The Summer of Consent

by Jayne Marlowe

  Table of Contents

  Title page

  Also by Jayne

  Acknowledgments

  Part 1: June

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Part 2: July

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Part 3: August

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Epilogue

  A Germ of an Idea…

  Coming Soon

  About Jayne

  The Summer of Consent: A Novel

  By Jayne Marlowe

  Book layout and typesetting by JHB Productions

  Cover image from iStockphoto

  Cover design by JHB Productions

  © 2017, 2019 Jayne Marlowe

  Published by Moonchild Press

  The Summer of Consent: A Novel is a work of fiction. The names, characters, incidents, and places are entirely the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be copied, transmitted, or recorded by any means whatsoever, including printing, photocopying, file transfer, or any form of data storage, mechanical or electronic, without the express written consent of the publisher. In addition, no part of this publication may be lent, re-sold, hired, or otherwise circulated or distributed, in any form whatsoever, without the express written consent of the publisher.

  Big Man on Campus

  A Novella

  All About Eva

  A Novel

  Becoming Eva

  A Novella

  Many thanks to Piper Theroux, Stretch, Alex,

  Miranda, Susan, and Nette

  When Gloria Goodman walked in, Nate Larsen hoped the disappointment didn’t show on his face. She approached his desk at the head of the classroom. He smiled his usual, high-voltage grin that lit up his face and captivated people in general, especially his female students.

  He doubted his smile had any effect on her because in return, she gave him a brief glance and weak smile before averting her gaze to the floor.

  “I’m surprised to see you, Gloria.”

  “Brittany Taylor told me about the position a few days ago.”

  “Did she tell you that I had given her the job and all she had to do was show up?”

  “Y-yes.” Gloria swallowed. She gripped the woven strap of her shoulder bag so tight it squeaked.

  “Then why didn’t she come?”

  “Her father surprised her with a trip to Paris for her and a few of her friends as a graduation present.”

  Nate grimaced. “Well, I’m surprised you’d be interested in work like this. Considering your performance in my class last year, biology isn’t your strongest area of knowledge.”

  Nate detected her slight flinch, and she looked around, searching for an exit. It made him wince on the inside. He didn’t mean to interrogate her and sound rude, but he had expected to see Brittany.

  It had been two years since he and Denise divorced, and he wasn’t the type to daydream about giggly teenage girls, either. They didn’t interest him. But one couldn’t help but notice Brittany Taylor.

  The former captain of the cheerleading squad, Brittany with her lithe, athletic body, strawberry-blonde hair, electric blue eyes, and outgoing personality would at least brighten the drudgery of the summer session. Not so with her antithesis Gloria Goodman.

  Plus, Brittany comprehended the subject. Beauty and brains. He had given Gloria a C out of pity because he didn’t want to ruin her GPA with a D. Why would she make herself to spend her summer working on a subject she couldn’t stand?

  “You are aware of what I need, right, Gloria?”

  She nodded. “You need help with your summer school classes and typing your textbook manuscript.”

  “My biology textbook. College-prep biology, to be specific.” He levelled his gaze on her—or would have if she looked him in the eye.

  He picked up a ballpoint and began to wiggle it between his fingers, making it tap against the desk, the rapid beat a manifestation of his frustration. He was paying for this extra help by using some of his royalty advance and his own savings, which was nowhere near top dollar considering what he needed done.

  He’d prefer to give the job to someone with a grasp of biology, but no one showed interest in helping. So when Brittany contacted him about it not long after the graduation ceremonies, he accepted with enthusiasm. He sighed.

  “I don’t think this will work.”

  “Oh, please, Mr. Larsen.”

  Nate blinked, not expecting the desperation in Gloria’s voice or her finally looking him in the eye.

  “It’s not so much the topic, Mr. Larsen, as it is the work. I need the money...for college.” She twisted her purse strap with both hands in a death grip and he waited for the strap to snap apart.

  “Yes, but, Glo—”

  “Plus, I like to type. I can do about eighty words per minute. That’s not counting mistakes.”

  Nate whistled. “That’s very good. It’s four times faster than my own typing.”

  His reward was her laugh. She smiled at the floor, creating dimples in her cheeks he never noticed before. He raised his eyebrows.

  Nate couldn’t remember ever seeing Gloria Goodman smile or laugh, and a cute smile it was, indeed. Her dimples made a deep impression in her full, oval face and Nate resisted the urge to pinch her soft cheek. This sudden brightening made him regret his private nickname for her. Gloomy Gloria.

  “Well...,” he began and her eyes opened wide in expectation.

  Her eyes resembled liquid dark chocolate and the way they caught the light make them sparkle too. Chocolate diamonds. How is that possible? Is this what they mean by having “soulful eyes?”

  The discovery caught him off guard. He broke his gaze from hers and it went downward, but not without taking in the rest of her appearance.

  He never gave Gloria Goodman a second glance when she was his student. It wasn’t hard. She blended into the background—especially in comparison to Brittany Taylor. He must have been blind.

  Gloria wore a white button-down shirt and simple black skirt that stopped just above her knees, and she filled both items of clothing very well. Not really trendy, but professional looking. And needs must when the devil drives....

  He hated to admit, but Gloria Goodman was stacked and packed. And with her long black hair piled loosely but stylishly in a bun on her head, she looked nothing like the majority of girls her age. It may have been only weeks since she graduated, but to Nate, Gloria must have matured overnight.

  Does graduating from high school turn a girl into a woman within a span of weeks? Why was he even thinking this? She was way too young for him.

  He cleared his throat.

  “Well,” he repeated and looked her over again. “You’re definitely dressed for the job.”

  He smiled and stood up from behind the desk—but he stopped midway—suddenly aware of a familiar tightness in his trousers.

  Shit! What th
e fuck was he doing getting a hard on?

  He played it off by reaching across the desk to shake her hand.

  “You’re hired.”

  Gloria’s sigh of relief heaved her chest and caught Nate’s attention again. He tore his gaze away and forced it to stay on her face. Her dimpled smile was a nice consolation prize.

  “The job pays ten dollars an hour, paid weekly on Friday with a check. Since you’re working for me as an independent contractor and not for the school district, you’ll be responsible for claiming your own taxes. I’ll need you to fill in a W-9, and when the time comes, you’ll get a 1099 next year.”

  He checked his groin for the all clear before circling the desk and indicating for her to follow. “Come into my office and I’ll help you get started.”

  Gloria didn’t miss the scowl on Mr. Larsen’s face when she entered the classroom. Why shouldn’t he scowl? It was hard to work for your high school crush when you knew he wished you were someone else.

  He’d expected Brittany to be his personal assistant. It was so obvious! Brittany was the golden girl of the school. She had been for years. Ever since elementary school, Brittany was always a teacher’s pet, and if Gloria—or anyone—had to pick the student most expected to have an affair with a teacher, it would be Brittany Taylor.

  To make matters worse, Brittany knew she was all that. She also knew how to work it to her advantage, and yet, she and Gloria were friends—not close enough for Brittany to include her on an all-expenses-paid graduation trip to Paris, but friends. They weren’t BFFs but TFFNs: Tolerated Friends For Now.

  Gloria suspected they became friends in the fifth grade when she was the new girl in school and, literally, in the minority. Brittany was assigned to show Gloria around and help her get settled in.

  But they were total opposites. Brittany had looks, brains, charm, personality, and was the cherished daughter of a pediatrician and a stay-at-home-mom. Gloria was introverted and the daughter of a maintenance worker and a supermarket cashier—both alcoholics. She, too, was smart, but she had “blossomed” early and carried a little more weight on top of it.

  Now, standing at 5’ 9” and 160 pounds, not only was she larger than all the other girls, she looked older too.

  Brittany’s plans were to go to New York and either study acting or modelling—whichever she could get into since her mom knew a few talent agents. Gloria just wanted to get away, go to college. Her dream was to go to law school, but that C in biology did her no favors to get into the school she wanted.

  Gloria didn’t like being in the spotlight because she feared it may reveal everything she wanted to hide—things like her thrift store clothes and the occasional bruise or scratch or cigarette burn. So going out for drama club, sports, or cheerleading was out.

  However, she did find an affinity with the debate team. It was more her speed and not as high profile as other activities, at least not at Darning High, home of the Darning Devils. She could argue a point and be persuasive. Mr. Brodowski, the team’s coach, said she was a ringer.

  “You have poise, a sense of maturity, and can work in a team. But you also have the potential to be a leader—if you allow yourself to be.” What Mr. Brodowski called poised and maturity, Gloria interpreted as her ability to be boring.

  Nevertheless, Gloria had taken his words to heart. Being on the debate team required her to “dress for success,” and with a busy competition schedule, she often had to wear what she called her “competition clothes” consisting mostly of dress suits and skirts and stockings (she hated pantyhose)—what most people would consider business casual.

  Since she didn’t have the money for more trendy fashions, it was just another thing that made her awkward from the rest. Thankfully, her debate team wardrobe would save her from buying work clothes.

  Now, she had no choice but to step up to the plate and prove herself as she followed a less-than-impressed Mr. Larsen into his office to begin her job as his assistant for the summer.

  The door to the office was tucked in a corner, and its entrance was at a right angle from that of the classroom. Unless you came into the classroom and walked straight ahead to the opposite wall and looked to your left, you wouldn’t know an office was there.

  As soon as she crossed the office’s threshold, Gloria’s mind flashbacked to a scene over a year ago when he called her into the office to discuss her mid-term performance. It wasn’t a comfortable meeting, and Gloria barely lifted her head to look him in the eye, let alone notice the surroundings. Now she took it all in as an employee. This office was now just a workspace.

  Mr. Larsen’s office was very large because part of it was storage for supplies.

  Since the door was in the corner, it hid an old, but serviceable, couch upholstered in moss green fabric immediately to the right. Straight ahead from the door was a desk and behind it were several floor-to-ceiling steel shelving units containing supplies: textbooks, copier paper, sawdust, latex gloves, giant bottles of formaldehyde, other chemicals, and cleaning supplies. Beyond the shelves was a tall, glass-fronted refrigeration unit and a deep freezer. His desk, a nicer, L-shaped desk, sat perpendicular to the first and faced a wall dominated by a chalkboard and bulletin board. Each desk had two additional chairs.

  Did he share his office? Gloria couldn’t recall anyone else ever using it.

  “This will be your desk, Gloria,” Mr. Larsen said and indicated the one in front of the shelving units.

  It also gave her a direct view into the classroom and where he stood when teaching at the front of the class.

  She went over to her desk and walked around to the other side. There were two drawers on the left and right side and a shallow drawer in the middle underneath the workspace. An older, but still serviceable, desktop PC sat left-of-center with a type stand to the right and a multi-line telephone to the left.

  She bent down to put her purse into the lower drawer against the wall, but when she turned around, she could’ve swore that Mr. Larsen suddenly stood up straighter.

  “What would you like me to do first, Mr. Larsen?”

  “First, let me explain what the job entails. Come over here.”

  They went to his desk and he pulled one of the chairs around and next to his for her to sit. He sat down and woke up his computer.

  Gloria inhaled deep his clean scent but couldn’t tell if it was his body wash or cologne. Sandalwood? Patchouli? It didn’t matter, because whatever it was, it was now her favourite scent. Being this close to him made her stomach knot...but it made something else lower clench.

  Her fingers itched to reach out and rake through his light brown hair, long enough to curl up slightly at the collar but short enough to still be considered professional. Natural blonde highlights...Dark corn silk. That’s what it must feel like.

  “In addition to transcribing my textbook manuscript, I’ll need you to help me with the classes I’ll be teaching this summer. Simple stuff, really. Recording test grades, making copies, and yes, even helping me clean and sanitize the animal cages.”

  She blinked herself out of her reverie. When he looked over his shoulder and smiled, she gasped. She could feel her nipples rise beneath her bra.

  “The transcription machine is in your desk drawer along with the first few tapes. The rest of the tapes will be here when you need them.” He turned in his seat and was about to reach for a drawer, but she was in the way. “Excuse me, please.”

  “Oh! I’m sorry.” She pushed back on her chair to give him access and realized how high the hem of her skirt was above her knee. She pulled it down. “I—uh, w-when do you want me to start?” Her cheeks started to burn with a blush.

  He pulled open the drawer and showed her where the transcription tapes were kept. If he noticed her discomfort, he didn’t let on.

  “I could really use you now,” he said. “I need to get a full draft turned in by mid-August, and as you can see, there’s a stockpile of tapes that need transcribing.”

  He closed the drawer
and looked up at her and she quickly looked away. She wasn’t going to get caught in the snare of his eyes. Damn! How could eyes be so freakishly blue? She pushed her chair farther away and stood up.

  “I’ll get started right away.” She crossed the room to her desk and reached for the nearest drawer handle. Opening it, she grabbed the transcription machine and the two tapes sitting on top of it.

  She tried to ignore the feeling that he was watching her every move, and in defiance of her nerves, she struggled to keep from jumping like a scared rabbit.

  Be smooth. Keep it smooth.

  “Here, let me show you how to get it started,” he said, and by the time she looked up, he was rounding the side of her desk and kneeling beside her, scant inches away.

  She froze.

  “Have you ever worked a transcription machine before?”

  “Ahh, yes...once when I worked part-time for an insurance agent last summer.”

  “Really? I’m impressed. Kids these days don’t even know what transcribing is.”

  Once again with that smile! Gloria wanted—dreamed—that he’d do something else with those lips and that he’d do it to her. But then again, she was just a kid, like he’d said. Too young to be taken seriously, and definitely too young to be thinking the thoughts she had about him right now.

  “Oh, no, Mr. Larsen. I’m familiar with all sorts of equipment. I’m sure I can handle it.”

  He glanced up at her and their eyes met. She gave him brief smile and wriggled her hips in her chair, making herself comfortable. Why did he look at her that way? Was it something she said?

  “The foot pedal is already connected—no, wait. It isn’t. Sorry. Let me fix that.”