“Ohthank you, Professor Callahan —” She’s gathering up her things, thank fuck. “I promise I’ll get it all done —”
“Just — try to get some sleep, okay?”
As I listen to her sneakers scuffing down the hall, I take off my glasses and toss them onto the desk, massaging my eye sockets with the heels of my hands. Fluorescent lighting, of course, and since I share this office with four other adjuncts, I don’t really have any say over the decor. Other instructors might have failed Alyssa instead of giving her more time, but the thing is, I know exactly how it feels to have more to do than I could ever possibly finish in a day. To feel like I’ve poured so much blood and sweat into my work that if you turned me sideways, I would be two-dimensional.And I’m not gonna fault anyone else for getting themselves into the same position.
I pull out my phone and check the time. Five o’clock, which means my office hours are officially done, and I can start the trek home, where I have hours of prep work ahead of me before I can get to sleep. I should get up right now and get started. But for some reason, I navigate to my hidden folder instead, opening one of my hookup apps and beginning to scroll through the profiles. There are a few that look promising, and I weigh my options carefully.
But then I spot it — an anonymous profile, with body pics but no face. His screenname isPwrBottom95, and he says he’s 28, which probably means he’s in his early 30s like me. His profile pic is a shirtless torso, his thin arms folded behind his head, all the better to show off the lean S-curve of his torso, nearly hairless except for a dark blond trail that disappears into the waistband of his low-slung jeans. He’s standing in front of a painting — well, more of a collage, maybe, words and images and slashes of paint across a square canvas. And there’s just something about him, something that tugs at a corner of my brain and drags my thumb to the button to message him.
Me: Looking?
Okay, I know it’s not the most original opener. Butsometimes it pays to be direct. I wait, holding my breath as three little dots appear almost immediately, then disappear, then appear once more.
Him: Come on, you can do better than that
I laugh aloud, then clap my hand over my mouth. Oh, so this is how he wants to play it. I couldn’t flirt in real life if you paid me, but for some reason, the anonymity of doing it by text is easier, and so I tap out a reply, my thumbs flying over the keyboard.
Me: Pardon me, sir, I did not realize I was in the presence of royalty. I have had a very long day, and I was hoping to entice you to do something sweaty and ill-advised with me in the bathroom of a local drinking establishment before I return to the outer boroughs for the evening
Him: OK well now I’m intrigued
Him: And I’m suddenly really sorry I have to go to this work party tonight
Me: What kind of party?
He doesn’t say anything for a minute, and I figure that maybe I’ve shot my shot and lost. But then he’styping again, the bubbles appearing and disappearing while I drum my fingers on the desk.
Him: The kind of party with too much booze and too little food, where everyone will be congratulating themselves about how rich and successful they are and I’ll be bored to tears
Me: Sounds fucking awful
Me: I mean, if it was me, I’d definitely blow off the party and go for the bathroom sex
Him: Mm, you’re cute, but the party is sort of for me so I think they would notice
Me: Oh, so you’re THAT kind of fancy bitch
Him: I am the fanciest bitch you could ever hope to meet
I figure this situation probably isn’t going to lead where I want it to lead, at least not tonight, so I pack my things into my messenger bag and close up my office, making my way through the maze of corridors and up the stairs from the basement. As I push open the door into the warm air of the spring evening, I feel my phone buzz against my thigh once more.
Him: So what do you do? What made your day so long that you’re out here trolling for dick to get over it?
Me: I’m a college professor actually
Me: Long day of teaching and meetings
Him: Ooh, a smart guy
Him: So, let me picture it. Tweed jacket, patches on the elbows, glasses? Thick, distinguished beard?
Me: Glasses, yes. But no beard, just scruff. Jeans, and a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up
Him: Fuck
Him: What would you do with me in that bathroom?
Me: I would take extremely good care of you
