I love working here. Katahdin Books was one of the few independent bookstores left in the state thanks to soulless chain stores and the Internet. Our owner is very dedicated, a former English professor who ran away to rural Maine to write his novel and found himself in dire need of a regular paying job. He worked here back before the retail invasion and the Internet took over, and when the original owners decided to retire he found he loved the work and bought the business building it up into the shop it is today.
Since then he's done his best to make sure the people he hires are as passionate about the work as he is, and demands to know what sort of books we enjoy and our outside interests so that he can help tailor the store to a multitude of interests. He wants to make sure we have zeal for the subjects and makes us caretakers for them in the store. We all get space to pitch our favorites, be it an end cap display, a shelf in the section, or even a table if the season and subject jive.
Me, I was a young mousy-haired college student with a knack for plants, gardening, and an intense love of romance novels. My boss, Mike walked into the our little break room one day and saw me reading on my e-reader. It wasn't outright forbidden, but it was definitely frowned upon at work.
"What are you reading?" He asked with one eyebrow lifted.
We were always encouraged to talk about what we were reading and to share things we enjoyed with others as well as customers. This was not one of those books I'd shout about from the rooftops. I squirmed in my chair and closed the cover on the e-reader.
"Uh, nothing important." I said, far more meekly than I should have.
I looked up and saw the corner of his mouth lift. "Something spicy? I know romance can swing from conservative, boring, to some pretty heated stuff."
That was part of the problem. My boss, Mike Dunne, was a hot college professor type, and the fact was I was sort of imagining him as the main character of this very spicy, like five chilies spicy, erotic novella about a super-strict professor and awkward student of his that promised to do anything required to pass a course she was failing.
"Read me a passage." He put the books in his hand down before he turned and leaned back against the counter, his hands gripping the edge.
I felt my cheeks burn as I looked down at the e-reader. We did this sometimes, as a team exercise and to introduce the other employees to genres and authors they may not have read before "I don't know if you'd like it. It's set in the Regency period." I waved my hand at the cover. "It's not very good. I think I got it for free online."
"Try me, and Lily you and I both know the price of a book has nothing to do with the quality of the writing."
I looked up at him like a mouse frozen under a cat's gaze. He wasn't going to back down. I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat and reached for my book praying the battery had suddenly died in the time it had been on the table. The screen lit up with script. No such luck because of course fate would work against me here. I swallowed again and began.
"I cannot accept failure. My parents will turn me out with nothing. What would you have me do Master Grenville to not be put out?" Rosie said.
"You were one of the first group of young ladies admitted to this school and you were expected to comport yourselves with dignity and honor as any student should, yet you and your cohorts acted as if the rules do not apply to you."
Rosie swallowed and looked down at the broad expanse of the desk between them as she was scolded. She'd been enamored of Master Grenville the moment she had seen him. He was tall and broad shouldered with fair hair and the handsome bearing of a viking. She wondered if he were married and if he found her attractive or not.
"It appears you haven't even put your mind to listening to me now."
Rosie's head snapped up and she looked into his deep blue eyes and saw fire there. He was angry, but also more.
"I think you need a lesson, over and above the curriculum." He stated firmly and reached into his desk retrieving a stout wooden ruler.
Rosie's breath caught in her throat and did her most to not appear shocked. She'd heard of unruly boys being punished this way when they were caught out, but she was nineteen years of age, and a university student. Surely they didn't abide by corporal punishment any longer.
"You will complete the assigned work by the end of this week. That gives you three more days which is fair considering your other courses of study. However..."
Rosie swallowed again and coughed as it went down wrong.
"Would you prefer academic failure Miss Goodwin?"
I looked up at Mike who was paying close attention as I read. He looked at me and the corner of his mouth lifted again. He raised his eyebrows.
"Victorian pornography. I must say I'm surprised Miss Allard," he added, with a little laugh.
If my face were a stove burner the kettle would be ready. I felt very much like Rosie at this moment, under Mike's gaze.
"Have you read this book before?"
I cleared my throat. "Um, no."
"How many lashes do you suppose he's going to offer? For that matter, how is he going to demand them?"
I had a feeling I knew how but I didn't want to say.
"If I remember right, Regency era ladies wore heavy gowns with shifts and petticoats. Is a ruler going to do much through all that fabric?"
I nodded and looked down at the screen.
"So do you think he's going to ask her to disrobe, or the more humiliating act of throwing her skirts and petticoats over her head and take her from beneath?"
I wasn't getting off the hook, and I was pretty sure Mike was needling me intentionally about this. "I thought, maybe through the shift only."
"Is her maidenhead safe?" He added in a haughty imitation of an English accent.
It was my turn to swallow wrong and cough. I didn't know, but I knew mine was still intact, and not because I hadn't wondered about Mike like Rosie had about Master Grenville. "I don't know."
