I heaved a deep sigh as I rounded the large blue spruce at the bottom of Dean Garlow's long gravel driveway. His annual Labor Day faculty party had become somewhat of a tradition over the years and I felt an obligation to attend, even though I'd be seeing more than enough of the party attendees as the academic year got into full swing. While I wasn't particularly a social animal, I knew it was good form to attend, have a few drinks, laugh at a few of the same old jokes and make the rounds. Only then would I feel comfortable excusing myself early with some feeble excuse about a deadline or an important phone call. .
There were sometimes new faces -- a new tenure track associate professor or a new grad research assistant. But budget cuts at the university had trickled down to all the schools and the psychology department was no exception. Attrition was gradually taking its toll and we, along with everyone else, were being forced to do more with less.
We had, however, managed one new hire this year and I expected this afternoon's festivities would give us all an opportunity to meet, greet and assess the new blood. Hopefully this year's addition wouldn't get completely shit-faced like the young Korean TA had last year. That had not been a good way to start a new year with colleagues. It had, however, made for a good source of jokes for the entire year.
I made my entrance, played nice to the host and his wife, and then sidled up to the bar for reinforcements. With glass in hand, ice tinkling, I was now ready to admit summer was over and another scholastic semester was about to descend. I made the rounds of the usual faces and settled into my role as one of the elderly, if 55 could qualify as such, statesmen of our department. We were fortunate to have an excellent group and our national reputation had been established years earlier. It did give us some hiring power when bringing in new faculty members. I had not been on this year's search committee, but I had heard we'd brought in a rather bright light and I always enjoyed meeting the newer generation as they entered life in the academy.
I noticed the new female hire before I actually met her. She was standing with the dean and his wife, facing away from me, and I was first struck by her posture: straight and true, square shoulders and legs together in a very proper cocktail party pose. Both hands held what, I assumed, was a glass of Chardonnay, and her demeanor screamed proper and well-schooled in the social graces. As straight as her posture was, however, her ass did seem to have a mind of its own -- projecting out with just a hint of curvy impertinence. She was cloaked in a dress of a deep aubergine hue and had on sensible shoes. I was immediately intrigued.
I continued to circulate, knowing that we'd cross paths at some point. It was a little later - I was standing in a clique of colleagues - when I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see Harold Brown smiling like a jackal.
"Julian. I want you to meet our new clinical colleague -- Sabina Moore." I eyed Sabina with a polite smile as Harold turned to Sabina to continue the introduction. "Sabina, this is Julian Fellows, our social psych guru," Harold smiled.
Guru was not how I would characterize myself; but if Harold wanted to think that, I wasn't going to try and dissuade him. I had carved out a nice niche for myself and enjoyed my academic reputation and standing. And at 6'-2" I also cut a noticeable swath through a department that seemed to be dominated by short overweight males with little or no hair. My full head of dark brown hair was finally graying and I liked that it began to give me an air of gravitas. My first, and only, marriage had ended years ago, yet I clung to being single and enjoyed it immensely. Many in the academic community took my marital status as a sign of closet homosexuality. Nothing could have been further from the truth, but I liked to keep them guessing.
I shook Sabina's hand and noticed a nice firm grip -- an important factor in a first impression. She had a very pleasant smile and an intense gaze. She appeared rather formal, but this was her coming out party and she looked practiced in making a good first impression while still being on guard. Harold faded into the crowd; his work done for the time being.
Our conversation was cursory and polite. I was impressed, I must say. She managed to present her academic background with an air of sophistication and confidence. Sabina had just graduated from the UCLA program, had studied under some well-known colleagues, and penned a dissertation that had brought her some renown in our small circle. I pegged her at about 30 and saw no evidence of a wedding ring.
Our department had grayed to the point where tweed sport coats and wide wale corduroys had begun to grow rather tiresome. It was going to be refreshing to have new blood in the program; especially an attractive member of the opposite sex. Females were well-represented in our department, but nobody would ever think that beauty had been criteria in the hiring process. Maybe that had finally changed.
I tried to make an initial assessment of Sabina as we talked. One of my strengths has always been an ability to read people; it's probably why I went into psychology in the first place. The key for me is always the eyes. Sabina had large deep blue eyes that went well with her pale delicate complexion. She was not afraid of eye contact and had a steely gaze that communicated confidence and control. Her wire-rimmed glasses added a nice touch of authority with intelligence. I adjusted my own as I drank her in visually. She had full lips that looked soft and so kissable. I made a mental note.
She must have been of Nordic descent; her bearing certainly had a noble, aristocratic air. Her face was strong, distinctive and very pretty in an angular sort of way. Her skin looked smooth and soft and the long line of her neck was accentuated by her hair style; pinned up in a rather loose manner. For some of us of the male persuasion, however, exposing a beautiful neck can be an even stronger draw. Overall she was a very attractive woman who, while not trying to hide her beauty, was doing what she could to downplay it.
I couldn't tell too much about her body from the dress and wrap that she was wearing. It seemed she might be trying to cover up a rather generous bust. I kept my eyes above the shoulders, however, and resisted any urge to gaze southward. I hoped there would be opportunity for that at a later date.
Sabina was animated, yet polite, in our conversation. She spoke directly, with a northern Midwest accent barely in evidence. I smiled and conversed for a few more minutes until we were interrupted by others eager to meet our newest faculty member. But we had exchanged enough information to know that we had some common interests and that we might continue our conversation at a later date. Perhaps there could be some collegial collaboration in our future. There was one thing that was undeniable, however: I found her quite attractive and felt the slightest hint of interest in return.
I finally realized that I had spoken to everyone I wanted to and decided it was time to depart. I thanked our host and hostess and made my way for the exit. I surveyed the room one last time as I reached the door. Sabina stood in the midst of a gaggle of middle-aged male faculty who looked to be doing their best to impress. Sabina appeared to be clutching the same glass of Chardonnay. I grinned and turned for the long walk back down the driveway; a bit more bounce in my step than when I'd arrived. .
I continued to see Sabina around campus over the next month or so. She integrated into the faculty very easily and my colleagues all seemed to be quite taken with her. We had a few passing conversations here and there, polite nods at other times, but no real discourse of any consequence. She appeared to maintain her scholarly role and was always dressed in an almost librarian-like manner.
