Graceful Submission

Read Graceful Submission Online

Authors: Melinda Barron

 

 

GRACEFUL SUBMISSION

 

 

Melinda Barron

 

 

 

®

Warning

 

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* * * * *

This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable (BDSM).

 

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Graceful Submission

Melinda Barron

 

This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

 

Published by

Loose Id LLC

1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-2924

Carson City
NV
89701-1215

www.loose-id.com

 

Copyright © February 2007 by Melinda Barron

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

 

ISBN 978-1-59632-402-2

Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

Printed in the United States of America

Editor: Maryam Salim

Cover Artist: Scott Carpenter

 

www.loose-id.com

Chapter One

 

Note to self: Make sure to avoid eating lunch in teacher’s lounge. Avoid Joe Watson at all costs. Don’t forget you control your own destiny.

 

To Do List:

Pick up dry cleaning

Grade at least fifteen more term papers

Stop at Betty’s Books to pick up Lindsey’s birthday gift

Call Peter to discuss plans for Lindsey’s party

 

“Ms. Kinison?”

Grace Kinison looked up from her desk, cell phone in her hand. “Shouldn’t you be at lunch, Jessica?”

“I just wanted to know what I made on my term paper.” Jessica LaBlonc’s voice was wobbly and Grace sighed. She knew it was hard for the senior to come in and ask about her grade. For Jessica to pass senior English, she had to make at least a B on her research paper. But then again, so did eleven of her fifty-seven students.

But those other students weren’t worried about their grades. Jessica was. And the fact that she was concerned pulled at Grace’s heart. Jessica had worked hard. She just couldn’t grasp the concepts of the class.

“I haven’t started on your class yet,” Grace replied softly. “I’ll know final grades by Friday.”

“But that’s three days away,” Jessica wailed. “I don’t think I can wait that long. We turned them in last Friday! Why does it take so long?”

Grace put down the phone and clasped her hands together.

“Jessica, I have fifty-seven papers to grade. It takes time to make sure it’s done properly. I’m sorry; you’re just going to have to wait.” Grace groaned inwardly at the girl’s dejected look. “Let me ask you this. How do you think you did?”

The senior bit her lip and then smiled. “I think I did OK. It was hard, though.”

Grace stood up and rounded the desk. “If you think you did fine, then don’t worry about it. I’m sure that everything is OK. Listen, I’ll grade it tonight and let you know first thing in the morning. Fair enough?”

Jessica nodded vigorously and Grace shooed her out the door. She sat back down, picked up the phone and dialed. She pushed send and raised the phone to her ear.

“Watson alert! Watson alert!” Rebecca Shane, the teacher in the room next to her and Grace’s best friend, slammed the door to Grace’s room and turned off the lights.

Grace disconnected the phone and ran to where Rebecca was standing stealth-like against the blackboard.

“Where is he?” Grace whispered.

“He’s coming this way, clipboard in hand. Have you decided how you’re going to turn him down without pissing him off? If you make him mad you go from a senior English teacher to a freshman English teacher with one wave of his pen.”

Grace’s shoulders slumped. “Why won’t he go away? I told him two weeks ago that I didn’t want the vice-principal’s job next year. I just want to keep doing what I’m doing.”

Even as the words left her mouth, Grace knew it wasn’t true. She didn’t want to keep being a senior English teacher. But she didn’t want to be a vice-principal, either. She wanted to write full-time, not just from
to
All she needed to do was sell one story. One story and she would know that her writing wasn’t in vain. Then she could quit her job and live off her savings until she hit the big time. And if she didn’t make it big, she would wait tables. Anything was better than working for Joe Watson, who would be principal next year.

She wondered what it would feel like not to have to grade papers every night. Not to have to listen to parents say, “My child says you don’t like him and that’s why he’s failing your class.” Not to have to hide from slimy vice-principals.

“Are you listening to me?” Rebecca said. “He may have convinced everyone else that he thinks you’re the best person for the job, and I’m not saying that you’re not, but we both know that he wants you in the main office so he can stare at those hour after hour.”

Rebecca pointed her finger at Grace’s chest and Grace blushed furiously.

She wanted to object to her friend’s blunt words, but they both knew they were true. Grace was no runway beauty. At thirty-nine, she was at least forty pounds overweight. But she carried most of her extra weight in her chest. And it was the chest that attracted attention she didn’t want.

To try and hide her breasts, she wore matronly clothes to work, turtleneck sweaters that were one-size too large and long skirts that almost hit the floor. Every morning, she twisted her long auburn curls into a bun and hid her deep brown eyes behind glasses.

That had worked perfectly for years. Until the warm September morning when she and Rebecca had gone to the Pearl Street Mall. Grace loved the Pearl Street Mall. It was one of the best things about living in Boulder. An open air shopping area with stores galore.

The best part was not the shops, though. It was the people. Tourists and residents alike flocked to the area. And it was a perfect place for Grace to sit and people watch, helping her build characters for her books.

For her people-watching escapades, Grace always allowed her “writer” side to come out. That morning she had been wearing jeans and a tank top, her long curls cascading down her back. She and Rebecca had been sitting on a bench, discussing whether or not an older couple they were watching was happy or not (just look at the furrow of his brow, Grace had said, he’s disgusted with being here, and with his life) when a low whistle caught their attention.

Standing above them, and staring straight down Grace’s top at her double Ds, was Joe Watson. Grace had stood quickly and tried to hide her chest with the notebook she was holding, but the damage had been done.

After that, Watson came by her room two or three times a day. He’d asked Grace out to dinner several times and she’d refused. Then the unthinkable happened. Mark Alt, the principal, announced his retirement and Watson was promoted to his job. Now Watson was after Grace to take the vice-principal’s job for the following year.

“Two more minutes until the bell,” Rebecca said. “Maybe he stopped at Beaton’s room and you’re off the hook for another day.”

“Fat chance of that. You’re nice and thin. Why can’t he go after you?”

“My attributes aren’t quite as impressive as yours,” Rebecca said with a laugh.

The bell rang and Grace let out a deep breath. She turned on the lights and opened the door, and walked straight into Joe Watson’s chest.

“Ms. Kinison.” His voice was low and Grace stepped backwards. “We missed you in the lounge today. A working lunch? In the dark?”

Rebecca scooted past them with a guilty look on her face. Watson raised his eyebrows at the two women.

“We were just talking,” Grace said quickly. “And conserving energy.”

Grace cringed as he spoke. “Please come to my office and see me before you leave this afternoon.”

Watson left after issuing the command, and Grace turned her attention to greeting her afternoon students. Four more months of Watson. Online publishers were considering several of her short stories. And her book should be ready for submission by the middle of March. Maybe when it was time to sign contracts for next year, she’d know whether or not it had sold. If not, the four more months of Watson turned into another year, and Grace wasn’t sure she could handle that.

She sighed as she realized she hadn’t been able to call Peter to discuss details about Lindsey’s fortieth birthday party. It looked like her evening was going to be full again.

* * * * *

Grace ran her fingers over the blue bindings of the Nancy Drew book. A first edition
Mystery of the Lighthouse
by Carolyn Keene. A perfect gift for her longtime friend. It was the only book Lindsey was missing in her Nancy Drew collection.

It had taken Betty Rook, the proprietor of Betty’s Books, more than six months to locate a copy that was in pristine condition.

Grace smiled as she remembered childhood summers where she and Lindsey had read the Nancy Drew books to each other. They’d laughed over the antics of Nancy, Bess, and George, and acted out scenes in the backyards of each other’s houses.

Now Lindsey was living in Brentwood with Peter, her husband. The couple wrote for the highest rated program on TV,
LA349
; a cop show based in Los Angeles. And Grace was a wanna-be writer who was divorced and still living in Boulder.

The book eased the pain of her meeting with Joe Watson. She’d flat out told him she didn’t want the job. His unhappiness was very apparent and he let her know that he planned to keep trying to change her mind.

When she’d told him not to bother, a look of such extreme anger has passed over his face that Grace had taken a step toward the door of his office. When the phone on his desk rang, she had bolted out the door and not looked back.

Grace patted the bindings of the book and put it back in its plastic cover. Then she picked up Jessica’s paper and got to work.

She had just given the paper a B in her grade book, and watched Jessica’s grade rise from an F to a low C, when the instant messenger bell on her computer rang. She maximized the program and frowned as an unfamiliar screen name appeared.

Toffer4U:
Hello?

Graceful:
I think you have the wrong address.

Toffer4U:
I’m Toffer Shelley, a friend of Peter McGinley’s. He asked me to get with you about information for Lindsey’s party.

Grace slapped herself on the forehead. Peter. She’d forgotten to try and call Peter after the fiasco at lunch. The party was only three weeks away and she’d promised Peter that she’d give him pictures and stories that he could use for anecdotes and decorations. She’d allowed Watson to make her forget the things that were important, like Lindsey and her party.

Toffer4U:
Are you there?

Graceful:
Yeah, sorry, I was just slapping myself for forgetting to call Peter. Bad day, you know.

Toffer4U:
Sorry to hear that. Wanna unload on a stranger? You can pretend I’m whoever you’re mad at and yell at me. Just put the caps lock on, and let me know if I need to hold my cheek as if you’ve slapped me. ;)

Grace laughed out loud. Just like a friend of Peter’s to be a character.

Graceful:
How do you know I’m mad at someone?

Toffer4U:
Isn’t that what a bad day usually means, that you’re mad at someone at the office?

Graceful:
Probably so. But it’s not an office. It’s a school, a high school.

This time the wait was on Grace’s end. She stared at the empty screen and chuckled. That little tidbit had sent Toffer4U back a few paces.

Toffer4U:
OK, I think I’m recovered. Please tell me you’re not a student.

Graceful:
Let’s put it this way, the last time I was a student, Reagan was still in office.

Toffer4U:
Really? So Miss. Ms. Mrs.? Graceful, what do you teach?

Graceful:
It’s Ms. Grace Kinison. And I teach senior English.

Toffer4U:
Yuck. You’re not going to make me diagram a sentence, are you? Or correct my spelling? This could get ugly.

Graceful:
I might. What was the noun in your last sentence?

Toffer4U:
Is that a trick question? If you look at my high school transcript, you’ll see that English wasn’t my best subject. I was a “let’s bribe the teacher” kinda guy.

Graceful:
Those are fighting words in my class. Shame on you.

Toffer4U:
Mrs. Williams didn’t care. All she wanted to do was sit at her desk and read, and eat the chocolate I brought her. As long as we were quiet and handed in our papers, she didn’t mind.

Graceful:
Was she close to retirement?

Toffer4U:
Way past the time, if memory serves. But I remember her fondly. She never hassled me about anything. And I made a C. Still passing.

Graceful:
I don’t hassle my students, I teach them.

Toffer4U:
Sorry, didn’t mean to imply that you did. Forgive me? Shall we move on to the party before I stick my other foot in my mouth?

Graceful:
Good idea. And the jury’s still out on forgiveness. What exactly does Peter want?

Toffer4U:
When the jury comes back, let me know. Just don’t send me to the principal’s office, OK? I never was very good at bowing down to authority. And Peter wants embarrassing stories from Lindsey’s childhood. Pictures that will show how she’s changed. Pictures that show what she’s done in her life. He’d said you’d have a bunch. You can visit her parent’s house and pick up baby pictures. Since the party is a surprise, he thought you and I could work together and she wouldn’t figure it out. What do you say? Are you game?

Graceful:
Yes, I am. But I have to finish grading term papers this week. Can we talk on Saturday? That will give me time to get out pictures and bring back memories.

Toffer4U:
Saturday works for me. How about
1 p.m.
your time? That would be
11 a.m.
in
L.A.
We can spend the afternoon together. I’ll bring the wine and some hot sauce in case I stick my foot in my mouth again. You bring the food. Something spicy.

Grace felt a warm feeling spread through her stomach. Then she shook her head. A cyber date wasn’t a date. It was just talking. And it was planning for Lindsey’s party. Still, planning for it with Toffer should be fun.

Graceful:
How about Thai?

Toffer4U:
Great. One of my favorites. Make sure you get extra spring rolls. And some shrimp rolls.

Graceful:
I’ll be here. So, Toffer, tell me. Were you a regular in the principal’s office?

Toffer4U:
Semi-regular. Like I said, I’m not very good at bowing down to authority. I like to be in charge. What about you, Grace? Are you good at bowing down to authority?

Graceful:
Authority? The only authority I have to worry about is my boss, who is a creep. But I’ve pissed him off and I’m afraid the punishment will be severe. Like demoting me.

Toffer4U:
Punishment for what? Have you been a bad girl, Grace? Do we need to do some role-playing here? I can be the principal and you can be the errant teacher. Who knows where it will lead? I’ll keep the paddle handy Saturday, just in case.

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