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  Kevin Grant was as good as his word. Once the coroner released Linda’s body, he helped Cassie with all the funeral arrangements. The funeral was held three days later at the Footscray Cemetery. Cassie was surprised by the large number of mourners that attended. There were over forty, almost all from the hospital. They were mostly nurses, some doctors and other hospital staff. Kevin Grant was there as well as the President of the Hospital Board of Management. It made Cassie sad to realise how little she knew about her mother’s life. On Cassie’s side, Clint and Doug Morgan, the manager at the Royal, were the only ones who attended.

  Afterwards, Clint accompanied Cassie home. She opened a bottle of wine and they both had a glass. Clint insisted that she eat and despite her protestations, went out and came back half an hour later with a pizza. They shared the pizza and washed it down with the rest of the bottle of red.

  Cassie used the next few days to take stock. The local bank manager was most helpful and disregarding the privacy laws, allowed Cassie to access Linda’s bank account which had a balance of a little over two thousand five hundred dollars. Kevin Grant had already informed her that Linda was owed seventeen hundred dollars in wages and unused annual leave and that the money would be deposited into her account in the next few days.

  The real estate agent confirmed that the rent was paid up until the end of the month, ten days away. The monthly rent was sixteen hundred and fifty dollars, due on the first of each month. The agent, whose name was Rodney, reassured Cassie that there would be no problem if the next rental payment was a little late.

  Cassie was again saddened by how little she knew about her mother. She had never bothered asking what the rent was. Had never really bothered to ask much about anything. Too late now.

  Cassie was pretty good with numbers and it did not take her long to work out that the numbers were against her. With only her wage and her mother’s meagre savings, there was no way she could make ends meet, let alone even remotely have any chance of fulfilling her dream to travel.

  She considered moving out of the house into something cheaper but there were still seven months left on the lease and after some investigation, she realised that the rental on the house was very reasonable. It was the only home she had ever known and moving out, especially to save only a modest amount of money, made no sense. That left only one option. She had to earn more money. Easier said than done. She had not finished school, had no qualifications and apart from waitressing or bar work, there was little else she was fit to do. She knew she could not ask for a pay rise at the Royal. She was already being paid well above the award and another bar was unlikely to pay her that much, let alone more. Her financial problems appeared to have no solution, at least none that Cassie could think of.

  A few days later, a possible solution did present itself. It came from Clint who told her that he had a brother who worked as security at an establishment called The Velvet Glove. They were looking for someone to work behind the bar and were paying double what Cassie was now making. When Cassie asked how a bar could afford to pay so much, Clint informed her that The Velvet Glove was not actually a bar. It did have a bar but the establishment was a brothel, a legal brothel. Clint quickly reassured her that the job was strictly bar work and nothing else. Moreover, Clint’s brother who Clint told her about was even bigger than he was and had promised he would look after her there.

  Cassie agreed to go for an interview. The Velvet Glove was in Dynon Road, ten minutes by car from her home, but Cassie did not own a car. Clint informed her that the position came with taxi transport to and from work.

  Clint drove Cassie to the interview and waited in his car. She entered The Velvet Glove with some trepidation but was pleasantly surprised by the elegant décor and the serene ambiance. A tall, dark-haired woman who introduced herself only as ‘Stella’, led Cassie into a small office where the interview was to take place. The interview consisted of Stella looking Cassie over for about a minute and then offering her the job on the spot. Cassie accepted. The money was just too good.

  She gave the Royal two weeks notice. Doug, the manager, told her that he understood her decision and was only sorry that the Royal was not in a position to match what The Velvet Glove was paying.

  Just as Clint had promised, it was bar work, nothing more. Clint’s brother, whose name was Randy, promised he would look after her.

  The bar was never busy and it was obvious to Cassie that the establishment’s income did not come from selling alcohol. The bar was a service provided to the guests and was also frequented by The Velvet Glove employees when they were not actually working. They were, for the most part, pleasant polite young women. Some were married, two or three had children. There were two law students and one medical student among them. They were nothing like the image that Cassie had of sex workers. They were happy to chat with her at the bar. They were also very good listeners, something that was an essential part of their work.

  Cassie found herself opening up to one or two of the girls with whom she felt she had a good rapport and they gave her a sympathetic ear. They were the closest thing she ever had to girlfriends.

  The bar, which had been quiet when Cassie arrived, did not stay quiet for long. The patrons of The Velvet Glove began to spend more and more time at the bar, drinking or chatting with Cassie, staring at Cassie and ignoring the other girls. Cassie did not mind being stared at. She was used to it. At least no one ever tried anything more with her.

  Stella, however, did mind. While alcohol sales were up, the core business of The Velvet Glove was down. The men would often spend the whole evening at the bar, forgetting why they came to The Velvet Glove in the first place. Stella knew she could not let this continue. One evening, about three months after Cassie had started work, Stella gave her an ultimatum. She could no longer work at the bar. She had two choices, leave or join the other girls. Stella gave her twenty four hours to make her decision.

  During her chats with the girls, they had freely told Cassie the sort of money they were making. It dwarfed the excellent salary she was making at the bar. Although Stella’s ultimatum came out of the blue, Cassie did not need twenty four hours to decide and informed Stella then and there that she would join the other girls. Cassie then asked to speak to Stella privately. In the small office, she confided to Stella that she was still a virgin and would that pose a problem. Stella reassured her that it would most definitely not be and in fact would attract a hefty bonus for her first time. Twenty-two year old virgins were a rarity and Stella had a number of clients willing to pay a premium to be the first.

  The work did not start immediately but Cassie was kept on the payroll at the same rate as the bar work. There were medical examinations and blood tests. Once these were completed, Stella took Cassie under wing and instructed her on the all the skills required to work in the world’s oldest profession. Cassie was an excellent student.

  Cassie spent two years and five months working at The Velvet Glove. In no time she had a dedicated clientele who were happy to pay extra for her services and the money was great. At the end of two years, Cassie had already decided that her long term future was not at The Velvet Glove. She wanted to go out on her own which she did five months later with Stella’s blessing and further instructions from Stella how to run her own business.

  A few of her more dedicated clients from The Velvet Glove wanted to follow her. Cassie checked with Stella first and was relieved that she had no objections. Stella had been very good to her and Cassie did not want to do anything that would alienate her. She also did not want to burn any bridges. She realised that if her independent venture failed, she would want to return to the secure employment that The Velvet Glove could provide.

  She needed to have no fear of failure. Starting with the four or five clients she took with her, it did not take long for the word to spread and within six months she had more clients than she could handle. From the outset, Cassie decided to aim for the top end of the market. She was well aware of the effect sh
e had on men and she took the skills that Stella had taught her to another level. She priced herself above what most men could afford and that left only the top tier clients. Captains of industry and finance and a few politicians although most of those (the honest ones) could not afford her.

  Cassie was making money, a lot of money and she was determined to invest it wisely. She knew that she only had a limited number of years to do so. Her looks and beauty would not last forever. Her clients were very helpful in that regard. Some gave her investment advice directly, with others she gleaned it from pillow talk. After five years she had amassed a very respectable portfolio of shares and property. She had made a killing on several share floats, courtesy of a stockbroker client. Her most lucrative investment came courtesy of the State Government Planning Minister who had let it slip that a large tract of rural land to the west of Melbourne was soon to be re-zoned residential. With the help of another client, a merchant banker, she managed to purchase acreage which she on-sold once the re-zoning had taken place. After interest and other costs, she was able to net a little over two million dollars.

  One of her clients, Alfred Martin, became her financial advisor and further expanded her holdings and ensured that her tax liability was kept to a minimum. Cassie came to an arrangement with him and he was more than happy to work on the barter system.

  Her wealth finally allowed her to fulfil her long-held dream and she began to travel the world. She would work for three months, then take one month off to travel. One by one she visited all those magical places that she had only read about or seen on TV. And she did it in style. She flew first class and always stayed in the best hotels wherever she went. She knew she was eating into her capital but she did not care. It was worth every penny. On some of the trips she managed to combine business with pleasure. Those trips Alfred managed to make tax deductible which helped the bottom line.

  This had been her life for five years and she loved every moment of it. And then her life collided with Nathan Goodmans’.

  ACT 3

  TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE

  It was not until 4 pm on Thursday that Nathan finally finished. He slammed down the lid of his laptop and let out a sigh of relief. He had arrived at his office at 8 am on the Monday, having returned from the Sydney conference on Saturday morning. Waiting for him was an e-mail from one of his biggest clients asking him to contact him urgently. The client, the CEO of a major automotive parts company, was livid. He had received an assessment from the Taxation Department for half a million dollars more than Nathan had calculated he owed. He demanded to know how Nathan could have got it so wrong and told Nathan in no uncertain terms to fix it.

  Nathan was shocked. He had personally done all the calculations, had checked them several times and was certain that his estimate was correct. It took about four days of trawling through thousands of figures to work out what the problem was and by Thursday at 4 pm he had found it. The ATO was wrong. Nathan’s original sum was correct. He had sent the client an e-mail to that effect and told him not to worry. He would fix it and then slammed the laptop shut.

  What a week. He was exhausted. He kept a bottle of Balvenie fifteen year old single malt in the deep bottom drawer of his antique oak desk. He took the bottle out and a crystal glass and poured himself a triple. He needed it. He leaned back in his office chair, put his feet on the leather top of the desk and slowly sipped his whisky. He decided he would take the next day off. He had just spent over fifty hours sorting out the mess and deserved a day off. As he drank the whisky he thought of Cassie. The memory of their evening together was never far away from his consciousness although he had been too busy with work to stop and give it much thought.

  After their evening together, Nathan did not see Cassie again. He looked for her at breakfast the next morning but she was not there. Having not really heard any of the keynote address that morning, he was determined to focus all his attention on the conference for the next two and a half days and attended every session.

  He began to relax as the scotch found its way to his brain. Cassie’s black card had been on his desk all week. He had stared at the ‘C’ and at the mobile number countless times and once or twice was tempted to pick up the phone and call her. He now looked at the card again. He had memorised the telephone number having seen it so often. Without giving it much thought, he picked up his mobile and dialled.

  ‘Hello, this is Cassie. Please leave your name and number,’ is what he heard.

  Nathan disconnected the call and put the phone down. He considered pouring himself another scotch when his mobile rang.

  ‘Why didn’t you leave a message? And why has it taken you a week to call me you bastard?’

  It was Cassie. He did not respond. That woman had a way of rendering him speechless, he thought.

  ‘Hi Cassie. Sorry. I meant to call earlier but I came back to a major crisis at work which I’ve only just cleaned up now.’

  ‘Okay, what do you want?’

  Her voice did not sound friendly at all.

  ‘I wondered if I could see you,’ he offered tentatively.

  ‘Is it business or personal?’

  He was taken aback. He did not reply. She is doing it again. Eventually he said it was personal. He realised he must have sounded a little pathetic.

  ‘Too cheap to pay for it?’ Then a long silence which was broken by Cassie’s throaty laugh. ‘Just joking Nathan. I’m glad you called. I was beginning to think you weren’t going to. You did say personal, didn’t you.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay. By my reckoning, you owe me a dinner. Saturday night. The Rooftop, 8 pm. I’ll meet you there.’

  The Rooftop was Melbourne’s hottest new restaurant, situated on the seventy seventh floor of a newly completed high-rise in the city. It had opened to rave reviews and as a result it took three months to get a table on a Saturday night.

  Nathan’s initial reaction to what appeared to be Cassie’s hostility gave way to a feeling of elation. She was waiting for him to call and wanted to go to dinner with him. But The Rooftop? Cassie would have known it was impossible to get a booking with just two days’ notice. Was she setting him up to fail, he wondered. Was this some kind of a test? A booking for Saturday night two days ahead was impossible. But not for Nathan. He smiled to himself. I’ll show her. Chris Walton, the owner of The Rooftop, happened to be Nathan’s client. And he owed him. Three months earlier Nathan had managed to fend off an audit from the Tax Department that would have proved to be very costly to Chris, not to mention embarrassing. Nathan found Chris’ number in his contact list and after five minutes had secured not only a booking for Saturday night but a window table.

  Cassie had said she would meet him there at eight and Nathan considered just turning up. But he thought better of it. He sent her an SMS – ‘Confirmed, see you at 8’, was all it said.

  He felt pleased with himself and at the same time excited at the prospect of seeing Cassie again. He knew he was attracted to her. But who wouldn’t be. He tried to ignore what she did for a living but it wasn’t that easy. He pushed the thought out of his mind, decided not to have another whisky, locked his office and headed home. He would definitely take Friday off. He needed a haircut. New clothes might be in order. Sylvia used to buy his clothes most of the time. She had good taste but he was pretty sure that everything in his wardrobe was at least two years old. As he drove home he found himself singing along to the music on the radio. He was happy, a feeling he had not known for over three months.

  Nathan made sure he was ten minutes early. He had been seated and was busy admiring the Melbourne skyline when Cassie was shown to his table. He stood up and shook her hand. She leant forwards and kissed him. Just a peck, but on the lips. She was just as beautiful as he remembered her. She was wearing a sleeveless dress, blue, covered in lace and sequins. A white shawl was draped over her shoulders. She looked stunning. He was pleased that he had decided to buy new clothes and he could see Cassie looking him and down approvin
gly.

  ‘I could use a drink,’ Cassie said. ‘It’s been a hectic day. Didn’t think I’d get here on time.’

  The waiter approached to take their drink orders. Nathan, who had already perused the drink menu, decided to take charge. ‘Two Glenfiddichs, the eighteen year old please’. Cassie smiled.

  ‘I must say Nathan, I’m most impressed. How did you get a booking here with two days’ notice?’

  Nathan beamed. ‘That’s my little secret Cassie, there is more to me than meets the eye.’

  ‘I quite like what meets the eye,’ Cassie replied, her voice low.

  ‘This is a bit different to our first meeting,’ Nathan said. He then added, ‘You look beautiful Cassie. I hope I’m not out of line saying that.’

  ‘Thank you Nathan. You are not out of line at all. And yes, this is quite different to our first meeting. I haven’t been here before, couldn’t get a booking. I hear the food is sensational.’

  Their drinks arrived. They toasted to a wonderful evening. The food was a sensation but Nathan barely noticed it. He was mesmerised by Cassie. He found it so easy to talk to her. He told her all about his work. She appeared to be interested but he couldn’t be sure. Cassie told him about her travels. Nathan and Sylvia had travelled extensively over the years but Cassie’s travels made him feel like a novice. She spoke excitedly about all the places she had been to and all the places she had yet to visit. The only thing she was sorry about, she said, was that she had no one to share those beautiful experiences with. Was she hinting? Nathan wondered.

  They got into a discussion about literature and it turned out that they both liked many of the same authors. Cassie agreed with Nathan that Fawlty Towers was the best comedy ever shown on TV. They both agreed that Seinfeld came a close second. Nathan could not help but wonder whether she was for real. After all, it was her job to please men. Did they really have so much in common or was Cassie just telling him what she knew he wanted to hear. He decided to put that thought out of his mind.