Her Dirty Professor Series (21+)

Christy

I have no idea why my stepdad is acting so weird. We have dinner together every night, yet tonight, Bart seems uncommonly jumpy and on edge. His handsome face is flushed, and his hair is tousled in a messy yet sexy way.

“Are you okay?” I ask while taking a bite of my lasagna.

Bart jolts, and then looks at me.

“What? Oh yes, I’m sorry.”

“I’m just asking if you’re okay, Daddy. I know when I came out from my shower, you weren’t around. Did something go wrong?”

Bart’s fingers tighten on his fork, the knuckles almost white. But he manages a stilted smile.NôvelD(ram)a.ôrg owns this content.

“Yeah, I’m fine, baby girl. Like I mentioned, the kitchen in this trailer can get really hot, and I stepped outside to cool down. Even with all the windows open, this place can be a fucking sauna.”

I nod, taking another bite of my lasagna.

“It can, and I’m sure it didn’t help that I took a really hot shower,” I say. “The steam’s still coming out. Here, let me see what happens if I open the front door,” I murmur before getting out of my seat and propping the door to the trailer open. A waft of fresh air comes in, and I smile at my stepdad. “There, that’s better right? I swear that breeze alone will bring the temp down a couple degrees.”

But something tells me that Bart’s not hot under the collar because of cooking. He won’t meet my eyes, and keeps fiddling with his napkin. Plus, he’s not eating. My stepdad loves to eat, and has the appetite of a bear, so the untouched lasagna on his plate is a dead giveaway.

To be honest, my stepdad’s jittery manner is really strange. For as long as I’ve known him, Bart’s always been a relaxed guy. Don’t get me wrong because without his morning coffee, he’s a total grump. But the man of the house is the kind of guy who doesn’t get riled up over nothing. If anything, he soothes me after I’ve had a bad day at work, or helps me prepare for tests back when I was in school.

So to see him flushed like this, fidgety and nervous, is super-weird. I put down my fork.

“Daddy,” I say in a serious voice. “What’s wrong? It’s like you’ve eaten a frog or something.”

Still, my handsome stepfather won’t fess up.

“No, things are fine, Christy,” he growls. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” Then, he tries to change the subject. “So what’s on the agenda for tonight? You want to watch a movie with your old dad? Or how about some board games?”

I giggle because this is something we’ve been doing for as long as I can remember. When my mom was still alive, the three of us would repair to the living room after dinner and play Parcheesi, Connect Four, or Chutes and Ladders. I know, these are dumb children’s games, but I was a kid back then, and my parents were in the habit of indulging me. So what if I like things simple and straightforward? I’ll never become a chess player because I don’t enjoy games of strategy that make my head hurt. Instead, I like keeping things light and fun, so cheesy games it is.

Still, tonight’s not the night.

“Sorry Daddy, no can do. I have other plans.”

One black brow comes up.

“Plans?” Bart asks in a casual tone. “What kind of plans?”

I take a deep breath because my father’s become more and more protective as I’ve gotten older, and I know this isn’t going to sit well with him. Should I lie about where I’m going tonight? I take a deep breath and decide to fess up because I don’t like to lie to the man of the house. Something about it always makes me feel so guilty, with a bad taste in my mouth.

“Well,” I say in a slow tone. “Jet Elliston is taking me out tonight. He thought we’d grab shakes at the Roadhouse Diner, and then maybe catch a movie.”

My stepfather goes utterly still, harsh streaks on his high cheekbones.

“Is that so?” Bart asks in a smooth tone.

I nod.

“You know that Jet Elliston has asked me out a couple times in the past. It started back when we were in high school, but I hated his cocky jock attitude. I mean, I don’t care if someone plays football. That doesn’t mean that you’re the king of the world with your clique of teammates and cheerleaders. Kindness and compassion are much more valuable.”

Bart nods slowly, his blue eyes intent.

“So what made you change your mind?” he asks.

I put my fork down, considering for a moment.

“Well, I guess Jet isn’t that bad. I mean, high school is over, so he’s no longer the big man on campus. Plus, maybe he’s changed,” I say with a shrug. “His family doesn’t believe in college, so he’s working shifts at their family plant store. You know, Elliston Nursery over on Cogby.”

“I know Elliston Nursery,” Bart says in a deep voice. “And Jet’s dad owns Tootsie’s right?”

I nod.

“Yep, John Elliston is my boss.”

Bart nods seriously.

“Yeah, the Ellistons own half a dozen businesses in Hartsville. But you know how princelings can be. If Jet’s working for his family, he could still be a total asshole.”

I giggle.

“I suppose that’s true, but I know Jet is doing sales, and there’s nothing like a stint in retail to put you in your place. Hell, working at Tootsie’s reminds me all the time of my humble position in life. I swear, if I have to put up with Mrs. Cox again, I’m going to …”

Bart reaches across the table and seizes my hand.

“Sweetheart,” he vows in a throaty tone. “Tootsie’s is just a way station, I promise. I’m going to find a job asap, and get you out of there. I don’t want you on your feet eight hours a day, and I hate the fact that you’re working for John Elliston. Nowthatdude is an asshole,” my stepdad practically spits.

I merely laugh before giving Bart’s hand a squeeze and pulling away.

“No, it’s fine. John is fine. Most days, at least,” I add in a wry tone. The look on my stepfather’s face is ominous.

“You’re going to have to tell me more about that,” he says in a tight voice. “But first, tonight: your date with this football guy. When are you leaving?”

I glance at the clock on the wall, a little surprised at Bart’s curiosity. After all, when I was in high school, I went on a couple dates with different boys, but he didn’t seem to be especially concerned. If anything, the alpha male merely waved goodbye, and then I was out the door with no fuss, no muss. So why the concern now?

“Well, I guess I’ll leave after dinner,” I say dubiously. “Jet wanted to meet at seven, and then we’ll head to Regal Cinemas around eight to catch the eight thirty showing of that new zombie flick. Why, is something the matter?” I ask in a low voice, shooting my stepdad a questioning look. “What’s wrong, Daddy?”

Bart takes a deep breath, his handsome features conflicted. Those blue eyes look around the room a bit before finally settling on me, and a frisson of electricity runs down my spine. Stop it, the voice in my head admonishes. This is your stepfather, Christy. Your mother used to be married to him so don’t even think about going there!

Still, I can’t help but admit that things have changed between Bart and I in the last year or so. It happened during my senior year of high school. At first, it was just small things. My bra was too small, and when Bart asked why I needed his credit card for the mall, I told him in halting words.

“Well, I don’t think I’m a C-cup anymore,” was my embarrassed stammer. “I think I need to go up a cup size, and I don’t want to do it on-line. I think it’s better if I get fitted by a salesperson at the lingerie shop.”

My stepfather stared at me, his blue eyes blazing, but without a word, he handed over his credit card. Sure enough, when the lady measured me at Sweet Surprises, I wasn’t just a D, but rather a Double D.

But that wasn’t the only awkward incident. There was the time when I found a pair of my panties in Bart’s bedroom. I went in there to look for a book I’d misplaced, and to my surprise, my pink panties with the rosettes at the waistband were crumpled up next to his pillow. Otherwise, the room looked completely normal. The bed was made, the light fixture hung still and solemn, and the digital clock stared with its unblinking red numbers.

But why did Bart have my panties in his room? And how did they get there? I tried to think because we dump our dirty laundry into the basket in the bathroom, and then usually he or I puts it in the washer-dryer before folding it and returning the clothes to their rightful owner. Ah ha! Maybe Bart did the laundry, and when he brought his clean clothes back to his room, my panties were caught in a bunch between his other garments. That must be the answer.

But when I picked up the pink panties, I stared and then sniffed the lace because the material was clearly dirty. The gusset and even the sides were caked together with a white fluid, and when I held it up to my nose, my private parts tingled. Literally, my nipples ached and my thighs clenched together, trying to assuage the sudden need between them. Had my stepfather been …? No, it was too dirty to contemplate. There’s no way that the man of the house would steal my panties, only to jack off on them. Yet, what was the dried fluid on my lingerie?

Quickly, I bunched the lace into my hand and exited the master bedroom. But in the hallway, I bumped into Bart himself, and even though I squeezed my fist tight, I think he could see that I had the panties clutched in my hand.

“Hi Daddy,” I managed in a breathy voice. “Just looking for my latest romance novel, Miss Darcy’s Awakening. Have you seen it?”

My stepfather’s blue eyes flitted from my clenched fist to my pink cheeks, and his own high cheekbones stained with a flush as well.

“No, I haven’t,” he growled before averting his eyes. “Gotta grab a shower.”

Then, he was off down the hall, but instead of turning into the bathroom, Bart veered to the left and into his bedroom. Clearly, he was just trying to get away from me, knowing that I’d caught him red-handed.

We never talked about the incident, but I knew that something had changed between us. I couldfeelit. My stepfather’s eyes were all over me, morning noon and night, and the truth is that I enjoy the caress of that blue gaze. I love knowing that Bart eats up my curves, carefully taking in my plush pout, my big breasts, and my narrow waist, before dropping lower to embrace my wide hips and thick thighs. Plus, this is so bad, but I egg him on too. Ever since that incident with the panties, I’ve been dressing sassier. Out went my loose sweats and baggy t-shirts. Instead, I wear a lot of mini-skirts, corsets, baby-Ts, and high heels now. Why I’d dress like this to work at a convenience store is a mystery to everyone, except me.

But still, why is the man of the house so interested in my date tonight? As I mentioned earlier, I’ve been out with boys before and Bart never said anything. Has something changed?

I put down my fork.