My fingers grazed against the worn bills in my wallet, mentally counting the abundance of singles I had while also making note of the scarcity in any other physical bills.
Money wasn't an issue by any means. Sure, the label of my day job would scare off any potential women in my age range, but I wasn't looking to settle down anytime soon. Many people would definitely argue getting an MA in English Literature is a lost cause and waste of time, but it feeds my ego enough in tiny portions, and I enjoy the majority of the work I do for the most part. I taught at the local community college in the northern part of the state and never sought out a TA, so I do all the seemingly tedious myself. My other pastimes included investing in certain corporate bonds and some larger company stocks, making a mean risotto, hiking up the local mountains with my boxer mix, and occasionally sinking my cock into the warm hole of one of my overzealous, female students.
I take my job seriously enough not to risk losing it, but when you become qualified for a position to teach when your students averagely range six to ten years your senior, it's not much of a crime in my eyes to actively indulge when you're both consenting adults. Although I have an active social life and will go on dates a few times a month, it definitely is a nice little added perk having disposable pussy anytime a distraught student is worried about their grade. College girls loved the possibility of opening themselves up for their young professor.
"Can you charge my card a little early for another rum and coke to see if it'll go through?" Someone to the left of me questioned the bartender.
I glanced in the general direction and noticed the person sitting one seat away from me looked somewhat familiar. In the dim lighting, I could tell she wasn't wearing anything to emphasize her looks; she didn't necessarily need, but she looked like she hadn't slept in a few days.
The bartender grabbed the card from her fingers and tried processing it. After his third attempt, he stated, "It keeps telling me declined, Sam. Did you really spend the last of your money at a bar?"
The name Sam didn't sound familiar, but I wasn't the type to remember names. Glancing at my empty glass, I realized I should probably head home. I worked every weekday besides Tuesdays.
The girl had her elbows perched on the counter and began rubbing her eyes with her hands. "Relax, Scott. It's Thursday. I get paid tonight. If I stay just another 48 minutes, I can tip you, like, twelve bucks." She removed her hands from her face and sighed while rolling her eyes. "Why did I think turning off my overdraft protection would benefit my life in a positive way?"
I could blame the whiskey, but her comments made me chuckle. I slipped my debit card from my wallet and lifted it up. "I'll order a rum and coke for myself and one for the lady." Maybe I could stay for one more drink.
The girl gazed up at me with dark green eyes, and it seemed she may have recognized me as well. She pushed back a piece of her long black hair behind her ear. "Stephen Hayes?"
I sat up a little straighter and laughed. "Yeah, that's me. How do we know each other? Because you definitely look familiar."
She looked down and reached for her purse that was on the vacant seat to her right in between us. "I should probably go."
"Your name's Sam, right? That's what the bartender said I think. Have I taught for you before? Look, I'm sorry if you're weirded out by me buying you a drink. I can move down a few seats if you'd -"
"You'll probably recognize me more by Samantha. If I show up on time, we'll be seeing each other again in around eighteen hours. Unless, of course, you don't show up to our Lit class tomorrow." She smiled almost bitterly. It was a nice smile regardless.
I suddenly knew exactly who this girl was. "Oh, Samantha. Of course."
She cleared her throat. "I actually go by Sam for the most part."
The bartender had left me my card and was handing us our drinks. "Sam, my bad. You're in my 8 pm class, right?" She was the girl who barely participated. The smart one who'd assume she'd barely pass by putting in minimal effort. She was, for lack of a better word, lazy. And I'd just dropped her low "C" to a mid "D" with her past exam.
Sam raised her eyes while taking a sip. "Wow, everybody
