by Eden Connor
“Good luck, Shelby.”
“Bye, Steve.” I wasn’t thanking him for the damn ride, since I’d paid. I cast the tissue into the floorboard and stuffed my belongings into my purse. Grabbing the book bag, I hopped out.
I hadn’t walked far past the circle when another car pulled over. “Need a ride?”
“Constance College?”
The elderly lady smiled. “Sure, hop in.”
“Thanks.”
She was chatty and she drove her late model Durango like a bat out of hell. I fastened my seat belt, but gripped the dash. “So, is this your first year, dear?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I hope.
“Oh, you’ll love it. I’m class of eighty-two.”
“I’ve spent a couple nights on campus. It’s very—”
“Small? Quaint? Charming? Special?”
“All of that. It’s really the only place I wanted to come.”
Speed limit signs flashed by, but she seemed to take them as suggestions—or a challenge. She did stuff that made me sweat, like weaving in and out of traffic for no good reason I could see, except the cars were there to dodge.
She cut through a maze of side streets, but the black wrought iron fence that surrounded the campus finally came into view. I recognized the dorm Caroline and I had stayed in as she zipped past. One more turn and we cruised through the front gates. She pulled up in front of the elegant main building.
“Good luck. I’ so sorry, I didn’t get your name.”
“Shelby Roberts.”
“Good luck, Shelby Roberts. It’s so nice to meet you, dear. Welcome to Spartanburg.”
The building hummed with activity. I found a girl seated at a desk sporting a tabletop phone. “I need to talk to President Jamison, please. I don’t have an appointment.”
“I’ll let her know. You can take a seat over there.” She indicated a small arrangement of two chairs and a table with a lamp. I sank onto a soft cushion and studied everyone I saw.
An hour passed, then two. Parents and their daughters moved through the reception area. I shifted onto the opposite hip after hour number three and found the letter.
I got up to leave at five o’clock. A different girl sat behind the desk. She frowned. “I’m so sorry. Were you waiting to see President Jamison?”
I looked toward the huge front door. Where would I go? I turned back. “Yes.”
“Let me call her. Today has been crazy.”
I shifted from foot to foot, wishing I could take off a few layers of clothing.
She put the phone down. “Go on back. Last door on the right.”
I’d seen the elegant woman before. She’d welcomed the scholarship contestants. “Shelby? Come in, dear.”
I perched on a wing chair in front of her elegant, gleaming— messy—desk. She studied me. I extended her letter. She took the crumpled page. Scanning it quickly, she looked up. “I had them pull your file. It’s incomplete.”
“I know. I just found your letter three days ago. If you have time, I’d like to explain.”
She smiled, but the barely perceptible shake of her head made my heart fall. This had been a stupid, impulsive idea. I had no backup plan. Going home was out of the question.
“When I came down for the scholarship competition, a friend came along. I loved this place. She wasn’t convinced. But everyone I met here said, in so many words, that you, this place, empowered women. As of three days ago, I find myself quite powerless. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Your friend’s name?”
“Caroline Mason.”
“Shelby, I need to work another forty-five minutes, maybe an hour. After that, I’ll hear you out. Do you mind waiting?”
I got to my feet. “No ma’am.”
Another hour passed before I was called again. The desk was much neater now. One stack of files remained. “Okay, I’m all yours.”
I started with my mother coming home with a husband I’d never seen. I almost stopped the tale at her slap to my face, but I forced myself to tell her about the ride I’d hitched, and how I’d paid because I needed her to know how badly I needed to be here.
“Why do you think your mother didn’t believe you?”
I swallowed, longing for a drink of water. “I think she needs to believe that she did the right thing. So, if she believed me, she’d have to question her choices. I just don’t think she can handle that.”
She nodded. “I hate to say this, but I need to ask you to wait one more time. I have no idea how long I’ll be.”
I tried to smile. “This is nicer than the homeless shelter, I’m sure.”
“I’ve arranged for you to eat. Any of the student guides can direct you to the dining hall.”
I was too keyed up to eat, but I drank two glasses of tea before doubling back to my same seat.
Another hour crawled by. Thirty minutes into the next hour, the college president appeared. She held a manila folder. “Walk with me, dear.”
I got to my feet and slung my bags over my shoulder. “Where’s your luggage?” She scanned the little sitting area.
“This is everything.”
She guided me through the dining hall again, but we went out the back door and descended the steps to the huge green square of grass that dominated the back campus. The place looked beautiful at twilight. Lights were on in the dorms. Students walked in groups of two and three. Her steps were brisk. I hurried to keep pace.
“Shelby, I’ve spent a bit of time on the phone. Fortunately, this place has a few generous benefactors. You will complete this application and get me your transcripts and SAT scores, of course, or one semester will be your entire stay.”
She was taking a chance on me? I wanted to hug her, but wasn’t sure she’d like that. By now, I was sure I smelled like a tramp.
“But, I have one additional requirement, and this one will remain between you and me.”
I nodded. She paused long enough to climb the short set of steps out front of the dorm where Caroline and I had stayed. She opened the front door, fixing me with a look.
“You will write down everything you told me. Including whatever you left out. There’s a big manila envelope in here.” She lifted the folder. “You have until the end of the semester to get this essay done. Double-spaced, even margins, and I expect your best effort. Then put the pages in here, seal the flap, and cover it with clear tape. Then, sign your name, half on and half off the tape. The story is for your eyes only. You could put three hundred blank pages inside, of course, but doing so would mean I’m making a mistake. Do you understand?”
I nodded again. “But, why?”
“Well, dear, I find, whenever I’ve been through Hell, I like to make a road map, so I don’t end up in the same place twice. I need your promise that you’ll write it and re-write it, as many times as it takes for you to find the way out.”
To hell with it. I threw my arms around her and squeezed. “I promise.”
She returned the squeeze. “Welcome to the class of 2016, Shelby Roberts.”
THE END...FOR NOW
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Did you love Gas or Ass? Then you should read Wildly Inappropriate by Eden Connor!
Desperate to save her grandmother from an unscrupulous loan shark, Cynda Avery agrees to Daniel De Marco's wildly inappropriate offer--control of her body for two weeks in exchange for time to talk him into selling his untended peach orchards.
Handsome Daniel isn't the redneck farmer Cynda expected. From the feminine clothes he wants her to wear to the confident way he handles every problem to the kinky way he likes
to tie her up to have sex, he makes her want to please him. When she finds the key to his mother's disappearance and spends a weekend in jail, will Daniel decide Cynda's an itch he's already scratched or could he cling to her?
WARNING: This book is intended for mature audiences only. Please protect your file from minors. Contains multiple scenes of mild bondage, anal penetration, spanking, and features a relationship based on the concept of domestic discipline. None of the characters in this story were harmed during this work of fiction.
Word Count: 86,994
Approximate page count: 350
Also by Eden Connor
Gas or Ass