He was my poetry professor, one twenty eight year old Nathan Kennick. He was honestly the reason I decided to take a poetry class. As much as I longed...to take a fiction workshop, I couldn't pass up four hours a week staring at him in his flannel shirts. It was an added bonus that his class would help me in getting my creative writing major. We eventually became good friends, maybe a bit more flirty than most teacher student relationships. When I'd walk by him he'd always give my arm a squeeze. They had a bottle of Patron. Of coarse they offer me some. I do one, then another. Now the conversation changed. They want to know where my husband is. Would he be mad I'm up here? They really like my top. Then one guy says he really liked when I had to reach to place my bet earlier. I said, you think I didn't know that? Another guy says, "she knew what she was doing." I just smiled. The mood was changing. I could see them feeding off each other, getting worked up. More shots for the birthday. More

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