Back away

You back slowly away from the doorway. You need a chance to deal with this kind of situation in an unemotional state of mind, not while you are sporting a hard-on and trying to remember that last time you had sex. It was the right decision, but not an easy one and you wonder if you are going to be able to get to sleep tonight without taking matters into your own hand - so to speak.

The Mellon building is connected to the hall you are in by a lovely glassed-in hallway that overlooks a small English style garden with hedges, paved pathways and secluded benches. You can't help but wonder how often couples sitting on those picturesque benches forgot that from this passageway just about anything that they did would be easily visible.

Once in the older building which as Ms. Naylor informed you, serves primarily as a dormitory for returning students, you make your way along the first-floor corridor to the offices that the map indicate should be just ahead. In addition to your suite, there are several common areas with comfortable couches and seats set up under portraits of severe looking women who look over the rooms like chaperones from the turn of the century. A slightly smaller room on the right has a piano set to the side and several music stands for other musicians set up in front of a dozen or so chairs.

The door to the Dean of Students' office is as solid as all the others you've seen in this remarkable institution and, like most of the other doors, is not equipped with a lock. A rectangular discolored patch in the dark stained hardwood where a brass plate once hung is the only indication that this used to be one of the most feared doorways in all the school. The latch on the door is stiff, but the heavy brass doorknob turns with a groan when you put a little muscle into it, and you enter the room with a great deal of curiosity.

The heavy curtains block nearly every bit of the afternoon sun, but when you pull the thick velvet drapes back you can see the thick layer of dust that coats every surface of the floor, furniture, and bookshelves that line the room. Yet another indication that Ms. Naylor wanted nothing to do with you or the board's decision to reinstate this position. She could have at least had the custodial staff air out this office even if your insistence on sleeping in the adjoining chamber caught her by surprise.

The doorway to the rest of the suite is not obvious to the casual observer, in fact if you hadn't had a detailed map of the building, you might not have looked twice at the panel that slides into a pocket behind the bookcase. The bedchamber adjacent to the office is smaller, but still easily big enough for the queen-sized bed with its four-post maple bedframe and matching dresser. This room too has tall lead-glazed windows just like the adjoining office and similar dark velvet drapes that tie back to allow the afternoon light into the room.

A mirror hangs too low in a gilded frame and a basin and water pitcher stand long empty on a small corner table by the window. In many ways it reminds you of your grandmother's bedroom in the house in Kentucky; she would approve if the blockwork quilt that covers the bed. In spite of the antique furnishings and old-fashioned style of the bedroom, the bathroom has had a recent update. It is a most pleasant surprise when you turn on the lights to the bathroom and find the modern toilet, white marble counter around the porcelain sink and a glassed off walk-in shower more than big enough for a man your size.

It takes you almost two hours to make the suite of rooms feel like home. First unpacking and ironing your shirts and trousers before hanging them in the closet adjacent to the bathroom. Then with a damp rag you dusted every surface in the office including the large oak desk and matching chair, a leather couch that was surprisingly comfortable and finally (which took by far the longest) the bookshelves which held an eclectic collection. Twenty-three consecutive yearbooks from 1983 to 2006 filled one shelf, there was a collection of law books, over fifty history books including the 20 volume Durant History of the World, a complete Shakespeare in deluxe red leather bindings, a half-dozen or so Jane Austin novels and finally more than a dozen books in Latin that you couldn't even begin to read.

As you tidy up the office you find three items of particular interest. The first is the badly tarnished doorplate that identified the office as the Dean of Students, the second was a 12-year-old school Code of Conduct waiting for you in the top right-hand desk draw and most interesting of all, a polished wooden paddle worn smooth from use and inscribed with more Latin around the grip.

It takes almost ten minutes to polish the dark patina from the brass plaque, but only a minute or two to screw the gleaming brass plate back into its spot on your door. Your bed is still an unknown, but instead of seeing about getting clean bedding, you decide to spend a little time seeing just what your job was going to entail.

You are sitting at the desk reading the Code of Conduct with interest a few minutes later when you hear a knock on the door.