"Bud," she heard someone say, and the voice came from her left hand side. She turned her head slightly and saw that a boy – well, he might have been eighteen or nineteen, probably a freshman or sophomore – had taken the empty stool beside her. The bartender set a mug of foamy beer down, took his fifty cents, and turned away. Joanne lifted her eyes slightly, saw that the boy was looking at her over the top of his mug as he sipped.

"Hi," he said, lowering the glass, a foamy mustache ringing his mouth. He licked at it, delicately, and she watched his tongue play along his lips. It was a small thing, that gesture, but it had a certain grace, a kind of attraction. The tip of his tongue was flat and very red, very moist. He had brown eyes and a mop of shaggy dark hair. And he looked at Joanne with a certain expectancy glittering in his eyes, as if he were waiting far her to return his greeting – and as if he were waiting for a lot more than a hello.

"Hi," she said, nodding, and her eyes lowered. His books were on the bar, and the top volume was an anthology of 1950's beat poetry. "Are you in Professor Hickman's poetry class?" she asked, speaking carefully. The back of her tongue was starting to get numb from scotch.

"Yeah," he said. "You're not, are you? I mean, I don't remember seeing you. And I'd remember you." He stared into her eyes for a long second, and then his gaze drifted downward, into the v-cut neck of her yellow dress. Joanne knew that he was eyeing her cleavage, the saucy exposure of the inner curves of her small, perfect tits, and she took a deep breath, knowing that it made her boobs lift, the bodice of her dress push outward slightly, the nipples of her braless tits put against the smooth cling of the fabric. Why did I do that? she asked herself, watching him take in the impression of her taut nipples. When he looked up he was smiling a little more broadly and for some reason, so was she. Joanne didn't understand that either, but it was the first time she'd smiled since the moment she'd turned on that Goddamned intercom back at the English building, and smiling felt so good.