Her Dirty Professor Series (21+)

Her eyes are nearly as dark as her hair, and her skin is a deep olive that makes her look like she’s just disembarked from a month-long tropical cruise. We match each other almost exactly in height and weight and enjoy finding clothes for each other on our thrift store outings nearly every weekend.

In getting to know each other, we figured out we have a fear of driving in common, as well. So we buy a lot of bus tokens and are able to figure out the route to wherever we are going without even looking at a line map.

She pokes two sets of chopsticks into two of the containers, then comes over to join me on my faded blue crushed-velvet sofa that looks like it came out of the Formans’ basement on That ’70s Show.

My apartment is within walking distance or a quick bus ride to the courthouse. I rented it for next to nothing, and it came partially furnished-thank goodness. I do love to make places look nice, but even I need something to work with. At school, a few other girls even asked me to help them decorate their dorm rooms after seeing mine. So with some luck, clearance finds and thrift stores, I’ve made this little place look pretty nice, if I do say so myself.

I take a deep breath over the takeout container, and as the scent of red pepper and peanut sauce makes my mouth water, I realize I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday morning.

“So, what gives with the goon?” Karen shovels a bite of noodles into her mouth and raises her eyebrows, staring at me.

I swallow my first bite, the butterflies in my belly swarming as I think of Vito.

“He’s not a goon,” I shoot back, more sharply than I should. “He was just trying to do the right thing.”

She slurps a noodle between her lips and rolls her eyes. She’s still in her work clothes, black overalls with a red t-shirt, the uniform for the building maintenance company she works for cleaning offices at night. The pant legs are rolled up almost to her knees, showing off a pair of purple socks with green Frankenstein characters running up the sides. Her little rebellion against the less-than-flattering uniform.

“The doctor said I shouldn’t be alone, so he was probably trying to keep me from suing him.” The reality hits me like a punch in the gut as I wonder if my statement holds some merit.

“Oh! Reminds me…” She sets the container down on the coffee table and jumps up, walks to the counter, and grabs a piece of paper before handing it to me. “Yeah, I don’t think he’s just trying to keep you from suing him, my dear.”

I set my food down and take the paper from her hands.

My heart starts pounding when I see the thick black writing. Shifting on the sofa, I push my hair behind my ear and start reading.

Sweet girl,

I am leaving you with your friend for now. I have some things to take care of today, but I will be back. I hope when you wake your head is feeling better. If not, I’ve set out two Tylenol for you in your bathroom. (If you haven’t seen them already by the time you read this.) You can take two more every six hours until your headache subsides.

Know that when I return, if you are still in pain, we will be making a return trip to the hospital as I will not risk that there could be some other complications that were not detected last night.

I look up to see Karen grinning. “Did you read it?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at her, and she nods.

“Of course I did.” Her matter-of-fact answer doesn’t surprise me. “I get here, there’s some Italian Stallion-slash-linebacker dude who hit you with his car, there’s a note on the counter from him to you, and I’m not going to read it? Do you know me?”

“You’re impossible,” I reply, then lower my eyes to finish reading the note.

I did not get your phone number before you went to sleep, my oversight. I need you to text me when you wake to let me know how you are feeling. You will find my number at the bottom here.

As well, I will let you know when I will return, and depending on how you are doing, I will tell you what tonight’s plans will be.

Until then, my Bambina, rest, and know I will be back for you.

Vito

My head is spinning as I re-read the note and feel the tension rising in my belly at the thought of his return-and why I seem to be so entranced by a man I barely know.

“My Bambina?” Karen snorts, taking another bite of noodles off her chopsticks.

“Shut it.” I poke mine toward her. “He’s just being nice. Gentlemen are unusual these days, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh.” She rolls her eyes as she chews, and I fail to restrain the smile that curves my lips. She swallows then goes on. “So, what exactly happened last night? How did you end up getting hit?”

My mood darkens, remembering where I was and why. “I had an interview for a job.”

“Cool. Where?”

“It was with this guy, Salvatore. The fact that he didn’t give me a last name should have tipped me off. Nadine from work gave me his number, so I called, and he said to come down for an interview last night. As soon as I got there, it felt off. It was this old warehouse. The job was supposed to be as a hostess for some club, so I thought maybe they just don’t do interviews there, or maybe it’s some trendy basement club or something, but…”

“What?”

“It wasn’t. And it wasn’t the kind of club I thought it would be, either. As soon as he started talking, I knew I wasn’t what they wanted. And the interview turned into more of a tryout for what I think was the real job.” I raise my eyebrows, hoping she will catch on. “It was being a special sort of hostess.”

“No shit. Like he wanted you to do something?”

“Yeah, he told me about this private club, the pay would be great. Then he asked if I was ‘experienced.’ Said if I was a virgin, the pay would be a lot more. Before I could figure out how to get out of there, he had unzipped his pants and told me to show him how much I needed the job.”

“God damn. I’m so sorry, Esme. Fucking men.” She shakes her head with a disgusted look on her face.

I shrug. “It’s okay. I should have punched him in the face, but there were about six other guys in the office when I walked through, so all I could think of was to run. So, I ran. Out the door, down the street through the rain, and with all that thunder and lightning and being in this crazy panic, I thought I could make it across the street, but I tripped and fell straight into Vito’s car.”

“Wow. Enter the white knight on his trusty steed, racing in to save the day.”

I feel my heart thumping at the memory of Vito kneeling and picking me up off the pavement. How he looked at me like a precious broken doll, then did everything he could to put me back together.

For his size and manner, he was so gentle. He felt fatherly almost, but with this underlying gritty sexiness unlike anything I’ve imagined before.

I shiver, thinking of each time he touched me, oddly entitled. I should have been furious, but I was more flattered. He took control of me in a way, and I hate to admit how much I liked it. I barely know him, but I feel as though there is this unreasonable connection between us that has its hooks already sinking into me.

Just thinking of him has my pulse racing and heat coursing through my veins. We barely know each other, and to most I’m sure he’s frightening. But all I feel is this sense that somehow he’s here just for me.

Whatever is going on, I’m craving more. Thoughts I’ve never had about a man or boy before careen around in my mind. Vito is big, and for the first time in my life, I am wondering if he is big all over.

Karen interrupts, cock-blocking my dirty thoughts. “So, we know Vito is the hero of this story. But all we know about the asshole is that he’s Salvatore? Are you sure you didn’t walk into an episode of The Sopranos last night?”

I shrug. “Coincidence.”

“And someone at work referred you to him?”

“Yeah, Nadine. She’s a paralegal. She asked me what was wrong Friday, and I don’t know, I just spilled. About Mom, Dad, the bills, everything. She’s always been nice to me, and she seemed to really care, said a friend of hers knew someone with a club that was hiring evening staff, good money. I can’t imagine she knows what it was really about. I mean, she works for the DA…”

“Weird. Like, ‘something smells funny’ weird.”

I shrug, the dark cloud over me returning. “Back to square one.”

Karen and I finish our food and put on a movie. I’m still tired, and I lay my head on the arm of the sofa.

“Here.” Karen reaches to grab the crocheted afghan from behind her on the sofa and throws it over me. “Take a little nap. How’s your head feel?”

“Fine,” I answer, my eyelids already drooping. “It feels fine.” I let them close, and visions of what Vito might be packing under that suit lull me into a lust-filled sleep.This is from NôvelDrama.Org.