Top of the class

For all I’ve whinged on Twitter and Facebook about my current trip to Egypt, I’ve actually had a rather good time. Bar one or two minor logistical mishaps – which could happen anywhere in the world – everything’s run remarkably smoothly. Indeed, I’ve been reminded why I’m so fond of the Middle East and North Africa: I used to love exploring this part of the world, and even studied Arabic at night school for a couple of years.

I might also, I confess, have had rather improper thoughts about one of my course delegates during the four days she spent in my classroom last week. The lass in question was three years into her career: bright, sharp, keen, and rather gorgeous. Not that I teasted her, flirted with her at all; not that she reciprocated.

Now I’m far too proper to cross any lines in such circumstances, even had I felt that doing so would actually have been welcomed. So I confined myself – as one does – to thinking up scenarios in which young May might end up being spanked.

The end-of-course exam on Thursday presented the perfect excuse. She’d mentioned at lunch that she still lived at home; her father would have heard about the exam earlier in the week, and would have made a knowing comment: “You understand how important it is that you do well…”

She did, of course. Memories of the time when she’d flunked an exam in her first year at Uni were all too painfully etched into her mind: the one and only time he’d whipped her in front of her younger sisters, her lesson serving as an exemplary punishment.

This time around, she’d have been focused on passing with flying colours: after all, a respected professional qualification is worth attaining so early in one’s career. Each night of the week, she’d spurned requests from friends to meet up, heading instead to her room to study the set textbook.

Only, on the eve of the exam, she’d started to feel confident in her mastery of the material. She’d started to miss her social life. She’d told her family she’d be upstairs studying… and then the lure of Twitter and the web had proved too attractive.

Her father had knocked before entering, as he always did – but then he never waited for more than a moment before walking in. And when he’d found her sprawled on her bed, phone in hand, her textbook unopened on the floor on the opposite side of the room… Well, a girl would have found that she was never to old to be put over daddy’s knees whilst she still lived under his roof, and would have been reminded that his hand hurt just as much as any belt.

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She passed the exam, of course. Top of the class, as I’d rather suspected she would be. I was the grateful recipient of a lovely hug when she learnt her result. Just goes to show how spankings (even imaginary ones!) can help a girl, really, doesn’t it…?