Rearing a Graduate Assistant

by Graham

After I received my undergraduate degree in engineering, I decided to go on to graduate school, to get a masters degree in biomechanical biomedical engineering. I was 22 and single, and still lived at home with my parents during breaks and summer vacation. To go on to graduate school meant postponing my getting fulltime employment, along with the additional expense of another 1 ½ years of schooling. My parents werent thrilled about this, but they told me that they would continue to help me. However, they wanted me to work fulltime during the summer before graduate school began. So, in May I moved back home and lived during that summer, and I got a job as an engineering assistant at a local factory.

In early July, I was offered a graduate assistant position, which I eagerly accepted. It was better than I could have imagined. Not only was I paid hourly to teach freshmen classes, tutor undergraduate students, conduct research and do other work assigned to me, it also included a half-tuition grant. Besides all that, I would be assisting the head of the department of engineering, Dr. Robert Rath. He was a huge, former football star for the college, who was probably in his mid-to-late 40's. His two sons had followed in their fathers footsteps, attending the college and playing football. They were both employed now, one as an electrical engineer, and the other as a high school teacher.

Dr. Rath was highly respected and feared throughout the engineering school and also in the field of engineering. In addition to teaching, he published professional literature regularly, provided private consultations, and ran the department. He was a quick, brilliant, and somewhat dictatorial man, who expected people to do what they were told without question or delay, and with excellence.

Dr. Rath wanted me to begin during the summer that my parents wanted me to come home and work fulltime. It was a difficult situation for me, and I finally had to go see him and explain my financial needs and the demands of my parents in view of them. To my surprise, Dr. Rath did not seem sympathetic. Young man, he growled, do you want this position, or not? We have many students who would love to be as lucky as you, so if you dont want to take the position now, we can take someone else and get that person started right away.

Ah, . . . oh, no, . . . ah, Dr. Rath. I want this graduate assistant position very much. I can explain to my parents, and where Im working now, so I can start with you. How soon do you want me to start, sir? I asked.

Monday, he barked back at me. Although I was startled that it would be so quick, I decided I would do whatever it took to get and keep this graduate assistant job.

Mom and Dad were upset and disappointed, and my boss at the plant was just plain disgusted when I told him. He let me go immediately, and I came home reeling from the feeling of castaway rejection. That night, Dad reminded me that I could have worked all summer, lived at home, and saved up money for the coming year and a half.

I reminded Dad of the financial advantage, not to mention resume credential, that would result from the graduate assistant position. So, that weekend, I packed up and moved back to a student suite in the graduate dorm on campus. Monday I arrived early and eager to begin. I had a closet-sized office off of the reception, sitting-room where Dr. Raths secretary had her desk, and there was a couch and chairs. Things went well the rest of the summer, and I came back home for a couple of weeks before the fall semester began.

The fall semester started out full-speed. I was taking classes, teaching a freshman introductory class, keeping a full tutoring schedule, and racing to keep up with assignments from Dr. Rath. September 12 was my 23rd birthday. I marked the occasion by going out with some of the other graduate assistants that evening, to party way-too-late into the evening. I returned to my apartment with a buzz, and set my alarm to make sure I got up on time for the next morning, which I managed to do, but with a horrible hangover.

Anyway, the graduate study program was demanding, but I was keeping up with it, and also fulfilling my graduate assistant duties. One Friday evening in late October, the weather had turned cold, most of the leaves had fallen, and the ground was already frozen hard. I continued working in my little office past 5 p. m., when Dr. Raths secretary left for the weekend. At nearly 6 p. m., two other graduate assistants for other professors knocked on the door to the reception office. I opened the door and they pushed in, carrying their coats and two 12-packs of beer.

Luke, we came to stop you from becoming the worlds worst overachiever, they joked. Then, they closed the door, popped open three cold cans, and we all sat down on the plush stuffed furniture, sipping, talking, and laughing. At almost 8:40 p. m., a key suddenly unlocked the reception room door, it opened, and in walked Dr. Rath. He looked at us, then around the reception room that now was littered with more than a dozen empty cans, and back to us each holding another in our hands.

What on earth do you young men think youre doing in this office?! he demanded. We were all aghast with shock. I spoke up first, ah, Dr., ah, Rath, sir . . .

Come on, Mr. Clark, your senses and speech are obviously impaired! he interrupted me. You young gentlemen know that alcoholic beverages are prohibited in campus buildings. What is the meaning of this?!

We, ah, I mean, ah, sir, I didnt think that . . .

You certainly did not think, Luke Evan Clark! he shouted, again interrupting my fumbling, stammering speech. The way he dressed me down with my full name at once reminded me of the times in the past when I had been in deep trouble with my parents.

You two young men are to leave here at once, Dr. Rath ordered. You will report to your respective professors Monday morning, at 8 a. m., and inform them of what I discovered you doing tonight. Be prepared to submit your resignations, as that is a customary treatment for this kind of behavior. Mr. Clark, you will remain here with me.

My two friends, albeit considerably under the influence, sprang to their feet, and fled from the building. My head was spinning from the beer and the apprehension. Dr. Rath watched the door close locked behind my friends. Then, turning and staring straight at me, he spoke: You come with me, young man. He stood waiting until I managed to scramble clumsily out of one of the chairs, and stood up. Then, reaching out, he seized my left arm with his strong grip, and pushed me ahead of him towards his office. Holding me steady, but still, before him, he turned the key in his office door, opened it, and pushed me through.

Although I had been in that office many times in the past, for assignments and discussions, it suddenly looked much larger and darker than I had recalled. Dr. Rath did not move to sit behind his large desk, but instead pulled out an old, armless desk chair from under a small library table, and sat down, leaving me standing, looking down into his face.

Now, young man, resignation, in lieu of termination, is exactly what is called for in this circumstance. You understand that, dont you?

I felt slightly nauseous. Yes, sir, I meekly replied. My mind was already racing with thoughts of how I would explain this to my parents, and whether their reaction would be to cut off financial support for me. I knew they would be furious, as well as disappointed in me.

And so you will submit your resignation to me Monday morning. My heart plunged 30 stories.

Y-yes, sir, I responded, almost choking on a near sob, as the enormity of my foolhardiness began dawning on me.

Whether I will accept it is another thing, Mr. Clark, largely influenced by your attitude and behavior. But it seems to me that your behavior might better be addressed in a fashion that is guaranteed to make a lasting impression, and ensure that you never, ever engage in this kind of thing again. Do you understand me?

I didnt at all. Ah, yes, sir, I lied.

Good. Then, Mr. Clark, go and retrieve the old fraternity paddle from off the wall behind that chair and bring it to me.

What?! Fraternity paddle?! Get it?! Bring it to him?! What was he . . .? Surely he couldnt have in mind . . . my mind overflowed with questions. Nonetheless, I slowly and mechanically obeyed. Walking over to the chair, I reached over it, gently took hold of the thick, heavy paddle, and lifted it off the hook on which it had been hung. Then, carrying its hefty weight in my hands, I carried it over to Dr. Rath, and handed it to him.

Thank you, young man. he replied. Now, then, we shall see if we can teach you a lesson without the drastic measure of you losing your assistants position.

Thank you, Dr. Rath, I breathed with the relief that I might be able to avoid losing my position.

I expect you to thank me as much when we finish in here tonight, young man, he answered. Now, come around over here, he gestured to the right side of him.

Somewhat stumbling, I walked slowly over and stood next to his right side, staring at his face. I felt his left arm grasp my left arm, and his right arm grab the back of my waist and belt. Suddenly, I found myself yanked forward, off my feet, toppling over, and falling across his lap. Quickly, he bobbled his legs, tossing me face forward over his left leg, my behind elevated with my feet barely touching the floor. His left arm pushed down against my upper back.

SWHAP! My brain jolted more awake, as my head jerked up backwards. Then, before I could think or speak,

SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! He delivered a fast volley of swats with the paddle.

What?! What was going on?! Inside the seat of my corduroys, my bottom could feel the rapid, repeated contact of the heavy wooden paddle. SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP!

Whewww! That was a fast, hard series, and it was warming up my bottom pretty soundly.

SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP!

This time, my legs involuntarily jumped and kicked as the volley of swats came crashing down against my behind.

SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP!

Unnnaaaummmph! Ummmmphaaa! Phewwww! Phewwwwaaaa! Phewwww! Unnah-unnnah-unnaaaaaummmph! Una-una-una-UNA-UNNNAAAA-UMMMMPH! Aaaaaah! Aaaaaah! Ummmmmphaaaaaa! I was grunting and breathing rapidly, trying to absorb the thundering blows to my backside, while also keeping control.

SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! SWHAP! . . .

I was squirming and wriggling around all over Dr. Raths lap as the incessant, machine-like pelting of the paddle blasted the up-ended seat of my pants. He just kept it up, as I breathed heavier and harder. The heat intensified, and what began as smarting blows became stinging, and then outright hurting, as the swats connected over and over and over.

I reached up with my right arm and hand to shield my battered bottom. Dr. Rath lifted his left arm from resting on my back and around my waist, grabbed my reaching arm and hand, and pulled it up against my back, near my shoulder blades. This he did without any noticeable break or letup in applying the paddle to my overturned rearend.

Once more, involuntarily, I was kicking and thrusting my legs more and more, as he kept on pummeling my rump. My face and head were warming up, as blood to them hanging down and over Dr. Raths left leg. Squinting and gasping, I fought back what threatened to be tears and sobs. Quickly and frantically, I realized I needed to try to bring this to an end right away.

Aaaaummm! Aaaah! Aaaaaahaugggghhhh! Ahrrrghhhh! D-Dr. Raaath! I called out. No response but the continued thumping of my poised backside.

Ooooaaah! Ow! Aaaah! D-Dr. Raaaath! I shouted. Uh-uhmmmmaaa! Im-uh! sorry! Ooooo-aaah! Ow! Uh! Im-uh! reeeeelly-ah! sorreeeeeee! Aaaaaah! Ooooo! Ow! Ow! Aaaauhmmmoooo! Aaaaa! Stop! Stop it! Ow! Ow-oooo! Aaaaayaaaa! Ooo-ow! Oooouhmmm! Stop! Uh-I-uh! I said Im sorry! STOP IT!

With those words, Dr. Rath stopped and immediately picked me right up off his lap, standing me directly in front of him. Instantly, my hands and arms flew to clutch my smoldering rearend. I stood stomping softly in place, slightly bending downward before him, still breathing heavily. Whew! I was glad that was over -- and Id made it without the breakdown I was fearing.

Stand up straight, boy! Dr. Rath harshly commanded. I looked up into his clearly displeased face. Now, unbuckle your belt, remove your shoes and trousers, and then get yourself back across my lap. Understand?

Of course I understood, but I couldnt believe it. It was bad enough to be taken over the knees by my professor and spanked like a little boy, but I had accepted it. Why would he do this now?! I couldnt believe this was happening to me. He couldnt be serious. There had to be an escape from this. My thoughts were churning. I stood frozen before him. What?! Why?! You just punished me, sir. Come on . . . please!

Oh, no, Mr. Clark. I doubt that you have yet really learned a lesson for this outrageous behavior that will replace and excuse your resignation -- not over those thick corduroy trousers. I intend for you to remember this lesson for the rest of your days, young man. Now, lets get a move on, youngster. I need to return home. Get those trouser off – now! Or do I have to take them off you?! I assure Mr. Clark, you dont want to make that necessary -- because the length of the lesson you need will extend much longer. he barked the command.

Unexplainably, I remained paralyzed in my incredulous stupor.

All, right, then, Mr. Clark. Youve just earned yourself a long-lasting discipline. While I stood still slightly stooped and clasping and rubbing my aching behind, he grasped my belt with a rugged pull and unbuckled it, followed by an equally rough unsnapping and unzipping of my corduroy pants. I gasped, let go of my backside, and tried to step away, backwards. Grasping the waist of my open pants, he held me in place and tugged them down my hips, over my butt, to drop to my feet.

Wait! You cant be serious. You cant do this. I started protesting and returned to trying to back away from Dr. Rath. Instead, though, I felt his strong hands grip my arms, and pull me closer towards him, and over to his right side.

Now, untie your shoes, young man, unless youre aiming to make this a marathon session. With dread, I bent over, untied my shoes, and kicked them off my feet. I stood there in my boxers, with my shirttail hanging, and my pants gathered around the ankles of my socks. This cant be happening! Its crazy!

Then, reaching up, he seized my left arm with his steely grip, and my left ear with his right hand. Yowwwwwwww! I shrieked from the pain of my ear being pinched and pulled; but I was quickly jerked and lifted up, off my feet, sprawling across Dr. Raths knees again. Oh noooo! I grimaced. Since my senses were dulled from the 6 cans of beer I had drunk, I was slow to realize fully the predicament I was in and what was now about to happen.

No matter. Without delay, Dr. Rath picked up the massive-appearing, wooden paddle and resumed pounding it onto the seat of my boxers. WHACKWHACKWHACK!

My legs instinctively kicked, firing thrusts out, and my head jerked up backwards, from the jolt of the paddle crashing into my thinly clad butt. This really hurt! Dr. Rath said nothing, however, concentrating on raising the temperature of my behind under the seat of my boxers. I began begging, pleading, promising, anything to get him to stop.

Oooaaoww! Uhggrhaaa! Aaaaahrrgggh! Ow! Ow! Eeeyow! Oooo! Oooo! Ow! Stop please! Im sorry! Ill be good! Aaaahhrghh! Unnnnaaa! Unnnaaoooo! Unnooo! I wont do it again! I promise! Oooo! Ow! Eeeeyow! Ow! Ow! I promise-uh! Dr. Rath! Ooooo! Aaaaagggrhh! Ow! Ill be goooood! Aaaaah! I promise! Uh! Uh! Awaaaarrghh!

Once again, automatically I reached back to try to protect my burning behind from the torch of that pounding paddle. This time, Dr. Rath grabbed my wrist and arm, wrenched them violently up against my back, pushing up my shirt to pin them between my bare shoulder blades. After probably 40 more smacks of the paddle, my head was shaking back and forth, my eyes were squinting as tears surged up into them. I was gasping and choking, trying to keep tears and sobs away. My butt was gyrating and pivoting all over his lap, as I tried in vain to elude the thundering paddle. I did not realize that Dr. Rath had stopped spanking me until I felt him yank my boxers by the waistband down over my buttocks, past my thighs and knees, to gather, tangled with my pants at my feet. Now I was frantic!

No-no-noooooooo! I screamed. No waaaaaay! Not thissss! You caaaaaant!

Youre about to find out, Luke Clark, Dr. Rath replied, and fired the heavy wooden paddle into my bare, sizzling behind.

Yeeeeaaaowww! I shrieked. Ooooaaah! Nnnnnaaaggh! Ow! Ow! Owowoww!

WHACKWHACKWHACKWHACKWHACK! WHACKWHACKWHACK! WHACKWHACKWHACKWHACKWHACK! WHACKWHACKWHACKWHACKWHACK!

Now the paddle was repeatedly descending all over my buttocks and thighs, only with increased intensity and speed. I was besides myself with pain and desperation.

STOP! Aaaahrghaaa! STOP! I yelled. Ooooo-aaa-yow! Oww! Oww! OWW!! Nnnnnaaaa-noooooaaaah! Moooooor! Ooooo! Ahgrrrhaa! OwowowowOWW!! STOP! PLEASE! Im sorry! Yowowow! I said-uh! Im sorry! Oooaaah! Ow! Ow! Ooooaaa OW!

I was writhing, violently struggling, trying try free myself and flee from this painful punishment -- but it was futile. Each time I renewed my fighting, Dr. Rath tightened the wrench on my arm and hand, briefly quieting and settling me down, only to be jarred by another round of fiery blasts blistering my bare, burning bottom.

Ooooarghaaa-uh! Uh! Puh-uh-leeeez! Nnnrgghaaa! OW! Illbegood! Illbegood! Awww! Waaaa-uh! Arghaaaoooo-uh! Ill-uhm-uh! n-never! Ow! Eeeyow! Never! Ooow! doitagain! Uh! Uh! NEVER! Uh! P-pleeeez! Oooo-uh! Awww! Y-your-uh! hurrrrting me! Dr. Rath! Pleeeez! Youre-aaa-hurrrting-aah meeeee! Awww-uh-uh-waaaaa! It hurrrtz! Illbegood! I PROMISE! Illbegood! Illbegoooood! Ooooarrghaaa! Oweeeuh! Ow! Owww!

My head jerked upwards; my body arched backwards and stiffened; my mouth burst open into sobs, as tears cascaded from my eyes, streaking down my face, and my nose running with them. My legs were kicking and bucking as furiously as they could with my pants and boxers snarled around my ankles. Then, I collapsed over Dr. Raths knees, surrendering to the paddle and the terrible thrashing it was inflicting. I wept and sobbed, gasping, choking, shaking, heaving, but no longer able to speak.

Awwww! Waaaaa! Uh! Uhgha! Waaa! Aw! Ahwww! Waaaaa! Whaaaa! Awahaaa! Uh! Uh! Huhaughuh! Waaaaa! Waaaaa! Uh-aaaaw! Waaaaaa! Uhlaaaa-uh! Waaaaaa! Uh-uh-aaa-augh-uh-waaaaa! Aw-aw-uh! Waaaaaa! Oooo-uh-aw-waaaaaa!

Each branding smack of the paddle against my blazing bottom sent me lurching forward across Dr. Raths lap as far as his restraint on me would allow. I wailed and howled with agony, not really aware of my cries and gagging for breath. When he had finished, I lay dangling across his knees, like a beaten, defeated ragdoll.

Once more, Dr. Rath reached down, under my arms and lifted me up, off his lap, onto my wobbly feet. I was jumping up and down, wailing and weeping, my hands clasping the inferno on my bottom. Now, Mr. Clark, pull up your pants, and then get yourself out into the reception room and clean up the mess youre responsible for at once!

Bending down, I stumbled, trying to pull my boxers up over my burnt, tender thighs and buttocks. I grimaced as winced as my heavy corduroys scraped against my wounded bottom. I stepped into my shoes and walked stiffly out of the office, into the reception room, to begin picking up beer cans. More than 20 minutes later, I had removed every trace of the alcoholic beverage violation, cleaned up the tabletops, and was looking for my coat and books to leave. Dr. Rath opened the door and walked from his office into the reception area.

That looks more like it, Luke. You write up your resignation and hand it to me Monday morning. Unless something else develops, Ill keep a copy of it, marked refused, and give you back the original. But you better stay out of anymore trouble, young man.

Oooh, ah, . . . yes, sir. You can be sure of that, I responded to assure him.

Alright, then. I hope so, Dr. Rath said. Then, come on, young man, Ill give you a lift on my way home.

Ah, th-thank you, sir, I sputtered, then followed him out the door, down the hall to the outside door, and to his car. Sitting on the cold seat was both soothing and sore. He drove me across campus to the student apartment building where I lived. As I slid out of his car, he called out: Make sure youve learned your lesson tonight, Mr. Clark. It will eliminate future ones, if you know whats good for you.

Oh, yes, sir. I have, believe me, sir. I reasserted. Then, closing the car door, I waved goodbye and walked up to the building, entered it, and walked down the long corridor to the three-bedroom apartment that I shared with 5 other students. Although I walked gingerly, with my behind scorched and throbbing, nevertheless I breathed a sigh of relief that I had not lost my graduate assistant job.

I gave Dr. Rath my resignation the next Monday, he marked it refused, copied it, and gave the original back to me. After he had disciplined me with a spanking that Friday in late October, it was the last run-in I had with him for the rest of the semester, and well into the Spring semester. Nothing was said about the incident. I went home for Thanksgiving, and again at Christmas break, to spend the holidays with my parents. They were pleased that I was continuing to work as a graduate assistant, as well as work on my masters degree. Obviously, I said nothing to them about the incident in late fall in Dr. Raths reception room.

Over time my self-consciousness around Dr. Rath faded as the embarrassing memory of what had happened faded as well. I continued teaching, tutoring, helping Dr. Rath, and working on my own classes.

The spring semester began in January and proceeded swiftly until after spring break, which I spent on campus carrying out a special project for Dr. Rath. There was a skeleton staff and student body left during spring break, with only a few students in the whole graduate dorm where I lived. I worked from 8 a. m. to 5 p. m. all week long, and sometimes stayed later to work on things.

At 7:30, Monday night, though, a friend who was also a graduate assistant working on campus during the break, called me and asked me to go out and grab some supper with him. I agreed, and met him at Dooleys Pub, a bar and grill not far from campus. The place was a hangout for college students old enough to drink. We ordered some tacos, enchiladas, and guacamole, along with a pitcher of beer.

Since Dooleys was not nearly as crowded as when all the students were on campus, there werent many girls to look at and talk to. So, my friend, Pat and I sat gabbing about school, work, and experiences of college life and our past lives in general. We kept ordering refill pitchers, while talking and laughing heartily. Before I knew it, it was after midnight, and we were both very much under the influence. We stood up on unstable feet, and then walked overly slowly to the cash register to pay our bill. Then, Pat remembered we hadnt left a tip, and stomped back to the table to leave a tip. It was hard to say who was less sober, but probably it was me.

Outside, the cool spring night air did little to refresh my senses. I looked around puzzled for my car, before remembering where Id parked it. Pat must have realized I was pretty far intoxicated, because he offered to drive me home, assuring me my car would be fine until tomorrow, since there were so few students around driving this week. But I was worried, so I declined his offer and staggered to my car with Pat at my side. When I got to my car, I fumbled with my keys for awhile, and he took the keys from my hand and unlocked the door. I fell onto the seat behind the wheel.

Listen, Luke, youre in no condition to be driving. Let me take you home tonight, and you can come back and get your car tomorrow.

Nnno, I muttered. I can drive the short ways home. Ill, ah, be alright. I replied.

OK, then, Im following you till you get to your place. Wait here until you see my headlights behind you. Pat ordered.

Oh, alright, but hurry up. I conceded. In a few minutes, Pats truck was behind me, and I started my engine and began driving, way-too-slowly back to my dorm. When I got there, I parked in the same space near the entrance as I had left from, shut off the engine, slumped out, and locked the car. Pat had pulled his truck right next to me, shut it off, and got out. Lifting up my left arm and slipping his head and shoulders under it, he lent me support and guided me down the sidewalk to the entrance door. I used my key to open it, and we both walked in.

Im okay now, Pat, I reassured.

Probably, but Ill feel better if I know youre safely in your room. Whats the number? he replied.

Suite 7, answered, and he resumed walking me down the long corridor until we came to the doorway marked 7". I unlocked that door and opened it, and Pat pushed me in, reaching around to turn on a light switch, then checked the door handle to be sure it was locked, and exited, closing the door behind him.

Thanks, man, I muttered to no one. Then, I staggered to the bathroom, to my bedroom, kicked off my shoes, ripped off my clothes and socks, and dropped into my bed. The clock showed 1:15 a. m.

The next thing I was aware of was the telephone ringing. My head was pounding and spinning, and my eyes were blurry as I stared at the clock: 9:30 in the morning! I jumped out of bed and grabbed the phone. Hello, I squawked.

Luke, is that you? This is Mrs. Jennings, from Dr. Raths office. Are you alright? You sound sick. Dr. Rath was looking for you an hour or so ago, and wondered where you were.

Ah, yeah, er, I mean, yes, Mrs. Jennings. I was sick a while ago, and was waiting, hoping Id feel better and come on in.

You should have called, Luke. Dr. Rath was concerned. Me too.

Im sorry, Mrs. Jennings. I should have. I guess I just felt so crummy I forgot. Ill be in about an hour, okay? Tell Dr. Rath. Ill call you if for any reason I cant make it in, okay? I had lied to her completely.

Well, alright, Luke. But be sure and call, cause well be expecting you.

I will, I promised. I hung up letting the phone drop, and fled to the bathroom and then into the shower. Ten minutes later, shaved, shampooed, and teeth brushed, I pulled on a pair of Dockers and a polo shirt, combed my hair, pulled on some clean socks and my shoes, and grabbed a jacket and my keys. I needed a cup – or several cups – of coffee bad; but I knew that would be available in the Engineering department. So, I raced out, slamming the door to lock behind me, and started my car up to drive across campus to Engineering.

It was 10:10 when I walked through the door into the reception room where Mrs. Jennings office was located. I opened my little office door, turned on the light, hung up my jacket, turned on my computer, and then walked out to the coffee lounge for a cup. When I returned with two styrofoam cups of coffee in my hands, I headed into my cubbyhole, sat down at the desk, and began at once where I had left off the previous evening.

Although we had an hour for lunch, I often brought something in, and worked through it. Today, of course, I was going to do that anyway, since I was more than 2 hours late. After lunch, Dr. Rath appeared and peeked in to ask me how I was feeling.

Better, thanks, I replied.

What was it, Luke – the 24 hour stomach virus? he asked.

Something like that, I answered. Then he startled me. Do you know Patrick Slattery? he asked. Pat? I thought. Had Dr. Rath talked with Pat? Did he know I wasnt sick, only drunk from the night before?

Y-yes, sir. I replied.

I had lunch with Professor Stuart today, and he brought alone his bright, young graduate assistant, Patrick. Dr. Rath began. Oh, oh, I worried. Where is this leading?

He said he knows you, told me that you both had been out to Dooleys Pub late last night and maybe had too much fun and beer. Is that the bug that bit you, Luke? he asked. I knew he knew, and I couldnt be so foolish as to try to pretend otherwise.

Ah, gosh, Dr. Rath, Im really embarrassed – and sorry – I added. It was really stupid of me, I offered.

Yes, it was, Luke. Im glad you were honest about it, but you should have been more responsible last night, and not let your careless behavior affect your reliability and performance at work.

I know, Dr. Rath. Im terribly embarrassed and even more sorry, I responded.

Well let this one go, Luke. But it better not happen again, young man. Do you understand me?

Oh, yes. I sure did – big time! Yes, sir. I crisply retorted.

Dr. Rath turned to leave, then turned back and said. You can stay an extra hour without pay the next three days to make up the time, Luke.

Yes, sir. I will, sir. I promised. Then he left, and I heaved a sigh, while trembling inside. But I worked until after 6:30 p. m., the next 3 nights, and by Thursday had more than made up for my dereliction. That Thursday night, I had just walked into my suite at 7:05 and the phone began to ring. It was Pat again. He wanted me to join him at Dooleys again, and wanted to tell me about running into Dr. Rath at lunch earlier in the week. I wanted to tell him I had already learned about his luncheon with Dr, Rath, but decided to avoid a lengthy conversation.

Well, Pat, Id like to, but Im kind of tired too, since I ve been getting up and gong in to work at 8 every morning, and working till nearly 6:30 every night. I think Ill stay in tonight, get to bed early, and be fresh for tomorrow – end of the week.

Okay, buddy. Ill try you tomorrow night -- FRIDAY NIGHT!

Yeah, great. Thatd be a lot better. See you then.

See ya, Luke, Pat replied.

Friday I awoke early, bounded out, and headed over to Engineering. Using my key was in my cubbyhole office at work by 7:15 a. m. It was a hectic day, with no chance for lunch, but I got a lot done. Yet, there was still more to finish up that I knew Dr. Rath expected done before classes resumed next week. And I had to do some review for the class I taught. It looked like I was going to have to devote some weekend time to get everything completed. But I thought Id work late Friday night, to see if I could lighten the load remaining over the weekend.

At 4:30 p. m., Dr. Rath opened my door and spoke to me. It looks like we may be able to complete all this tomorrow, Luke, but well probably need a full day to do it. Be here at 8 in the morning, and well press to get it all done tomorrow.

What could I say? I had planned to work over the weekend, anyway, though probably not starting that early Saturday morning. Plus I still planned to work late, too.

Okay, sure, Dr. Rath. I intend to have the project finished before Monday.

Thats fine, Luke, but I want it done tomorrow. I dont want to be running up to the wire on Monday; and Id like a day to let it cool before we give it the final scrutiny and submit it on Monday. Understand?

Sure, Dr. Rath. Ill be here. Well get it done. I promised. At the same time, I thought, Ill get a lot done tonight, so I can be finished before noon on Saturday, and have time for my own preparation -- maybe even a little time to relax.

At 5:30 p. m., Mrs. Jennings and Dr. Rath left, one after another. She wished me a good weekend; he told me hed see me first thing in the morning. Then, I turned back to work -- and I did. It was nearly 10 p. m. when I conceded to fatigue and decided to wind it all up tomorrow. Maybe it would still take me into afternoon, but I was confident that Id have it done on Saturday. Shutting off all lights and locking up, I trudged down the hall, out of the building, and to my car. I drove wearily back to my suite, and parked in the same space close to the entrance that Id been using all week.

As I got out of my car, I heard a familiar voice right next to me. Lukie, man. Whereve you been?! Did you forget? Tonight we prowl, buddy! Friday night! It was Pat, who had been sitting in his truck waiting for me to arrive, and got out when I pulled up.

Oh, Pat. Gosh! Yes. I did forget. We were so busy today, and Ive been working non-stop to try to finish a project Ive been working on all week. Dr. Rath wants it done tomorrow.

Lukie, you are going to be the oldest young graduate assistant, and the most compulsive overachiever, in the colleges history! he joked.

I grinned and shrugged. He walked over to me, mussed up my hair, and batted me softly against the side of my head. Youre a case, he chided. Good thing youve got friends to save you from yourself! He chuckled and I winced a grin. Then, he grabbed my by the back of my neck and began walking me to the front of the dorm.

Come on, buddy. Theres still time. Lets get you ready to roll, he directed as I unlocked the door and he pushed me through.

But, Pat, . . . I began to explain why I needed to turn his offer down again.

But, nothing, Lukie. You need to get out. Youre joining me, buddy. Ill show you how to have a great time tonight. Its Friday night -- remember?

I know, Pat. But its so late now, and Im worn down -- I didnt even have lunch or supper today -- and Ive got to work first thing tomorrow, too. I explained.

Okay. Okay. So that means we have to hurry, man. Come on, get that door open and lets get you ready for the hunt! He wasnt accepting my no, and was pushing me into the door to suite 7. I unlocked it, and we both hustled in, turning on lights. Hurry up, Lukie, get changed and lets head out of here. Ill drive, and you can sit back and rest for awhile.

He sat down in a chair in the living-lounge area and pointed to my bedroom door. I just shrugged silently and left him there. About 5 minutes later, I emerged, wearing fresh khakis, a pullover sweater, a pair of old deck shoes with argyle socks, my teeth and hair brushed, carrying a light jacket.

SHWEEE! SHWEU! Pat whistled. You dont waste any time getting ready to pursue, do you?! I only grinned and blushed, as he sprung up and we walked out of my suite, locking the door behind us. Outside, he led me over to his truck, unlocked the drivers door, and signaled me to get in the passenger side. So, I climbed in and settled back. As Pat drove, I felt the bone-tired fatigue of the long week, and even longer day, seep into my body. In fact, I became drowsy and was almost between sleep and consciousness when we pulled up to Dooleys.

Wake up, Lukie! Were at the game preserve! Pat called out, shaking my shoulder. My head snapped up and I looked around at him. His eyes were flashing as he grinned with excitement. I opened the door, pulled myself out, and we walked into the tavern grill together. The place was crowded, unlike earlier in the week. It was loud and busy, and there were lots of other young people -- especially girls -- there. A band was cranking out music at hearing-threatening decibels.

We sat down at a booth and ordered a pitcher of beer to start out with, while we considered what to order. I had been famished earlier, but now my fatigue had almost extinguished my appetite. Pat ordered a steak fajita, and I decided to do the same, only to double it -- steak and chicken. We began downing the chilled beer, then launched into our meals, and talked while eyeing around the room as we ate. A second pitcher was empty before we had finished our meals. Meanwhile, a couple of girls who looked more like single, working girls, than coeds, began sending us signals by eyes and gestures that we had caught their attention.

I decided to order another pitcher and used the need to go to the restroom as an excuse to get up and pass them. On the way back, I asked the old question about whether Id seen them there before. They coyly replied that I might, as they come there a lot on weekends. I added that I thought my friend knew one of them, and they responded with intriguing doubt. So, I suggested they come over and meet him and see if they knew him. They followed me over, and each one sat down next to one of us in the booth.

Michelle, July, this is Pat Slattery. Im Luke Clark, I introduced us. We smiled at each other and then began the ritualistic introduction of what we did, where we were from, etc. They were 26 and worked at the downtown office of a bank. We got a couple more pitchers of beer and the four of us emptied them. We were up and dancing with the girls for a few times, returning to order another pitcher round each time.

We were all loosened up and leaning into each other as we sat and listened to the music. I felt Julys hands slip inside my sweater, rubbing around my back, chest, and stomach. Besides inhaling sharply, I was stirring with arousal. She would only let me hug her, and pulled away each time I tried to reach or feel a private area. Both Pat and I were smiling goofy grins, from the effects of far-too-much beer and the stimulation of feminine touches. But beyond leaning and hugging closely, neither Pat nor I was allowed to feel or touch any more intimately.

Finally, when Dooleys closed at 2 a. m., we were feeling no pain. I couldnt believe it was that late, but was hoping that the night might still lead to something more. The girls hugged us and gave us perfunctory kisses, but then headed off to their own cars.

Hey, wait, I called out. What if we want to see you again?

Come on back tomorrow night, July called out, and then they got in their car and drove away.

What a couple of teases, Pat complained. But Im game for another try tomorrow night, man. How bout you?

Yeah, right, I chimed in enthusiastically. We were both exhausted, sloppy drunk. I almost fell into Pats truck, and he drove off overly slowly, heading back to my dorm. Once there, and because he knew he was in no condition to linger, he let me open the door, ease myself out, and stumble slowly up to the front. He waited until I unlocked and opened the front door, and disappeared inside. Then he headed home.

I staggered down the hallway to suite 7, unlocked the door, and headed to the bathroom. Afterwards, in my bedroom I fumbled pulling off my shoes, socks, and clothes, dropping them in a pile. I then collapsed into bed in only my boxers and t-shirt, knocking the telephone off the night stand without ever knowing it. Falling into deep sleep at once, I did not hear the sound of the telephone, and it stopped after several minutes. In the meanwhile, although my alarm was set for 7 a. m., in my weariness I forgot to set it on.

Suddenly, I was stirred from my coma-like sleep by a voice and feeling the comforter and sheet being pulled off me. What are you doing in bed, Luke Evan Clark?! the voice demanded. Then, a strong set of hands grabbed hold of my arms, pulling me up off the mattress, and over and across a pair of knees. In my stupor, I turned to look backwards over my shoulder and saw Dr. Rath sitting on my bed, with my hairbrush in his right hand, and me being dragged, upended across his lap. What was he doing here? How did he get in here? He must have looked in the bathroom and seen my hairbrush. What was happening to me?

SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK!

Oh! Ow! Ow! Oh! Ow! A sudden volley of hard smacks descended on the thin seat of my boxers. Then another and another.

You were supposed to be at the office at 8 this morning, young man! What are you doing still in bed?!

SMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACK!

Whewww! The sharp shocks to my rearend were also jolting my senses. I began huffing and grunting under the continuing barrage, and I began to squirm and twist all over the lap of the man whose hand was pummeling my behind with that hot, branding hairbrush. Instinctively, I thrust my right hand back to cover my backside from the torrential spanking hitting it. Dr. Raths strong left arm grabbed my wrist and wrenched my arm up onto my bared back, pushing my t-shirt up. Once again, he had me locked into position across his lap.

SMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK!

If I cant rely on you to get up, out of bed, mister, how can I rely on you to show up and do the work?! he demanded, while continuing the bombardment to my behind.