Ponder Stibbons, Vice-Chancellor, HEM, DThau, Reader in Non-Volatile Intelligence, Cantoride Speaker in Slood Refurgance, and at least nine other titles, was happily humming to himself late one afternoon as he filed the day's set of papers and publications. It was a gentle, repetitive task that he found most soothing as opposed to dealing with the other members of the University Council. He really didn't like just using his twelve University positions to outvote and overwhelm them but sometimes there was no other choice. So long as he didn't make Ridcully raise a skeptical eyebrow at him, the University would continue to run smoothly. So he really was temporarily content, until a worrisomely familiar tone from the past caught his ear. Then his office door closed and locked--by itself.
A golden haze started from a pinp0int and grew to the size of a man and out of it stepped a heart-stoppingly beautiful woman clad in hardly anything at all. Ponder froze and swallowed.
"Pe--Petulia? Wh--what brings a goddess to Unseen?"
The Goddess of Negotiable Affection stepped behind Ponder's office chair and casually leaned an forearm on his shoulder.
"Vice-Chancellor, my darling, the last time we met, I invited you to come up and see me sometime. You never have. Is there something wrong?"
Stibbons opened and shut his mouth several times in a hopeless attempt to reply. This wasn't helped by the fact that Petulia started nuzzling his hair and reached down with her other hand to affectionately stroke his jaw. She gestured towards the filing cabinets and the diminished pile of documents.
"I know your duties are stressful at times and that you feel an understandable need to relax but these are a sorry excuse for genuine stress relief. What you really need is the ministrations of a caring, professional Seamstress. You need someone who can relax the knots in your shoulders and relieve the essential tension of a young man living a monastic existence."
By now Ponder was beginning to sweat and blush profoundly. "Uh, uh, uh..."
"And don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about, dear man. We goddesses are perfectly capable of seeing through time and I'm fully aware of those delightful months you spent with Diamonda (or more properly, Lucy Tockley) back in Lancre. By the way, I also know that the wizards' rule of celibacy is more a guideline than an actual law. Look how happy Mrs. Whitlow and the Senior Wrangler are, not to mention both the professors Barcbeadle. There is nothing in the Lore that forbids you from taking the occasional evening stroll down the lane to visit my ladies and for your own good, you should! Now, I'm going to let Mrs. Palm know that you will be stopping by this evening and that she should find someone appropriate for you to visit. Don't disappoint me again, Ponder, darling."
She kissed him softly on the cheek, disappeared and the door unlocked.
The vice-Chancellor sat paralyzed in his chair. Petulia didn't give the impression of being a lightning bolt throwing sort of deity but she had believers all over the Disc. That gave her a lot of power and made her a goddess not to be trifled with. Oh, dear. She expected him to show up at Mrs. Palm's House of Negotiable Affection this evening and the implication was she didn't intend to take 'No thank-you' for an answer. He shuddered and looked at the time. Probably a shower and a stiff drink were in order.
*****
"Ah, Vice-Chancellor! So good to see you, Professor Stibbons. We--got word that you would be stopping by. Do come in and meet the ladies." Rosemary Palm was no longer the slim, sensual slip of a girl she had been years before but she had taken care of herself and the years sat lightly on her. Ponder's eyes were inextricably drawn to her generous decolletage and when she took his hand to welcome him in, followed helplessly.
Suspecting from his reaction that what the wizard needed this evening was someone more maternal than spicy she led him into the lobby and pushed him gently onto a sofa. Bending down to take his tall, pointy hat and hang it on a hook, she gave him an even better look down the front of her blouse and shimmied a bit. Ponder's jaw dropped and then shut decisively. Rosie smiled. He's really trying so hard to control himself. We need to get him over that.
"Sarah, come welcome the Vice-Chancellor. I'm sure you two will have a splendid time together this evening. Oh, and do bring the man a drink. He needs one."
Sarah was a buxom Howandalander with very dark skin of a slightly reddish cast, a beaded Cleopatra hairdo and just as much cleavage as her employer. She poured two glasses of wine and then swayed over to hand one to Stibbons before settling herself comfortably on his lap. She reached around his neck with her free hand and began to stroke his jaw just as Petulia had a couple of hours before.
"Welcome, Vice-Chancellor," she purred, "It's so good of you to come for a visit. Mrs. Palm tells me that Petulia believes that you are overworked and overstressed and badly in need of what we offer. Be assured that I am very skilled in helping tense gentlemen develop a more equitable frame of mind. Hopefully I can send you back to First Breakfast with a smile on your lips and a spring in your step. You are far too young to be so strained."
Ponder stared at his glass. What he wanted to do was toss it back and ask for another, maybe two. But it simply wouldn't do to appear to be on the edge of a nervous breakdown. He was not, after all, a virgin. Lucy Tockley had seen to that and he had fond, though well-concealed memories of those months they spent together. The Archchancellor had once asked about her and when Ponder stuttered, had changed the subject with a twinkle in his eye. Maybe he should just take a deep breath and let the evening take its course. Sarah was, happily, a warm and comfortable lapful who showed every intent of being very pleasant company.
*****
In the University dining hall the wizards regarded Ponder's empty chair with bewilderment.
"Is he ill?" the Lecturer in Creative Uncertainty asked, "I can't imagine a wizard skipping a meal without some reason."
"He had a divinely directed appointment in the city," Ridcully said with a twinkle in his eye, "and it just doesn't do to turn down that kind of appointment."
The Lecturer looked askance. "Some god told our Vice Chancellor to go somewhere in Ankh instead of attending dinner? I'm amazed. Why would one do that?"