"Well, by my count you've been late twenty times this year," she said. "Twenty!"
"I...sorry..." you say. You want to bow your head, but can't. You keep staring at those huge, gorgeous boobs.
"I think *I* know how to remind you that you are expected to be work on time."
"How?"
"The hairbrush, of course," she says with a positively wicked grin.