Invite her to dinner

"Actually, Julia, I don't feel like eating alone tonight and wondered whether you had any plans."

The surprisingly attractive woman standing in front of you seems quite stunned, but not displeased.

"Er, yes, I mean no, I don't have any plans I can't cancel and I'd love to go to dinner with you, Jack." She hesitates for a moment, then adds "I'm the only woman under forty who's neither a student nor a relative that you know well enough to ask, aren't I?"

You laugh and protest, "Not at all. There's that young lectrice, for a start."

"Oh, alright, the only woman who's neither a student nor a relative nor a subordinate. Seriously, though, I feel honoured to be asked. Do I need to get changed?"

"I haven't made a reservation anywhere, I'm afraid, but I'm sure that wherever we go you'll be fine."

"In that case, why don't I book us a table while you call whichever postgrad you have doing your housework today and tell her you'll be eating out?"

You agree immediately, although you don't know exactly what she means about the postgrad. Still, you 'phone your home number and it is picked up on the second ring.

"Hello, Professor," says the sultry voice on the other end, "its's Imogen here. What can I do for you?"

"Uh, I'm not going to be home for dinner this evening, Imogen, so you might as well go."

"Are you sure, Professor? I don't mind staying late in case you want me for…anything."

"No, it's fine," you reply, "goodbye, Imogen." It seems Julia was right about you having your grad-students doing your housework for you and this sort of exploitation is considered perfectly acceptable behaviour. You end your reflections as Julia informs you that she's secured a table at a restaurant chain in town. You decide to take a taxi so that you can both have a drink and walk along to the rank just a few streets away from the college in companionable silence.

In the cab, conversation turns to career progression. Julia hopes to become a full professor within the next five years and when you admit that you believe you've reached your level, she says you would make an excellent junior dean.

"I hear a lot of what students say about the staff and if there's one fellow the girls truly dread being punished by, it's you. I'm not saying that the others are anything less than diligent in their duties, but you really seem to love administering severe chastisement to your wards and I can tell you from personal experience that the most effective spankings are given by men who enjoy making a miscreant suffer for her sins. As the junior dean, you would be responsible for discipline throughout the college and I bet we'd have fewer infractions if our young ladies knew they might have to face you when they step out of line."

You make polite, self-deprecating noises, but her words make you think. The position of junior dean isn't going to become vacant any time in the near future, but you can't help agree that it would be a good fit for you.

You continue to make small talk until you arrive at the restaurant, where you make your way to the table and begin to peruse the menu. Being part of a chain, the establishment uses a full colour laminated menu stored in a holder on the table and there are several other cards advertising drinks, desserts and various special offers. The one which catches your eye has a picture of a young blonde grabbing her ankles as an older man brings a rectangular paddle down on her already-glowing cheeks. The caption beneath the illustration reads:

Unhappy with your waitress? Spank her to tears with the paddle provided and your meal will come out of her wages!

You look around and find a small plastic paddle in the restaurant livery of brown and orange hanging on a cord from the side of the table. It doesn't look terribly fearsome and you think it's a clever idea to encourage customers to limit their punishments to the flimsy implement and their tips to a free meal, otherwise the waitresses might spend half their time recovering from spankings or tipping men who want sex. Before you can inspect the paddle more closely, your own waitress arrives and it becomes apparent that she and Julia are acquainted.

The server is a slim and beautiful, deeply tanned brunette, with hair in a pair of long ponytails draping her chest. She looks very young and if it weren't for the metal ruler hanging at her trim waist, you wouldn't believe she was an adult. Her small, round breasts are contained in the tight white t-shirt which is part of her uniform, whilst the orange skirt does the same for her cute little bubble-butt. Her long, toned legs are bare and on her feet are brown court shoes with Cuban heels which you estimate to be around four or five inches. All-in-all, it's an outfit designed to show off its wearer, rather than be practical for the workplace.

"Hello, Amy," says your date, "it's good to see you again."

"Oh, h-hello, Dr. Morgan." The young waitress seems nervous, toying with her hair. "Erm, c-can I get you any drinks?"

"The house red?" you suggest and Julia agrees. As the youngster hurries off, after ascertaining that you do, in fact, intend to order a meal, you enquire how they know each other.

"We met when Amy came to an open day earlier this year. She's applied to the college, so she has an interview coming up."

"Does she stand a chance?"

"Well, she's quite bright and you can see she's pretty enough to get in, but competition is so fierce that she'll need something special to stand out against the other applicants."

"She seems a bit nervous, though."

"You're right, she does. She's probably worried that her performance tonight might affect her application, but it's not the most professional way to behave, is it?" she asks mischievously, setting the restaurant paddle swinging with one finger.