Her Dirty Professor Series (21+)

Book title: A princess for daddy

Dear Bart

You’ve always been so good to me. I was always your princess, and you spoiled me rotten in every way that counts.

You made me PB&J sandwiches when I was down, and even sang to me a couple times when it was raining.

You bought me my first bra, and helped me navigate a treacherous new landscape called “boys.”

But now, unemployment’s left you depressed …

… And I have just the solution.

I’m untouched …

Pure and innocent …

And my sassy curves will make you feel better.

Won’t you let me, Daddy? After all, now the tables are turned and it’s time for me to take care of you.

Love,

Christy

Chapter 1~

Bart

Goddamn. I didn’t want this to happen, yet here we are. I’m ashamed and don’t look up when I enter the trailer, my heart pumping in my chest. But my sassy stepdaughter glances towards me and smiles.

“Hey,” she says. “Is that my stuff? Just dump it over there,” Christy gestures, pointing to an unoccupied corner of the combination living-dining room.

I slink to the corner before setting the cardboard box down. It’s labeled “winter clothes” and bulging against the packing tape. I straighten, even as embarrassment causes harsh streaks to color my cheeks.

“Sorry about this,” I rasp, still not looking up. “As soon as I find another job, we’ll move, I promise. This place is a dump.”

Christy merely shakes her head, her voice gentle.

“It’s fine, Bart,” she says. “I’ll be perfectly happing living at Sunset Views. Besides, you know that the closing of the Portnoy meatpacking plant wasn’t your fault. You’ve been there for ages, and no one thought they were going to layeveryoneoff.”

I nod, still embarrassed.

“Yeah, but I should have seen it coming,” is my gruff reply. “Like you said, I’ve been with Portnoy a long time. More than twenty years in fact. I should have known this was coming down the pike.”

The beautiful brunette merely smiles again, her expression gentle.

“Maybe, but what could you have done? There’s only one meatpacking plant in this area, and that’s Portnoy. Plus, it’s been your life since you were eighteen. All of your friends work there too.”

I snort.

“Yeah, but I could have moved and found another job,” I say in a raspy voice. “I could have been prepared, instead of getting the axe along with everyone else. This was a long time coming, you know. We all knew it was only a matter of time.”

But Christy merely tilts her head at me, her brown eyes forgiving.

“I know, but I also know that you were thinking of me when you decided to stay put,” she says in a pointed voice. “I was in high school, and you didn’t want to pull me out in the middle of it. So we stayed here in Hartsville, and what’s happened has happened, Bart. It’s okay. I don’t blame you one bit, and besides, I have a job now so we’re going to be fine. We can afford the rent on this trailer on my salary.”

The statement only makes me feel worse because after graduating from high school, Christy picked up a full-time position at the local five and dime. She’s working the counter, and I have to say that I’m secretly grateful for her job. Sure, she doesn’t make much, but forty hours a week at the store is just enough to cover our rent and some basics.

Still, I hate the fact that I’ve put the beautiful girl in this position. After all, I’msupposed to be taking care ofher, and not the other way around. When her mother passed away, Sharon made me promise to take care of Christy, and I have to the best of my ability. But I’m sure Sharon never envisioned her daughter working her fingers to the bone to support me.

The thought makes me drop onto the couch and put my head in my hands. Fuck, this is so messed up. I’m a grown man, and I’ve always seen myself as a provider. Hell, I’mproudto be a provider. I take pride in putting food on the table, and a roof over our heads. I want Christy to live the carefree life of a teen girl, but instead, we had to give up our small brick house and move to this trailer park on the outskirts of Hartsville. It’s embarrassing, frankly, but Christy doesn’t seem bothered. I feel, rather than see, the curvy girl sink next to me on the couch, and one small hand strokes my shoulder.

“It’s okay, Bart,” the caring woman murmurs. “You did nothing wrong. I swear. And I quite like Sunset Views Trailer Park. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there actuallyisa beautiful view of the sunset from our window. Come, look,” she urges, her voice persuasive.

I manage to lift my head and glance towards the small, slotted window in front of us. It’s pretty sad because at the moment, my stepdaughter and I live in not more than three hundred square feet. There’s a bathroom to the right, and then the bedroom in the back. We’re currently sitting in the combination living-dining room with a small kitchenette along one wall. Obviously, space is tight and the two of us are crammed like sardines in something that could pass as a closet, or a shoebox. Yet Christy’s smiling at me as she gestures to the aforementioned sunset.

“See?” she murmurs while taking in the brilliant oranges, reds, and pinks that streak the sky. “Gorgeous.”

I don’t say anything at first, merely staring at the teen girl. After all, she’sthe one who’s gorgeous. When Sharon and I got married years ago, Christy was a mess of frizzy brown hair, knobby knees, and thick glasses. But during high school, the girl changed. She grew, matured, and most of all, developed curves. The frizzy hair is now gone, transformed into lush, chestnut waves, and goddamn, but she’s put on weight in all the right places. Christy’s got large Double D breasts that are often showcased beneath tight baby T’s, and a lush bottom that’s encased in skintight jeans. But it’s her winsome smile that always makes me melt inside. She’s gorgeous, and even I, her stepfather, have noticed the transformation.

But that’s the problem. I’m the man of the house and I shouldn’t be thinking these things. Back when her mother and I were married, it was no big deal to live with a little girl. But then Sharon tragically passed away from the big C a couple years back, and I lost it for a while. It was a terrible time for everyone, and Christy and I clung to each other through the ordeal.

“Yeah, real pretty sunset,” I grunt, staring at my hands again.

Christy merely laughs gently before pulling at my forearm.

“Come on, Bart. Let’s do a tour of our new place.”

I shoot her a wry look.

“Tour? Honey, I think we’re looking at all of it. This is the entire kingdom.”Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

She giggles then, her brown curls bouncing.

“No silly! I mean, yes, the trailer is small but we haven’t done a spin through the whole thing.” Then, Christy stands and skips over to the bathroom before throwing the door open. She flicks on the light, which is nothing but a single bulb attached to the ceiling.

“Bathroom,” she says in a gracious tone. “Complete with a shower stall, commode, and sink.”

I smile despite myself.

“Commode? That’s a very genteel way of putting things.”

She smiles right back.

“It’s because I’m a genteel lady,” she says in an arch tone. “But come on, Bart. See, it’s not so bad! The glass of the shower stall is even frosted a bit for ‘mystery,'” she says with air quotes.

I laugh because there won’t be much mystery in this trailer, seeing how we’re basically living on top of one another. But Christy is emboldened by my chuckle, and she skips through the living room before doing a spin.

“This is our family room,” she says in a determined tone. “It’s filled with boxes right now, but I’m sure it’s going to be fine. I’ll spruce it up with some cheery curtains and colorful flowers, and it’ll be just like home.”

I nod. To be honest, the place is pretty tacky with its fake-wood walls and laminate countertops. But my stepdaughter’s always been an optimist, and I appreciate her spirit in these down times.

Then, Christy takes a few steps to the far end of the trailer and opens the door to the bedroom.

“And this is the bedroom,” she says. It isn’t much. There’s a lumpy queen-size mattress pushed against one wall, and ugly brown bedstands on either side. The one window is cracked open slightly, and the glass pane is dim with dust. But Christy looks confused. She peers through the doorway as if looking for something, and even steps into the room, doing a survey of the space.

“Pretty small, isn’t it?” I call from my place on the couch.

My stepdaughter reappears, a frown on her forehead.

“Yes, but I’m confused, Bart. I thought that there would be two twin beds for us to sleep on? Or a second bedroom in addition to this one?”

My heart clutches because that’s the problem. Although we technically can afford a bigger trailer, we had to move out of our house in a hurry, and this small one was the only one available.

“Christy, let me explain,” I begin.

My stepdaughter nods, still very serious.

“Sure, of course.”

I take a deep breath and get up before peering into the lone bedroom myself. Yep, it’s pretty fucking awful with the puke-colored drapes and deep brown shag rug that’s seen better days. But right now, beggars can’t be choosers.

“Sweetheart, you know we were evicted from our home by the bank, right?”

She nods, her pretty face confused.

“Yes, but what does that have to do with this? Surely, the trailer park has a two-bedroom available.”

I sigh, running a hand through my black hair.

“Well, that’s the thing,” I mumble, ashamed again. “I knew we were going to be evicted because I’ve been unemployed for a while. I stopped paying the mortgage on our old house at least nine or ten months back, and we were getting notices from the bank. The kind with big red letters on the front that say URGENT in all caps. But I hid them from you,” I confess. “It was my problem to deal with.”

Christy looks at me.

“And…?”

I swallow hard, trying to contain my shame.

“What I’m saying is that you deserve better than this,” I say in a rush. “You deserve much better than this, and I’m going to make sure you get it. This is only a way station in the journey called life. But I was paralyzed and embarrassed about my financial situation, and so I ignored the notices from the bank until the last minute.”

“What do you mean, you ignored them?” she asks in a quiet voice.

I shrug and feel even worse.

“It means that I was totally irresponsible by putting my head in the sand, and pretending like it wasn’t happening. By the time the train rolled into the station, it was too late. I called Sunset Views management to inquire about trailer availability at the eleventh hour, and this is all they had. A one bedroom with a queen size. I’m sorry, honey,” I say in a low voice, hanging my head like the damned loser I am. “I’ll make it up to you. You’re a princess and you don’t deserve to live like this.”