One Saturday afternoon I got a call at the apartment where I was living with my family. My dad happened to answer it and said it was for me.

I said, “Hello, this is Paul.”

I heard a woman's voice, “Paul D’Amato? This is Janice Dubin, you know, from Trylon Typesetting. We met this week.”

This was in the late spring of 1976. I had applied for a job as a part-time paste-up artist and proofreader at a Manhattan typesetting company. It seemed to dovetail nicely with what I had learned at my campus newspaper at the City College of New York. I already had gone through an interview with Janice, an assistant manager at the firm.

Janice said, “I was wondering if you could come down tomorrow evening for part of your job interview process? Say about seven-thirty. And bring another copy of your résumé.” I had never heard of interviews being done on Sunday evenings, but I figured that it was their company and they must have their reasons.

I said, “Sure Janice, I can do that.”

“It’s Miss Dubin, if you please.”

That seemed a bit much; this was an era when the use of first names was becoming more common in the business world, even with superiors. But it seemed like a small thing and I would go along with what she wanted.

In fact, she had seemed quite nice to me during our initial meeting on Wednesday. I had the impression she was flirting with me a bit but maybe I had imagined that. I had broken up with my girlfriend over the winter and I was feeling lonely and, beyond that, I missed having regular sex.

She had casually asked me if I had a girlfriend. That was a rather personal question, and if a male had asked me that I might have been taken aback. But Miss Dubin was cute and personable, so I answered with the truth and didn't give it much thought.

On Sunday evening I was on the elevator of a Manhattan loft building going to the tenth floor. This was on West 24th Street. Nowadays realtors refer to the neighborhood as the Flatiron District, but back then it was merely a nondescript border area between Chelsea and the Garment District.

I was wearing the only jacket I owned then, a blue sport coat that dated back to 1972. I had a tie, nondescript pants and my usual unruly hair to make an impression. My résumé was in a manila envelope and that was the extent of my professional gear.

Just before I rang the bell at the company entrance I tried to clear my mind and prepare myself for whatever would happen next. I had a slight case of job interview jitters. Janice opened the door and smiled at me.

She was a fairly tall woman with dark-brown hair that she tied back into a tight bun. Even though it was a weekend she was dressed as if it were a workday. She had a blue jacket and skirt suit combination; the skirt was tight enough to give a good indication of what her body was like underneath it.

The rest of her outfit was basic but neat: a white blouse, stockings, and black high-heeled shoes. She was wearing the same black-rimmed glasses I had seen her with during the week. I noticed that her bright red lipstick matched the red of her fingernails. Overall, she had a "hot librarian" look going, which I liked. I took a guess that she was about ten years older than I was; I had just turned twenty-one the month before.

“Hello Paul, I’m so glad you were able to come down here this evening.”

I thought, she really is cute, even more so the second time around.

“It was no trouble at all. I’m glad I could meet with you.” I realized that if some guy had asked me to arrive at his odd time, I would have found it strange. Being here with Janice, however, seemed just fine. She put her right arm out with her hand drooping down. It didn’t seem like I was supposed to kiss it; I guessed she was just avoiding a manly handshake. I lightly gripped her fingers. This slight contact sent a buzz into my skin.

“Well, let’s go to my office and discuss things, shall we?”

With that, she turned and walked away from me. Her high heels gave a nice shimmy to her ass which I couldn’t help but notice. Later on, I surmised that she knew I was looking at her.

The company filled the entire tenth floor and it seemed deserted. Miss Dubin confirmed that for me; she looked back and said, “As you can see, we’re the only ones here tonight.”

I was again struck by the unusual circumstances for this interview. I guess she trusts being alone with me here; maybe she’s got a panic button somewhere under her desk. Then I focused again on whatever I’d have to do to get the job.

I followed her into her office and she closed the door. “Have a seat, please.” Her room was quite plain, but the entire floor had an industrial feel that was common at such firms. All the walls were painted green except for the lower three feet which were a glossy gray. Harsh fluorescent tubes lit everything.

Janice sat behind the desk and immediately started some business chatter. I remember her saying, among other things, “Now I wear several hats here; I fill in as receptionist sometimes and I’m both assistant office manager and also assistant personnel manager.” I thought of a junior high school-level quip like, you’re not wearing a hat right now, but I stifled it.

After a couple of minutes of this tiresome talk, she said, “May I see your résumé?” I had already given her a copy during the week, but I removed the one from the envelope and gave it to her. The amount of time and attention she spent reviewing and marking this skimpy document would have suited the Magna Carta.

Just as I was sinking into job interview boredom and irritation Janice pulled a big surprise on me. She rustled through some papers on the desk. “I know you have yet to fill out a full employment application."

That was true, but I didn’t want to work on it tonight. I hoped to be able to mail it in by the next day. Anyway, within a few minutes I would know all this had nothing to do with a job interview.

She said, “Excuse me for a moment while I get a form.”

Janice got up and went to a filing cabinet, bent over and opened a drawer at the lowest level; then she peered into it. She was upright but bending over as far as possible to look inside. I heard her say, “It’s really a mess in here.”

Then she got down on her knees and wiggled her behind in the air as she made another pass through the drawer. Then, with a not so subtle move, she reached behind herself and yanked her skirt up.

There was no way I could avoid looking at her. Now I was sure this lady was wearing pantyhose - but she didn’t seem to have any panties underneath. I tried to confirm that. The stockings were a nude/tan color or whatever they called the standard version. I could look right through them.

I searched for a thong perhaps but that wasn’t there either. The pantyhose had seams in the back, but I could clearly see her anus and her dark pubic hair.

It was quite a shock to my system. My God, this chick is cock-teasing me like crazy. I felt both anxiety and a strong arousal. I didn’t want one, but I got an instant erection. What does she think I’m going to do about this?

What she did was let have me have a good, long look, finally saying, “Ah hah, I got one.” I assumed she meant an application form. As she pulled back she looked over her shoulder at me and put a hand to her lips, “Oops, sorry, I forgot.” A highly unlikely explanation, I thought. I knew that after this display of female ass I would have to spend much of the interview hiding a boner.

Janice looked somewhat flustered when she stood up. I know I was too; I could feel warmth in my face. She patted down her clothes and regained her composure as best she could before sitting down.

My impressions of her were coming together; she was officious but sexy. Maybe her sexiness is just an affectation; maybe she simply enjoys discomforting men, including young job applicants like me. My concentration was certainly blown by her exhibitionism. I almost wished I could cancel the interview and get out of there. I wasn’t sure I wanted to work at a place with the cock-teasing likes of her around.

I was glad to hear, “Why don’t we save some time and you fill that out at home and mail it to me?”

Then she continued the interview with the usual vapid questions common to these proceedings. However, more subtle yet sexy bits of business kept occurring. She got rather intimate with a ballpoint pen; she kept putting this pen to her mouth. She got to licking the little clicker at the top and then pushing it up and down with her tongue. Click, click; the point at the other end went in and out. Then she moved the pen across her lips and managed to leave lipstick on it.

“What would you say is your greatest weakness?”

I wanted to say, that would be that I like to have attractive personnel assistants get their lipstick on my cock. Now she had the pen in one hand while using the other to stroke the shaft. This didn’t seem like fun as I squirmed in my seat.

Janice said, “It seems a little warm in here.” The HVAC system was off but it didn’t seem that bad. Nevertheless, she took some tissues out of a box. I noticed that her blouse was unbuttoned down to her bra. She used the tissues to wipe nonexistent sweat off the top of her chest.

Then she said, “Excuse me.” She took off her jacket and let it droop over the seat back. Then she found some reason to put her hands on her hips and push her breasts forward.

“Where do you see yourself in five years?”

I could see myself in five minutes banging her right on her desk. However, I didn’t like being toyed with like this. She put the pen on the desktop as she ran a red fingernail along its length. This was distracting me from my already incoherent answers. Janice didn’t seem to be listening to me anyway until she suddenly blinked herself into focus. She leaned forward and folded her hands.

“Now Paul . . .”

“Yes, Miss Dubin?” Women liked hearing their own names, right?

“There is a very important issue I want to discuss with you. It’s right here in our employee handbook.” The publication she picked up was obviously not the handbook; it was some magazine from a printing company. She flipped through the pages and then stabbed a spot with a red fingernail.

“Here’s the section, Employee Discipline.” The second word of that caught my attention. Something interesting seemed imminent.

Quoting some obviously made-up material, Janice said, “The basic information here is that in the case of certain infractions like excessive tardiness, absenteeism, insubordination, having an overly messy work area, et cetera, one warning will be issued and for the second offense, the assistant personnel manager” - she pointed to herself - “that would be me, Janice Dubin - shall administer the punishment regardless of the gender of the miscreant.”

I was impressed at how she seemed to make up this babble on the fly. Then maybe she hadn’t; probably she had planned this game some time in advance of my arrival. In any case, she looked up and did some exaggerated blinking. Obviously, this was my cue.

“What exactly are these punishments, Miss Dubin?” At that moment I enjoyed saying her name.

She went into the desk drawer and pulled out a big wooden ruler; then she put it on the desk and gave it a little pat. I was struck again by the idea that all of her gestures had been rehearsed.

Janice looked straight at me and said, “Well, Paul, these are always corporal punishments.”

That immediately clued me into the game she was playing. I thought, some guys have to pay for a dominatrix, but I may get a job out of this. Actually, I was no stranger to spanking games with a few girls I had known, both as a top and a bottom. However, I didn’t mention that. I was curious how she’d work out the next steps in her scenario. I wanted to know the exact path to fruition here. My next line would move it along, I hoped, “Could you explain that in more detail, Miss Dubin?”

Her next gestures went as follows: she put her elbows on the desk. Her hands were palms down, fingertip to fingertip, forming a little platform on which to rest her chin.

“I’d be glad to; in fact, I insist on it. It's quite simple, actually; I spank or paddle, or both usually, the buttocks of the offending employee. On the seat of the trousers or skirt first; then on the bare behind.”

She likes spanking other women too? I didn’t need to know that right away, so I stayed silent. She had her follow-up ready. Her hands went down on the desk and she leaned forward. There was a school teacher or guidance counselor feeling to her look. She wanted my complete attention and she was getting it.

“I’m going to demonstrate this on you, right now.”

“But I haven’t done anything.”

“Not yet, you haven’t. In any case, this will get you to concentrate your mind. You won't be as tempted into misbehavior if you know the consequences. Keep in mind, this will be only a fraction of what could actually be administered by me.”

“Whatever you say, Miss Dubin.”

"You really want this job, don’t you?”

“Indeed I do.” I rarely used the word “indeed” but with her, it seemed appropriate. Without further comment Janice got up and went to another chair, taking her ruler with her. It was a very utilitarian chair without arms, ideal for the purpose she was going to use it for.

She said, “Come over here, please.” I had the problem of the bulge in the front of my pants which had been there for a while. There was nothing I could do about it now. It was up to Miss Dubin to decide to either comment on it or ignore it.

I stood at Janice’s left but she was right-handed so she told me to go to that side. Then she touched me for the first time that evening. With one hand on my back and the other tugging on my shirt, she gently guided me over her lap. A little tap on my side indicated that I should move closer to her.

She said, “First, I’m going to give you some whacks of the ruler on the seat of your pants. It's sort of an introduction to our company discipline, I would say.”

She pushed my coattails back and gave me a couple of pats on the butt with her implement.

“Okay, hon, are you ready?” Did she just call me hon, as in honey?

“Yes, Miss Dubin, I’m ready.”

I wondered how much protection I would get from my cotton pants. She started with long swings from the very beginning, steady but not too rapid. I grunted each time, more from the impact than actual pain. I didn’t keep count but she seemed to keep at for a while. Yet it certainly was bearable. At least my erection went down.

Then she did something unexpected. She stuck the ruler under my shirt where she could easily retrieve it. Then she started rubbing my ass.

“My, your backside certainly has heated up under there.”

All I could think of saying was, “Yes, Miss Dubin.” I was getting stiff again.

“It’s such a nice, taut ass; it’s a pity to have to punish it so harshly. But business requires strict protocols, I’m afraid. Now for the next phase. Lower your trousers, please.”

I had to get up for a moment to do that. When I got back in position, she yanked my underpants down below my knees without comment. Now my erection was pressed against her skirt. It was her call, and she didn’t seem to notice or care.

“Hm, I see a few minor marks. What I’m going to give you is a good hand spanking to warm up your tush a bit more before the finale.”

I almost chuckled at her phrasing. Anyway, hand spankings were interesting. They sting but they can have a pleasant sensation on sensitive areas, erotically charged places directly connected to the genitals.

Janice had a strong arm, and she hit me hard each time. A few times she moved to my thighs for variety. She had some stamina for it; I knew her own hand was getting warm too. As she spanked me both my pain and pleasure seemed to go up at the same rate.

She stopped for a moment and said, “Your backside is reddening up nicely now.” I thought about the connection between the physical and emotional side of these events. It couldn’t be hurting too much if I was having these musings.

Then she rubbed each cheek again, on the bare this time.

“Does that feel good?”

Man, did it ever. “Yes, Miss Dubin, it really does.”

“Now it’s time for the ruler again.” She got it from under my shirt. “Brace yourself please.”

It knew this was going to have some bite to it, and she was rather uninhibited in her swings. After a few of those, she said, “I know it hurts, but try not to move around so much.” I looked back at her. She seemed focused on her task.

I didn’t keep track of the number; after a couple of minutes, she stopped. She poked me with the end of her implement. “These darker spots, I certainly made an impact in those places.” Yes, Janice, you certainly did.

Then she said, “Time for my hand again.” I was a bit worse for wear now and this time it was less pleasant.

“I hope you know now not to misbehave. Believe me, Miss Dubin can do this all night if she has to.” Referring to herself in the third person was a notable touch. Anyway, I was beginning to wish that she was a bit more dainty. But I knew that smaller women could accomplish a lot regarding discipline if they were motivated.

When she stopped again she said, “I’ve considered that a guy should take off his belt to get a punishment with that. It would be humiliating to be beaten with your own belt.”

Why not humor her? “If you say so, ma'am.”

"Please, I’m still young. Call me ‘miss.’ ”

“Yes, miss.”

She finished with more of the ruler; then she said, “That’s enough.” It had been a successful session I suppose, although I didn't have the endurance that some other people had for hard spankings. Anyway, I wondered what would come next.

She said, “I know that was a bit harsh; I see the marks the ruler made. But it’s effective that way.” She began rubbing my sore ass. “You’re really burning now. However, you took that very well; I'm quite pleased with that. I hope you’re always such a good employee.” Baby, I’ll be the best employee you ever had if you give me a chance.

Janice moved her right hand over and held my far hip. That made me even more aroused; maybe that was the point. She said, “The ruler definitely goes deeper - deeper than the hand, I mean. There’s the whole horizontal versus vertical dimension aspect to this.”

Despite the odd phrasing, I think I knew what she was getting at. Then she moved to the next phase. She said, “Lift yourself up a bit, get up on your toes I mean.” Then, “I thought so.” Her left hand went under me and she ran one finger along my cock. It didn’t seem I needed to comment so I didn’t.

She said, “I’ve seen this before; men often get erections when disciplined but I can take care of that.” I hoped that didn’t require more of the ruler.

Fortunately, it wasn’t to be that. She reached up for a bottle of hand lotion on the shelf behind her. Oh, it’s like the ruler; another prop she had in place beforehand. Her right hand was resting on my back while her left one was underneath wanking me. She was effective too; Janice seemed to have some experience with giving handjobs.

I looked up at her and caught her eye. I saw some glint in her expression I couldn’t interpret. I then thought, When I come, some of it may get on her skirt. She must have realized that so there was no point in worrying about it.

I had an inspiration. “Miss Dubin, may I give you a hand with this?”

“Why, of course you may; that’s very thoughtful of you.”

Thus I was there, bent over, with my right hand and her left working on my cock. With the extra stimulation, it didn’t take long for me to climax. She noticed that it was imminent.

“I can feel the pressure building in you. You're going to shoot a big one for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Miss Dubin, I certainly am.”

“Well, don’t hold back; do it as needed.”

At the crucial moment, I somehow reminded myself not to use her first name. I just chanted, “Oh, oh, oh” as I spurted.

I tried to move forward to get most of it on the floor but some cum did get on her skirt anyway. If she was annoyed she didn’t mention it. It was just, “Okay, you may stand up now, please.”

I was breathing heavily as I looked down at her skirt, “I’m so sorry.”

She gave a dismissive wave, “Not to worry. It needed dry-cleaning anyway. And I must say, that was an impressive load you put out.”

Her sangfroid after getting her clothes splooged on was impressive. Maybe working with her wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Stand over there and face the wall. Put your hands on your head.” Once there I figured I had the right to look back at her. She was seated at her desk again and she started dabbing her skirt with tissues.

When she was done cleaning up she folded her hands on the desk and seemed to be pondering something. “There seem to be a couple of guys in this company who deliberately screw up so that I will punish them.” I didn’t offer an opinion about that.

Then, “I see I did a good job on your behind. Would you bend over, please?”

This was a gender reversal, I thought; it was more likely that men requested that of women after spanking them. Perhaps she just wanted a better look at my balls.

She continued, “Yes, your behind looks quite different than it was when I started. You may rub yourself there; it looks pretty sore.” In any case, she didn’t unduly drag out this corner time phase. After grabbing my own ass for a few moments, she said, “You can get your clothes in order and sit down again.”

I had to scrunch a bit in the seat because it was painful to sit on the unpadded wood. Janice seemed quite calm and collected; I wished I could see my own expression. Despite the delightful handjob, I was feeling quite rattled. Janice repeated the chin-on-hands gesture. “So, do you have any questions for me?”

Do we get to the fucking now? That wasn’t appropriate to ask, unless she gave further cues in that direction. Thus I had nothing to say. It was always good to have questions during a job interview - or so I had heard - but I was beyond caring about that.

“No, I think I understand everything perfectly.”

Then, “Good; so, I appreciate you taking the time to be here today.” There had to be another twist coming.

She had another prop now; she took a can of soda out of her desk, popped it open, and stuck a straw into it. Wouldn’t that soda be kind of warm now? Was she just using it so some lipstick could be left on the straw? That was quickly confirmed. A few absent-minded sips later and there was red on the end of said straw.

She asked me inane questions, basically repeating what she already knew about me. I wasn’t really concentrating on them, but I had the sense that none of this mattered. This Janice chick is enjoying playing games with me. At least I got a handjob out of this experience. When she referred to City College, I saw an opening to get some information about her. I said, “Excuse me, what school did you go to?”

“I graduated from NYU, class of '66, but I’ve been working here for a year.” That would probably make her about thirty-two, which was pretty close to my earlier estimate.

“Now I’d like for us to go out to the room and you can demonstrate your paste-up skills for me.”

I couldn’t stifle a sigh; what a time-wasting activity this was going to be. I suddenly had an urge to leave her presence and just go home.

“First, let me take you on a little tour of our company.”

She stood up and put her jacket back on. As we left the room she took a hold on my lower arm to guide me. Some kind of charge went through my jacket and shirt into my body. What is it with this Janice? She's acting like nothing unusual happened in the last thirty minutes. We went through the whole shabby place and there wasn’t much to see. After the typesetting stations, we went into the paste-up room. Everything looked much like the company that produced my college paper.

“This is where you’ll be most of the time. And there are windows here, so you’ll have a view.” In the fading light, all I could see were the windows of a building on the opposite side of the alley. Probably Bartleby the Scrivener had a similar view from his workplace 122 years earlier.

For those who may not remember the bygone 1970s, this was when photo-offset printing was still in common use. In later decades page layout went completely digital with programs like QuarkXPress and then Adobe InDesign. The 1970s were partially an analogue period with pages laid out on big pieces of cardboard called “camera copy.”

Once in the paste-up room, she guided led me to a half-finished project somebody had been working on. I sat on the stool facing a steeply-sloped table, with the boards, waxed corrections, and proofs I would need spread out. She perched on the stool next to me. There was a little ledge along the bottom of the table and she put her soda can on that.

I glanced over at her; she seemed expressionless. She held her knees tightly together. I visualized pulling her legs apart and seeing that transparent pantyhose again. She obviously chose not to wear panties under them tonight; I wondered if the rest of this evening was going to be straight-forward and job-related. It seemed that she had to have something else planned for me. The dissonance of the abrupt spanking plus the jerking encounter and its equally sudden ending was unnerving.

However, I went along with whatever game she was playing; I picked up an X-Acto knife to start cutting the laminated paper with the corrected lines. These were waxed, not glued, so pieces could easily be pulled up and moved. Within a few moments, Janice started talking to me and it was apparent that conversation was the real point of us being here.

“You learned paste-up at that college newspaper, right?”  That was on my résumé and we had discussed it at least twice already.

There was nothing to say except, “Yes, that’s right.” Then the questions went in a different direction.

“Paul, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?” I didn’t say anything. I remember that from this point on I wasn't looking at the project.

“You told me last Wednesday that you don’t have a girlfriend up there at City right now.” Now I remembered her asking that. At the time I thought it was insignificant, just an attempt to make small talk. Now I knew it wasn’t, and I was going to find out more about Janice’s motives.

I decided to keep it simple. “There was this girl for a while last year, her name was Michelle.”

“You said ‘for a while.’ What happened?”

I briefly went through the true story of how she had met an older guy at a bar and how she had dumped me for him. He wasn’t a student but rather a broker with a good job on Wall Street.

“How long were you with her?”

“For over a year, until December.”

I guessed that she was calculating approximately how much time had gone by since I had been with a woman. She looked at me with genuine concern. “Oh wow, really? That’s too bad.” I had a feeling of some affection for her now. Previously my emotion was mostly just lust.

I had to find out some of her story, “Janice?” She smiled; we were now on a first-name basis it seemed. “Janice, do you have someone significant in your life now?”

I could see a moment of hesitation, then pain on her face. “It’s been quite a while, about a year and a half now.” I could sense her sadness. She was perhaps a bit officious in her work role, but yet there had to be men who would gladly have her.

Instead of answering, I moved to touch her. She said, “No, not just yet.” If not now, then when? Still, “not yet” implied good things in the very near future.

She was suddenly playful now. “Would you like a drink?”

I thought she meant a soda. “What kind of drink?”

“I’ve got something here for us.” She retrieved a pint bottle of Jim Beam bourbon planted in the frame of the table. It obviously was yet another prop she had ready for the scene she had planned for me.

She said, “I know we’re at work but still, it’s after hours now, wouldn’t you say?” I wondered if this was a spankable offense, perhaps one that didn’t require a warning first.

She was back on her stool as she took a sip from the bottle. She handed it to me and I did the same. If it had been a guy I would have shared a bottle just to be polite. With Janice, it seemed like sexy fun. I decided to make a play for her, “Janice, you are a very attractive lady.”

That didn’t strike me as the best line I could have come up with, but this wasn’t at all like a conventional date. Instead of answering she went over to the nearest window. Without comment, she bent down and leaned over to look as if to see something in the alley ten stories below. Her hands rested on the low sill. I saw her hips move back and forth - it was subtle but unmistakable.

I said, “What is so interesting down there?”

“Oh, I just like the view. How about you? Do you like what you’re seeing?"

“Yes, Miss Dubin, I certainly do.”

It was really time, I felt, to get into some deeper action now, to make a direct approach to her. She was obviously signaling me with her hips that she wanted it. I put the bottle on the table ledge and stood up.

I tried to be very casual about my movements. I got up and went over to where she was still bending over. I held her by her waist and pushed my crotch against her ass. Her movements were more obvious now; she pushed back and gyrated the seat of her skirt against the front of my pants. Then she stood up and reached back to hold me. She had me just around the beltline.

“Paul, what are you doing?”

“I don’t know, Janice, what are you doing? This has obviously not been about a job interview, has it?”

She turned and faced me; I held her lower arms. I asked, “You liked that, didn't you - having me over your knees?”

She nodded, “I admit, it was extremely satisfying.”

“I liked it too, especially the way you finished it.”

"It wouldn’t be fair to leave you in that condition.”

I replied, “I appreciate that, but I don’t think you've finished the job yet.”

My hand cupped her chin and with the other I pushed her glasses to the top of her head. While kissing her I put my hands beneath her jacket and rubbed her back. That particular session of smooching suited me just fine and I could have kept at it for a while.

But it went on for less time than I expected. She broke off and took my hand. “Come with me.” We went back to her office, although she neglected to close the door. I knew that this lady was ready to go right now.

As we stood there she undid my pants and I took her skirt off. Then I did something that was not really nice but I had the urge to do it anyway; I decided to rip her pantyhose off. Janice didn’t object as I pulled on the waistband and the nylon gave way. As I ripped the hose down her legs she said, “Oh, oh, that’s it, please do that.” Without any prompting, she hopped up on her desk and lay back. A part of her hose was still intact, so she removed a shoe and then one side of the stockings.

I stood over her and rubbed her crotch. By this point in my life, I knew how women liked to be touched and my fingers made a circular motion around the area of her clitoris without actually touching it. Her expressions and the sounds coming from her let me know I had it right.

“That’s so lovely; keep doing that,” she said.

“Yeah, Janice, you’re already pretty wet down there.”

"I can’t help it; dominating a man just turns me on.”

I considered licking her, but she seemed to be heating up without that. She asked me, “Do you want me to rub you?”

“You did that before but I don’t need it now.”

When she was ready, she said, “Come on, put it in me now.”

“Well, you’ve been a very bad girl so maybe you need a bit more teasing first.” I put the tip of my cock against her bare cunt and rubbed it against her.

“That's wonderful but as I said, please put it into me.” She potentially would be one of my bosses - or at least someone with authority over me - so I thought it best to follow orders. I braced my feet and leaned forward; she spread her legs to let me in.

I forgot that the door was open. We made a lot of noise; anybody coming into the office would have known immediately what was going on back there, but fortunately no one did. I guess Janice knew the office routine pretty well. One hitch was that her remaining high-heeled shoe would catch my sore butt and I had to say once, “Whoa, be careful back there.”

Since I had already come that evening, I had plenty of stamina to give her a long, hard fuck. Sometimes she wrapped her legs around me; then she would spread them wide. When she had her orgasm her hips came up off the desktop. Then a couple of minutes later I was babbling as I shot off inside of her.

The aftermath was weird. I stood up, pulled out of her, moved back and lost my balance. I landed on my bruised ass. She sat up on the edge of her desk and we looked at each other. First I noticed that her cunt was full of my cum; then I looked at her face. She seemed surprised. I was impressed that her glasses were still in place at the top of her head.

Perhaps out of desperation I attempted a joke, “Maybe this isn’t the best time to ask, but do you think I’ll get the job?”

She did seem amused by that, “I’m sure you’ll get it if I have anything to say about it.”

Then, since she was older and I assumed more experienced than I was, I sat there silently waiting for the next cue from her. She took a few moments to focus herself, and then she said, “Let’s finish that drink we were having.”

She got up, stuck her foot into the shoe that had dropped off, and we both shuffled out. In the other room, she retrieved the Jim Beam and we sat together on an ugly old green leatherette couch. This time we both swigged from the bottle rather than sipping. I put my arm around her shoulder and she cuddled up against me.

I stayed quiet for a couple of minutes as I felt the bourbon having its effect on me as I was sure it was doing the same for her. Finally, she pushed her glasses back into place and looked at me, “I usually don’t do this kind of thing. In fact, I never have.”

“You seemed to have planned this scene out in some detail. In fact, you’re a pretty good actress as well as a stage manager.”

“I wanted to do something wild for once in my life. I’ve never actually spanked an employee before, or any man in fact.”

I wanted to ask, so why did you pick me as your co-star? - but I decided against that. I was also curious if she was interested in doing it to women, or if she wanted to be spanked herself. I figured she’d tell me those things if and when she was ready.

Instead, I commented, “Well, you did a good job on your first attempt.” I looked around the harshly lit room. “And you certainly picked a romantic setting to act out your fantasies.”

“I wanted to be a workplace femme fatale, I guess.” Yeah, as well as being a dominatrix, I thought. I looked at her and I had the insight that she was the kind of conscientious person who always follows the rules - until she suddenly decided not to.

I said, “Usually you have to go to a bar to meet someone who is up for this kind of thing.”

She looked worried for a second, and I surmised what she was thinking. She knew this could just be a one-night stand; I could walk out the door in a few moments and disappear.

I made a decision. She wasn’t really right for me; she was more than a decade older than I was and I had never dated a woman who wasn’t also a college student. Yet I decided to gamble on something longer-term, however that was defined. Any woman with her kinky imagination was worth a chance.

“Janice, let’s go to dinner. How about the Minetta Tavern?” That was a long-established Italian restaurant in Greenwich Village; I had only been there once.

She brightened, “That sounds great.” Then she surprised me, “Did you know that people like Ezra Pound and Dylan Thomas used to go there?”

I laughed at that, “Actually, I didn’t know that.”

Then she frowned, “Ah, what happens if you do wind up working here?”

“It’s not really about the job. By the way, what did you think would happen after this scene of yours? That I’d just go home?”

“I really hadn’t thought it through.” I wasn't sure I believed her. Maybe, at our initial meeting on Wednesday, she had the intuition that I was the kind of guy who would stick around. I’ve always been surprised at how quickly women can figure out things like that.

Then she stood up, “My, that Jim Beam is having an effect on me.”

I looked at her legs, “You might think of removing the remains of your pantyhose.” The nylon had dropped down around one of her ankles.

She giggled, “Absolutely.”

When she had finished that task I asked her, “You didn’t keep an extra pair of panties around here, did you?”

“Oops, another thing I didn’t think about.” She pulled her skirt up and flashed her bare pubic bush.

I stood up and took her hand. “Don’t worry about it; I’m the only one who will know.”

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