Another Sociology lecture just complete, and this Tuesday morning Professor Johnson sighed. She had completed three months at the College and things seemed to be settling down.
Attendance at lectures had levelled off a bit higher than during Professor Merck’s time. Tall boy had transferred out of the class, and there had been no incidents lately of note.
She was wearing a crisp light blue cotton men’s shirt, and that was it. Being barely older than the senior students, she felt the need to stay close to the College dress code. No need to line up for exemption passes. The shirt was just long enough to cover all but the bottom of her cheeks, and there wasn’t much flashing except when she reached up to the top of the blackboard to write. She kept the top two or three buttons open, to help suggest there is no bra, and a couple of buttons at the bottom are open to create some visual interest below. In fact, depending on how approachable she wanted to appear, there could be only one or two buttons fastened.
She wasn’t nearly as exercised about underwear as at the beginning. After all, with going nude on Wednesdays, what’s the problem with flashing a little skin the other six days? Panties seem increasingly unnecessary. Mind you, she needn’t worry, her reputation was spreading quickly across campus and she’s never yet been stopped for an inspection. After hearing about tall boy’s solo performance, the inspectorate was steering her a wide berth.
Her cellphone went off as she was packing up, and it was the principal’s office calling. He’d like to schedule a 3-month performance appraisal chat on Thursday afternoon.
“I’d be delighted, but on Thursday, I’m going to be researching a paper out of town,” she replied. “I could do it tomorrow… or how about the following Wednesday.” His assistant replied that he usually didn’t schedule private appointments on Wednesday, but he would make an exception for her, at 4.15pm. She smiled, as her “research” was in preparing her arguments for tall boy’s appeal of his punishment in class. The hearing had been postponed twice by the other side, as they seemed to be nervous about what was going to hit them.
The week passed, and the appointed time came close. The Professor had put on some her favourite perfume that day, and nothing else. She was wondering what the interview was about, as she heard that some of the other new staff had gone a full year without a talk from the principal. She hadn’t seen much of him since the job interview several months ago, and she certainly hadn’t seen him in the nude before. Or would he ignore the Global Warming campaign and have his air conditioning going?
In the outer office his assistant told her to go right in. She entered the massive office, with a wall of bookshelves on one side, a seating area around a coffee table, and a large desk at the back. The Professor migrated to the seating area, but the principal didn’t get up from behind the desk. He stuck his hand out in as a welcome, gesturing her to a chair near his desk, and said “it’s okay, we’ll stay here as this won’t take long.” From what she could see, he was naked, too.
“You’ve been enjoying your first few months?” he asked awkwardly, not being too interested in anything more than the perfunctory head-nod he got in response.
“You’ve had a significant impact. As you know, we have a continuous student evaluation system here at College, and I get weekly reports on how things are going. Your ratings are higher than those of your predecessor, Professor Merck, so in my book you are protected from all the rest. “
The Professor looked concerned. “All the rest?” ”Professor…” started the principal. “No, call me Brianna…”
“OK, Brianna, there is a massive gap between the scores you receive from the women and the men in your class. The pattern for teaching staff as young and as good-looking as you, frankly, would be the reverse. In your case, the women look at you as a role model. The men….some men….send comments that you don’t seem to be supporting the Code.”
“That’s not true. I support the goals of the Code and unlike many of the staff I even dress not far from the pattern of the student body. I am doing my part to meet the goal of avoiding arousal, and levying appropriate penalties. The Code is a living document, its interpretation changes over time. As to whether males are subject to punishment for arousal, ultimately that will be decided by the tribunal.”
“Listen, I understand that. But not everyone does. There is a group of students, and frankly some faculty, who feel pretty threatened by women who are in control. They think that our Code is jeopardy and political correctness will take away the reasons why we love this site.”
“That’s not fair. The Code is a wonderful thing. But it has to evolve…”
The principal interrupted. “You’re right. I said there was one group of traditionalists. But there’s another group who aren’t comfortable with the arbitrary nature of the Code’s interpretation. All students ought to be able to choose who they fuck. And, frankly, some are turned on by the thought of an attractive female member of teaching staff willing to lead that charge.”
Brianna’s throat suddenly got dry. “Do you mind me asking what group you are part of?” Before getting an answer she looked around for something to drink. Some bottled water was on the coffee table, and she gestured towards it. She half expected the principal to get up to hand her a bottle, but he stayed behind his desk.
“That should be clear. There’s been a growing debate about Code interpretation, in the campus paper awhile ago, on some of the blogs only yesterday. It’s not about being prudish. It’s about choice. A campus that appears to condone the ‘r-word’ is something that subjects us to regular criticism. If we are not careful, it could challenge the existence of the college. Some of the discretion that has been open to men should be open equally to women. And the men might get it just as often!”
“But you need to be careful,” the principal went on. “Rapid change can be resisted. I’ve had reports that students – male and female – are bringing themselves to orgasm three and four times on Wednesday mornings, just to reduce the chances of being aroused in your class. After that, some of the boys report they are so blissed out during your class they are falling asleep. They are terrified they will be the next to perform solo in front of your class, and now doubly terrified because they doubt they will be able to do it, for the fifth time that day.”
“This is all unfounded. I haven’t booked anyone since I made the example of tall boy. But don’t you admit it’s had a desirable impact on the school? Before then, some boys were taking half a Cialis on Wednesdays to be standing tall all day. I heard reports of some other classes that first day breaking down when some of the girls were turned on by the erect penis show. The overall effect has been that when we see arousal, it’s because two people want to do it together. Which is the way it should be.”
The principal relaxed and smiled. “Okay. You know what you’re doing. I hope you’ve heard me encourage you to take it easy. I just don’t want protests outside my office. In three years, the Code will have changed; does it have to be next week?”
The principal stood up suddenly and sat on the edge of the desk, perhaps forgetting himself. The Professor looked down and saw anenormous erection. Perhaps this was why the principal wanted to avoid a Wednesday chat, and had until now stayed out of his chair.
The two exchanged glances, and there seemed to be little need for words. “Not the same penalty?” asked the principal. The professor shook her head as she led him to the couch, and mounted him gently. “Will you be appealing this penalty?” she asked. He lifted her up and down and spread her ass cheeks as they went at it for what seemed like minutes. In the warmth, the sweat poured, and they kept going.
Suddenly there was a knock at the door. “Your 4.30pm is here.” The principal cursed quietly and then shouted “I’ll be out in a minute.” To the professor he said something about being held back by his Wednesday morning routine. She ridiculed him gently for apologizing for not cumming as quickly as 20-year olds. Calmly she reached into her purse, and pulled out the trusty K-Y.
But as he continued to thrust gently, she reached around and stuck her finger into the principal’s derriere and gave him an amateur prostate massage. A second or two later, the principal exhaled and it was finished.
She cuddled and kissed him, but got up quickly, worried that the assistant might open the door and disapprove of the principal’s counselling technique.
The principal smiled, and said: “I thought you had something else in mind for the gel.”
The professor, cleaning herself off while letting herself out the door, whispered: “A good girl doesn’t bumfuck on the first interview.”
[to be continued]