Authors: Jenna Stewart
Unlikely Bedfellows 3
In 1975, a professional woman was probably a feminist and often was an anti-war protester. Professor Leah Morris was both. Now, however, feminism is settling in comfortably and Vietnam is over.
When Leah seeks early tenure, she fails on two fronts. She's desperate to prove to her family that she has the same talent for success that they do, and from desperation come sometimes-brilliant ideas. With the concept of a unique, new book, her dream of proving herself to her family may finally come true.
Leah carefully selects Beau Johnson and Steve Hardin to help fulfill her plan, only discovering too late that she swore ten years earlier she'd never again speak to one of them, and that both are out of the war, but still in the Corps. Are the teacher's pets carrying too much baggage for Leah, or is that "baggage" really a comfy sleeping bag, large enough for three?
Historical, Ménage a Trois/Quatre
Unlikely Bedfellows 3
Siren Publishing, Inc.
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Having been a teacher, I can vouch for the fact that you can’t help having favorites—though I never had teacher’s pets like you’ll read about in this book! I hope you enjoy.
Dedicated with love to my lifetime sweetie, Jack. He’s always been my favorite and my pet.
Unlikely Bedfellows 3
Copyright © 2012
Beau Johnson saw her crossing the quad and did a double take. Even after the sexy clothing she’d worn the last couple of days, this outfit was a stunner. Large white polka dots marked her orange, bright-enough-to-dim-the-sun cut-off top, and her slim hip-huggers fell to wide bell-bottoms. High fashion in 1975, her clothing seemed to expose more than it covered. Her navel peeked out from the waistband with each swing of her hips. She strolled along as though she wore a conservative business suit. Today she wore her blonde hair down, and he saw it was chin length. Her sandals had about a three-inch heel on them, and she used the height to emphasize that her legs went all the way up, clear to her ass.
“Yes, they do,” he murmured.
“Jesus H. Christ with a crutch.” His best friend Steve’s mouth dropped open. “I don’t know who the fuck that is, but I’m going to find out.”
“Forget it. She’s faculty.”
“So? It’s not like we’re kids.
old enough to be faculty.”
“Your grandfather might be president of the college, but we’re still students and she’s still off limits.” Beau took another look, now at her back as she disappeared into Shirock Hall. His cock rose as he let his imagination run rampant. He had his hands on that ass, caressing it, spreading it, while he tasted her skin and nipped her bare shoulder. Her shoulder blade would sport a small butterfly that only those privileged enough to know her naked would see. And
would be one of those. One of the few, one of the proud, just as he’d been for the last nine years in the Corps. “And besides, she’s
“Your fac—” Steve turned to him. “
your teacher? You son of a bitch. You’ve been holding out on me.”
“We’ve only been in class for a few days. There hasn’t been time to tell you
Steve burst into laughter. “Bullshit. You wanted her all to yourself.”
Beau smiled. “There is that.”
“Asshole. I’m your best friend. If you can’t share a woman with
, who can you share with?”
Sharing? Who the fuck said anything about sharing?
“You should have seen her yesterday. Miniskirt so short she had to have a haircut and a see-through blouse.”
“Might as well have been. I mean, her tits were technically covered, but there wasn’t much left to the imagination. Believe me, what you imagine under that cut-off top is there, and they’re real.”
Steve groaned. “Stop! I can’t take any more. Why did I have to be a chem major instead of…what worthless liberal arts department are you in again?”
Beau shook his head. They went through the comparison of liberal arts to science all the time. There was no convincing Steve that geography and history served a purpose in the military and the country, just like the sciences. “You know good and fucking well.”
Steve grinned. “Yeah, I do. I better go. I have a lab. See you tonight.”
“Later.” Beau checked his watch and turned toward Shirock Hall.
“You know,” Steve said, making him stop, “your teacher looks familiar.”
Steve stared toward Shirock Hall, his face screwed up in concentration. “I could swear I’ve seen her before.”
“You have. She looks like every wet dream you’ve ever had.” He poked his friend’s arm. “Mine, too.”
“Well, okay.” Steve shrugged his shoulders. “See ya later.” He went off with a confident stride so different from the casual lope he’d had before they joined the Corps. The military gave a man bearing that nothing else did, recognizable a mile away.
Beau made his way into class just minutes before the bell. His seat was on the third row of the auditorium-style room that had been packed with a predominantly male crowd on his first day. He looked around. More than half the seats were empty, and now there was a fifty-fifty mix of men and women. Some of the extra guys might have come because the course was called
But if word had leaked out about how the prof would be dressed, he had no doubt the rest had come to see the show. Beau was in class simply to fill out a liberal arts requirement.
The question in his mind was what Dr. Leah Morris was trying to do. Why the wild getups? No college teacher he’d ever known came dressed in leather minishorts, as Leah had two days ago. And then the miniskirt, and now the orange outfit. What was going on? She would parade around until the testosterone in the room couldn’t be cut with a knife, and then she’d hand out a test. So far he’d aced them, but it had taken all his will power to think about sociology instead of imagining fucking the lovely professor on her desk.
The bell rang and the door to her prep area at the rear of her desk opened. When she emerged, Beau sensed tension in the air. He glanced around. The girls sat up straighter and the guys all leaned forward. She strolled into the room, hips swaying, steps measured.
She started the lecture from chapter three of the text without preamble. While she talked, she walked back and forth in front of the desk. Her hips moved left, right, left, right, as though they had minds of their own. The bare skin between the cut-off top and hip-hugger bell-bottoms was smooth and tight, without an ounce of flab around her narrow waist.
He turned his gaze—and his libido—from her gorgeous body to her face, which was fresh and clear. He guessed her age at somewhere around thirty. Above a full mouth, a pert nose, and a rose-colored complexion, bright blue eyes swept the room, demanding attention from every student—even the girls. When she met his gaze, he had to concentrate to prevent a woody.
Pleased that she stared a moment longer at him than anyone else in the room and that she seemed to lose her train of thought, Beau let his own thoughts wander in the direction of kissing those luscious lips and pulling her top up over the breasts he’d seen encased in a pure white bra through her blouse the previous day. Then she blinked, took a breath, and picked up where she’d left off, spinning on her wedge shoes and making for the other side of the room.
Good God! He’d been kicked in the gut with only a look by a woman dressed in the brightest orange getup he’d ever seen. How the fuck was he supposed to last a whole semester like this? He dragged his errant thoughts back to demographics in major urban areas.
The guy next to him groaned, and the sound wasn’t one of lust.