To Get a Passing Grade Ch. 01

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 was wrong. People with English degrees can do math." Yeah, she had a nice mouth on her, all right.

I widened my eyes at the remark but didn't make anything out of it.

She set down her glass and said, "Sorry, alcohol can make me a bit of a bitch when I'm stressed out."

I'd pressed on the home button of my phone, and the time read 11:14. I looked Sam in the eyes and nonchalantly mentioned, "I have a few minutes to spare if you need to talk about what you're stressed about."

Taking a few more sips of her drink, Sam explained, "My roommate paid her portion of rent late for the nth time, and she got evicted. I've had to try and cover her other half of the rent by picking up a few more shifts at work, and I've just had no time for anything, let alone sleep - that's why I did such a shit-job on that exam." She sighed. "Now since it's so near the end of the semester, I'm worried about my scholarship because there's no way I could afford a single semester paying out right."

I was waiting for that little tidbit to come into the conversation. Reaching for my drink, I brought it to my lips and downed it in a few seconds. I turned my body 90 degrees to face Sam. "If you don't mind me being so blunt, Sam, if you're so worried about money and school, why are you at a bar at 11 o'clock on a Thursday night?"

She scooted her seat closer to me.

I noticed her white shirt seemed a bit too tight on her.

Her face looked instantly full of sorrow. She placed her left forearm on the counter and spoke, "Look, Professor Hayes -"

I lightly placed my hand over hers on the counter. "Stephen. For now."

Her dark green eyes were now a deep emerald, almost glimmering as if... were those tears? I'd underestimated her acting skills. "Look... Stephen, I'm basically working full time, taking over 10 credits this semester. I don't think it's that unbelievable that I'd want to stop for a drink after work."

I slid my wallet into the right pocket of my jeans. "From my perspective, it seems like you're coming up with excuses. Someone so concerned about their academic life and financial status shouldn't be lounging at a bar on the weekday. You should be finding any way possible to bring your failing grade up to a passing." I pushed myself up from my seat at the bar. "I expect your 10-page paper on my desk by the end of class tomorrow night -"

"Wait. Stephen." Sam touched my upper arm. "You're right."

I paused and stared down at the pale girl below. "And?"

She motioned to my seat where I slowly sat back down. "I have been lazy. Is there honestly anything I can do this late in the semester? I know you probably just see me as a stupid, little girl who hasn't proven herself worth any extra guidance, but..." Sam bit her lip and rested her hand on my knee. "I'm willing to do anything that you're comfortable with to help my grade."

I lowered my eyes to her hand perched on my knee. Her naivety was a bit of a turn-on. "Samantha, -"

"Sam," she corrected.

"My apologies, Sam. Correct me if I'm assuming wrong, but are you suggesting I use my title to take advantage of one of my students to help raise a grade? You know a student can be dropped for making such an accusation, correct? That wouldn't help your scholarship, would it?"

Even in the dim light, it was obvious to see her cheeks fill with heat. Her eyes widened, and she instantly retracted her hand. "I-I'm so sorry. I've never - I would never usually suggest anything like that." She reached for her bag, and some of her dark hair fell in front of her face. "Like I said, I'm a little drunk. I don't act like this. Ever. I'm so sorry, Profess -"

I reached for her shoulder. "Stephen."

Samantha's wide eyes slowly lowered to my hand. "Wait."

My index finger pushed a few strands of her fallen hair back behind her ear, and my hand cupped the nape of her neck. "Like I said, I expect that paper on my desk tomorrow night." I ran my fingers through her hair and dragged my hand down the side of her back until I got to her hips. "I'm sure we can find something to do after class tomorrow to help improve your grade."

Her legs slowly spread open a few inches, and that was my cue. I grabbed my wallet with my right hand and squeezed her thigh with my left.

Samantha stayed still as a statue as I leaned in close to her ear. My lips brushed against her skin as I whispered, "If you can be a good girl for me, Samantha, I'd be comfortable doing a lot of filthy things to you ." And with that, I left the bar.