Free Divine: A Novel by Aven Jayce Page A

left, I was drowning in heavy eyes just five
minutes into my new erotic western. I have a disease called male orgasm
sleepitis, which makes me crash immediately after sex. It affects the majority
of the male population, so I’m not too worried that it’s going to kill me or
that I need a prescription. And from what I’ve read, women rarely are afflicted
by this condition.
    I started reading one of the westerns.
No, not The Three Buck Naked and Depraved
Horseman as planned. It must be in the bag Dan kept. I’ve settled for Cowgirl in the Pig Pen. After the first
chapter, I’d give it two stars in the romance genre, but five stars in pulp.
    And I haven’t opened Dan’s secret bag of
books just yet either. For some odd reason I’m afraid to find out what’s
inside. I think it’s because I’m so happy with the pile I purchased that his
bag seems like homework or a quiz that could end in failure. What if they’re
fishing books? Or worse, books on canoeing or camping? Those things go
hand-in-hand with fishing, right? Snore. I’m not a nature girl and if I have to
choose between... oh fuck it, I don’t want to have to choose. Clothes, food, or
anything else, fine, but don’t tell me what to read.
    I’m angry. I shouldn’t be this way, but
the FU campus (that’s my new name for
it) puts me in a foul mood. I should’ve stayed home and watched porn and read,
wearing only my robe and a pair of socks, nothing else. Sounds cozy, but that
wouldn’t solve the issue at hand, and it’s not the campus that’s the problem.
It’s this email. This goddamn email from Margaret. What a fucking bitch.
    Div,
    Hannah
came to my office in tears last night because her boyfriend Luke is still
missing. You wouldn’t happen to know where he might be, would you? I overheard
students in my class talking about you and they said you didn’t like him.
    I
also would like to know what show is going in the gallery next, and the names
of the incoming scholarship students. How much are we giving them this year?
    Have
you heard from the Dean at all?
    Enjoy
your day!
    MC
    This senile old hag needs to go away. I’m
so tired of her. And what the fuck is that first paragraph about? If I wanted
someone to disappear, it’d be her, not some random Big Boy look-alike named
Luke (now I remember his name). And she asks me the same fucking questions week
after week. No one believes me when I say she’s losing her mind and should no
longer be teaching. My Chair, the Dean, the President... no one. The woman’s
nutballs.
    I start a nasty email back, then delete
it, then write another, and delete that one too. Finally, I’m calm enough to
send something.
    Margaret,
    You
shouldn’t make false accusations about me. I haven’t seen Luke since he was in
one of my classes a few semesters ago. And, what did you say to the students
who were talking about me? Did you stop the conversation, or did you let it
fester?
    As
mentioned back in October, as well as in January, and last month too, the
spring show is the student exhibition. I hope your classes have been productive,
making pillows, cookies, and knitting hats, and that you have a lot of work
ready to fill the space. You can start bringing the craft projects into the
gallery next week.
    The
scholarship is a thousand dollars for all students. It’s been set at that
amount for years.
    Why
would I hear from the Dean?
    Div
    It will only be a couple of minutes
before she responds. She’s fishing for information about the student petition
and to see if I’m upset, but I play dumb, which will surely upset her. Why is
this woman still here? Clearly, the only thing she’s good at is being a
stand-in grandmother to a generation of helpless students. I bet she even wipes
their noses.
    Oh goody. She’s back.
    My
students won’t have any work ready for the show so they won’t be participating
this year.
    Enjoy!
    That bitch! She just put the entire
exhibition on my shoulders and opted out. So now I have to fill