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How are you coming along with the grading? Faith?s text floats on the screen. I debate not answering. If I get into a conversation with her about the fact that I am making very little progress on the stack of final papers...well, I will make even less progress on the stack of final papers.I don?t like grading. It?s certainly not the reading that?s the problem. I love to read student writing. And I love offering up suggestions, praise, and even pointing out what we euphemistically call ?areas for growth.? For good papers. Even for pretty good papers. But reading the truly bad papers, the ones written by bruhs who don?t care, is like breaking rocks.On top of that, I am the world?s sixth-worst procrastinator. I could have been the first-worst, but they had already awarded that when I showed up. Every December and every April it's the same story?I put off grading till the last possible second, then have to pull an all-nighter in my office on the escort bayan last Friday of the term to get through the final dozen papers.This year is no different. Finals ended two days ago. The campus is deserted. The row of frat house windows that face my office across the vast parking lot are mostly dark and quiet. Very few of them are waiting to hear what I thought of their exploration of media ethics.I?m killing it. 4 more to go! That?s a lie?I have eight more to go. I change the subject. How?s girls-night-out going?Faith doesn?t answer (which is a sort of answer) so I pick up my pencil and turn back to the paper on my desk.This one is a slog: short on punctuation and research, long on filler. I put a C- on the top, struggle to find some nice comment to balance out my criticisms, and move it to the done stack. Seven to go. I decide to reward myself before reading the next one by walking to the vending machine for a candy bar.I?m squeezing kocaeli escort bayan quarters into the machine when my phone flashes again. A young guy was hitting on me all night. Very cute. I got horny so I left. How many papers do you have left?Three. That sounds hot. Maybe when I crawl into bed later you can tell me about him. She loves to tease me when I?m working late. I admit, it sometimes helps me to pick up the pace.Aren?t you in your office now?I bite the corner off the Hershey bar and start back down the hall. Yes. Still grading. I can?t see you.I step up my pace and walk into my office and look down at the parking lot. There are only five or six cars in the lot. One is mine. Right beneath my fourth-story window a compact car has slid into the closest spot but its bright headlights make it impossible to see inside.I reach for my phone. I don?t see your car. Did you get a ride? I?m guessing she had a few kocaeli escort too many and one of her friends is dropping her here so I can drive her the rest of the way home. I reach for my jacket and keys. Give me 3 minutes and I?ll be out.I see you now. Don?t come out. The little car?s headlights switch off and I can see two people in the front seat. Since I?m looking down on them, the angle makes it hard to see faces. But I can see a woman in a low-cut blouse in the passenger seat. She has one hand in the driver?s lap.I hope you don?t spend all night grading, she texts. You?ll miss all the fun. Faith leans forward and looks up at me through the windshield and puts her phone, screen still lit up, on the dashboard. She taps the screen then leans over to the driver and I see her hand go for his zipper. My phone begins to ring.I turn off my desk lamp and spin my chair to the window. When I?m seated, I tap to answer the call. ?Hi honey. Hi whoever is with honey.?I see her lean back to the phone a little. ?Can you see his cock?? Faith speaks to the driver. ?Raise your hips so he can see your big cock.?With the angle and the steering wheel, I can?t really see it. But I know to take her word for it.