Any illusions Martin had about quiet anonymity while he enjoyed his cocktail disappeared when a new one appeared in front of him. He looked up at the man who’d delivered it, a quizzical look on his face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t order another one,” he said, holding up his first one to show that it still had about a third of its original contents. Martin had missed the little nod back in the girls’ direction.<br/><br/>The bartender made a face at him, then shook his head. “No, not you,” he said in thickly accented English, a bit of contempt for the man who would question a free drink holding in his tone. With a thumb jabbed over his shoulder he indicated the two young women at the far end of the bar, one lithe and dressed in black, the other in silver and sporting ample curves. In the dim light of the bar, it took him a minute to register the faces as his short-term memory kicked the names to his head.<br/><br/>Students. And naturally, the Americans, at that. To the degree that he was surprised that anyone would find him at this place and make contact, Martin found himself taken aback. On the other hand, it played right into his mental model of the American students he’d dealt with over the last two years. Of course, these girls had been especially egregious offenders. The girls-he finally placed the black dress as Lena and the silver as Paige- were both lucky to be pulling Cs in his class. And that owed more to the urging of the Dean of International Programs reminding faculty that little was to be gained by failing kids in study abroad programs. They’d still go back to their home universities, and if they took a failing grade with them, they’d simply complain about the difficulty of the program, robbing the university of important dollars.<br/><br/>Then he remembered the other part of the Dean’s repeated exhortations. “Make students feel comfortable. Like they’re a part of the community.” To Martin, that certainly applied on campus, but he had trepidations about off campus, especially on his own time. Finally, he realized he wasn’t doing himself or the girls, who wore a look of nervous embarrassment, any favors by being standoffish about it. Martin downed his first drink quickly, the last bit of it stinging just a bit in his throat. He then took the second glass, raised it in a quick acknowledgement, and smiled at the girls, then made a little motion for them to come to his side of the bar.<br/><br/>He tried not to watch them as they made their way through the burgeoning crowd, but once they arrived, he turned on his stool to face them. He put on his best, most reassuring and grown up smile, and held out one arm. Up closer now, he was struck by how different they looked, done up for a night out. Neither were unattractive in normal classroom settings, but he tended not to see students that way. At least, he tried not to.<br/><br/>In front of him now, were two very attractive, unique young women.<br/><br/>“Girls, I have to say, I’m surprised. Thank you for this,” he said, holding up the drink, letting them get within earshot, “it was certainly not what I’d have expected, all things considered.” He was, of course, referring to their grades in his class. Martin wasn’t dumb, he knew that student tended to dislike instructors whose classes they performed poorly in. “It’s not often that I run into folks from the university in this part of town.” At this stage, he was being careful not to highlight how often he came to the club. The last thing Martin wanted was some kind of reputation.<br/><br/>He didn’t realize how close he was to earning one.<br/><br/>