Her Dirty Teachers - Mika Lane Page 0,26

count on anything until I had it in my purse.

I scanned the audience as far as I could see into the dark corners of the club. Way in the back, I could swear I saw someone I’d not seen in there before.

But he was someone I knew.

For fuck’s sake. Was that Professor Carter, my math teacher?

I looked around to make sure Zin was nowhere in the vicinity and sneaked out alongside the stage and zipped to the back, as if I were going to the bar for a beverage. When I was sure she wasn’t looking, I headed over to Carter.

He looked up at me approvingly.

Yeah, he’d better fucking look at me that way.

“Professor Carter, what are you doing here? I’m not sure I’m comfortable with your presence.” I took a furtive look around. Zin would explode if she knew I were talking to a guest this way.

He looked guilty for a moment. And while he was deciding what to say, I looked at the tattoos circling his huge biceps.

Damn.

Then he smiled at me. His dazzling smile. “I didn’t mean to stalk you Senna. To be honest, I’d seen you here one time before. I wanted to see you again.”

Well. At least he was honest.

“Why do you work here, Senna?” he asked.

Was he really asking me that?

“School is not cheap, you know. I have a work-study job at the fitness center, but that pays next to nothing.”

He nodded. “Okay. I’m not saying you should leave this job. I’m sure it’s lucrative. But if you ever wanted a position in the math department, I could talk to some people for you.”

Um, no.

“Well, thank you. That’s a nice offer. But I don’t think I’d be such a good fit for the math department.”

He stood. “Look, I’ll take off. I shouldn’t have invaded your privacy like this. I’m sorry.”

Okay, at least he apologized. More than I could say for a lot of men.

“I’ll see you tomorrow in math, okay?” he said. And just before he turned for the door, he moved closer to me, so close I could smell his shampoo.

His gaze zeroed in on my lips. He placed a hand on my hip, touching my bare skin. I inhaled a sharp intake of air as an electric jolt fired through me. He moved closer and pressed his lips to mine, very softly.

And he tasted so good that I pushed my own mouth back against his, hard. He ran a finger down my cheek in an intimate gesture, and as I thought about how I wanted more, I remembered I was at work in a freaking strip club, wearing a bikini top and Daisy Duke shorts.

Was I fucking crazy?

“Um, I’ve got to go,” I said, backing away. “I’m on in a few minutes.”

I turned and ran backstage. I don’t know if he left then, or hung around for a while. I was afraid to look in that direction the rest of the night.

Holy crap. Now I’d kissed two of my professors. In what universe was something like that okay? And to top it off, they were friends. Come to think of it, my French professor knew them too. They were the triad of gorgeousness at Wellshire University.

Did Adler and Carter want to have a threesome or something? What the hell were they up to? I’d never had a ménage, as Sadie called it, but to be honest, I’d fantasized about it plenty. Sadie swore it was the best thing ever.

I put my head in my hands, elbows resting on the dressing room table. I had the room to myself for once, something that seldom happened. And when it did, it never lasted for long.

Just as I started to touch up my makeup, my phone vibrated from a strange number.

“Hello?”

“Senna? It’s Ty. Ty from English class.”

Shit.

I forced calm into my voice. What did he want?

“How’d you get my number?” I asked.

He laughed. “You’re a funny girl, Senna. I know a lot of people. They do things for me.”

Um. Okay.

“What do you want, Ty?

Another chuckle. “I have a deal to make with you.”

Oh, Jesus Christ.

“What?” I demanded.

“If you write the next paper for Adler’s class for me, I won’t out you and your lovely little profession. The one where you wear bikinis and short shorts.”

Holy shit. Had he been there tonight? Was he out there right now?

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself—”

“Senna, Senna, Senna,” he clucked. “Such language for a lady—well, scratch that. I guess you’re not a lady.”

“Drop dead, loser—”

But he cut me off.