Professor Angela O'Neil removed her glasses to rub tiredly at her eyes. Continuing a ritual she had already completed many times this afternoon, she turned her head to glance out the tiny window. It was fully dark now, the only light coming from the campus lights reflecting off the thick blanket of snow. Dark and dreary when she arrived in the morning, dark and dreary when she finally left for the day. Much as she hated to admit it, Winter was beginning to wear on her. Sighing, she completed her ritual by glancing at the clock and finally brightened slightly. Only five minutes left in her office hours and then she could get out of this tiny office and go home to her tiny apartment.
Maybe she'd pick up some take-out someplace and scarf it down before slipping into a nice hot bath to ease her tension and take a break from grading these Freshman essays on Plato. Oh, how she wished the school would give her a TA to lighten her load a bit, but why would they when they seemed to consider her little more than a glorified TA herself. They wouldn't even have hired her if the profs in her department hadn't flatly refused to take on any more undergrad classes. Oh well, at least it was work, and not many universities were hiring these days, especially not in the Philosophy department. Better to relocate halfway across the country to a place where Winter apparently never ended (even if the college wouldn't help pay her moving expenses) than to be out of a job with no prospects. If she could get a couple years out of it, it would look good on her resume.
Awoken from her reverie by a knock at the door, she suppressed a scowl and forced what she hoped was a cheery smile onto her face as she called out, "Come in."
The door opened, and in walked a girl she recognized from her Introduction to Philosophy class, the essays for which she was currently grading. One of the few bright spots to that class, actually, as she actually seemed interested in the subject and, judging by her writing, was capable of at least a bit of original thought. At least ninety percent of her students only seemed interested in getting their Philosophy requirement out of the way with as little work as possible. She was wearing her usual navy blue wool pea coat, and a pair of short black leather boots, but she must have been wearing a miniskirt underneath to show no trace of a hem below the line of her coat. Angela shivered, thinking of the weather. No way was fashion THAT important, no matter how pretty the petite young blonde was. Now that she thought about it, that was another reason this girl was a bright spot in her class. Now what was her name...
"Ah, Cathy! How nice to see you. I'm afraid I was just about to pack it in for the day. If you're looking for your score on your essay, I'm afraid I haven't finished grading them yet. If you have any other questions or concerns, maybe you could save them for tomorrow?" She kept up her smile, but hoped Cathy wouldn't take it as an invitation to stay.
The girl shut the door behind her - not a good sign - before rushing to explain, a little nervously it seemed. "I'm so sorry to come so late, Professor O'Neil, but I actually did it on purpose. You see, I do have a question, but it's not really about class. It's more of a hypothetical question that's been bothering me for some time and I didn't want to use up your office hours in case someone had something really important to talk to you about. So... is it all right if I ask, or do you really need to leave right this second?"
It was at this moment that Angela O'Neil had to forcibly remind herself of why she wanted to become a teacher in the first place: To make a difference in the lives of her students, at least the ones open to it. Besides, Cathy looked so cute and eager, biting her lower lip nervously, shifting her weight from foot to foot, her shoulder length hair done up in a simple ponytail, the snow still melting off her boots. She must've just come from her dorm. "Of course. Anything to help." She gestured at the room's only other chair next to her desk. Please, sit and ask me your question. Hypotheticals are always interesting, philosophically speaking." She hoped she was a good liar.
"Actually I think I'd better stand for this..." Cathy seemed to be getting more rather than less nervous for some reason, and was visibly reddening, even in the relatively weak glow of Angela's desk lamp. She turned her back before continuing, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly as she apparently fiddled with the front of her coat, probably fidgeting with the buttons. "Okay, here goes. What would you do if one of your students came to you and..." She visibly straightened her backbone, steeling herself. What ever was this girl so tormented about? "...asked you to give her a spanking?"
With this she turned around to face her professor once again, letting her coat come open and shrugging it off her shoulders in one smooth motion to fall to the floor at her feet. As it turned out, she wasn't wearing the miniskirt Angela had assumed. She was naked.
She was also clean shaven, and Professor O'Neil found herself staring dazedly at the little pink cleft between her legs for a long moment before managing to shake herself back to reality - if this actually was reality. It seemed far too bizarre to be true. She forced herself to meet Cathy's eyes again without lingering too long on the way up her lithe body, her small, perky breasts' nipples fully erect from what must've been a terribly cold walk from the dorms to her office here in the Humanities building. Her tired and shocked brain struggled for words, but she finally managed, "Is this some kind of joke?"
Cathy said nothing, but simply shook her head very seriously before once again turning her back, very deliberately widening her stance so her feet were just a bit further than shoulder-width apart and then, keeping her knees locked perfectly straight, bent over at the waist, slowly unzipping the zippers on the sides of her boots and pausing, giving her professor an unimpeded view of her legs, ass, and once again, that perfectly formed pussy peeking out at her. Finally she straightened up again as gracefully as she had bent (The girl must've had some ballet, Angela mused idly) and turned back to face her once more, stepping out of her boots as she did so, then very deliberately clasping her hands behind her back, lifting her chin up almost challengingly as she stood, now wearing absolutely nothing.
