Her Dirty Professor Series (21+)

“Have you seen Lucy?”

I shake my head, but my words don’t fit the action. “She’s over there.” I point without looking.

“Are you okay, Papa?”

“No,” I tell her, and it’s the truth. I want it over with so I can get her out of here where any fucking swinging dick could look at her. “Go practice. I want to see my baby on stage. But, you dance for me, understand? I don’t give a fuck there are a hundred other people here. You think of me.”

“Yes. I am always thinking of you.”

“Good girl.” I allow myself a soft kiss to her forehead before clenching my teeth and nodding for her to go.

She smiles, narrowing her eyes, and walks away. She sees Lucy across the room, still talking with the Don’s son, pulls her away and they disappear from the ballroom.

And I feel alone in the crowd of a hundred people.

Carina

The sound of the guests milling and chatting on the other side of the velvet curtains clashes with the thump, thump, thump of my heart. I run my hands down my sides, pushing up onto my toes as my insides tremble and my mouth goes dry.

The evening has been perfect so far. Everyone loved dinner and then Gennero changed into his Santa suit and gave away gifts for two hours while the handful of younger children hopped on his lap and whispered their wishes into his ear.

He worked his way toward me when things were wrapping up, and he asked me if there was anything I wanted to tell Santa.

I stuttered as he leaned down next to my ear.”Santa will be stuffing you full of his big present later tonight. I’ll be coming down more than the chimney this Christmas, honeysuckle.”

Once the gift giving and dessert was over, it was time for Lucy and I to sneak away, get changed and warmed up for our version of The Nutcracker on the new stage.NôvelDrama.Org owns this.

It’s not just the new auditorium, everything feels different. I took my grandfather’s cum inside me last night. More than once.

That changes things. A lot.

I could be pregnant right now.

That thought blinds me. How reckless are we? Having this fantasy lust-life with him is one thing…but making a family? Of our own?

I’m not thinking straight. But, God, how I want to believe there is a happily ever after for us.

Even now, there’s a wet reminders seeping out of me and the taste of my pleasure dances on my tongue from when he kissed me after I soaked his face.

I focus on Lucy moving under Alik’s guidance.

Is that a tremor in her pirouette?

Lucy never, and I meanneverteeters. Her grand jete, usually soaring with effortless grace, began with an uncharacteristic stumble, and the extension of her leg, a tad too high, disrupted the fluidity of the movement.

What’s happening? It’s five minutes before we go on for the high point of the party. We can’t screw up. I want everything to be perfect.

I find myself mentally counting beats, my internal metronome racing to keep up with my own routine, trying to synchronize my moves with Lucy’s missed steps during the pas de deux we have perfected over time.

We’re dressed in matching pale pink leotards with white tulle tutus and slippers laced up our calves in white satin ribbon. Our hair is in a classic bun with our faces touched up with blush and rose-colored lipstick. We should be ready, but somehow, I feel we’re not.

Lucy’s distraction is putting me on edge. In the place of her usual practiced perfection, there are mistakes she would never make-her timing is off, her lack of posture is more like a duck than a swan and she’s not even extending properly.

Yet, who is Alik picking on?

“Carina!”His sharp voice makes my shoulders tense as I almost lose my twirl. “At least suck in your belly.”

I hesitate for a moment. Tonight, his insults have lost their venom.

“Yes, Mr. Petrov.” I draw a deep breath and hold it, attempting the twirl again.

I won’t waste the tears on him.

Lucy is lost in her stretch. Alik rarely jabs me with his comments when she’s within earshot. He’s tough on us both but that’s part of pushing us but his focus on my weight is more about being a bully than a coach.

“Better, but you need to practice more, as your sister does. Lucy knows what to do, she has the commitment to go far.”

“Yes, Mr. Petrov.”

“Yes, Mr. Petrov,” he mocks. “It’s too late now. I will not allow you to make a mockery of me. You will follow Lucy’s lead, and by next week, I expect you to be practicing as often and as long as she does. Then perhaps you will lose a little of that blubber.”

I grit my teeth, not bothering to point out Lucy’s string of mistakes today.

Most of our practices are done in private and if Papa or Mama is around, Alik acts like a complete cinnamon roll towards me.

I know I’m not quite as stick thin as Lucy, but honestly, she eats whatever she wants. She’s got the metabolism of a hummingbird.

Apparently, my inner workings are closer to a manatee. Lucky me. I’m doing all I can to make sure nary a womanly curve finds its home on my body.

“This will have to do. Lucy, when you go out there, concentrate on your own dance and don’t be distracted by Carina. If she makes mistakes, at least they will know it wasn’t for lack of choreography on my part.”

Lucy answers with a silent nod, offering me a little shrug.

“Good. Take a breather, ladies. You need to look like graceful, beautiful girls, not like sweaty lumberjacks.”

“Yes, Mr. Petrov,” we say in unison, as we head for our water bottles.

“What’s the matter with you today?” I ask before taking a long drink from my bottle. “You never make mistakes like that.”

A shadow passes over Lucy’s dark eyes, and I wait for her to say she got her period or had a second glass of wine at dinner. After a moment, she shrugs. “I’ll be fine.”

“You can tell me anything…” I murmur. I’m not used to her being distracted. She’s as tough as a seasoned warrior.

My attempt at mothering her is met with an eye roll. “Carrie, I’ll be fine. I didn’t sleep much last night.”

My frown deepens. Tightness wraps around my heart. “You haven’t called me Carrie since before we came to live here-”

“I said I’ll be fine,” she snaps with a sigh. “Worry aboutyourdancing, I’ll worry about mine. And ignore what Alik said.”

I shrug. “I always try to ignore that fuck face. You know that.” I study her face, concern squeezing my insides.

“Don’tignorehim. He knows what he’s talking about when it comes to dance. But ignore his insults.” She glances at the side stage where we will wait for the curtains to open. “Come on, our audience awaits.”

There’s no time to press the issue. So I follow her as nervous anticipation prickles over my skin.

This is where I feel alive. It’s my world. When I’m out in front of an audience, nothing else matters.

It’s like flying.

I never realized that before. That’s why I want to be a pilot. I love that feeling of gliding, silent but powerful through the sky.

“Here we go,” Lucy says as we hold hands and take the stage as the curtain opens.

Lucy and I move through the routine in harmony. She is in her usual form. All the errors from earlier gone, her technical precision complements my raw emotion the way it always does.

Our dance is not a rivalry, it’s about conveying the story between us. Her impeccable technique, precise and measured, anchors me to the dance. But I can’t help losing myself in the music, letting my body respond with flourishes and embellishments of my own.