Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
“Yep,” she says cheerily. “And I spritzed myself with some Chanel Mademoiselle perfume too. Do you want some?”
The truth is that I’ve been holding my breath ever since she stepped inside because the scent of her perfume is overpowering. But I manage a small smile.
“No, I’m good, thanks.”
She nods happily while scanning the room.
“Oh, Mack’s over there,” she chirps, her eyes brightening. “Let’s go over to say hi.”
I allow myself to be dragged along behind her with some reluctance. After all, I’m supposed to be at this professional party in order to find an adviser for my thesis, and not to watch my friend flirt with a football player. But Elisa will always be Elisa, and even now, she’s sidling up to Mack while batting her lashes.
“Hi Mack,” she coos. “Remember me?”
The football player looks like a stunned bovine.
“Um, what?” he says. “Yeah?”
“It’s me, Elisa McDonnell,” she purrs again. “Remember? We met last week at the Alpha Tau party.”
Mack still looks stunned as all hell, but at least he manages a smile this time. Or maybe it’s because Elisa is a pretty girl, and smiling at pretty girls is reflexive on his part.
“Oh hi again,” he says. “Nice to see you, Elisa.”
She giggles and sidles up to him, practically rubbing against his side with her breasts. I can’t believe my friend is doing this with a roomful of faculty present, but hey, she’s not looking for an adviser.
“We had a good time last weekend, didn’t we?” she coos. “By the way, did you ever find my panties? I swear I looked all over your room when I left that morning, but I couldn’t find them. Maybe you did?”
Mack doesn’t even have the common sense to look embarrassed to be having this conversation in public. Instead, he just shakes his head.
“Nope, haven’t seen them,” he says. “You sure you were with me?”
Oh my god, that’s the most insulting thing this dunce of a football player could say. But Elisa just laughs it off.
“I’m sure it was you, big boy. I’d recognize you in the dark at any time,” she says with a hint. “You were huge and so special.”
God. This is gross. I can’t believe my friend is having a sexually-charged conversation during the English Department’s holiday party. She’s probably shocking the socks off some of the older secretaries, while also causing their pacemakers to run amok. Not only that, but Mack is really unintelligent. Why she wants to be with someone who looks like he eats grass is beyond me.
With exasperation, I move towards the food table. I can’t stand to listen to more of their conversation because it’s just too ridiculous and inane at once. It was fucking awful, and I would have killed myself had I had to remain in their orbit for one more second.
But the refreshments table doesn’t look great for obvious reasons either. Like many departments, the English department is under budgetary pressure and as a result they haven’t exactly pulled out the stops when it comes to Christmas refreshments. There’s a murky looking brown punch in a glass bowl, as well as some sad-looking holiday cookies. There’s also some wilted looking sushi completing the spread. I don’t know whose idea the sushi was because it obviously doesn’t match the red-and-green theme, but who knows? I shouldn’t complain.
Hesitantly, I pick up a piece of tamago, which is rice with fried egg on it. I stare at the yellow egg portion a little suspiciously. How do they get the egg so uniformly-colored and smooth? It’s weird, but then again, Japanese folks have the most advanced technology, so maybe they have a special cooker for sushi egg.
I’m just about to take a bite when Professor Maximo Rossi bumps my elbow. He’s a mid-thirties man with greasy black hair combed straight back like a movie gangster. Not only that, but he’s wearing an ill-fitting, baggy pinstriped suit complete with a red tie and white shirt. Some girls swoon over Professor Rossi because he’s “handsome” if you like the Italian stallion look. I suppose he is, sort of. He’s tall with a brilliantly white grin, even if it must be the result of veneers.
“Hey there,” he says, his breath hot and reeking of alcohol. “Is the sushi good?”
I smile wanly.
“Don’t know. Haven’t tried it yet.”
He leers at me.
“Give it a try,” he urges. “Show me that pretty mouth.”
I stare at him, the sushi poised halfway in the air.
“I’m sorry?” I ask.
He puts on a look of fake surprise.
“It’s very fresh sushi,” he says in an oily voice. “It’s going to be very good.”
I shoot him another suspicious look, but then take a bite of the egg.
“How is it?” he leers again.
I chew for a moment, hoping he’ll go away. To be honest, the egg is cold and pretty tasteless, but I manage another wan smile.