely to the club house as possible without getting chased away by security. I watched as she moved out of the media area and her eyes surveyed the hundreds of fans waiting to meet the players. Eventually her eyes fell on me, and she ran over and jumped into my arms, “Oh my god,” she squealed, “Did you see that, four under…You are my little good luck charm.”

As I hugged her, she dragged me into the players area so we could go in for a drink. As we sat at a table, there was a constant stream of players and tour officials who came to talk to her. It was mayhem for the first hour. Eventually, we got to talk and she asked about home, work, whether I had seen her folks and then onto how long I was staying.

I left out the bit about her dad encouraging me to make this trip, but gave her a good rundown on the general stuff. When I said I was only here for this tournament, she looked disappointed.

We ended up going out for dinner, which turned into a fight when I went to pay for our meal. She just about had a fit, “Carl, please let me pay.”

I snarled, “When we go out, I pay. Please don’t insult me.”

Afterwards we went back to her hotel and we made love late into the night. In the morning she spent a good half hour on the phone making sure I couldn’t hear. When we drove to the course, she went ahead and picked up a package and handed it to me. It was a VIP package giving me full access to everything.

As we walked through the gates, she asked, “What did you mean about my swing being shit?”

I chuckled. “I think it’s shit. I don’t know why you changed it, you were a thing of beauty and now you look tight and your back lift is so square.”

She gave me a cheeky glare. “Square, huh?”

“Belle, you need to go back to what worked for you when you started out. You made it onto the circuit on the back of that beautiful smooth swing. Go back to that.”

We shared a sweet kiss and she headed away. The moment she walked through the gate I was accosted by a photographer, or journo. “Hey, buddy, how do you know Belle? That was one hell of a kiss.”

I laughed trying to throw him off the scent. “We are old friends, I know her dad.”

“Looked more like lovers than friends.”

“Nope, just friends. We haven’t spoken in a while, so it was good to catch up.”

I guess I sold him a good enough story because he wandered away, disillusioned that he missed out on a story.

I did notice him following me around and taking snaps as I watched from the gallery. Belle had another great day on the course and shot a 67, five under par. It was enough to keep her in the top ten on the second day. At the end of play, she came scooting over to me, jumped into my arms and I swung her around as she laughed. I noticed out of the corner of my eye the photographer was snapping away on his camera. “Hey, you might want to lighten up, there’s a journalist over there photographing us and he hounded me earlier. I told him we were just friends.”

She peeked across at him and laughed. “We don’t have to lie to anyone, It’s not like I’m in a relationship or anything. I’m allowed to have friends.”

I shrugged. “Your call, I figured you’d want some privacy, that’s all.”

“Hell, I don’t care about what they say. So what did you think about my swing?”

“Better, but not perfect.”

She gave me a questioning imploring look. “Carl, would you help me… It’s like you said, every hack who plays golf has offered me advice and I lost it. Now I can’t find it. I’ve been searching, but I can’t get back to the real me.”

“Shit I can’t help you.

As we drove back to the hotel, she asked, “Are you staying the night? I would like it if you did.”

“Is that how you pay all your coaches?”

She grinned. “Only the good ones. Carl, I have missed you so much. I’m sorry I was such a bitch that last time we were together. I should have been more understanding.”

I flinched, I didn’t want to sound needy, or whiny. “Belle, it’s Okay, we both said shit. I missed you as well.”

We stopped off at the restaurant for food before heading up to her room. This time it was slower, gentler and we talked, she asked about work and what I was doing, general catch up sort of stuff that two friends would want to know.

In the morning before we left, she said. “Could you just show me, what you think I’m doing wrong with my swing?” Her voice pleaded. I had never seen her so lacking in confidence, so needy.

It was hard to focus with her dressed in nothing but the smallest G-string and tiny-demi bra, her hot naked flesh staring at me. I walked up behind her as she sexily wriggled her bum against my groin. “Stop it, you teasing bitch. If you want my help then let me help.”

She gave me a coy smile back over her shoulder, but she stopped squirming. I reached around her, placed my hands over hers on the club. I closed my eyes and tried to recall that beautiful smooth swing she had on that very first meeting. With my eyes shut tight, that vision returned. I could see her.

At first it was difficult, ungainly but as she relaxed against me it got easier. I guided her through twenty or so swings.

She smiled, “Thanks, but it’s hard to concentrate with that club of yours digging in my arse.”

“Well, we could go back to bed and you could get rid of that for me.”

She grinned. “Sorry, babe, but I have work to do.”

I was nervous as hell as I watched her set up for the first drive; what if the things I said were wrong and I fucked up her game? What if she hated me for stuffing her up? What if…. ah fuck, the possibilities were endless.

I needn’t have worried, she nailed it, an absolute pearler, straight down the middle of the fairway and she had a perfect lie for her second shot.

I watched as she strode away from the tee. She gave me the sexiest smile. Her confidence was back, I saw it in her walk, her stride buoyant and bouncy, her head held high, aloof. Her whole game changed; she was on fire, smoking drives and playing delicate chip shots and her putting… bloody hell, she almost couldn’t miss. She ended up carding a 66, and suddenly she was in the top three.

She was now flavour of the month again, and she was surrounded by pesky reporters and TV crews as she made her way back to the clubhouse. With a smile of my own, I walked into the club house and ordered a couple of drinks and found a table. It was almost an hour before she walked in.

She strode purposefully up to me and grabbed my head in both hands and kissed me long and hard. I was trapped by the tightness of her grip and the swirling tongue sliding mercilessly around my mouth.

She sat beside me, her arm linked through mine, her head leaning on my shoulder, “Damn it, Carl, why didn’t you come with me when I asked? I wanted you to be there.

I laughed. “Bollocks. You’ve never needed anybody. You are self-reliant, you just needed to clear your head.”

“No, you don’t understand. I am better when you are with me. I love having you around. It’s not just the golf, I love having you with me. I feel more confident knowing you’re there.”

When I didn’t respond immediately, she added, “You were right, I need to believe in myself… there was nothing wrong with my swing, there never was; I just lost my self-belief.”

I chuckled, “See, there you go. You’re right, it was all about confidence. You don’t need me.”

As we sat at the table her phone rang and I watched as she checked it before answering, “Hi, Daddy.”

I only heard her half of the conversation. “Yes, Dad, I found my swing again, or should I say Carl did.”

She giggled. “Yes, Daddy, he is here with me.”

Silence, as she added a little. ‘Uh-huh, yes, Daddy, uh-huh, of course. At the end she said, “Tell Mum I love her.”

She looked at me with a big smile. “Daddy said to thank you; he thinks I played better than ever today. He said you’re not allowed to go home.”

“God, Belle. I would love to be able to stay, but it’s not that simple, I have a job and a life. I just blew out my credit card to get here. I have things I want to do, as well.”

She pouted. “But I do need you, and what’s more, I want you to come with me. Before I met you, it didn’t matter. It’s different now, I think about you all the time. When you’re not with me, I can’t clear my mind.”

We sat in silence for a while, but that was destroyed when a group of fans walked over, seeking autographs. I became nothing more than a shadow, I may as well have evaporated.

Then it was a pool of other friends, golfers and caddies, who descended on our table.

Belle was immediately swept up in the atmosphere of being back on top. The drinks flowed and she pretty much forgot I was even there. After sitting unnoticed for the best part of an hour, I decided to go to the bar and find somebody to talk to.

I met a caddie, who was standing alone. We stood side by side and I asked. “Who do you caddie for?”

He pointed to Caroline Simplatski. I was impressed. “What’s she like?”

He gave me a questioning glance, assessing whether I was a reporter. “She’s okay, a bit of hard work.”

“How so?”

“She thinks she knows it all, doesn’t listen and then blames me for her poor choices.” He sounded a little bitter. She was a champion golfer, surely that must have made it worthwhile.

“Must be good to work for somebody that famous, though?” I asked.

“Oh yeah, it would be great if she listened. We are a good team most of the time, but when she makes up her mind, well, it’s game over. I hand her the nine iron, but if she has decided on the eight, that’s what she uses.”

“What if she’s right?” I asked.

“Well, if she’s right, she takes great joy in saying I told you so. But if she’s wrong, it’s my fault.”

I chuckled softly at his revelation. “That must be hard. Why do you stick around?”

“Because it pays the bills. She is okay most times. I just get a bit sick of being her excuses when it goes tits-up.”

“Why not find another player?”

“I like her. She’s opinionated and aloof, but she pays well, and as you said earlier, there is some joy in caddying for the best. It’s a good seat in the house. I love golf, so it’s not bad, but some days. Holy shit, some days I would happily just walk away and flip burgers at Mc Donald’s.”

That conversation reinforced my feelings. I think it would be worse if you loved the person. Living and working together, might not be the best scenario. If, it’s just a job, then you can walk away, how do you walk away when it is your whole life?

I nodded slowly as I stared across at Belle, totally surrounded by the other women and her group of hangers-on. I could see she was in her element. She loved being in the limelight, accepting all the plaudits and congratulations. I noted also that her caddie was nowhere to be seen.

I walked outside and gazed across at the driving range. There were a lot of people slamming balls. I decided to hire some clubs and got a couple of buckets. I was well into my second bucket when I heard Belle behind me. “So this is where you skived off to. Bloody hell, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

I turned and leaned on my driver. “Surprised you even noticed I was gone.”

She bit her bottom lip guiltily. “Sorry, babe, I guess I got carried away. It’s been so long since I’ve had positive stuff to talk about. Don’t be grumpy, and possessive.”

I shrugged. “It’s okay, I understand. Why don’t you go back to your entourage and soak it up?”

“Because I wanted you to be with me. All the girls have been asking about you.”

“Really? You never even introduced me to them.”

Her head dropped, and she looked ashamed. “Shit… I’m sorry, you’re right. I apologise. Come back to the table. I will introduce you to everybody.”

“Nah, I’m going to finish up here. You go back and soak it up.”

She wandered off and I took out my frustrations on the balls. There was another twenty yards on my drives, even if they were all sliced wickedly. Fuck her…

I walked back in later and most of her friends were gone. She was seated at the table talking to a very well-dressed good-looking guy. They were deep in conversation when I walked up. She saw me and waved for me to sit. “Carl, this is Craig, he is on the men’s tour. Craig, this is my friend Carl.”

We shook hands I and was about to sit down when she said, “Could you get us a drink please?”

I shrugged, “Yeah no worries.” I was walking away when Craig called out. “I’ll have a whisky and soda, thanks. Put them all on my tab.”

“Fuck you,” I thought to myself. I leaned on the bar watching them talk. They were obviously more than friends. Their conversation was very intimate. I paid for the drinks, just about emptying my wallet to do so, and carried them back to the table.

Belle, gazed up warmly. “Thanks, babe.”

Craig acknowledged me with a curt nod. “Thanks, dude, hope you put them on my tab.”

“I paid for them myself, no need.”

He shrugged and Belle gave me a funny glare. They started talking about some tournament, motels and stuff I knew nothing about. I finished my drink and said, “I’m off, Belle, maybe we can catch up before I fly back home.”

She looked startled. “What? I’m not finished with my drink yet. Don’t be in such a rush.”

“No, you two have things to talk about. I will leave you to it.” I reached to shake Craigs hand and he said, “See you around, Bro. Nice to meet you.”

I walked off and was just opening the door of my hire car when Belle snatched at my shoulder. “What the hell is going on? What the fuck was that all about? You made a complete fool of yourself, and me.”

“Look, Belle, this isn’t going to work. Not for me anyway. You and Craig are obviously more than friends. I wasn’t going to sit there watching you flirt with him, like I didn’t even exist.”

“What? You can’t be serious. Okay, Craig and I are old friends, there was no need to carry on like that.”

“Bloody hell Belle, all you did was flirt with him for fucks sake.”

She sighed. “Yeah, okay, I don’t know what to say. What am I supposed to do? Just ignore my friends when you’re around?”

“No, but it would have been nice to be included in your conversations. I didn’t know any of those people, or what the hell you were talking about. I felt like a dick.”

She clutched my arm tightly. “Yes, you’re right. Okay, I’m sorry, I got carried away alright. I forgot you don’t know anybody. Shit. Now I feel terrible.”

“Belle, I like you, I like you a lot, but this was a mistake. I don’t fit in with your crowd.”

“You would if you stayed on. Carl, I told you how I feel about you. I don’t just like you. I love you. I have never felt this way before. Please, cut me some slack babe. I need to learn about this, how to deal with it. I have never been in a proper relationship.”

Wow, that blew my socks off. Hearing those words, caused minor heart palpitations.

I could see little tears building up in the corner of her eyes. “Think about it, please. How will we ever find out if you go back home. Please, stay with me. I don’t know how or why, but just having you around makes me feel better. You found my swing, you did help me.”

“You would have found it yourself. You don’t need me. Poor old Craig is probably in there waiting for you.”

“Christ, don’t play the jealous boyfriend. We were just talking.”

“No, he wanted more than conversation. Even I could see that.”

“Maybe he did, but he wasn’t getting it. We are old friends, big deal. There’s nothing between us.”

“Nothing between you. I call bullshit on that one. You have slept with him? Haven’t you?”

She shrugged. “Yes, we have been together, I have never lied to you. I have never hidden from the fact that I date, and occasionally those dates include sex.”

I stood there like a fool, I kicked a couple of stubborn pebbles, as I tried to figure out what to say.

She beat me to it. “Carl, when you are by my side, I don’t need anybody else. I date because I am lonely, alone in a foreign land. If you were here with me all the time, there would be nobody else.”

God her words shocked me, the tears in her eyes tugged at my soul, but I still couldn’t do it. I had to go home. “Belle, I have to fly home, I’ll be gone soon. Maybe you should go back to Craig before he finds somebody else.”

“Fuck Craig, I don’t care about him, I want you. Just wait while I go and get my bag.”

That night was explosive. We made love like crazy wanton lovers. Over and over, we rode the passionate waves.

I had one more day before I flew home. Belle dragged me out onto the course for the day. When we arrived, she was swamped by some fans and it was hard to find some space. A little crowd gathered as we teed-off.

As she was getting ready, I whispered “Stay loose, remember. Stop squaring off your shoulders. And for heaven’s sake, bend a little as you swing.”

She practised a couple of shots before approaching the ball properly. She nailed the lay-up shot perfectly. She smiled nodding appreciatively. “Thanks, Carl. Damn it, see, this is why I need you.”

“Bullshit. Remember, you’re a strong woman, you’ve got this.”

We played on, not really playing, but walking and talking. We hit the ball, but neither of us was really into it.

The afternoon passed pleasantly, we drove around and played sightseers. Had dinner at a wonderful restaurant, which we fought over who was paying for. Then we sank into each other’s body. We made love knowing it would be our last time together for a while at least. Maybe ever.

The morning was tough. I was flying out at eleven. On the drive to the airport, Belle looked devastated. “Carl, I’m begging you, please don’t go. Don’t leave me again. I love you, I want you here by my side.”

“Belle, you’re going to be okay.”

“Fuck Carl, didn’t the last couple of nights mean anything too you?”

Pulling up at traffic lights I grabbed her, held her tightly in my arms, and said, “Of course they did. Belle, I love you. I have always loved you. I have tried to hide from that, but I can’t. I do love you. I want to be with you, but I can’t do that unless we are equals. I can’t be Mr. Belle Bennet. I need to know that I have some value. I can’t just live off your fame.”

She looked totally frustrated, trying to find words. “Fuck. Why can’t you see you would be helping me, making me better? I pay my coach a lot of money for nothing. You have done more for me here in a couple of days than he has done in six months. Stay, be my coach.”

“Coach? You’re being ridiculous. I don’t know enough about the game. I could destroy your career in an hour of bullshit.”

“That’s not true, you must realise how much you’ve helped me. I will pay you what I pay my coach, it’s probably more than you can make at home in your shitty architect’s job.”

Her words bit hard, like a slap in the face. “Shitty job.”

She saw the look of horror on my face and quickly stopped herself. “I didn’t mean it like that, it just came out wrong. I know how much you love being an architect.”

“I don’t think you do, or you wouldn’t have said that.”

“Shit, it was just me being silly. All I was trying to say is, I pay my coach a lot of money that could be yours. My accommodation is always paid for on tour. If we travelled together, yours would be covered, as well. That way all the money I pay you would be yours.”

She always found new ways to make me feel like shit. Maybe not intentionally, but her words hurt. “No thanks, Belle. I think I’ll go back to my shitty little house, and my shitty insignificant job. You don’t need me.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re so thin skinned. I admit, it came out wrong, but you know what I meant.”

“Belle, I’m not sure of anything anymore. I have ambitions as well as you. I have things I want to do, even if by comparison to yours mine are shitty and insignificant.”

“I’m not saying your ambitions are worth less than mine. All I am asking is that you let me ride this wave. You can chase your dreams later. Bloody hell, you can draw houses anywhere, anytime.”

“Yeah, that’s right, not very important is it, I guess I could sketch up some plans on the loo roll on the plane.”

“Oh fuck Carl, don’t take my words out of context. I’m sorry, I’m fucking this up. Stay with me, that’s all I ask.”

There were lots of tears from both of us when I walked through the departure gate. I was going to miss her.

Back in Nelson, I sat at my kitchen table trying to assess my life. The one thing that Belle had made me reassess, was my job. I did love being an architect. I loved designing people’s homes, but I wanted more than that. I wanted to make a difference. I wanted the homes I designed to be better for the environment: sustainable homes, made from recoverable resources, more efficient, safer.

I went back to work, and my boss was pretty good about the trip and being away. He admitted he saw some footage of me at the tournament with Belle.

The next weekend I was glued to the TV, watching Belle playing in Hawaii. She played all right, but, finished in seventeenth place, well off the pace.

I got a call late Monday night. “Well, did you see it?”

“Yeah, Belle, I watched some of it.”

“I was shit, I played like crap. Damn you, Carl, why did you have to run off and abandon me?”

“Look, Belle, you just lost focus, you need to keep your mind clear and keep your eye on the damn ball.”

“Yeah well, if you were here, you could have helped, talked to me.”

“Belle, you’re a big girl, you don’t need me for that, you already know it.”

“Yes I do, I miss you. Don’t you even care?”

“Of course I care, but you’re being silly.”

“Fuck you, Carl, just fuck you.” She hung up, leaving my ears ringing. She was drunk and angry. Never a good mix.

Her next tournament was in California.

She actually played pretty well, finishing in tenth place. Not a win, but at least a top ten finish. There was no drunken phone call this time, although her Facebook page was full of photos of her at some fancy restaurant arm in arm with some very sexy woman, and they were obviously more than just friends.

I tried to push her out of my mind, but that was easier said than done. Her picture seemed to be on every magazine cover. In the news, everywhere.

The trip to Florida and her bitchy comments about my job, did one thing for me. It reinforced my real desire. To have my own business. It had always been my dream, up until now it had been just that a dream. Her comments helped galvanise my thinking. Some years earlier I had started developing a business plan.

I had always wanted to design environmentally friendly houses. I did tons of research and decided I needed to dip my toes in the water. As it was with most small businesses, it was a friend’s request that gave me the kick in the bum. He and his wife wanted to build a new home, being short of funds. He asked me if I would design it for him. I wasn’t stupid. I realised his request was driven by the fact he couldn’t afford to pay an architect for real. He was after a favour, but I didn’t actually care. It would be my very first private job, and the money he offered would pay off my credit card blow out from the Florida trip.

It was a cash job, rather than through the firm. It saved him ten to fifteen grand, it was going to be a win for both of us. Especially since I offered to do the project management, which was going to save him even more money.

I used all the principles: natural airflow for cooling, making the most of the natural light. It took me a month to come up with something workable, and it meant lots of nights at his empty plot of land, walking it out, visualising the lay, the sunlight, the shaded cold side of the house.

In the end, I had something I was pretty proud of, and when I presented it, he was blown away.

The day construction started, I got a phone call out of the blue. “Hey, Carl, do you have a minute?”

“Yeah, Belle, what is it?”

“Did you watch me at the Open?”

“No, sorry, I’ve been pretty busy. How did it go?”

She sounded disconsolate. “Not bad, but not good. Something is wrong. I was hoping you might have seen it, been able to help.”

“How? I’m not sure what you were expecting.”

Fuck, I had been trying to clear my mind of her memories, but now her voice was in my ear, soft, pleading, sensual.

“Carl, I hoped that you might have picked up on something, something that was different, anything. You know the stuff you would pick up on if you were here.”

“I’m sorry Belle. The answer is no. I haven’t seen it, and we talked about why I can’t be there.” Hoping to soften the blow I suggested. “Why not come home after the tournament and we could catch up. Spend some time together. I would love to have you here.”

“There’s no way. I have no time between tournaments at the moment. Fuck Carl. Please just come. I will send you tickets and money if that’s the problem.”

“Don’t you bloody dare. I will be insulted if you did that.”

It went back and forth as always. When she gets an idea in her head, it’s impossible to shift. In the end it built into a very angry expletive ridden argument. In the end she disconnected leaving me fuming. Who the fuck did she think she was? I wasn’t about to drop everything and run to her to be by her side. Stand around while she flirts and carries on with other blokes.

Working as the project manager on John’s build, as well as doing my normal nine to five job meant late nights

Lately the local media had seemingly fallen in love with Belle again. Flicking on the radio one morning as I prepared breakfast. The news was all about Belle and how well she was doing in her most recent tournament. She had carded a five under in difficult conditions, and was in a tie for sixth place.

Work was taking its toll on me, with construction started on John’s new build I started to rack up the long hours. It meant being on site during lunch breaks, and then after finishing at the firm to check work progress and make sure the brief was being followed. Weekends were a thing of the past, this project meant being on site Saturdays and helping John on Sundays.

The money, though, was really good, with the money from the design and the extra for project managing meant I was making good money.

I guess the tournament was a bit of a landmark for Belle: she finished in third place. The media in NZ blew up as it always did when a Kiwi does well overseas. We really are a nationalistic mob.

It was a week later when I received the biggest shock of my life. I didn’t recognise the envelope. I ripped it open to find a cheque for ten grand and air fares to Vancouver. Talk about knock me down with a feather. I was flabbergasted.

There was a small note inside saying, ‘Carl, please come. I know money is tight for you, but I would love you to come to Vancouver with me. The tournament is important. And I really would like you to come. Pretty please.’

It was pretty shocking, but even more, it was insulting, a real kick in the teeth. Fuck her, who did she think she was? With the work on John’s place progressing well, I felt like I was on top of the world. Making great headway on what I hoped would be a start to building my own company, my own business. She wanted me to drop everything and rush off to be by her side at the drop of a hat. Fuck, she didn’t even call me.

I ripped it to shreds, found another envelope and posted it to her with a short note explaining how I felt, in very colourful language.

She thought just because she had money and was famous, she could just buy me? Fuck that.

I heard nothing from her for days. Then one night I got a drunken call. “Fuck you, arsehole. I was trying to do something nice for you.” No hello, kiss my arse or anything, just straight into the vitriolic snarling barrage of shit.

“Yeah, well, fuck you too, bitch. You think because you’re rich and famous that I can put my life on hold and come running after you. Fuck you. Why do you have to sully our relationship with fucking money? Why couldn’t you just ring me up and ask, if I could go? No, you had to play the big shot and rub your money in my face. Well guess what bitch, you can stick it up your arse.”

I disconnected as she sailed into some expletive ridden riposte.

It must have been long, because ten minutes later she rang again. “You obnoxious prick, did you hang up on me?”

I disconnected again and this time turned my phone off.

John’s house was finally finished and as I hoped it got rave reviews.

The fact that it got such positive publicity was both good and bad. The house was featured in the and plastered across the front page of the housing section of the weekend newspaper.

It was highly acclaimed for its use of sustainable products and its environmentally soft design concepts

The bad bit came from an interview with a reporter, which which was boldly highlighted.

It was bad because my boss saw it and wasn’t so happy. Monday morning, he called me into his office and lambasted me. “Carl, being part of a firm like this has some strings attached. We all receive requests for private work, but we are expected to bring them into the firm. We could have still offered your friend a discount.”

“Sorry, Ross, but they couldn’t afford it.”

“Carl, I am going to put this simply. That behaviour is unacceptable. This firm expects any work requested by anyone, is brought into the firm. This is going to be included in your personnel file, as a written warning. If you step out of line one more time, I will have no other option apart from letting you go.”

“Understood.”

He nodded. “Good, I am glad we have an understanding. Now, with that out of the way, congratulations are in order. Well done. Secondly, we would like to use that design here at the firm.”

That shocked me. “Thanks for the compliment. However, no I drew those plans for my friend and they are a one-off. I’m sorry Ross. I made that guarantee when I designed it.”

He gave me a very evil glare. “I’m not happy, Carl, that business and the design should have been ours.”

“They were done in my own time, on my own equipment, in my own home.”

“You’re on thin ice, Carl. At this firm, we all work together. We try and promote us, not individual components. Let’s make sure that we never have this discussion again.”

That meeting left a very sour taste in my mouth. I was ready to tell him to shove it, but I needed the money.

That, however, was about to change. The publicity the newspaper article generated meant I received several requests for designs. As I did the sums, I decided, I could do this. I could go out on my own. Ross could actually shove it.

With my heart in my mouth, I gave him my resignation. He looked shocked. I guess I had created such a stir that he was hoping to cash in on my sudden popularity. He did try to convince me to stay on. Even offered me a fairly hefty pay rise, but our earlier conversations, and his stance on me doing private work, meant that I was not going to be distracted from my mission. It was with a heavily beating heart I shook his hand and set forth on my own. All my designs were accompanied with the requirement that I oversee the construction aspects. I was on my way.

Of course, it meant my golf game suffered. I just never got time. It had been months since my last game. Yeah, I followed Belle. She seemed to have hit the wall after the Vancouver Tournament. Since then, she hadn’t featured in the top twenty, let alone the top ten. She was probably making more from her endorsements than she was from her game.

Still, I tried to push thoughts of her to the back of my mind. I now had my future in my own hands, and it was going great. With three locked-in builds going ahead, I was flat out. Working long days, my life seemed full: no time for dating or even nights out with friends. I felt myself becoming a hermit.

When you fall into a hole like that, you lose touch with what’s going on around you. Pretty much the only news I got was on the car radio as I drove from site to site.

Months later, I got the shock of my life when Thomas walked into my office. He held out his hand. “Hello Carl.”

I responded and asked. “What can I do for you Sir?”

“Well, you can stop with the Sir. We have talked about this. I was wondering if you might like to go out for a round of Golf Sunday?”

I wanted to say no. The last thing I wanted was being stuck talking to him, but the words evaporated and I mumbled in resignation. “Yeah, I suppose.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Don’t sound so excited. Look, I’m busy now. Let’s meet up at Tasman, say nine AM?” He walked out leaving me gaping after him.

Ah Christ, I finally got a day off, and I was going to be stuck with him.

It started as we were unloading our clubs. We hadn’t even got to the first tee when he got straight into it.

“Son. You know you broke Belle’s heart. Why the hell didn’t you stay with her after Florida? Damn it she was on such a high.”

“I couldn’t afford to. That is the honest truth. Plus, I have a life here, a job, a career.”

He frowned. “Yeah, well what about that damn cheque? Ripping that up was a downright foolish gesture. She was honestly trying to show you that she was prepared to pay you. That you could be an asset to her.”

“Sorry, I didn’t see it that way. She was trying to pay me off. The trouble with people with money is they think it fixes everything. I don’t want her bloody money.”

“Carl, you’re a strong-minded young man. I admire your spirit, but another backhanded insult like that, aimed at me, and I assure you it will be the last time we speak.”

“Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to offend.”

“Well, I think you should choose your words more carefully in future. I worked damn hard for my money, as has Belle. For your information.”

“She didn’t have to insult me.”

“Carl, she wasn’t trying to insult you. She was offering you an opportunity. God knows why but, she has real feelings for you. She cries on her mother’s shoulder at least twice a bloody week. Her game is in the toilet, and it seems you’re the only one she actually listens to. She is spending a bloody fortune on coaches, who are all not worth shit. She was trying to say she needs you, son.”

“I think that ship has sailed. We didn’t exactly finish on friendly terms.”

“Yes, she told me what happened. As a father, I am asking you to set aside your ego and call her. That’s all, just call her, talk to her. Christ, talk about the weather, I don’t care, just call her.”

“I don’t know about that Sir. I think it best if we each went our separate ways. I think our relationship is over.”

We walked quietly to the first tee and as we warmed up, he said with some authority, “I have a wager for you; are you up for it?”

“Sir, I haven’t played for three months. This is my first day off in god knows how long. All I want is a casual round. I’ll be lucky if I can hit the damn ball.”

He chuckled. “What if I give you five shots?”

“What handicap are you playing off?” I asked.

He sniggered. “Two, all right, what say I made it eight shots? From memory, you play off an eight, is that right?”

I gave him an anxious nod. “That was a long time ago, as I said, I haven’t swung a club in months.” As I stared at him, I could see the nervousness on his face as well. To appease him I said, “All right, what’s the wager?”

“If I win, I will expect you to ring Belle, and try to mend some fences, just talk to her, rebuild your friendship. Maybe that would be enough. You may think your relationship is over, but she doesn’t.”

“She will just tell me to piss off. Get Craig to help her.”

He frowned. “Who?”

With a sneer, I replied, “Never mind. She doesn’t want my help, anyway.”

“Then all it will cost you is a two-dollar phone call.”

I could see he wasn’t going to let it go, so I nodded. “Okay, this wager, what do I get out of it if I win?”

“What about one thousand dollars?”

Grimacing I growled. “What about I tell you to fuck off?”

His face darkened and I expected him to bite back about insulting him, but he swallowed his retort and merely said. “What do you want then? Name your damn price.”

“I don’t want your bloody money. Tell you what. If I win, you wash my car?”

He sneered. “It’s a bet.”

I swung hard trying to warm up. Thomas teed off first, and his shot was a very nice shot, straight up the middle. Not a long shot, but straight.

My shot was, as expected, not that good, plenty of distance but off to the left and laying in the rough.

As we walked off, Thomas asked, “I know it’s none of my business, but what happened between you two? Why can’t you make it work? Hundreds of other professional golfers, both men and women find a way.”

“I think it was probably always destined to fail. Long distance romances never work. I do love your daughter, sir. In fact, I love her a lot, we are just in different stages of our lives. She wants to be number one, and I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

He frowned. “From what Belle said to me, she didn’t want it to be long distance. She asked you to stay on and work with her. I can’t for the life of me see why you turned her down. I mean, there are a lot of red-blooded men who would die for that chance.”

“Nothing would please me more than touring the world with Belle. But I need to do it on my own terms. I like to earn my own money. When I’m in a better financial position and can afford to pay my way, it would be a different story.”

He seemed taken aback. “I think if I got it right, she wanted you to be her coach. She was going to pay you.”

“That’s bullshit, sir, and you know it. That was just her way of getting me to follow her around like some stupid lap-dog. I don’t know enough about golf to coach anybody.”

My next shot was a shocker. My heart was thrashing about in my chest following our discussion. I ended up on the other side of the fairway, still fifty yards short of the green.

We walked on and Thomas played a lovely shot, right onto the edge of the green. We walked off towards my ball and he carried on. “So all this drama is because you have some sort of aversion to working for your partner?”

“You could put it that way, I suppose.”

“You know Elise and I met at work. She worked for me.”

I shrugged. “I guess a lot of romances start at work.”

“So why was it so inconceivable that you could work for Belle?”

“Honestly, I couldn’t deal with being the bit player in the story of her life. Being Mr Belle Bennet isn’t where I see my life going. She wouldn’t respect me, if she had to pay me. No relationship can survive that”

I played a terrible chip-shot, but at least I was on the green. Thomas played a long putt leaving a pretty easy putt to finish.

“Carl, I don’t understand. You mean you weren’t prepared to stay on and help her out because you didn’t like the idea of being viewed as somehow lesser than her? You couldn’t handle her being the boss?”

“Yeah, I suppose so. Everybody would know that she was paying me to hang around like some cheap gigolo. No, I need to be an equal, not an employee.”

“God almighty, son, that is so much horseshit. Who cares if she pays you? Coaches are sought after. It actually pays a lot of money. Every great golfer has a caddie or coach they trust standing behind them.”

“Yeah, well everybody on the tour would know I am a fraud, and know nothing about the game. Then there would be snide comments about the only reason I am there is to keep her company. I don’t see myself as playing a support role.”

“So, if she worked for you, that would be all right?”

“Yeah, it would. Look sir, I’m sorry if you can’t understand my position, but I’m not going off to be her flunky, holding her car door open for her, polish her clubs and sit on the sidelines and watch watch like some golf groupie.”

I was agitated and on a run, adding. “If you think I want to sit around watching every male in the place fall at her feet while she flirts with them. Sorry but I do have some pride.”

He gave me a totally confused glare. “Wow, you know what? I think Belle dodged a bullet. You, young man, have some very serious mental health problems.”

“If that’s how you feel, perhaps we should call this off right now,” I snapped caustically.

He glared at me as he reached down to pick his ball out of the cup. “You know what, I think you’re right. I will find another way to help her.”

He didn’t even say goodbye. He angrily shoved his putter into his bag and stormed off. I waited a while, mind in complete turmoil. I couldn’t understand why he couldn’t see why I wanted to make my own way in the world. Plus, his daughter was a slut. God knows how many men she slept with. Every time I picked up a magazine she was on some other bloke’s arm.

Once he was out of sight I walked up to the next tee and tried to tee off, but I couldn’t. My heart wasn’t in it. “Fuck!” I screamed. My day was ruined. I walked off back to the car park.

Over the next few months, I watched Belle with interest. Her career swung wildly. Good one day, shocking the next. When I watched her on the TV, it infuriated me. Her beautiful swing was gone. Replaced with some god awful ugly looking thing. Angry I paced angrily around my house, slamming doors and growling under my breath. I watched on unbelievingly, how could it happen? Her game was shit.

Christ, if an idiot like me could see it, why couldn’t they?

I watched in horror as she completely fell apart on the final day. Why couldn’t others see it? Why couldn’t Thomas see it? Jesus Christ, I know nothing about the game, but it stood out like dog’s balls to me. I felt sorry for her. The whole world watching on as she had a vry public meltdown. Getting grilled by some crazy interviewer, she actually had tears in her eyes.

Okay, armed with that information, what was I going to do? It was pointless to ring her. I knew, firstly, she probably wouldn’t answer; secondly, if she did, she wouldn’t listen. There really was nothing I could do.

As the day continued to unfold, I became increasingly agitated. Damn it, the girl wasn’t even there and she was annoying me.

That night I decided to give her a call. It rang for ages before I heard her pick up. “Hi Belle.”

She actually sounded pleased to hear my voice. “Hey there you. God, Carl, it’s nice to hear your voice.”

“You too. Just thought I would catch up. See how you’re going.”

“I’m going shit, haven’t you been watching?”

“Yeah, I have seen some footage.”

“God my game is shit at the moment. I think I have had advice from every hack on the planet.”

“Yeah, I have seen some of it in the papers.”

“What am I doing wrong Carl? You always seemed to know what the problem is.”

“I have my opinion Belle, but I can’t explain it over the phone.”

“Then come over. You know I’ll pay. Just the next tournament.”

“I can’t Belle, not at the moment. I have just started my own business. I can’t afford to walk away at the moment.”

She didn’t respond immediately so I added. “I just wanted you to know I’m thinking of you. I think the most important thing is, you need to believe in yourself. I believe in you.”

“Do you?”

“What?”

“Believe in me?”

“Of course. You have all the tools if you just use them. Your swing, your real swing, is a thing of absolute beauty. I remember the first time I saw you, I thought wow. You were amazing, perfection personified. You were so calm and bloody cocky. If you could get back to that place, focus on the basics and you will be the world beater we all know you are.”

I thought I heard her sniffle. “Thank you, Carl. That means a lot. By the way, Dad sent me a copy of the newspaper with your house design. It was wonderful. Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Belle, wow, it really is nice to hear your voice. I have missed that cheek.”

“Yeah, I have wanted to call so many times. I ed to say sorry for the last time we spoke, and sending you the money was stupid. I did it when I was feeling sorry for myself and drunk, which didn’t help.”

“You don’t have to apologise. I said some nasty shit. That’s actually why I didn’t call. I feel embarrassed.”

“Bloody dick, I deserved it. Please don’t stop calling. I love hearing from you.”

“I will try to do better. The important thing is you go out and kick some arse. You know you can beat those other girls.”

She giggled before I heard her suck in a deep breath. “I will be home for the NZ open. Any chance you could get to Paraparaumu?”

“Shit, Belle, I would love to, but I am flat out. As I said, I started my own company, and I’m not sure I can afford the time off.”

With a deep sad resignation, she sighed. “Okay, I get it. Sorry for asking.”

“Belle, If I could, I would love nothing more than to catch up. Any chance you could get down to Nelson?”

“I only have a couple of days between tournaments, not enough to get to Nelson.”

“Good luck, Belle. I wish you luck. You have my love and support.”

There was a certain resigned acceptance in her “Thanks, Carl. Good luck to you, as well.”

God, that damn girl, she had my mind in knots. Just hearing her voice and all the nastiness evaporated. I think I did still love her, or maybe it was just a foolish obsession. Who knows?

I followed her performance through her next tournament, and there was a swagger to her walk. Her swing was better, still not the natural smooth thing of beauty I remembered. Still, it was enough for her to finish fourth.

The NZ Open was racing closer, and Belle’s face was plastered everywhere. With her form turn-around, there was talk of her winning, even though it was going to be one of the strongest fields that had ever started a NZ Open.

I was at a point where I was really needed on site, but I desperately wanted to go. I got a surprise visitor on the Monday before the Open. I had set up an office in the shed at my home to keep costs down.

I was busy drafting up some plans for a new client when the glass door slid open and Thomas walked in. He stood arrogantly, with his chest puffed out, the only thing separating us was my desk. Looking confident and aloof, he said brusquely, “Hello, Carl.”

I resisted rolling my eyes back in my head and replied curtly, “Good morning Sir, how can I help?”

Without further ado; he handed me over a package. Taking it from his outstretched hand, I prised it open. As I ripped it open, the contents spilled out on my desk. Lifting them up, I found, included were air fares, hotel accommodation and tickets for the NZ Open. “What are these for?”

“Carl, don’t get all fired up. Belle asked me to deliver them to you. I’m not here because I want to be. She asked me to drop these off. She know’s you’re busy.”

There was a little pause before he added. “This is just in case you are able to move things around, free up some time. She really would like you to attend.”

“I’m sorry, but surely you can see how busy I am? I have three builds that are all at critical stages. I can’t just walk away from them.”

“I’m not an idiot, Carl. I can see you’re busy and by the way, I think congratulations are in order. You have started to make a real impression, not just locally either. I saw your design has been featured in House and Garden.”

“Thanks, yes it has been a real bonus. It has generated some real interest. Now I have more work than I can actually deal with.”

His voice softened as he leaned across my desk. “Carl, this is important to Belle. Surely you can get away for four bloody days. It would mean so much to her.”

“I’m not sure that I can. It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just, well, I’m snowed under.”

“That is a shame. Elise and I are going. We are booked on the same flight, she was looking forward to catching up as well.”

We stood staring at each other. Eventually, I stuffed the tickets and stuff back into the envelope and handed it back. “I’m sorry, but I can’t make it. Give Belle my love. By the way, I don’t need charity. If I was going to go, I am perfectly capable of paying my own way.”

“For god’s sake, man, it’s a gift. Belle wanted to offer you something, as a goodwill gesture. She admits she did the wrong thing, and was simply trying to make amends. We all know money must be tight, starting out in a new venture always takes a lot of money.”

“I do okay, I do not need her assistance.”

“Carl, You’re are a bloody fool

“Why? Because she earns so much more than me? Because I am so useless I can’t afford to pay my own way? God damn it, why do you think you are so much better than me?”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake. I’ve had enough of this shit. Carl, I am so sick of hearing your whiny god damned shit. I don’t know what she sees in you, I really don’t. I will leave these here. I hope you change your mind and go.”

He turned and strode purposefully out of the room. I snatched up the package and ran after him. He was climbing in his car when I got to him. I wrenched open the passenger door and threw it in. “Shove these where the sun doesn’t shine.”

I turned and walked back inside, I felt like I was about to explode. I was in a very angry state. I felt like smashing something. I saw his car reverse out the drive way and stop. He got out and shoved the package in my letter box before speeding away in his flashy BMW.

Fucking arsehole. I’ll fix you. I stormed out and snatched out the package, and as I walked past my car an idea popped into my head. I grabbed my car keys and sped down town. I pulled into our local radio station and walked in. I found their marketing manager and explained what I had and that I wanted them auctioned off on air, with all the money going to the cancer foundation.

They were, of course, over the moon. VIP tickets, accommodation, air fares and, of course, the added incentive of meeting Belle.

They started the ads straight away. In a small place like Nelson, it soon became big news and there was no hiding from all the media hullabaloo.