Call it a night

You've enjoyed your time with Léa, but you don't want to push your luck, particularly with a colleague, so you decide to head home. You suggest sharing a cab, but it turns out the sensual lectrice lives just round the corner and would prefer to walk, politely declining your offer to accompany her. This might be a clue that she would prefer to keep your relationship on a professional footing, so you say your goodbyes and take a taxi back to your place.

The journey gives you time to think over the events of the afternoon. It has certainly been an interesting and rewarding time and before you know it, your conveyance has reached its destination. You pay the driver and, taking your keys from your pocket, walk up the path to your house, glad to be home.

Opening the door, you're greeted by the glow of lights in the kitchen and are just wondering whether you forgot to turn them off when you left this morning, when a delightful figure steps from your kitchen into the hall in front of you.

Even by the standards of women attending the university, she is stunningly beautiful, peaches-and-cream complection framed by midnight-black ringlets piled high upon her head to expose an elegant neck rising out of a french-maid style outfit. She is tall and slender and could easily be a model or starlet, but you recognize her from the records you viewed earlier as Imogen, one of your grad-students, who's on the rota to do your housework and look after your domestic needs.

You are jerked out of your musings by a melodious voice saying "Welcome home, Professor. I hope you enjoyed your evening. I've cleaned the house and tidied the garden, so is there anything else I can do for you tonight?" She steps towards you, head coquettishly to one side as she adds impishly, "I mean, anything at all, Professor."

You feel your libido respond to this blatant offer, but she's still a student and you're **** to consider whether having sexual relations outside the framework of a spanking tip is a line you're willing to cross.