Page 23 of The Secret Stalker
“They wouldn’t think that!”
“Oh yes they would. But it’s ok, they change their opinions of me soon enough when they need tech help. That takes the sting out of the embarrassment in the games. But enough about me, let me show you the basics and you can hit some balls. Are you ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I say brightly as we reach Tye’s set of golf clubs.
“Boring lesson one oh one: there are a whole bunch of clubswith names. This one is a driver.” He pulls out the stick with the biggest head and then goes on to tell me the names of each of the clubs and how and when you’re supposed to use them with the different angles of the heads and weights of the irons. I try to pay attention but they do all look so similar. I think I’d need a printed booklet with pictures if I were to play an actual game. “Now for the fun part, let’s swing!” Tye says animatedly. “Which club would you like to start with?”
“Driver, the biggest one, let me whack it,” I declare like I’m going to war.
“Excellent choice,” Tye confirms and pulls out the stick with the largest head and hands it to me. It’s actually not that heavy. He withdraws the smaller driver and begins to show me how he stands, holding his arms straight, then lifts his arms behind his head and then swings. I give it a try in slow motion as I feel the rubber grip in my hands. Tye does it at the same time as me correcting my stance like my mirror image. When I still don’t appear to be swinging correctly Tye asks, “Would you mind if I came behind you and helped you?”
“Sure,” I reply. Tye puts his driver back in his bag, stands behind me and wraps his arms around my body, his arms covering my own, encasing me with his body. The closeness of him pressed into my back feels way more intimate than I was expecting. Not that I’m concerned that he’s doing anything wrong. It’s the scent of him and the memory of Mack curled up against my back as he thrust into me from the evening before that startles me. My heart begins to pound in my chest as I feel the size of him surrounding me, his legs bent behind mine to fit around me, his chin dusting my shoulder and his soft hands resting over mine on the driver. I can feel the heat of his cheek close to my own. I can feel his heart beating a steady rhythm against my back. For a moment I wonder why I have never taken the opportunity to ask anyone to teach me how to playgolf because right now I realise I have been missing out on one of the perks of my job—having hot men’s arms around me under the guise of learning.
“Ok, now lift your arms up like this, but don’t move your feet, think of them as stuck in cement for the initial movement. It’s all in the twist of your body as you raise the club up, there you go, up like this, the more you twist, the more power you have to then follow through with the swing,” he says in a soft low voice that is scented with mint gum. The words run down my spine with a shiver of anticipation as my body turns to jelly. “Now you try,” he instructs and steps away from my body, I feel his loss immediately. I follow his instructions and swing the driver again, this time remembering what he’d just showed me. Then he steps in behind me again and a shudder of pleasure courses through me that he’s wrapping his arms around me again. I’ve never looked at Tye any way other than a platonic friend. Never once have I thought of him in any other way until having his arms around me. He’s alluring in all the right ways. He’s friendly, sweet, very easy on the eye, very fine to be wrapped in. I try to concentrate on my golf lesson as we run through the practice swings a few more times, praying that Tye hasn’t picked up on my new train of thoughts about him. I need to uphold the golf etiquette here. I can’t start trying it on with my new teacher—what am I, a teenager? After a few more swings with his arms around me, Tye remarks, “I think you have graduated to hitting the ball. Let’s see what you’ve got, Sophie.” And with that he walks around me and puts a golf ball on a tee in front of me. “Swing for Australia,” he chuckles as he stands well back to watch me have a go.
With his eyes boring into my now very heated body, I raise the driver as I was taught and swing with all my might. And miss tragically. I look around to see Tye grinning widely at me as I feel my cheeks heating. “Haven’t I done that a time ortwenty before,” he shakes his head. “Go again, I ain’t keeping count.” I turn my attention back to the tiny white ball that is evading me like a traitor. I check my stance, bring the club up and swing again, this time hitting the ball high into the air and the elation of actually hitting it clouds the fact it was likely a terrible shot. It felt really good. I turn around to Tye who says, “Again?” I nod.
“That felt good,” I glow.
“It does. I sometimes enjoy thinking about people who haven’t been particularly nice to me in my life, I’m pretty sure golf is just an excellent therapy to exercise aggrievements. Try it.”
“I think you could be on to something,” I agree and begin to scroll through my memory of people who have made my life hard. I land on Sonia Watson from high school who made my life particularly hard when the guy she liked was interested in me. She didn’t care that I’d just lost my father and our house. I lift the club and swing and whack it high into the air. I turn to see a grinning Tye who folds his arms across his chest and looks on proudly.
“Excellent posture and shot, if I do say so myself. You must have a top notch instructor,” he jokes in a silly professional voice. We continue for the next twenty minutes taking it in turns with different clubs to get a feel for them and every time we hit one we say out a name of the person who we are imagining.
“That person who I’m sure stole my Amazon order,” I start us off.
“My brother who always thinks I’m too young for everything.”
“The shops for making us pay for paper bags to shop in their shops.”
“The kid that stole my clothes at swimming so I had to wear my wet swimmers on the coach on the way home from school.”
“The ice cream van man who always came to our street 10 minutes before my dinner time and I was never allowed one.”
“The staff in MacDonally’s when they forgot to add the actual burger in my bun that one time I got it delivered.”
I start howling with laughter at that. I have to bend over from laughing so much as I look over at the disgust on Tye’s face. When I’ve gained some semblance of control despite the giggles that keep creeping back in, I check my watch and see it’s ten to nine. “Tye, I’ve had a really great morning and lesson but I have to get to work now. Can I shout you a coffee to say thank you?” I ask.
“I would love that,” he says as his eyes hold my own for a second longer than normal. Electricity crackles between us and for the second time within the hour, I feel something different about Tye. Something that wasn’t there before. We put the clubs back into his bag and he lifts it easily as we begin to make the short walk back to the clubhouse.
“I’ll go find the balls after my coffee,” Tye winks. I hadn’t even thought about the balls we just left out on the course. Once inside, I go into my locker room to change out of my shorts and polo t-shirt and put my work shoes on. I hurry back outside and head towards the Marion Cafe where I see Tye casually leaning up against the counter. “One coffee for the best golf teacher coming right up. Go take a seat, I’ll bring it over.”
“Thanks Sophie.”
When the machine is warmed up and I make his coffee the way Tye likes it, I walk it over to him. “I enjoyed this morning, thanks for taking the time to show me the fundamentals.”
“No problem at all. I can take you round a few holes next time if you like?”
“Next time?” I blink back at him in surprise. I just wasn’t expecting him to ask me again.
“Only if you want to,” Tye quickly adds.
“I would love to, I haven’t laughed that hard since I can’t remember when,” I assure him.
“Same time next week?” he asks.
“It’s a date,” I say, then get flustered at my choice of wording. “I mean, I’ll save the date, put it in my diary I mean,” I say wanting the ground to swallow me whole.
