It’s about 1am. Still feeling the effects of the cocktail of different alcohols and weed consumed over the night, I’m lying here in this cozy hotel bed reflecting on the night. Joint in hand, I take a drag and blow it towards the massive window showcasing the stunning neon lights of the city.
(She surely never sleeps) I think to myself.
I snap out of my trance for a second and pivot my head towards the bathroom, I hear the sink running, I then remember why I’m here. I met someone at the spring break party.
The sink stops running. I hear the sound of feet shuffling across the tiled floor, approaching the doorway to the bedroom.
She knocks on the doorframe.
“Hey! You’re not passing out on me are you?”
Unsure if what I’m seeing is reality, I rub my eyes.
Stood in the doorway was my Art History professor. Kind eyes, pixie haircut, brown sugar skin, it’s definitely her. Bare skin draped in a satin black robe, thigh high stockings clad her shortish legs up to her thick thighs.
“No Professor, I’m admiring the view.” I respond.