Dr. Simmons gives advice

You knock on Dr. Simmons' open office door and poke your head in.

"Hi Professor, it's Lisa. Thanks for making time to see me."

He looks up from some papers and smiles at you. He's a dignified looking man that you'd guess to be in his fifties, well dressed and immaculately groomed. He rises to greet you, smiling and gestures you to a seat.

"Lisa, how good of you to visit. You always brighten my day when you come by. You're looking particularly lovely today, if you don't mind and old man complimenting you?"

You blush a bit at his flattery and smile back.

"Thank you sir, I really appreciate it. And if I might add, you're not so old as that."

"Thank you, Lisa, you're too kind. So tell me, what is it that you need advice about that's so difficult to say over the phone."

Stammering a little, you tell your professor what happened with Steve Richards. Although it somewhat embarrasses you to tell it, you give him all the details, as he sits silently looking at you, placidly smiling, tapping a pencil on his desk. When you finally come to an end, he puts the pencil down and leans forward.

"My, that is a terrible story. I see why you're asking advice. On the surface, you have a clear case of sexual harassment, but unfortunately without corroborative evidence. And Mr. Richards is a very powerful man, as you well know." He pauses and looks thoughtfully at you for a moment. "That being said, I think you were wise to come to me. There may be one or two things we can do that can help you."

You feel at flood of relief at his words. "Oh thank you, sir. I was hoping you could help. What should we do?"

He smiles at you, reaching out to pat your hand. "First things first, Lisa. As one of my better students, you are no doubt familiar with the Latin phrase 'quid pro quo' are you not?"

"It means something for something, or an exchange of services, doesn't it?"

"Exactly. What it means in this case is that if I am going to help you further, you're going to have to do something for me."

The first seeds of uneasy doubt spring in your mind, along with a surprising and not entirely unwelcome warmth in your pussy.

"What kind of something?" You say warily.

"Oh don't worry. I'm not Steve Richards, wanting you to suck his cock," he chuckles warmly, smiling at the evident relief on your face. "What I want is something else entirely. I want you to bend over my desk and let me fuck you."

He says it so calmly and smiles so kindly that for a moment you don't realize what he's said. Then it hits you and your mouth drops open in shock, and your pussy starts to dampen. You grope for words, wondering what to say.