"Ms Holliday will be with you in a moment," the young Ms Dollar said cheerfully, motioning Samantha toward a nice leather chair arranged in the seating area of the headmistress's large, well-lit office. Samantha took a seat.
"Would you care for some coffee or water or something while you wait?" Ms Dollar asked.
"Some coffee would be great," Samantha said. "Thank you."
"Sure thing, back in a bit," replied Ms Dollar as she backed out of the office and quietly closed the double doors.
For a moment, Samantha considered her choice of outfit, a slim fitting pantsuit over her lithe frame, and wondered if she had dressed too casually for her first day at the school. She looked around and took in the spacious, wood paneled office. She had conducted her interviews in other parts of the campus and this was the first time in the headmistress's office. Off to her right was a large wooden desk. It was remarkably clutter free, with just a small leather bound book, a black quill pen, an antique looking lamp with a green shade, and photos of several people faced outward toward the room.
She got up and walked over for a closer look at the pictures on the desk. It was several pictures of some adorable looking children, a young boy and a young girl, probably ranging from three to five years old or so. There was also a photo of a handsome man smiling to the camera, presumably Mr Holliday.
'Her family looks quite happy and pleasant,' Samantha thought. 'Perhaps a good sign she will be a good boss?'
She turned around and faced the room again. To her left was the seating area, with expensive looking, oxblood colored leather chairs and a matching couch, two end tables with antique lamps, and a low coffee table with several new magazines. To her right was the entrance way, which was practically a parlor in this grand office suite, complete with a posh rug, hall tree for hats, etc. and original prints on the walls. And on the other side of the office was a wall of shelves running from the floor to the crown molding some 14 feet high or so. The upper and middle shelves were filled with a variety of education manuals, law books, and treatises of various sorts, while the lower shelves held several trophies and more photographs, mostly in black and white.
Samantha noticed what looked like a long wooden item on a center shelf, but from this distance she could not make out what it was. She walked over toward the bookshelves and leaned in to inspect the item.
'Is that a paddle?' She thought.
She looked to the closed double doors to her right and sensed no one approaching. She looked back at the paddle and with a rising sense of excitement she picked it up for a closer look. The handle, which was perfect for her small hand size, was sanded for a good grip, whereas the paddle itself was polished. It was about half an inch thick from top to bottom and probably two feet long. The flat paddling portion seemed like it was about six inches wide. The paddle seemed old, but well maintained. It was free of dust and seemed to have been buffed and polished regularly, although one side of the paddle seemed distinctly more faded than the other, suggesting it was the business end of the instrument.
Samantha felt butterflies in her stomach as she recalled the school's corporal punishment clause in her hiring documents.
'Do they really spank here? Does this really get used on the students?'
She imagined for a moment all the bottoms this paddle may have spanked, all the bent over schoolgirls receiving their just desserts, and all the resulting pain, shame, embarrassment and tears. The butterflies in her stomach became a pleasurably warm sensation.
Samantha had witnessed a fair amount of spankings while teaching abroad. At first she found it shocking, but something she had not been able to stop thinking about. Ultimately, she had accepted that corporal punishment was a fetish of hers, although she had never engaged in it and she had tried to repress her feelings on the subject, telling herself it was not normal.
Suddenly feeling ashamed of her fantasizing, she put the paddle back down and turned back around again. She noticed for the first time a small piece of furniture off to her right and walked over to check it out. It was a bare, squat, sturdy looking wood table, about three feet tall with a top about three feet square. It had no drawers or chairs and stood alone along the far wall behind the seating area, which is why it had been out of her view. On the wall immediately next to the table hung a small mirror at roughly the same height as the tabletop, which Samantha found as odd. From her standing perspective, all Samantha could see in the mirror was the top of her own pants.
'What would this mirror be for?' She wondered.
Right then she heard the doors open on the far side of the room. She turned and saw Ms Holliday enter with a most pleasant smile. She noted how Ms Holliday, a gorgeous woman of about 40, was smartly dressed in a fetching dark pantsuit, with pearls around her neck and on her ears, and jet black hair falling to just below her jawline. She was slender and tall, wearing red heels that provided her stylish ensemble with a nice pop of color. Samantha instantly felt less insecure about her own choice of attire.
The two ladies approached each other toward the middle of the room. Ms Holliday extended her right hand and clasped Samantha's hand with both her hands as she took it.
"Samantha, I am so delighted to have you on board!" Ms Holliday said. "Mr Pearson practically demanded that you be his replacement, and with your CV and personality, he certainly had no objections from me."
Samantha could feel herself blushing at the praise. True, she had graduated from a prestigious university with honors, and then published a book based on her many noteworthy experiences while teaching English in Asia and India for five years. But she was still only in her late 20s and she instantly found Ms Holliday intimidatingly impressive.
"Thank you, Ms Holliday. I'm really delighted to be here," she responded.
Ms Holliday directed Samantha toward the chairs and offered her a seat. The two sat down and Ms Holliday began.
"Mr Pearson was really an institution here. He taught English for 30 years and his recommendation is really something to be proud of," Ms Holliday said. "He has had young students go on to some remarkable accomplishments, CEOs of Fortune 500 companies, high level work in the federal government, you name it. And he was our last male teacher on staff, so now we are literally an all-female institution."
Right then Ms Dollar entered with a tray carrying two coffee cups, a carafe, and a small jug of cream. She quietly approached the two seated women and placed the tray on the center table between them.
"Thank you, Chelsea," Ms Holliday said.
Ms Dollar nodded and quietly backed out of the room, closing the double doors.
