Professor Richard Bateman stepped into "Titillations" and paused in the doorway to glance around, brushing an invisible speck of lint off his jacket.  Anyone who looked at him would have guessed (correctly) that he was a professor of something like history or English literature at a nearby liberal arts college; the tweed jacket, horn-rimmed glasses, pockets filled with assorted pens, pencils, and notes, and the pipe filled with aromatic tobacco (shag soaked in brandy) made him look (and even smell) the part.<br/><br/>He stepped over to the counter and cleared his throat.  "Pardon me, miss?  Is smoking allowed in this store?  I can put this out if it's not.  Do you have an ashtray or wastebasket?"  He gestured with the pipe.  In his other hand he held an academic daily notebook, zippered shut.