Her Dirty Professor Series (21+)

Peyton: I hate my mom so much. Monica may be a MILF, but that doesn’t mean that she can cheat on my dad! Even worse, she’s doing it in front of everyone and humiliating my dad in the process. As a result, I decide to intervene because her boyfriend’s hot. Brant Harrison is an older man with bronzed skin, a broad chest, and rippling abs that make me go ahhhhhhhh. Even better, I’m going to steal this man …and make some crazy waves while we’re at it.

Brant: Who is this girl? A beautiful young blonde comes onto me out of nowhere, lush and curvaceous with the most innocent “Bambi eyes” I’ve ever seen. Peyton claims she just moved to town, but I know there’s more to the story than that. The curvy girl’s got something up her sleeve, and I’m going to force her to reveal the truth … even as I punish her for her lies!

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************This is property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

Peyton

“Hello?” I call, putting my bags down by the front door. “Is anyone home?”

The gloomy interior of the house is my only answer and I frown. My parents have been on the outs recently, so I wasn’t expecting a homey welcome scene per se. But I thought someone would be here to greet me at the very least. After all, my dad retired early from his job as a tax accountant, and my mom hasn’t worked for as long as I can remember. So someone should be here in the middle of the day, right?

But my mouth sets in a grim line because the situation at my parents’ house has been dire for the last few months. My dad was tight-lipped during our phone calls, but after some determined probing, he blubbered that my mom’s been cheating on him, and with the pool boy too. What a cliche! Could Monica be any less original? I swear, it seems that middle-aged housewives are always cheating with the pool boy, the golf pro at the country club, or even the handyman who comes to fix a leaky sink. All we need is the Amazon delivery guy next, and the charade will be complete.

But the worst part is that this is no charade. My dad, Rudy, is devastated by the whole thing because evidently, my mom’s not holding back. She brings the pool boy into the house on a regular basis, and then they retire to the master bedroom before making loud, noisy love. She’s totally shameless, and even flaunts her affair for the entire community see by taking said pool boy out on dates in public places, complete with gross PDA where they play handsy and footsy. It’s a total shock to everyone because this is just not done in our little town of Oakdale, Illinois. We’re quite conservative and family-oriented, so Monica’s actions are beyond the pale.

But I feel terrible for my dad because he genuinely loves Monica. They’ve been together since high school, and as far as I know, Rudy’s never even kissed another woman. Monica’s been his one and only since he was sixteen, and now, at the ripe old age of forty-five, she’s turned the tables on him.

Even worse, my father’s basically become a shut-in because he’s so depressed. He’s vacated the master bedroom (due to my mom’s sex games) and sleeps on the sofa bed in his home office. Plus, he no longer leaves the house, as far as I can tell. My dad’s basically a prisoner in his own home, only slinking out at night to retrieve food from the refrigerator and to use the restroom. Basically, my dad’s a recluse, depressed and alone in his makeshift bedroom.

It’s scary and disheartening because I love my father. I’ve always been close to Rudy because he was consistently there for me when I was growing up. Monica? Not so much. Despite being a stay-at-home mom, my mom wasn’t much of a mom. Instead, she was always hanging out with her girlfriends by the pool doing the whole “it’s always five o’clock” thing. Honestly, they weren’t stopping at the wine coolers and candy-colored martinis either. Monica and her friends were hitting the hard alcohol more often than not, and trust me, there’s nothing more cringey than a group of middle-aged women getting sloppy drunk.

But Rudy was different. My dad doted on me, and so despite working full time as a CPA, Rudy made it to every piano recital, every volleyball tournament, and even cheered me on when I competed in the local Miss Oakdale pageant. My dad didn’t care that I was chubby and could barely walk in the glittery high heels they had us wear. Rudy wanted everyone to know that the beauty with the big smile was his daughter, and that he was sure I’d win.

Well, I didn’t win, but the bond between me and Rudy strengthened. For example, after I moved to Chicago to pursue my dreams of being an actress, my dad was totally supportive. I had weekly calls with my father which were filled with heart to hearts about auditions, tidbits from my vocal coach, and of course, my fear that I’d never make it on stage.

But after a year or so had gone by, I realized that something was wrong in my dad’s life, and finally, Rudy revealed the marital issues cropping up between him and Monica. Then, my calls picked up in frequency because it was clear Rudy was depressed. Soon, I was dialing my dad every day to make sure he was okay, and then sometimes twice a day when I was particularly worried. Things got so terrible that I decided to quit my job in the big city and to return to Oakdale. After all, my dad’s taken care of me my whole life; now, it’s time for me to take care of him in return.

Will I regret the move? It remains to be seen, but I don’t think so because I wasn’t exactly killing it as an actress in the big city. After getting a degree in theater, I thought that the world would be my stage. It would only be a matter of time before I’d be on Broadway, belting out show tunes to the sound of thunderous applause.

But instead, I didn’t hit the prime time. I didn’t hit Off-Broadway, or even Off-Off-Broadway, if I’m being honest. Instead, I was auditioning with regular frequency, but only landing non-speaking parts. I wasn’t an ‘actress’ exactly; instead, I was on stage to create ‘environment’ for the main characters. In fact, I was more of a prop, and there was literally once when I actually was “the Palm Tree” while wearing a costume of leafy fronds sewn painstakingly onto a brown latex jumpsuit. My dad was kind though. Rudy said I was likely the best palm tree in Chicago, and that the Nederlander Theater would be calling soon.

But now, here I am, back at home. All dreams of the spotlight have been put on hold, and I’m okay with it actually. Oakdale has a decent community theater scene, and I’ll see if there’s a spot for me somewhere. But first, I need to take care of my dad because Rudy’s my priority now.

“Dad?” I call into the dark house. “Where are you?”

I suppose it’s a rhetorical question because he must be locked up in his office, depressed and unhappy. Quietly, I tiptoe down the dimly lit hallway before rapping gently on the office door.

“Dad?” I try again. “Are you in here?”

Finally, there are some creaking sounds and the door edges open. As I surmised, my dad’s been living like a hermit. There are food wrappers strewn all over the carpet, as well as an unmade sofa bed and heaps of clothes in messy piles. The computer monitor on his desk casts an eerie glow in the dark room, although there’s a tiny shaft of sunlight from a parting in the drapes. Otherwise, it’s a depressing sight, and my heart turns over. It hurts me that Rudy’s been living like this.

“Dad, are you okay?” I ask.

Rudy sighs after settling back into his desk chair.

“Yeah, more or less,” he replies, crossing his hands over his paunchy belly. Even in the darkness, I can tell that my father’s hairline has receded even further so that his forehead looks enormous. He’s pasty and flabby, and dressed in an XL Costco t-shirt that hugs his rotund frame. Not only that, but there’s a weird smell.

“Is that stale pizza?” I ask, indicating a half-open box on his desk.

Rudy nods.

“Yeah, I had it delivered two days ago. I haven’t gotten a chance to take it out yet,” he confesses. “I’m sorry you have to see me like this, Pey. I didn’t want you to quit your job to come home and take care of your old dad. How are you, by the way? How was your drive?”

I manage a cheerful smile.

“It was okay! The highway was like a parking lot, the way it always is, but otherwise it was no trouble. Everything went smoothly, and I’m glad to be back.”

Rudy smiles sadly.

“I’m happy you’re back, honey. But you know that things aren’t well on the home front.”

I nod.

“I know, and that’s why I’m here. I’m going to cheer you up, Dad. You’ll see that the sun doesn’t rise and set with Monica. You have your own life! You can pick yourself up from this.”

My father merely shoots me a tired smile.

“Can I? It doesn’t feel like it some days. It’s been really hard to get out of bed some mornings, and sometimes, I just don’t. I stay beneath the covers until night comes again and it’s easier that way.”

That confession makes me really worried.

“That’s why I’m here,” I say in a quick voice. “You need to see the doctor about some anti-depressants, not to mention your diabetes. Have you been taking your insulin, Daddy? You know how important that is.”

Rudy nods.

“I have,” he says. But then his eyes dart to the crack between the drapes and he pauses. I see it then. My father’s already a pale guy, but he goes sheet white as his eyes focus on the scene outside.

“What is it?” I ask. “What’s going on?”

Rudy fidgets on his chair and immediately averts his gaze.

“It’s nothing,” he says quickly. “You were saying?”

But I can already see a glassy sheen of tears in my father’s eyes, not to mention the fact that he’s now trembling like a leaf. What’s going on? What did he see to make him so unhappy?

Quickly, I get up and make my way to the parting in the curtain. The sun outside glares hotly and I squint as I look out at our backyard pool, unable to see much. But then, my eyes adapt and I see what’s made Rudy so distraught: it’s my mom, and she seems to be making love to the pool boy at this very moment.