“Don’t you think that’s inappropriate?” He tucks his hand into his expensive gray slacks as he talks.
My jaw tightens. “I told Rosie that I noticed her intellect. She was comparing herself to another student in class.” I tilt my head to the side. “I have to say, I don’t appreciate the assumption that I’m somehow being inappropriate with my students. I’ve been teaching here for over two decades and I’ve never had an issue.”
Half expecting him to buck back, I stand firm in my bullshit excuse.
“Pretty young girls like Rosie are hard to stay away from, though.” He nudges my elbow and offers the slimiest grin. “Aren’t they?”
Fuck me! Is this what I sound like? Is this what I look like? A creepy old fuck noticing young women?
“Kidding around.” The dean knocks me on the shoulder as he walks away, the stench of cigars on his breath. “Keep up the good work.”
This needs to end right here. I’ve already done enough damage. It’s a good thing Rosie’s not coming over tonight. Shehas a good head on her shoulders, ignoring my advances. Hell, she’s probably saved us both.
Now, I just need to get her out of my head.
I drag in a deep breath and blow it out slowly as I pace down the lecture hall steps toward my desk where the pile of research for my book sits in a stack of manila envelopes. Tonight will be a good night for me to examine everything again, maybe find some conclusions and theorieswithoutinvolving students.
I’m halfway through packing everything up when my cell phone buzzes in my back pocket. It’s my little brother Silas, who I’m sure is up to no fucking good again.
“If you need me to bail you out of jail, it isn’t happening.”
“Jeez. Happy Friday to you too,” Silas groans.
Is it Friday?I check the calendar to the left of my desk.
Damn it! It is Friday. I won’t see Rosie for two days now. I’d hoped we would smooth this over sooner rather than later.
“Sorry,” I sigh, “it’s been a disaster of a day. What’s going on with you?”
“Big fancy brother, with his big fancy job, having a hard day?” he scoffs. “I don’t believe it. Not when the rest of the family is out here with their asses on the line. You know this distillery is going to shit, right? Last night the assholes at that bar down the way had a redneck talent show in the street. There was an interpretive dance with lawn chairs. Worst part is, it’s working. The locals have officially rejected us.”
I shake my head as I go back to stuffing my research away in my bag. “I told you guys it was a bad idea to open a whiskey bar three steps away from a local watering hole. Of course the locals are up in arms.”
“Right,” he sighs. “I figured I’d get a‘told ya so’from you, but what I really need is some help with Dad’s old recipe book. I’m bringing it up to you this weekend.”
“No. Why?” I clear my throat and zip up my bag. “I don’t have time for that right now. I have a deadline and I’m swamped. I’m a silent partner to this bar shit. The silent is supposed to be emphasized.”
Somehow, I know his eyes are rolling back, though I can’t see him. “Your deadline isn’t until October. You can take the weekend to decipher this recipe book with me.”
“No, I can’t,” I press. “Why don’t you ask Cash? He’s right there with you, and he knows more about whiskey than I do.”
Silas laughs. “Between the ranch, the kids, and the day-to-day operations at the distillery, Cash doesn’t have a ton of free time for side projects. Besides, you’re smart. Isn’t this what you do… decipher old text?”
“No! I’m a philosophy teacher, not an archeologist.”
“Well, you’re an archeologist this weekend.”
“What the hell makes you think Dad’s style of whiskey is going to save the distillery, anyway? Locals don’t remember him like you think they do. He was a kooky, old drunk who wrote nonsense in a book for other drunks.”
Silas sighs. “I’m not asking you to agree with our plan. I’m only asking you to help me decode some of this worn, old handwriting. That’s all.”
I chew the inside of my cheek and glance down at the papers on my desk. I really need to get to this, but the truth is, if I don’t busy myself with something this weekend, I’m going to get stuck on the fantasies about Rosie again. I’ll be thinking about her tight, little pussy. I’ll be imagining her bent over in front of me, her heavy tits brushing against the mattress, the sound of her moans as I thrust into her hard and steady. I know how weekends like that go. They’re a prison. A prison of thoughts I can never do anything about.
“Okay,” I huff. “One day. Then I have to get back to this research.”
“Good.” My brother’s smile is evident through the phone. “I’ll be there soon.” He hangs up the line without giving me an exact time, though that’s the kind of guy he is.
Chaotic… but also persistent.
I have to give credit where credit is due. The man never quits.
It’s probably a good thing he pushed. Now, I’ll be able to stop thinking filthy, depraved, indecent thoughts about my student… right?
