Joan put a dozen pills in her hand, and popped it all into her mouth. She didn't even drink water. She just swallowed all of them like a champ.
Well, more like a loser in her perspective. If the most impressive thing about her was how many pills she can swallow without gagging or dying, then she really was a loser.
She burped loudly, and the guys surrounding her all clapped like kids in preschool after a show and tell session.
"Booyah! This cougar's is da bomb, man!" Some himbo yelled out. "What gag reflex!? She doesn't even have it!"
He must be some frat boy in a nearby university, seeing the Alpha Sigma Phi tattoo above his pierced belly button. And yeah, it didn't take a while for him to be shirtless and yelling while bathing himself in beer and fruit punch.
Another one wearing a varsity jacket put his hand around her shoulder. He showed off the keys to his Feroari.
"I mean she's hella fly. But the no gag reflex convinced me. Ma'am, I'm taking you home tonight."
Joan just cackled and pushed his hand away. "Buy your own car first, pretty boy. I can still see your mom's name in those keys, you didn't do a good job at scraping the letters. Unless your name is actually Julia?"
The boy laughed nervously as his friends' eyes widened at this.
He just made an excuse. "It's actually Juliet. I'm just a fan of the Bard himself, ya know. I'm a Romeo, my car's my Juliet. We're meant to be together."
"Ah. So that means you will die with your car soon?" Joan smirked. "Advanced condolences, then."
The most refined of these groups of men, someone in decent clothes and style, laughed audibly at this.
He took a sip of his whiskey. "You really are a fun woman, Ma'am. But your face looks kinda familiar. I think I've seen it in one of our science textbooks. Are you actually a teacher?"
The crowd around her erupted with "Oooohs" and "Ahhhs". They were curious if this really was true. Joan thought about whether she should hop to another club now that her cover was blown. Not that she had a cover to begin with, but she didn't really expect a bunch of college kids buzzed out of their minds would actually recognize her.
Nah, screw it. So what if they recognized her? It's graduation time, summer vacay is coming soon.
She won't have to worry about a scandal spreading about an acclaimed professor in Stoker University being caught bar-hopping and popping party pills any time soon.
But that's enough pills for now, though. She'd have to wait for the magic to happen, like how you'd wait for tea to steep.
While waiting for that, she indulged the boy's question.
"Yeah, I'm a teacher. I can teach you where best to hit a girl on the back, if you'd like." Joan said flirtatiously.
She knew very well about her effect on men, and some women too. Though she doesn't swing that way and politely declines them. Her hair was still luscious though it was shaggy. Not on purpose, but because she can't be bothered to comb it. It still made people think she rocks, though.
Her body was on the more curvy side, and her face was very Sharon Stoner-esque. Only that she was a brunette and her eyes were green, and as far as people knew, Sharon Stoner wasn't actually a stoner.
The boy shook his head. "No thanks. I'm tying the knot after graduation."
He presented the ring for her to see. "My bride-to-be is just in the bathroom. We only ever attended since we're kinda like the mom and dad of this friend group. We're watching out in case they get in too much trouble."
"I see." Joan pursed her lips. "Congratulations then. You'd be graduating from being a bachelor too."
"Haha, thanks."
This immediately put her in a bad mood. Wedding rings always do.
She let out another burp, and excused herself. "Welp, I'll go look for some other fella that's willing to get schooled then."
The one who was shirtless wraps a hand around her waist. "You can teach me, Ma'am. I'd like to learn some female anatomy with you."
She pushed the drunk boy away, causing him to stumble on the table full of chips he tried to eat off his own stomach.
"Ah yes because I'm pretty sure that even if you have a magnifying glass, you'd still never find a clean-shaven girl's clit."
The group erupted with laughter, and Joan Seward took her leave that way. She unbuttoned her white shirt to show off more of the goods, and pulled her black pencil skirt up higher. Her heels clacked as she went out to find another good spot.
As soon as she went out, she saw two people making out near the dumpsters. There was a whiff of smoke from one of those biker groups leaning by the wall. The music that blared out from the club now mixed with the noises of the city and vehicles passing by.
"The 20th century sure is loud. Gonna be 21st soon, would it just get even louder then?." She stumbled around to look for another club.
Maybe she'd try to get two boys into a threesome. Hell, even four or five sounds good. As long as none of them were wearing any of those stupid bands on their fingers that was a sign of the silly little thing called 'commitment'.
She opened the door and saw some blood on it. She only then realized that she scratched herself while trying to pry that frat boy off her waist, since his belly button also had a piercing.
"That fucker." She mumbled.
Flies started approaching the wound that festered and bubbled up.
Joan shoved the flies away with great annoyance. She opened the door thinking that she should pour some alcohol on it as a disinfectant, and maybe drink it herself. Absinthe sounds pretty damn good right now. Nothing beats the green fairy, and they've been friends for so many years now.
Billie Jean was playing and the crowd was pretty dense. She tried to push her way through the ocean of bodies and felt some hands cop a feel as she did. But she didn't mind. She really needs to get to that bartender—
"Ah, sorry. Stepped on your foot. Coming through."
She hardly felt the foot-stepping with the drugs in her system and getting close to a coma. But as soon as she heard that voice, she was woken up more than any adrenaline shot could.
"Jones?" She called out.
Harker Jones seemed like in a rush to get inside the club. He was looking around as if searching for something.
He saw a blondie across the dance floor, and tried to catch up, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Mina!"
But as soon as the woman turned around along with her dance partner, possibly her lover, the Jones boy quickly took his hand away.
"Oh, sorry. False alarm…. Have a good one."
He went on his way again, vanishing into the sea of sad pathetic nymphomaniacs and drunkards and standing out like a sore thumb. Or maybe a red ship would be a better analogy. Meh, Joan was too wasted to think of metaphors.
In the end, the stoner professor followed after this Jones boy and wondered if she had a chance to get into his pants tonight.