Dragon Ball Z 1. Chapter One

_Unmasked_

By: _Mallie-3_

_Chapter One_

_Summary:__ One guarded young woman, a mysterious professor, and two pasts that collide to create a colorful mask of secrets._

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own Dragon Ball Z or any of the characters associated with this Anime/Manga._

_Warnings:__ This story will have graphic scenes that might not be suitable for those under the age of 18. This is a dark story, with dark pasts and if you can't handle that sort of thing I discourage you from reading any further. If you enjoy a drama/angst filled fiction with dark parts please by all means continue! _

_ooOoo_

_Malicious laughter could be heard from the main living room near the front of the Briefs home. Its turbulent echo's shook the cowering young girl to the bone. Her wide eyes were concentrated on the cool floor beneath her body which was located under the dining room table. She could barely think and it caused her muscles to completely lock up. The girl had to desperately will her body to slide across the floor as quickly as possible. She had to get to the panic room. Her stiff knees pressed to the cool tiles as she finally approached the door way. Her hair hung loosely against her face._

_That was when she heard the first gun shot. The young girl's head whipped around, causing her blue tendrils of hair to slide down her stricken face and over her wide eyes. It was followed by a shriek and loud sobbing. The man who delivered the final blow was laughing. Why were they laughing?_

"_Damn it you fool, how in the hell do you expect to find it if you killed the old bastard?" the scum bag snarled, followed by a loud clap of skin. _

"_Damn Leo, that man was jerkin' our chain. He didn't have shit." He slurred, most likely nursing his swelling cheek. _

_Bulma didn't waste a moment more, her fingers spread across the tiled floor as she thrust upward and made a run for it. Her bare feet hit each step loudly drawing the attention from those below her. Tears were filling her eyes and her heart was pounding in her chest as she launched forward and gripped the side rail, propelling her body father up onto the second level where the panic room was held. _

"_Johnny, get your ass up those stairs and bring me that damn brat." One man shouted, over the desperate pleas of her mother. _

_Bulma slipped on the top step and glanced over her shoulder. She pressed a hand to her abdomen, gasping for the air that had just been knocked out of her. The young girl sobbed and gritted her teeth as she forced her aching body up once again as she heard the heavy booted feet of the man sent to obtain her. _

_She gripped the edge of the wall and flung her body around the corner and jogged toward her parents' bedroom just in time to see the man rushing toward her door. Bulma's eyes burned and it was almost impossible to breath. Her shaking hands gripped the door handle and slammed her petit frame into the door. Bulma grunted out a half sob as she felt her feet sliding across the carpet. Her eyes widened as she began to panic. _

"_I've got ya, ya little brat." The man shoved a hand through the door, feeling for the girl. _

_Bulma whimpered and pulled back, watching the calloused fingers extending toward her face. She shoved harder and more ferociously, but it seemed that no matter how hard she shoved the man was not backing down. Finally his head and part of his upper body slipped through the crack, peering down at her with a sharp grin. His green eyes shimmered with interest. _

"_There ya are, Bulma sweetie." The man chuckled and growled loudly, barreling down the door and causing her body to fling to the ground. _

"_Leave me alone, please." Bulma sobbed, rubbing her aching arms. She quickly turned and began to crawl for her parent's walk-in closet. _

"_I am sorry to say that I can't until we find what it is out boss wants from your wanker of a father." The man tilted his head to the side and looked over her small body, licking his lower lip and launching forward to grab one of her slender legs. _

_He reached for the holster near his waist and retrieved his silenced handgun. Bulma shrieked as her captor flipped her body over and pressed the barrel against her abdomen. His lips were parted and his eyes roamed over her body, creating a dull ache in her stomach. The young girl could feel the bile rising up her throat as the man sized her up, reaching in to caress her cheek as he whispered twisted things to her. Hot tears trailed down her cheeks and into her ears as she watched the man. She couldn't speak, nor think. _

_Her body was in shock that it didn't know what to do. He was on one knee and trailing the muzzle of the gun up her wrinkled shirt toward her budding breasts and then toward the side of her cheek. He leaned in and sneered at her, "Where is it?" she jerked feeling a bead of his sweat hit her wet cheek. _

"_I-I don't know what you are talking about," Bulma closed her eyes tightly and sobbed. _

"_Yes ya do, ya little bitch, you're his daughter. Don't tell me you didn't have a clue what he was doin'." The man sat up straight and plowed the butt of his gun into the side of her face, gashing her porcelain flesh. _

_Bulma's hands flew to her face, cradling her cheek. She could taste her coppery blood filling her mouth, alerting her that he most likely busted her gums and chipped a few teeth. She spat out the deep colored blood and peered up at him, her lower lip quivering with fear. Blood ran down her face from the deep wound upon her cheek._

"_Get up, cunt," he gripped her blue hair and tossed her upon the bed, just a tad closer to the panic room that lie just behind the open closet door. _

"_There is nothing I can fucking do, you can ask me all you want. I still don't understand what it is you are after." Bulma sobbed, gripping the blankets tightly from under her, causing her knuckles to turn white. _

"_Damn it, you are terrible with kids," Leo said as he entered the room with a blind folded blonde. She had been struggling the whole way up the stairs and sobbing against the recently placed cloth gag. _

"_Momma," Bulma leaned forward knowing her mother had heard her because she was reaching out and looking in the direction that she heard the sound of her daughter's voice. A small smile could be seen on her bloodied features. Bulma's heart broke for her. _

"_She is useless. The only other one that knows where Dr. Brief's notes are is this little brat." The new arrival said, sliding a hand over his slicked back hair. _

_Brief's wife leaned forward and began to wail shaking her tied up hands and pleading through the piece of cloth caught between her teeth. Bulma began to sob and shake her head, "Let her go, she did nothing." Her lower lips began to quiver seeing the man named 'Leo' pull out his loaded gun and pointed the muzzle against her mother's matted hair. _

_The sound was silenced and in an instant the woman she called 'mother' lay lifeless upon the carpet. A pool of bright red blood pooled around her head. Gore and blood splatter littered the floor. Both men were leaning in and chuckling, observing their handy work. _

_The young girl's eyes darkened. She refused to cry and bolted for the open door. Her fingers pressed against the key pad, typing in the required password. The steel door beeped, alerting the intruders as well as granting her access. She slammed the steel door closed as fast as it allowed and entered the lock code. The cameras flipped on as well as the lights. _

_She took a few deep breaths, allowing all her emotions to slam into her like a ton of bricks. When it did the tears didn't stop. She stumbled toward the alarm system, slamming her fist upon the red button, and then slid to the ground. Bulma pulled her knees to her chest and rested her forehead against her thighs, crying for the loss of both parents. She was crying for herself as well. Where would she go? What would she do? Her trembling hand gripped a small pendant wrapped around her neck. It was a small heart shaped locket with a tiny glittering diamond in the center given to her by her parents on her tenth birthday. She gripped her source of comfort tightly, speaking to her dead parents out loud as she sobbed._

_An alarm sounded and a light flickered at the corner of her eye. Her swollen face lifted a moment, sobbing loudly as she lifted a shaky hand to answer the call, the call that saved her life._

_.._

_._

_._

_.._

…

She opened her eyes, shifting them slowly toward the obnoxious alarm that had sounded in her ear. For once, she was quite grateful to hear its persistent wails. Her hand slammed upon the plastic clock, silencing its shouts for the morning and slipped her legs from her small single bed. She lifted her hand to wipe away the sleep from the corners of her eyes and stretched letting out a loud and obnoxious moan.

"Damn girl, you are up early." The blonde from the other bed murmured as she was still half asleep.

"Mhm," Brandi nodded, running a hand through her brown locks of hair.

"When is your first class?" Steph asked, stretching under her own comforter and sitting up, fixing her messy bun.

"9:30 this morning. I can't believe it is 7:30, I swear I just laid my head down," the brown haired woman chuckled softly.

"Are you coming to Tom's tonight for the kegger?" The blonde asked, rubbing the smudged make-up from her eyes.

"Uh, that all depends on the amount of homework I get the first day. I am lucky that I only have two classes today, but I still would like to finish it before tomorrow. Tuesdays and Thursdays are overloaded days," Brandi pointed an index finger at her and stood up, straightening her pajama shorts and tank, making her way toward her dresser.

"Ah, well my overloaded days are Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I… suck." She stated, making her fingers into the shape of a gun and pretending to blow her brains out.

Brandi shook her head and smiled softly, pulling out each garment and placing it upon her thigh, "Yep, you do." She agreed.

Stephanie grinned and nodded, pursing her lips, "I know I do," she winked and ran her hands down the front of her tank.

"Oh gosh, you're such a pervert." Brandi chuckled softly, standing up and making her way toward the door with her shower supplies, "I'll be back, shower it is for me."

Steph was laughing hysterically at her roommate's reaction and nodded, wiping away her tears, "Hurry back now," she called out as the door closed.

Brandi traveled the small distance from her small dorm room toward the showers. She stepped inside with her shower kit and laid everything she needed out. She had her toothbrush, comb, towel, and clothing.

At twenty, it was her second full semester at this particular University. She had spent the first two years of her college career at a community college. There was much to decide those first two years and since she wasn't quite sure what she wanted to study she figured she needed to start small. Once she obtained her associates she decided on a career path. She loved nothing more than to learn about the complicated aspects of the brain. She wanted to know what caused physiological problems. What caused a person's entire personality to change? What did they think, or see? What did they feel when placed in regular society, not knowing they are different?

It was her passion and she was working toward her B.A. She wasn't sure what she would go on to do, but she would love nothing more than to work with those people being affected physiologically.

Stephanie Roe was her roommate and had been for the entirety of last semester. She was going for Education and was also a part of the cheerleading squad. It seemed like the only thing instilled in their brains was being able to do a proper front and back hand spring and to sell those stupid raffle tickets. The girl was sweet. She was a junior at the college hoping for just one more year before she began student teaching at the Middle School of her choice. Brandi was happy for her friend.

She was honestly happy that she had met her. She could be a little over the top and sometimes over peppy, but she still enjoyed her company. She was an entertaining individual. Brandi wasn't the type of girl to instantly latch onto someone just because she had a class with them, or partied one time with the person no matter how awesome they were.

Brandi slid her hands over her dark hair, and rang it out. She stepped out of the shower after thoroughly washing and wrapped her warm towel around her dripping body. The petit girl leaned over and tapped her shower shoes and headed toward the mirror. She used a hand towel to dry off her hair. She combed the tangles free and then began to apply her concealer, making sure to dab some lightly over the fading scare upon her cheek.

Brandi licked her lips and quickly put on clothing. She dressed in a simple V-neck t-shirt and a pair of jeans. She slipped on a pair of socks and a pair of suede boots that came 1/3 of the way up her shin. She zipped them up and stood to apply the thin scarf around her neck before she threw up her wet hair in a messy bun adorning her skull with a thick headband that wrapped up her bangs. She quickly spritzed herself and headed back to her room. Steph was still in bed and snoring with her mouth wide open.

"Stephanie…" Brandi leaned over the bed and tapped the girl's nose, causing a soft snorkel to erupt from her throat. She shot up and wiped the spit stream from her mouth and offered her friend a dorky smile.

"Hey…" she slurred, rubbing her face with both her hands, inhaling deeply, "I fell asleep again. Help me up," the blonde extended her arms and gripped her friends forearm to force herself to get up and about.

"Yes you did, you have a class at 10:30, right?" Brandi asked her, raising a dark eyebrow.

"Mhm, I do," she chuckled and slowly glided toward her dresser drawers.

"Then you better hurry up, the rate you're going you're going to be late." Brandi pulled her phone from the end table between the two beds and looked at the time. It was 8:45 and she still needed to get a bagel for breakfast as well as her routine coffee before she stepped one foot into that class room.

"It is only what…?" her groggy voice trailed off, looking for her roommate's clock, "Nine…I have plenty of time," Stephanie mumbled.

"Yeah, yeah, you will thank me when you finish getting ready at least forty minutes before you have to have to leave for class. You spend more time on your hair than any other woman I have met. My mother spends a lot of time on her hair, trust me, I know what_ long_ is." Brandi shook her head, tucking a loose piece of dried hair behind her ear.

"Whatever…" Steph shrugged and took her shower supplies elsewhere.

The brown haired girl slipped out of her dorm door and closed the door behind her, saying her good-byes to her friend before exiting the building. It was a cool day. This particular state didn't have as bitter winters as the Central states, but it sure rained quite a bit in some areas. Washington was a beautiful place to grow up. She had truly grown fond of it. The towns' people were nice and it was not just because they all knew her mother, who owned a flower shop. Her thriving business was well known for making the most beautiful flower arrangements and during certain parts of the year she was completely swamped with work.

Brandi slipped her hands into her pockets and walked down the busy sidewalk toward the Starbucks at the corner. It was the closest one to the building in which her first class was held. She pulled a piece of paper she had printed from the Library a few days back and looked at the room number and teacher.

**HALL** **ROOM** **TEACHER** _TIME_

James 303 Ouji M/W/F 9:00-9:50

Ouji was the last name of the teacher she was going to have to deal with for the entire semester. She honestly hoped it wasn't an old Professor who lost his or her drive to teach. It was the worst thing in the world when a student has to endure a class where a teacher detested all living and breathing creatures placed before them. It honestly made her hate herself and being before them. Luckily she only had one woman that did that to her last semester. The woman was retiring soon anyway, and for that Brandi was grateful.

As she stepped into the warm atmosphere of the coffee shop, her nose took her straight for the counter where she ordered her Carmel Macchiato with skim milk and a blue berry muffin for the walk. Her stomach gurgled and protested as the enticing smells floated up into her nose cavity. She paid for the items and waited patiently, situating her backpack from time to time and checking the time on her phone obsessively.

Brandi gripped her warm coffee cup in one hand and clutched the muffin in the other, explaining to the server that she didn't need a box. She nodded and took a bite, using her rear end to prop open the door and make a quick exit. She slowly made her way down the side walk; feeling a bit worried that she couldn't look at the time. It was most likely less than twenty minutes before her class started.

The young woman finished the last bit of her delicious muffin and tossed her wrapper away in the garbage she was passing by. She entered James Hall and headed straight for the elevator that took her to the third floor. She knew stairs were the healthy choice, but it was nearly 9:30 in the morning and she wasn't feeling especially productive today. Her crystal blue eyes scanned the numbers upon the top of each door and finally paused as she made it to her destination. She gripped the door handle and entered, slowly making her way up a few flights of steps to a seat far away from the front of the room.

The dry erase boards were in pristine condition and everything had a particular place. Of course it wasn't this specific Professor's room, but the Psychology hall was known to be the best kept. Honestly she couldn't complain because they had the nicest bathrooms and a variety of different vending machines with her favorite snacks.

Brandi plopped down in her seat and pulled her dark heap of messy brown locks tighter upon her head and situated the headband, holding back her bangs. She looked to the closed door watching as the students began to pile in with just minutes to spare. She hated crowded rooms, especially rooms that had her placed between two men who applied a little too much cologne this morning. Her fingers plugged her nose tightly, feeling the urge to sneeze. Thankfully one was a few seats away.

"Can I sit here?" asked a well-built man about her age with beautiful blue eyes and a great smile.

"I don't know, can you?" Brandi looked up from her planner and blinked a few times.

The young man chuckled softly and sat down, placing his backpack near his feet, shifting a questioning look her way. Her eyes quickly avoided eye contact with him which surprisingly drew the man's attention.

"What is your name?" he smiled flashing those pearly whites.

"Why?" she asked, growing annoyed.

"Well, I don't know I figured I would get to know my classmates since we have to spend a semester together." He shrugged, "Brandon." He nodded to her.

Brandi chuckled and shook her head, "I see. My name is Brandi."

"Nice to meet you, Brandi." He leaned back in his chair and looked her over.

The uncomfortable young woman shifted in her seat. Her attention along with everyone else seated in the classroom was immediately grasped when a loud slam echoed throughout the class room. The Professor was standing in the front of the class and slowly prying open the brief case that had just created the loud thud

"Good morning class," her professor said in a gruff tone.

His onyx eyes lifted, skimming over each one of the faces looking down on him. He pulled out a dry erase marker from his collection and turned to face the board, quickly writing his last name, class, and degree in black markings. He let out a slow breath, capped the marker, and slowly made his way to the front of his desk and lean against it with his pinstriped dress pants. His black belt showed off his lean center, which his trunk came up in the perfect V form. He wore a pale yellow button down dress shirt with a black tie. His hair was black as night and in a short spiked style. His aristocratic features were quite striking.

Why hadn't she seen him before? He was gorgeous with that long straight nose, well-formed mouth that had a kissable lower lip, and beautifully high cheekbones. He looked striking, yet intimidating. Those obsidian eyes of his skimmed over everyone so critically. Brandi found she needed to close her lips tightly or her tongue could quite possibly fall right out of her mouth and onto her tabletop.

"My name is Mr. Ouji. Not Professor, Doc, dude, Mr. O, hey man, just Mr. Ouji." His silky voice caressed over her like soft fingertip, causing her to lean forward desperately wanting him to speak again.

Brandi blinked her blue eyes a few times, feeling absolutely silly about her childish attraction. Yes, he was obnoxiously good looking, had a great body from what she could see, and he most likely packing a wallop in the lower regions…

_Shut up! Down girl, my gosh you need to get laid…_

She leaned back and got her wandering thoughts under control quickly, tapping her pen upon the desk top quietly and refusing to look his way as he spoke.

"I do not take kindly to side chatter, if I catch you, you will be asked to leave." He said leaning back on his large hands, "No cell phones, I could care less about your life outside of this classroom. If I see it, you will be asked to leave. If you must use the restroom, do it before class. This is my time. The only absence I accept is if you are in the hospital, if you fall 'ill' for whatever reason, it isn't my problem, party on the weekends during your own time." Mr. Ouji drawled out.

Everyone was looking around at one another by this time. They could sense it wasn't going to be an easy course because their Professor was completely insane with his rules in the classroom. She too felt a bit more uneasy. Brandi reached into her pocket to quickly shut off her phone. When she looked up her Professor was making eye contact with her. His black eyes were narrowed into something a bit more sinister. She had been shutting off her phone, what was this guy's deal?

"Any questions?" he pried his eyes away from her, scanning the room.

"Will you be giving us study guides for the test; I didn't see an explanation for the exams in your syllabus online." A young girl stammered as she pushed up her glasses.

"No, but I will inform you now that I will have quizzes for each chapter you read. We will find out real quick which students shall be successful in this course. I do hope you all checked your student e-mails. I sent out a mass e-mail asking you become familiar with chapter one of the text book by today. Today will be your first quiz," he turned from his desk and pulled out a folder with the quizzes.

Brandi's mouth dropped open; she flipped through her printed syllabus to see what things this Professor had planned for day one. The word 'open' was printed in bold letters. Open? What did that mean, like, anything was game?

She slammed her syllabus upon the tabletop and propped her head up on the desk. Her blue eyes shot daggers at the new professor.

_Touché Professor, you may be hot, but I hate you…_

ooOoo

She hated him. She hated him with a passion. Why would he do that to his students? Class hadn't even begun yet and he assigned a quiz? She was completely beside herself at the moment. Brandi pulled the pack of smokes from her side zipper on her back pack and lit up just outside the building.

She hadn't failed the quiz because she applied her previous historic knowledge from other classes to this particular quiz. It was a history of Psychology course that she decided to take in order to fill up her schedule.

She inhaled deeply, enjoying the menthol that filled her mouth and put her body at ease. Smoking was her stress reliever. She thought it was better than drinking herself into a coma like most the college students she knew. She yanked the hair tie from her head and dragged her fingers through the wavy damp locks of her brown hair. She happened to glance up and see a pair of dark pants approaching her.

The man leaned over and grabbed her pack of cigarettes that happened to fall out of her backpack upon dropping it and offered them to her. Brandi ran her hand through her hair and lifted her gaze; she took a drag and opened her mouth to speak. The words died on her tongue.

"Brandi, was it?" Her professors intimidating stare bore into her, nearly making her scramble for cover.

The young woman quickly pushed away her fears and anxieties, held head high, and snatched the pack before slipped it into her back pocket. The man chuckled darkly before pulling out his own pack and placing a fresh cigarette between his lips. He felt around for a lighter, sighing softly realizing he had left it in his office. With a quick flick of her thumb, a bright flame stood from the top of the lighter. Mr. Ouji leaned in and took a quick drag from his own cigarette.

Her Professor smoked? She was completely shocked. From the way he carried himself she figured he needed a stress relief from time to time.

"Yes, I am she," Brandi waved a hand, offering him a fake smile.

His dark eyes shifted quickly over her features, but instantly looked away turning his back to her.

"You did surprisingly well on your quiz," he said as he sucked in a drag before allowing it to exit his nostrils.

Brandi blinked a few times, flashing him a confused look, "I look that incapable of passing your class, huh?" she took a large drag and shook her head, feeling her anger boil within her.

_Asshole…_

"Not that you look incapable, Miss. Williams, you looked rather shocked that I assigned homework for the first day." He said, taking one more drag of his half way used smoke and stomped it out, "Well, I must start another class, see you Wednesday, and check your e-mail religiously. I would hate for you to fail out of my class." He grinned, slipping his hands into his pockets and making his way back to his classes.

Brandi sneered, stomping out her own cigarette and storming off, flipping her bag over her shoulder.

Later that evening, Steph arrived back from her cheerleading practice and dropped all her gear in the duel closet on her side of the room. She turned her slim athletic body toward her sulking friend and lifted a brow.

"Wow, what pissed you off?" she asked, tilting her head to the side causing her blonde ponytail to jerk around wildly.

"I hated my first class, the asshole had a surprise quiz." She said into the pillow her face was stuffed against.

"Oh shit, you know for sure you failed?" Stephanie slipped next to her and patted her back.

"I did well," she mumbled.

The blonde laughed out loud and flipped her dramatic friend over, "Then why in the heck are you complaining?"

"Because who in the hell does that? I mean, he didn't even care it seemed like. For all I know he gets off knowing we are struggling." The brunette shrugged her shoulders.

Steph leaned in and shook her head, "Yea, some teachers as pricks. Hold still you have make-up smeared on her cheek," she giggled, rubbing her thumb down the swell of her friend's cheek bone, frowning as she traced the arched scar there.

"You know, you never told me how you got this sucker. It looks like it definitely hurt. What did your parents do, beat you?" she laughed out loud knowing how sweet Brandi's mother was and how incapable she was to cause that.

Brandi smacked her friend's hand away roughly and frowned deeply, causing Stephanie's laughter to immediately cease, "No, my parents did beat me. What is your problem? That was a stupid question, Steph." She said harshly, causing the blonde to flush a deep red.

"Dude, relax it was a joke." The cheerleader said softly.

"Well, I am not joking." Brandi looked away, avoiding eye contact.

"Sorry," the older girl replied.

The moment she heard Steph stand, she felt a wave of guilt. She didn't mean to pounce on the girl like that. She was just pushed too hard today.

"Look, I didn't mean to snap. It just wasn't a good day, still on for that kegger?" the brunette forced a smile on her lips.

Steph nodded tackling her friend in the bed, wrapping her arms around her, "Of course, bitch." She chuckled playfully, standing and getting into party going clothing.

Brandi reached into her bag and pulled out her Xanax and popped a tablet in her mouth, downing it with a small water bottle from her mini fridge. She wiped her mouth and reached toward her throat, gripping a small heart shaped pendant with a glittering diamond placed in the very center. What would she wear for this night's event?

ooOoo

_Author's Note:_ _Another story for everyone! It might start of a bit slow, but you will NOT be disappointed. I want to thank Preciousjade for her support and wonderful brain power that made this new idea possible._

_Mallie-3_


	2. Chapter Two

_Unmasked_

_Chapter 2_

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own Dragon Ball Z or any of the characters, nor do I make any profit from it. _

_Author's Note:__ If you're confused…I am glad… _

_Word Count:__ 8,201_

ooOoo

…

..

.

Monday night was a treat. They had gone to a kegger, which she tried to escape from several times. Once Steph found out what she was doing she had eyes on her always and kept her arms linked with hers. Brandi wasn't in the mood to drink at all, but she stayed out anyway. She of course got the joyous opportunity to drive her vomiting friend home in her car, which was nice. She could still remember the pungent odor of her vomit. It unfortunately coated the lining of her nostrils for a few days.

Tuesday had come and gone quickly. She had to work from 4:30 to 10pm at the small coffee shop on campus. It was nothing like Starbucks, but she enjoyed the manager, who was a family friend, and her co-workers.

It was a slow night and she was able to get much of her reading done while sitting behind the counter, waiting for customers. Brandi was lucky to have such laid back staff that understood her obligation to school. Soon she wouldn't have to worry about it, but in the meantime that was her life unless she was dragged around to other functions that included alcohol by her roommate.

Wednesday finally arrived and she had her class with this Ouji character. Her stomach twisted into knots. Why was she feeling so uncomfortable? Brandi felt odd feeling so uncomfortable, which usually didn't occur with people. All she usually had to do was ignore them. It would be hard since he was not just anyone, but her professor.

Brandi couldn't help but feel a little wrong. She hated the man after a single meeting, but couldn't help but feel this strange curiosity. Why? She wasn't sure yet, and quite honestly she didn't want to find out. She wanted to get through the semester and never see him again.

She quickly dressed and threw up her hair in a simple messy ponytail and exited her dorm. Her hands immediately dove into her pockets, reaching for that small box which contained her daily dose of nicotine. Brandi placed the white filter between her glistening lips and lit the tip carefully, blocking the soft breeze from the flicker of the glowing flame. Smoke spiraled up toward the sky as she took in a deep breath, allowing the smoke to coat her lungs and her craving to be sated for a moment or two.

8:30 already, but she was in no hurry. She had been lying in bed for a few hours before her alarm went off. It was the nightmares that kept her from sleep. She couldn't help but worry that her meds wouldn't properly curb her anxiety. She didn't want to tell her mother. God forbid that woman worried too much for her well-being already. It was her duty as parent guardian, but she hated seeing that flicker of sadness drift across those sweet features of hers. Now that she was out of the house it was easy for her to fake. All she had to do was put on a smile and show up a couple times a week to prove she was alive. She was twenty and felt as if she was a child checking up as she did, but if it made Lorelei happy, that was all that mattered.

Brandi flicked the filter into the street. Smoke escaped her nostrils. She lifted a hand and pressed the wisps of brown locks behind her ear and licked her dry lips. She stopped at the crosswalk, looking both ways. Her hand squeezed her strap tightly. Her blue eyes flicked toward the flashing 'do no cross' light. The traffic kept coming, leaving no room to cross at any point.

She glanced down at her phone's clock, cursing softly to herself. She would surely be late at this rate. So much for being slow this morning. She started out early and now she was going to be late to his class. Great, this is exactly what she needed for the day. The last wave of cars came and she carefully stepped over the curb. Brandi looked both ways once again, seeing that all four lanes were cleared.

_Screw the stupid sign…_

She carelessly darted as soon as she decided she was not going to wait for the light. Her eyes shifted to the side, seeing a large black object quickly approaching her right side. She took in a sharp breath and flinched as she heard the sharp squeal of car tires on the asphalt. Her small body tensed up, feeling her knees immediately lock into place out of pure fear. A black sedan was able to stop mere inches from her body. Brandi couldn't feel her heart racing in her chest and the strap of her backpack slowly sliding from her arm. Her knees were no longer tense, but they felt like jelly. She cursed herself in her mind, begging and willing her body not to pass out. Her eyes were flickering as she looked down at her body. She felt a strong rush to her head as the car door opened and closed loudly. Her blue eyes shot up.

Was that who she thought it was? A dark haired man dressed professionally stepped free from his vehicle and looked upon her with pure hatred. She shot him a confused look, unable to return the same look even though she wanted to. He ran a hand through his hair, hiding that he too was just as scared as she was.

"Miss. Williams, what in the hell do you think you are doing? I don't think you will live long enough to make it through my class making poor decisions like that. I won't ask if you are alright because clearly you are in one piece." Professor asshole replied with that incredibly sexy voice of his.

She gasped and shrunk back hearing she was indeed in one piece, "Yeah..." she said stupidly, stumbling backward.

Vegeta's nostrils flared, obviously irritated with her answer, "Miss. Williams," Mr. Ouji leaned forward, latching onto her small wrist and pulling her close.

The sound of horns honking caught her attention and her eyes lifted from the asphalt. There was a long line behind the professor's car. He wasn't paying any attention to them. His eyes were on hers instead, looking her over. Was that concern she saw in his eyes? No, it couldn't be concern. This man was unable of feeling anything unless it was causing others pain. She began to smile to herself.

"I'm really sorry, I wasn't thinking." She shook her head and pulled her arm away.

"Clearly," he frowned before gripping her shoulder and guiding her toward his car.

"I have to get to…um…your class," Brandi stammered, feeling a bit odd and rather dumb.

"Shut up and get in," Mr. Ouji replied before rolling those obsidian eyes of his.

She listened and quickly stepped into the car. Brandi slouched in her seat, following his form with her suspicious eyes as he rounded the car. He pulled open his driver door and slipped in.

"I really didn't…" she was cut off quickly as his hand swiped across her path of vision causing her to close her lips.

"I said...stop talking," he peered over at her and pursed his lips and as soon as she was quiet he spoke again, "Very good,"

"Fine," Brandi said softly, licking her lips quickly and keeping her eyes on the road.

Vegeta let out a slow annoyed breath as he shot her another glare. His hands gripped the steering wheel as he headed down the busy street toward the University. The mob of cars followed them the entire way. They were students hurrying to class, which she was oh so lucky and getting carted around by Mr. Ouji.

"You know, I think I am old enough to take care of myself. I don't need a babysitter." Brandi finally said in a rough tone as she rolled her blue eyes and tightened her knees around the heavy bag between her legs.

"Well, you were a few seconds away from becoming road kill because of your choices. Maybe you do need a babysitter, that or you should have followed mommy's rules, huh? Look both ways before you cross the street." Vegeta sat up straight as his nostrils flared and his grip tightened. His dark eyes widened as they flickered back and forth between moving traffic.

"It was a mistake, jerk." The Brunette frowned deeply and clenched her fists.

"Mistakes can get you killed. I know you are smarter than that." His dark eyebrows lifted a moment as he sucked in a breath, reconsidering his words, "Well, I take that back. I don't know you at all. You _seemed_ smarter than that, but I was obviously mistaken about your intelligence." Mr. Ouji snorted.

Brandi's frown deepened slightly as she watched his features, "So, why are you always so cranky?" She threw up her hands slightly, "You seem to have something against society. Either that or you just suck at making friends."

"You know nothing about me." Vegeta said softly with an unreadable expression.

"Whatever, I don't care as long as you don't dock me points in your class or something." Brandi looked out the window and began to grin softly to herself. She felt a bit silly saying something so ridiculous.

Vegeta began to turn into the faculty parking lot. His sedan slipped easily between two other faculty cars and he quickly put his car in park. The handsome man shifted in his seat and looked her over carefully. Brandi's cheeks began to tint slightly. What was he looking at? His lips peeled back over his brilliantly pearly whites, showing her a fierce grin.

"Don't tempt me," he chuckled, reaching across her seat and pushing her door open, "See you in class. You don't have an excuse to be late now." He kept eye contact with her briefly before looking away and allowing her to exit his vehicle.

Brandi's mouth dropped open, "You can't be serious. That isn't even fair." She stepped out of the car and grew even more irritated by the man as he waved her away from his car. He stepped out on his own and gripped his briefcase tightly in his hand as he made his way toward the faculty doors. He didn't even respond to her comment. He didn't care. He was an asshole. Quite frankly, she liked it. Her odd colored eyebrows narrowed as she slowly turned and headed to the front of the building.

To be quite honest she was thinking of skipping, tempted to push the envelope. She wanted him, no, dared him to take points. She would be in the Deans office so fast his head would be spinning upon those muscular shoulders of his.

Brandi cleared her throat and shook her head. There she went again, looking at his physical attributes. She sighed and gripped the door handle to the building and began to sift through the herds of people swarming the halls, ready to get to class. She slipped into her class and made her way to her seat. A man lifted his eyes and was smiling and nodding at her as she approached. She forced a fake smile and quickly sat.

When Brandi arrived at her seat she set her bag down at her side and glanced to her side to see the smiling man was picking up his own bag and moving closer to her. He was a new face. She had not seen him on Monday. The guy most likely signed up for classes late. The guy wasn't off to a good start if that was the case, especially with mister hard ass.

She pulled out her 'Burt's Bees' and applied a bit upon her dry lips, enjoying the soft tingle that soothed. She shifted her eyes toward the guy once again to see he was watching her. Brandi frowned slightly and shifted in her seat, gripping her bag and pulling out her books, ignoring the guy. Why was he being so damn obvious? That was such a turn off. Men who tried too hard made her want to throw up. Damn, she could feel his eyes on her face. What did he want?

She cleared her throat and shot her eyes toward the main door. Mr. Ouji had yet to arrive. She pulled out her phone to see her guardian had texted her. A smile formed on her lips. She missed Lorelei.

_Hey B, _

_Come over 4 din 2 nite. We have an important guest. Love u! xoxo -Mom_

Brandi grinned softly. Her mother always did try her hardest to relate to her somehow, which she thoroughly enjoyed. Her mother's text lingo was great. She quickly texted back and turned off her phone before the phone Nazi arrived and started barking orders. As she slipped her phone past the zipper just Mr. Ouji made his way into the room and slammed his briefcase on the desk, sitting down and writing for some time.

The brunettes attention was finally caught as the young man beside her cleared his throat loud enough to make her glance in his direction. She cocked a brow and watched him suspiciously as he smiled softly at her. He was decent looking, she would give him that. He was just awkward, yep, awkward.

The young man beside her leaned in and whispered softly, "So, what can you tell me about this guy? I just signed up today." The new guy shifted his eyes toward the Professor.

Bingo, he was late to sign up.

Brandi arched her back a bit and lifted her eyes to meet his warm brown gaze, "He is a prick." She inhaled deeply, keeping a straight face.

His eyebrows arched as his lips twitched and a grin formed on them, "Well, damn I was hoping all the rumors were false. You know those sites that tell you about a Professor and such, right?" Brandi nodded and swallowed, shifting her eyes down at Mr. Ouji who was oblivious to their conversation.

"Nope, they are true. This class isn't going to be a cake walk if that is what you are looking for. You might want to drop if you think this will be an easy 'A'." she rolled her eyes, trailing her fingers over the page she was reading.

"Not what I was hoping for. I just like to enjoy my classes." He leaned back, feeling a bit intimidated by this woman's cold attitude, "Not much of a talker, are you?" he said finally.

"Nope," Brandi began to ignore him once again.

"Well, I hope I can break that barrier over this semester." The young man chuckled.

Brandi looked up once again and frowned, "Barrier, huh? Alright, I am not looking to get buddy- buddy with you. I am not looking to be BFF's either."

"Brandi, huh?" he pointed to the name printed across her planner, causing her to immediately swipe her arm over it protectively.

"The name is Yamcha, Yamcha Kato." He reached out, offering her a handshake.

What was with the guys in this damn class? Monday she had to deal with that…guy…and now this wacko?

Brandi looked down at the extended hand and then back up at his smiling form, "That's great." She smiled sarcastically, completely ignoring the hand slowly retreating. It was definitely getting awkward. She gripped her book, pretending to read, but watching him struggle to find something else to talk to her about. He was a persistent guy.

"Is there something of importance that needs to be discussed for all the class to hear? I am curious as to why you are not reading the text. There is a pop quiz this class, yet again. Students in my class should always be prepared. Right, Miss Williams?" Mr. Ouji was now standing and walking around his desk with his hands in his pockets. His black gaze locked on the brunette and her chatty new 'friend'.

His beautiful formed lips were pursed tightly. His strong arms were at his side, deep in his pocket and the way he was standing was strong and demanding. She should not be excited by this. She needed help. She was convinced it was the meds or something, or maybe because she hadn't received sexual relief in a long while. Now she was looking at her teachers with sexual thoughts because she has been deprived, yep that is it. Well, she was not about to answer him. She wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

Brandi kept her lips tightly closed as she sank in her seat, breaking eye contact with her Professor. She could feel those dark eyes on her form. He wanted to make her feel bad for what happened earlier. There was usually always one student that stood out, whether it was positive of negative and she was almost one hundred percent positive it was her. It was not a good thing either.

"Speak up," Vegeta raised a brow and then shifted his eyes to this Yamcha character.

"Just making introductions, sir." Yamcha said softly, toying with his mechanical pencil.

Vegeta Ouji nodded slowly, "I see, speaking of introductions, who are you? I think the class would like to know. I know. Yamcha is it? Transferred between community colleges? A wealthy daddy who pays for everything? Don't expect this class to be easy, Mr. Kato. I don't go easy on anyone." He sneered, pulling his hands from his pockets and pacing the floor before his desk.

The class was not saying a word. They were all looking amongst themselves. Brandi was positive they were scared to even breathe. Shit, last class no one dared to raise a hand unless they were insane because they were afraid of being shot down or made a fool of.

"Of course not, sir. As for my family's wealth, I am very grateful for having the opportunity to even go to school and get it paid for, don't mistake me for some rich snobby kid." Yamcha snorted, but ended it with a smile on his lips, "I am sorry to offend you."

"I hope so, if we are through with the extra chatter for the day, let us begin with this quiz, shall we?" The professor once again locked eyes with Brandi, causing her to swallow hard.

The quiz was short and had everything she had read from the third and fourth chapter. This time there were many short answers. The questions were not difficult if you read, but they were definitely loaded questions. Brandi was having a hard time writing the entire answer to the question in each little space, so much for 'short answers'.

Ten minutes into the quiz Mr. Ouji stopped them to let them know they had twenty minutes. It had already taken her to answer ten minutes to answer two of the short answers fully. Brandi was about to explode. How did he expect them to answer ten loaded 'short answers' in twenty minutes with fifteen extra multiple choice questions. He was doing this on purpose. He liked to challenge his students and watch them squirm in the process. She frowned and tried to write fast, causing her hand to burn terribly.

When the time had expired she was able to simply answer all of the short answers except for three and finish all the multiple choice. Of course Ouji had to end their pop quiz with a boom. The man pulled out a blow horn and pressed it for a short length of time. Everyone was royally pissed. Brandi nearly fell from her chair. She had glared down at him, which unfortunately he wasn't looking at her. He collected all of the quizzes and began to explain the next assignment, which was a paper. It was a minimum eight page paper on a film he had assigned. It sounded easy enough, but she knew they most likely would be a catch. The rest of the week he was planning on lecturing the class to catch them up, but stressed that they must read ahead to stay ahead with the homework requirements.

Everyone was excused and they quickly piled out, whispering amongst one another about how unfair the professor had been during class. Brandi, however, stayed behind. She slowly put her books away. Luckily, Yamcha was too busy dwelling on the quiz to much to pay much attention to her, thank goodness.

"So, what was that about?" Brandi called down to him, which he didn't lift his head or answer. Mr. Ouji just sifted through her papers.

"A warning about the time would have been nice. That was nothing like any pop quiz I have ever taken." Brandi slowly approached his desk and looked down to see her paper was out in the open and he was reading over her answers.

"I can assure you, Miss Williams, I am not like any teachers you have had. Looks like your answers were quite long at times. I was looking for short answers," Professor Ouji began to mark up the paper, making notes for her when she was clearly right in front of him.

"What are you writing?" Brandi leaned over, trying to read his offensive markings.

She began to read his writing out loud, "…didn't…understand…the concept, hey!?" Brandi shouted, pulling the bag up higher on her shoulder and frowned, "I understood completely, you just ask complicated questions, ever think of that? That is bullshit that you ask for 'short answers' with a loaded question." She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Language," Vegeta frowned deeply before proceeding to answer, "I am sorry, Miss Williams." He placed a hand over his forehead and shook his head, "You know I forgot for a moment who the teacher of this class was, can you tell me?" He raised his head, scanning her face with those menacing eyes causing Brandi to grow more aggravated with him.

"You are nuts," she raised her voice and watched him calculate her grade, putting her final score at a high 'C', which only added to the fire.

"How did I get a 'C'?" Brandi's mouth dropped.

"Miss. Williams, you ramble and quite frankly, I hate ramblers. Not to mention," He stopped and pointed to one of the fifteen multiple choice questions, "This was wrong."

"That it because it wasn't even in the chapter," Brandi challenged.

"Correct, but that is why you must always read ahead," Mr. Ouji handed her the paper and grinned evilly.

"You're horrible. I will report you by the end of the semester if someone else doesn't." Brandi threatened as she swiped the paper from his hand and stuffed it in her bag.

"Go ahead, it is no use anyway." Vegeta Ouji said softly, collecting the rest in his hand and placing them neatly into his briefcase before closing it and standing up, "Have a good night, Miss Williams and try not to get hit by oncoming traffic."

Brandi's mouth dropped open and at the same moment as he stepped out of her line of vision she pursed her lips feeling that if they weren't tightly closed she might scream bloody murder. This semester was going to be hell for her. Fuck that guy. She felt like she was about to explode on him. She wanted to go off on him. She needed to punch something. She didn't even want to show up at her mother's house. She feared she would be god awful after that had just occurred today. First she almost was annihilated on her way to class, second she was given a 'C' by the devil himself.

ooOoo

Bulma sucked down the cigarette quickly and lit up another one before she boarded the bus and headed to her mother's house. She hated being around the hordes of coughing, sniveling human- beings loudly chatting in the back and trashing the bus each and every day and night. She knew she needed a car, but she was completely broke. It seemed that she never had enough money and she wouldn't ask for money ever. The woman she called 'mom' did too much already. She respected the woman far too much to ask her for anything.

As Bulma arrived a few blocks from her mother's she pondered what the night entailed. She was nervous to see who was here to speak to her. She feared it more than anything else in the world. She didn't want to leave again. She had called this home for so many years. She knew there would surely be a nice meal, but she wondered who the visitor would be.

Bulma pushed some of her brown locks from her face and pulled out the house keys, pressing it into the small slit and bumping the door open.

"I'm here, mom." Bulma called out, allowing her blue orbs to scan her surroundings.

"I'm in the kitchen, dear." Her mother called loudly. The smell of dinner wafted into the hallway, beckoning her to the kitchen and immediately causing her mouth to water.

Bulma's belly immediately began to rumble and she realized she had yet to eat. She hadn't placed one item into her mouth since the morning, which consisted of coffee and a pop tart. She slowly entered the kitchen and placed her backpack on the tabletop, looking between the two people that sat before her.

A small brunette stood near the stovetop, adding butter to the mashed potatoes that were most likely at the perfect consistency. She could smell the chicken cooking in the oven. Her mother truly had a knack for cooking. That of course wasn't all. She created beautiful works of art in the form of floral arrangements. She owned her own flower shop and she did extremely well in her town. She was trusted and always pleased her customers. Even the surrounded towns supported her. She had just recently opened a brand new shop, which she hired more staff and this gave her more space to work. She was a busy woman that is why Bulma was so surprised that she was able to come home and actually enjoy cooking a supper like this.

"Hey B," Her mother's brilliant smile immediately caught her attention, which the small woman stopped what she was doing and pulled her in for a bear hug, "How is school? I know you are doing great." The older woman pulled back and placed a kiss on the young woman's cheek before returning to the meal she was preparing for her daughter and guest.

Bulma smiled and returned the favor to her mom. She followed her mother toward the kitchen, leaning against the counter while keeping a close eye on the bald headed man seated at the table sipping his cup of iced tea. She licked her lips nervously before finally speaking.

"Hello…?" She paused and looked the man up and down, hoping he would finish by answering her quickly.

"Hi there," He nodded, standing up quickly. His body towered over her small form, causing her to wrap her arms protectively around her waist. Her blue eyes shifted toward her mother, who was humming softly and concentrating on the food.

He was a large man, but was dressed in a nice suit with no badge was present. Was he a cop? The large man finally drew closer and reached out his monster hand, "Bulma is it?"

Bulma's eyes widened a bit as she backed away, unable to take the man's hand, "I don't go by that name, who in the hell are you?"

"B, come on now, this is the reason why I had to come for dinner, dear. This is Nappa Johnson. He is the new FBI agent that will be taking over Bill's spot, sweetie." The woman's sweet smile calmed her just a trifle, before she allowed her eyes to slip back upon him once again.

"What happened to Bill?" Bulma pressed her rear against the counter top and looked the bulky FBI agent up and down carefully.

"I am sorry to say that Bill had been fighting cancer for some time. He has just recently passed. I hear you had not heard from him in about a year?" Nappa offered her a kind smile under his mustache and took a drink from his tea.

The man obviously noticed how uncomfortably she was with him, so he stepped back a ways and put a good distance between the both of them, watching her carefully.

"Yeah, that is right. I haven't heard from him in quite some time, but usually that is a good thing. I mean I know your group is constantly watching and checking up, but usually that is a good thing. Not that I didn't enjoy Bill's company." Bulma blinked a few times and licked her lips, shifting her curious gaze toward her mother, who was frowning with regret.

"He was a good man. I know it isn't something you wished, but someone had to take the case, so I was assigned." Nappa explained and then offered his hand once again.

Bulma inspected the large calloused hand a moment before taking it in her warm grasp and shook it, "Nice to meet you, Nappa." She cleared her throat and sat at the table with him; "Nothing is happening that I need to be aware of, right?" she looked upon his serious face, showing him her concern.

"No, Miss. Briefs." He shook his head.

"Please use my other alias. I do not go by Bulma Briefs any longer. I do not feel comfortable with that name." she swallowed hard and pushed her dark brown locks from her eyes.

"I am sorry, Miss. Williams. I understand. But I will repeat this once again, there is no threat. This meeting is only to introduce myself." He placed a hand to his large chest and offered her another kind smile.

"Don't worry, B. The head of his division even contacted me and offered his background. He is held at high esteems. I actually had a meeting with them a few weeks back, after…Bill passed." Lorelei Williams said softly in her usual soft tone.

"Alright, but it still doesn't change the fact that I have no clue who he is." Bulma said truthfully.

"I understand that, Brandi. I will do my best to prove to you that I am just as good, if not better, than Bill." Nappa nodded to her and stood, looking to her mother, Lorelei

"Dinner is done, let's get the table prepared and we can continue this, right dear?" Lorelei asked softly, placing a reassuring hand upon Bulma's tight shoulder.

"Yes, that is fine, mom. What do you need help with?" She sniffed softly, grabbing anything that was handed to her.

The group set the table and ate, which Nappa discussed how useful he was going to be to this household. Bulma didn't care two shits about what this man had to say. Bill was everything to her. He was the first person to be there for her and the first person to find her. He told her everything was going to be alright and she believed him. He had kept his word time and time again. He never let anything happen to her new family, or her.

She felt bad for Bill's death. Bulma felt a ball forming in her throat, yet something was missing. She couldn't even cry over his death. Was she broken? She had a hard time showing any sort of emotion after the ordeal. Of course Professor Asshole was different. He just pissed her off, which that was a normal emotion. Anger was one of the emotions she was able to show, and quite often especially if she grew irritated with her fellow students. That happened daily.

Bulma couldn't say that she didn't have any emotions because she did, but she definitely had a hard time displaying them to those she cared about. Her mother was the only one that truly got to see that, and even that took years. Lorelei was a patient and understanding woman with her and that is what she loved about her mother.

Bulma chewed her meal carefully, trying desperately to tune out the chatter her mother was creating with this FBI agent. She honestly hoped he didn't try any smooth moves on her mother. Yes, she was going there. She didn't like this new agent. It was because she didn't trust many people. Her mother was young and pretty, and she had had too many failed relationships that hurt her immensely. She didn't want her mother hurt anymore, especially with this beast of a man, yuck. It had been just the two of them majority of the time. Bulma looked up, taking in the man's intense expression. She knew she judged people hard sometimes. He did seem nice enough. He was dedicated, which she liked. She just didn't like change. It was harder for her now more than ever. She quickly finished her meal and tried to leave. She hoped the guy didn't stay long after she left. Lorelei needed to be at the shop bright and early.

"Mom, I have tons of homework. I will be back in a few days that ok?" Bulma asked her, wrapping a protect arm around her mother's neck.

"Of course, dear, school is everything. You need to get your rest. Let me grab my keys and I will take you back," the older woman said, pushing her chair back and standing to make her way to the kitchen.

"Good-bye Nappa." She nodded to him and gripped her bag, "Mom, I will call Steph. She will come get me."

"Oh B, are you sure? What about some left overs?" Lorelei rushed to the stove to collect a portable container.

"No," Bulma chuckled, pressing the phone to her ear.

"_Hookers-r-us, how may I help you?" her roommate replied. _

"I need a ride, please? I am at moms and I think it is a bit too dark to walk home." Bulma chuckled softly, not giving her the satisfaction to hearing her laugh.

"_Alright, bitch. I will be there soon. Tell your momma 'hi' for me." she asked quickly. _

"Yep," Bulma nodded and looked back at her chatting mother.

"_Be there in a bit."_

Bulma hung up quickly and walked to the door, plopping down on the small wooden bench. Her mother quickly came around the corner with a smile upon her features.

"Hi honey, I hope Nappa didn't rush you out. I miss seeing your sweet face." Lorelei said softly, rubbing her hands together softly.

"Mom," Bulma tilted her head to the side, "I am fine, you know I am fine. Everything will be fine." The young woman tried to reassure her.

"Do you need any money?" her mother's eyebrows raised.

"God mom, no." Bulma shook her head.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, mom I am all good. I promise." Bulma finally gave her a satisfying look, which calmed her immediately. Lorelei gave her another hug for the road and waved, leaving her alone. Bulma let out a sigh of relief. The woman always knew when to give her space.

Brightly lit car lights blazed down the length of her mother's driveway, causing her to jump up and rush to the waiting vehicle. Bulma pulled open the sports car and slipped in. She tossed her bag to the floor and shifted her gaze to her peppy friend who was dancing and singing to her 'party mix' on her iPod. The brunette smiled and chuckled seeing her friend dressed in her party garb.

"Time to go out!" Stephanie said in an excited tone.

"What?" Bulma blinked and shook her head, "Hell no, Steph. I have class tomorrow and I have tons of homework."

"Yep, you heard me. You haven't gone out with me in forever." The blonde bomb shell threw her car into reverse and peeled out of the driveway down the busy street.

"We just went out on Monday night. I am not sure I can do it again. I have class tomorrow and work, dude." Bulma admitted, rubbing her face with her hands.

"Oh shut up, cranky ass. You barely drank. It didn't even count. We are so going out tonight. We are going to the bars this time. It's nothing like 'Thirsty Thursday's', but it is dollar beer and other specials on mixed drinks. A friend told me about it. I figured since you called and I am such a great friend picking you up, you had to be my first victim." She chuckled loudly.

"I look like shit, Steph." Bulma frowned deeply, pulling the mirror down and inspecting her face that had barely anything to cover up her flaws.

"Take of that sweater and take down her hair. That isn't a request. You will look sexy." The beautiful blonde smiled and chuckled softly, "Plus, you barely need to try and for some reason all the guys want you. Poor guys don't know what they are up against when taking you on." She winked playfully.

"Whatever, I will go only one more time before the weekend. One of my Professors is a Nazi, and I need to be an overachiever with this one." Bulma chuckled, pulling down her hair and swishing it around, "Did I tell you, I almost was killed today." She added.

"Take off that top, sexy lady." Steph gripped the stirring wheel tightly while turning the music station, but paused and shifted her smoky gaze upon her friend, "What?"

Bulma quickly took off the top, showing off a cute tank underneath. She wasn't comfortable with a simple, but nice tank with a pair of jeans, but she was going to be dragged no matter what.

"Yep, I was almost hit by my professor. He even threatened to dock me points for 'stupidity'." Bulma chuckled softly.

"Um, I don't think he can do that without getting into trouble. Did you ever think he was joking?" Steph raised a brow, handing her a lip-gloss container.

"Steph, if you met him you would not even have suggested he was joking. The man doesn't even smile. Unless he had a dry sense of humor that I have no idea about. He is weird." Bulma applied her gloss and rubbed her full lips together.

"Is he hot?" Steph asked finally.

"Shut up," Bulma shook her head, looking out the window.

The young blonde laughed out loud as she turned into the bar. Stephanie was dead set on getting a drink and she needed a smoke. Bulma pulled her pack of cigarettes as well as her fake ID and headed toward the entrance of the bar. She placed the cigarette in her mouth and quickly got her fix before heading to the doors. Stephanie already clung to her arm, pulling her along as they entered to stop before the bouncers who immediately carded the duo as usual.

Bulma's blue eyes scanned the bumping bar. The crowed of people swarmed the bar area, calling out drinks to the bartender. She couldn't believe she left her mother's house to come to a bar. She was sure Lorelei wouldn't be pleased if she found out.

Groups of people were seated in the high top tables located around the bar, chatting it up with hookups or friends. She swallowed hard and smiled as Steph already was headed to the bar, chatting up a recent hook up who she knew she could get free drinks off of. Bulma slowly made her way toward an open seat, feeling a bit overwhelmed at the quality of people located in the small area. This was the life of a college student. Do your homework, go to class, go to a part time job if you could find out, and spend your parents money at the bars until the early hours of the morning.

Her eyes scanned the half-dressed groups dancing on the floor, gripping one another's hips and grinding. Kissing one another and groping was a popular thing amongst the drunk when music was added to the mix. Bulma couldn't complain for she liked sexual contact when she had a few drinks in her. She hadn't gotten her fill in quite some time, and she wasn't interested tonight, but she couldn't help but notice the people coupling off for the night. Go to the bars or house parties to find a hook-up. There was nothing more awkward than the morning after. She flipped her hair and exhaled softly, shifting her eyes around the crowd looking for her friend.

Her attention was gained as a woman burst out laughing loudly, a little too loud. She could hear it over the music. Her eyes flashed toward the disturbing cackle to see a beautiful black-haired woman, stirring her straw in a mixed drink. She was biting seductively on her manicured nail and leaning in toward the man…she…was with. Bulma's eyes widened.

In a nice button down shirt and a pair of nice blue jeans, that fit the bars atmosphere, sat her professor. He had a drink of his own and he was grinning, leaning back in his chair and speaking in a quiet voice. She couldn't read his lips and she definitely didn't want to spend her time trying to figure it out. She feared he would see her. He looked nice, especially the way his shirt was slightly unbuttoned, showing off a hairless chest. It wasn't too much, but he definitely looked bare chested. Bulma then began to wonder if he had wash board abs.

_No fuckin' way…_

She cut off her perverted thoughts and glanced back at the woman, growing more curious. He had a girlfriend? That poor woman! Bulma's anxiety began to rise quickly. She didn't want him to see her at the bar. Who knows, the guy might actually dock her points for not doing homework like a good student. God, she really hoped he didn't see her.

Stephanie returned and slid her a shot and a mixed drink. Bulma gripped the shot and downed it quickly, licking her lips. Steph's mouth dropped open.

"Damn, you thirsty?" Steph threw back her head taking her shot down quickly.

She had to give her Professor kudos, the woman was gorgeous. Was he married? He didn't have a band that she remembered. How could that woman stand his presence? What shocked her the most was that he was able to charm a woman like that for even a moment to get her to go out with him. Bulma was sure that it would only take time for the woman to realize that a slimy, piece of work he was. Unless he was a good lay, which she was quite interested in finding out. She shook her head. How inappropriate to even be thinking. Gosh, she had problems lately.

"Brandi, what are you looking at? You hoo?" Steph called, tapping her shoulder.

"Sorry," Bulma smiled softly, pushing back her hair.

"What, scoping out some man candy?" she asked her friend, wiggling her brows.

"Um, not quite, it is a teacher of mine. Over there," Bulma nodded toward the table, causing Stephanie to look obnoxiously in the couple's direction.

"That…is your professor?" Steph's mouth dropped open, as her eyes scanned the length of his body, "He is fine. I bet he has a big dick." The blonde's lips pursed as she looked upon her appalled friend.

"Oh shut up, I have not once looked at him in that way. You are such a perv." Bulma lied shaking her head as she ran a hand nervously through her hair.

"Yes, so you have told me over and over again. What is new? I am a nympho; I like sex, so fucking what. You should so tap that, or so help me god I so will." Steph leaned over the table and sipped dramatically on her straw.

"Not on my mind, go for it." Bulma chuckled.

"Brandi, I know you like to get your rocks off. How long has it been? Why not a sexy and young professor? I bet he knows how to work it and I am sure you wouldn't be the first. Shit if not him, someone." Stephanie shrugged and sipped her drink, licking her lips clean.

"Steph, you don't know shit about this guy. He is nuts. He is like the ultimate asshole and he is not someone I would like to hold a conversation with long than I have to, let alone enjoy a session of sex with him. The guy most likely wouldn't even know how to please a woman seeing how he treats his students. He is a horrible teacher. I am sure he isn't very sociable." Bulma waved her hand around, peaking back hearing the woman laugh once again.

"You're not social able. You're a royal bitch." Steph snorted out a laugh, causing Bulma to roll her eyes, "You would be perfect together!"

How is it possible that that man had it in him to make a women laugh, shit he didn't know how to get a smile out of any of his students. What did he say? She grew even more curious.

"You could show him a thing or two." Steph smiled slyly.

"Whatever, out of the question." Bulma said softly, sipping contently on her mixed drink, ignoring her friend's comments about Professor Dickhead.

Bulma finished with her drink, standing and heading toward the bar. She pushed her hair behind her ear and told the busy bartender her order, waiting for him to bring back the finished product so she could pay. She offered him cash and pressed the straw to her lips, taking its contents in large gulps. She turned slowly and looked toward the table where her professor and his lady friend were sitting. They had left. Bulma frowned slightly and made her way back to her seat.

She couldn't help but wonder if he was taking her home that evening. She still was in complete awe that he had a woman that was honestly interested in him. He was an asshole, a sadist, a lunatic, and unfortunately he had an incredibly nice ass and a sexy grin. Damn, she hated him so much. Bulma sat back in her chair and leaned against the wall, propping her leg up. Her friend had disappeared once again.

Stephanie was making conversation with the bartender that she hooked up with at a party a few nights back. She seemed to completely forget about her. Bulma didn't honestly care. She was glad to have some time alone. Stephanie could be a little over the top at times, yet she loved her all the same. She would never admit that to her though. It would go to her head.

Bulma watched as the line to the bathroom was out the entry way. As she watched the groups stumble their way into the restrooms a dark haired woman exited. She fixed her wavy hair that draped down the length of her back and pulled her purse up on her shoulder. Her hips rolled with each step as she headed toward the exit. Bulma placed the straw between her lips, watching the woman leave. She felt like a creep, but she was just completely in shock that that horrible man landed a woman like that. Her blue eyes swept the bar, watching Stephanie lean over the bar, giving her boy toy a nice view of her breasts. She glanced back over toward the door and the young woman was leaving. Her breath hitched in her throat as a pair of black eyes caught her briefly. Her Professor had spotted her, but how? There was way too much going on for him to notice. Shit, she was screwed. Bulma looked into her glance and slowly glanced up to see a grin form on her professors lips as he shook his head and guided his date out the door.

Mr. Ouji only grinned and shook his head, nothing more nothing less. He had seen her that was that. He didn't look back or pay any attention as he walked past the open windows looking into the bar. It was as if he had not seen her at all.

He professor was an enigma. She hated him for that. She didn't like how easily he could blow her off. It was constant. Here and even in class. He liked to pick on her, yet ignore her at the right times. She wanted more. She needed more. Why? Because she was nuts, that is why.

She was a foolish woman, and she knew this.

ooOoo

_Alright, this story hasn't been updated in quite some time and a small bit of it was sitting idly in my documents for a few months. I have been getting tons of things done for my wedding, which is in September of 2013. I have A LOT to do! I hope you enjoyed it so far. :)_

_Please let me know what you think!_

_-Mallie-3_


	3. Chapter Three

_**Unmasked**_

_Chapter 3_

_** Update** I just went through and corrected something's. Sorry guys, Bulma is a brunette in this story. I sometimes get so used to talking about her with blue hair and eyes that my mind sometimes just goes off when I am writing. Thank you for telling me! :)_

_Author's Note: Good god have mercy, I am a terrible author. I felt horrible each time I would get a review begging for me to update. This story is very complicated and I hate to rush it. I have to write when I get that spark of inspiration. Of course this time it was you reviewers getting my ass in gear. XD_

_I hope you enjoy!_

ooOoo

The weekend came quicker than expected. Her classes were pretty decent, even the one she dreaded going to. Mr. Ouji had been acting somewhat civil to the class. There were no surprise quizzes, tests, or papers. Of course she did get stuck reading 3-4 chapters out of the book each night and they were not short by any means.

Her other courses weren't as rough on her, but they had homework assigned, like any college course. She knew it wouldn't be easy, but she wasn't complaining about the class work itself. She felt in control of her other courses to an extent. It was that one little class that caused her brain to scramble.

It was three thirty in the afternoon when she arrived at work. Her night shift didn't start until four, but with the bus schedules, she wasn't ever sure if she would make it on time. As she walked down the sidewalk and up the ramp toward the door, she tossed a half smoked cigarette butt to the ground. She opened the door and quickly made her way back behind the counter.

She didn't have long shifts over the weekends. Unfortunately, unless you asked for the weekend off far in advance, college students were required to work on the weekends. She understood. Bulma wasn't one to pass up extra cash if it was available. There were plenty of people she knew who were working only twelve hours a week and that was if they begged. She needed cash because god only knew she hated asked her mother for money. That women had enough she had to deal with.

Bulma huffed and pushed some strands of hair behind her ear. She glanced up to see her boss talking to, what looked like, a new employee. He was wearing the usual black dress pants, a white t-shirt and the company apron. How manly. She didn't understand why they made the men where those things. His hair was extremely dark, from what she could see. It was neatly combed in the back, and he looked to have it in a messy arrangement in the front. She could only see his profile, but after moments of waiting she grew bored with the idea and began to count in her drawer so she could allow the current cashier leave.

"Brandi," her boss called to her, causing her to look up and roll her eyes. She roughly shoved the drawer into the register and smiled at the incoming guests.

"I will be _right_ with you," She drew out before turned, causing her long ponytail to flip over her shoulder. She made her way toward the only office in the entire building, which she liked to call the pantry, "Yes?" She asked, putting on an annoyed smile, if it could be considered that.

Her boss chuckled softly, shaking his head and pointing to the young man standing next to him, "I wanted to introduce the newest employee. He just moved here this semester and I figured he would be a good fit. I know training someone on the register isn't too hard, so I am sure in no time he will get it." The older gentleman nodded, glancing up at Bulma to see her eyes were wide and her smile was no longer visible.

The young man was chuckling, "You," Bulma said rudely before crossing her arms over her chest, "Is this some kind of joke?"

"Brandi, what…?" Her boss raised a thick eyebrow and glanced in the man's direction.

"It is alright," He patted his new boss on the shoulder, "We will get along great, thank you." He nodded quickly before running his hands through his amazing hair.

"Very well, Brandi, you be nice now." He scolded, giving her that look and then disappearing into his office to answer more phone calls from the businesses corporation about company policies and so on.

Bulma's eyes narrowed slightly as she turned and completely ignored the man following her. She brushed her hair over her shoulder and offered a fake smile to the waiting customers. She took their order calmly as the young man watched her carefully. He observed the way she took the credit cards, swiped them, took and counted cash. She was gentle. Her personality said otherwise. She was an interesting woman that was for sure.

"Thank you and you can wait down there for your coffee to come up." She quickly wiped the smile from her face and turned to the guy again, looking him up and down.

"Well, I don't know what I could have possibly done to you, but if I didn't know any better I could probably say that your body language is telling me you hate me." He chuckled, glancing over her shoulder at the register, which he still knew nothing about.

"You got that right, John, Peter, David, or whatever your name is." Bulma huffed and glanced toward the entrance, avoiding eye contact with him.

Yamcha chuckled softly, "It is Yamcha," he corrected her, leaning in against the counter and glancing up at her beautifully formed face.

Bulma shifted her eyes to the side, making eye contact with him once more, "Does it look like I give a fuck?"

"No, it doesn't, but I guess I am just confused as to why you are so mad at me. I haven't done anything wrong." Yamcha smiled softly, pissing her off more. Why was he still trying to make conversation with her?

"Look, I know your little game here. You wouldn't stop pestering me in class. You were going on about how you were going to," She put up her hands; making quotations with them and rolling her eyes, "break through that 'barrier' bull shit. You are a pathetic stalker, I am convinced." Bulma smirked, shaking her head and leaning against the resister.

Yamcha's smug look disappeared as he blinked a few times, "You are really full of yourself." He pointed out, straightening his body as he frowned now, "Did you ever think that I just needed a job and this was one of the few places that were offering a job."

Bulma went to open her mouth, but closed it and swallowed, "Well, you have to admit, you were being super pushy in class. It just seemed odd that I happen to find you working at the same place only a few days later." She turned, running a hand over the screen, dusting off non-existent debris.

"Brandi was it?" Yamcha asked, leaning in, forcing her to look at him once again.

Bulma turned, giving him a suspicious look. She took in a deep breath and nodded, biting her lower lip. She knew she was being a jackass. She couldn't help it. Stephanie had it worse, that was for sure. She was shocked that girl put up with her shit half the time. Bulma cleared her throat and turned to face the register as new customers dropped in and looked up at the ordering board, speaking quietly to themselves.

"I take that nod as a 'Yes'." He whispered, "I hope you can see I am not some creepy guy stalking you." Bulma glanced to the side and frowned, giving him a funny look before putting on a fake smile as the couple walked up to her register and ordered.

"They give you options here," Bulma calmed briefly and pointed to each button, and then motioning to the size options, "Your total will show up here," She pointed and then told the customers their total. She collected their money carefully, offering them their change.

The brunette was quiet a moment, rocking back and forth on her toes and heels. Yamcha watched her a moment, tapping his fingers on the counter top and observing the atmosphere of the coffee shop. He chewed his cheek and glanced over as the other employee's quickly made the drinks that were ordered. The smells in this place were amazing. It made him want his own personal coffee, and maybe something out of the cooler.

"I am not always a complete bitch you know," Bulma looked up and blinked a few times, giving him a side glance.

"You had me fooled," Yamcha walked closer to her and chuckled, getting a better look at her. He couldn't help but check out her rear as she looked away. Of course he wasn't about to get caught so he quit quickly.

Bulma turned and frowned, noticing his grin and changing her whole attitude, "You're a dick. Well, you know it seems like you like being pushed around by women. What you can't handle your own, Yamcha? Are you too much of a little bitch?" She glanced toward him, grinning softly. She quickly pursed her lips, mentally kicking herself for being a little too open with this man. What was wrong with her? First her teacher and now semi-flirting with this new guy, who for all she knew could be a creeper.

"For your information, Brandi, I can handle my own. I like my women with a little spice to them if you are wondering." He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced up at her. Those dark eyes blazed with interest, "You know, if I didn't know any better, I might think you were flirting with me." Yamcha narrowed his eyes.

Bulma straightened her back and shook her head, "I think you got it all wrong, Yamcha." She said his name a little too enthusiastically, causing the young man to chuckle.

"You better be careful, I might think you are starting to like me. It hasn't even been more than a half hour, looks like that barrier is starting to crack." He winked at her, showing off his amazingly white set of teeth.

"Dude, shut up with the damn barrier crap. You sound like an idiot saying shit like that." Bulma chuckled softly, brushing her bangs from her eyes and trying hard not to smile any more. She already had the guy thinking they would somehow become BFF's.

"Good lord, does your mother know you talk like that?" His dark eyes widened as he looked her over.

"Does your mother know you are a creep who likes to stalk women?" Bulma raised a brow.

"Alright, one last time, I am not a stalker. Honesty," Yamcha opened his palms and laughed out loud.

"Sure, that is what they all say." Bulma nodded, glancing toward the entrance as the bell sounded once again, "Alright, how about you do all the work. I will be your guide. Also, just so we are clear, we are not friends." She shifted a finger between the two and shoved him toward the drawer.

Yamcha grinned playfully and nodded, "Yes ma'am,"

The time seemed to drag on and on. Eight-thirty slowly came and she was allowed to close her draw and begin using the drawer the managers set aside just in case it got busy. She thought it was a good idea. Her manager was pretty easy going and liked them to get out on time. Plus he knew she took the bus each night. In order for her to catch it she had to get out at nine on the dot.

Yamcha seemed to catch on quickly and before she knew it she was messing with her phone, or reading a few pages out of her school books for class on Monday. She hoped she got new employee's that worked like this all the time. She could get her homework done at work and go home and relax, maybe even get a good night sleep for once.

Bulma gripped her bag and threw it over her shoulder as she said good-bye to the manager and then walked toward the exit. She didn't once say a thing to Yamcha. She didn't think he deserved that quiet yet. She was a bitch; there was no getting around it. She honestly just didn't want him to think they were anything more than fellow employee's trying to get along to make the work day slightly better. Bulma didn't want to be friends with this guy, not ever. For all she knew he was trying to get in her pants, and there was no way that would happen.

"Brandi," he shouted just before she made it to the door.

Her hands pressed against the metal bar, putting slight pressure on it. She closed her eyes and grumbled under her breath. Bulma glanced over her shoulder and made eye contact with him a moment, but said nothing what so ever.

"Hey, do you take the bus home?" Yamcha asked her, zipping up his coat and putting his hands deep into his pockets.

"Why?" Bulma asked him, tilting her head to the side and narrowing those beautiful blue eyes.

"Well," He paused and looked out the window, "I have a car. I can take you back to where you live."

Bulma began to laugh out loud, placing a hand on her chest and looking out the window, "Yea that sounds like a great idea. Allow you to take me home so you know where I live. Sure!" Bulma pushed the door open and began to leave, shaking her head in the process.

Yamcha jogged after her, "Stop with this stalker shit, seriously. I am not a stalker. Is it wrong to want to get to know you?" He asked her, grabbing her upper arm.

"Yes," She nodded, pulling away and kept on walking, growing more agitated by the second.

"Look, it is super cold out here. The bus doesn't come for another fifteen minutes. Let me take you home just this once." Yamcha watched her ponder it for a moment.

"Look, Yamcha, thanks for the offer. I just don't have any gas money to give you." Bulma let out a breath, "Not to mention I smoke and I would like to have one right now."

"That is fine, I do to. Smoke in my car, a warm car." He offered, grinning softly, "and don't worry about the money. It is alright."

…

..

.

Bulma pulled the seatbelt tight, glancing out the window and pushing the button, making it roll down slightly. She took in a deep breath and pulled out a cigarette from her pack, placing it between her lips.

Yamcha did the same, lighting his and taking in a deep breath. He glanced to the side and chuckled seeing how cold she was, "I have heated seats don't you know." He pushed button, activating the seats, which within moments began to heat her rear end.

"Thanks, seriously don't make a habit of this, Yamcha." Bulma blinked a few times and took a long drag.

"You're welcome," was the only thing he said as he took off down the road, "So, you live in an apartment or the dorms?"

"Dorms," She whispered softly as the cool air floated in and hit her face, causing her to shiver.

Yamcha raised a brow, taking a drag from his cigarette and glancing to the side, "So, which one?"

"Do you know where Anderson Hall is?" Once Yamcha nodded, she continued, "Turn right on the street before it. It is that dorm building behind it."

"Oh, alright," He nodded, flicking his ashes and taking another drag as he sped around a corner, causing Bulma to slide around in her seat.

"Gosh, slow down. Do you want to get into a wreck?" Bulma gripped her 'oh shit' bar and blinked rapidly, hoping to god she wouldn't burn herself with her lit cigarette.

"Scared?" Yamcha asked, cocking a brow, but keeping his eyes on the road.

"A little, why, are you enjoying this?" Bulma screamed as he slammed on the excel orator, "Yamcha, you piece of shit, stop. Do you want a ticket, or something?"

Yamcha burst out laughing and pulled around the circle, which led right up to the front of her dorm, "So, what room are you in and when do you usually take a shower?" He wiggled his brows at her as he threw his car into park.

Bulma frowned and shook her head, "You are a freak," A smile formed on her lips as she turned her back to him.

"See you around, Brandi." He smiled and gave a small wave.

Bulma flipped him off and rushed to the doors of the building. Yamcha watched her and began to chuckle softly to himself before driving off.

ooOoo

Monday came quick, but of course her weekend was ruined with work and a surprised paper. Mr. Ouji thought it was a great idea to assign a paper on Saturday night. Thankful she checked her e-mail after Yamcha had dropped her off, or she would have been screwed. She was angry about the paper, but it seemed to be enough to convince Steph not to try and drag her to any parties that particular night. Sunday was an easy day and thank goodness, Yamcha was not scheduled. She had a calm weekend and she was able to write, what she thought, was a decent paper.

As Bulma entered the Psychology hall she made her way through the mass of students rushing in and out of the rooms, or making their way to their next class. She side stepped numerous times and weaved around those who were in her way. She was fifteen minutes early to her class. There was barely anyone in the classroom when she entered. Not even that annoying man named Yamcha was there. She sighed softly and sat down in her chair.

"You can put that paper on my desk," A deep voice said from behind her, causing her to jump. Bulma glanced over her shoulder.

Mr. Ouji had a pair of glasses low on his nose as he watched the screen of his Apple laptop, without once glancing toward her. His strong hand gripped his chiseled jaw tightly. His eyebrows knitted as he concentrated on whatever he was watching.

Her slightly glossy lips parted as she narrowed her eyes at him, watching closely. She tilted her head to the side and looked away, noticing his brief case was lying casually on top of his desk. How did she not notice that? Damn, he was a sneaky bastard. She stood up and slowly made her way toward the desk located at the front of the classroom and tossed the paper casually on top, looking up to take notice of the assignment and a reminder that a test would be given on Friday. Of course, it had to be Friday, just before the weekend. Bulma sneered before turning. She gasped softly as her teacher as silently made his way to the front of the room without her knowledge and was now standing before her with a strangely curious expression.

She blinked a few times and looked down, unaware of what to do. He was watching her carefully as she crossed her arms over her chest and looked up slowly. Bulma glanced over her shoulder to see her paper was in the middle of his desk. What more did he want? Why was he looking at her as if he had something to say?

Vegeta tilted his head to the side and began to frown. He looked around the room and pursed his lips, "Are you going to move?" He blinked a few times, looking around her at the small amount of papers.

Bulma blinked a few times, completely thrown off, "Um," was all she could say as she lowered her head and dodged her teacher, slipping up the stairs and plopping into her seat. She was completely embarrassed. Everyone was looking at her. She looked like a complete and utter fool. Her mouth had been hanging open and everything. Bulma covered her face with a hand and shook her head.

She glanced up to see his back was still to the class as he flipped through the paper in his hand. Bulma's eyebrows knitted. Was he looking through her paper? It seemed like him. It seemed to get him off to pick on her. She wasn't surprised if in a moment….

"Ms. Williams," Vegeta Ouji turned around and glanced up at her through his square frames.

She let out a slow breath and watched him, saying nothing to him. He knew she was looking. He knew he had her attention.

"I need to speak with you after class." He merely stated before collecting the rest of the papers in his hand and looking around the class.

Bulma closed her eyes and sighed softly, pressing her fingertips to her temples. She could already feel a headache coming on. She didn't need any more of this teacher's bullshit. Honestly, why was he constantly looking to her? It seemed that there was no one else in the class that was doing wrong. It was only her that he seemed to take notice to. She wouldn't particularly mind if it was a nice professor. Someone who honestly gave a shit about her grade, but to him they were just a damn number.

Vegeta Ouji started lecturing. He pulled up his plain Jane PowerPoint and began to discuss the chapters that they were supposed to read over the weekend. He always had a bored tone when he was speaking to the class. Luckily for her, he no longer seemed to notice she was even in the class. She answered a few of his questions and he nodded, pleased with each one.

Bulma was more relaxed, but it still didn't calm her enough not to worry about that the jack ass would say to her once he got her alone. She finally convinced herself that it would be better if it was after class anyway because then everyone would fly out of the room and no one would be listening to their conversation, which most likely would result in her feeling like an even bigger pile of shit.

The dark haired girl doodled on her paper, sitting back and relaxing near the end of class as Mr. Ouji put on a small video clip, which he said would take till the end of the class period anyway. Her eyes skimmed to the empty seat of that Yamcha character, taking notice he had skipped and shook her head. He wasn't off to a good start. Her eyes lifted to the projection screen once again. She had watched this particular video once before. She wasn't too worried about paying close attention. Not to mention he was in the back of the room again, messing with his laptop. She glanced over her shoulder only a few times, hoping he wouldn't catch her watching him and each slight expression he made. She found it extremely annoying that she especially liked the way he looked as the light from the screen touched all the right places, bringing out the manly structures in his jaw and cheek bones. She closed her eyes and shoved her pencil back into her case, packing up everything as the video came to a close. It would only be a matter of time now until they were all dismissed and she would be alone with him.

"See you all Wednesday." Mr. Ouji said loudly as everyone began to pile out of the room. One of the students turned back on the light as they left. Bulma sat quietly in her seat as she looked around the room, pursing her lips, waiting for her teacher to say something.

She could hear him typing behind her. He was ignoring her. She knew he was making her wait for him to be done. That was just the type of guy he was. He liked to push and pick until a person cracked and then he liked to make them feel like a complete jackass. She finally got fed up; since she knew she had another class in the same building in about an hour. She had plenty of time but she wasn't about to wait forever. Bulma turned in her chair and gripped the back of it, watching him with narrowed eyes.

"Excuse me, Mr. Ouji? I am waiting down here. Can you hurry up and pick apart my paper so I can leave?" the brown haired woman asked him, pulling her bag over her shoulder and popping her hip.

The older man raised those obsidian eyes and glared in her direction. He was not thrilled by her rude commentary, but honestly Bulma could care less how he felt. She was tired of his crap. He stood up and straightened his dress shirt and made his way down the steps toward her seat with her paper.

He tossed the paper on her desk and raised a brow. Vegeta regarded her quickly as her eyes scanned to the paper, which in red lettering had a 'D' plastered upon it. Bulma's features tightened. She gasped softly and gripped it between her fingers.

"I did everything you asked, it isn't my fault you assigned it through e-mail at the last minute." Bulma nearly shouted at him. She met eyes with him, completely unafraid of his response.

"You know, I am sick and tired of you picking on me. Why not someone else?" She threw up her hand and shoved the paper back into his chest.

"I think you can do better than this. You weren't even trying. What I was going to tell you, Ms. Williams, was that I am going to allow you to re-write it for Wednesday. I never offer this, so take advantage of it."

Bulma wiggled her fingers near her face and made a funny expression, "Oh Mr. Teacher, thank you so much for your concern. I am so glad you are allowing me to re-do my paper. How considerate of you. I think just because you decide this one time to give me a break, it will completely make up for the entire week and a half that you have been badgering me. Thank you." She gave him a fake smile for a brief moment before frowning and picking up her bag to leave.

Vegeta Ouji raised a brow and watched her leave, saying nothing at first. He took in a deep breath and called out for her, "I won't tell you again, Brandi." He said in a low tone, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yes, I will re-do the paper, why would I want to keep a 'D'?" Bulma asked him, shaking her head and leaving.

He raised a brow and slowly made his way toward his computer. Vegeta would stop and glance over his shoulder every once and a while. He sat back in his chair and grinned softly to himself. He closed his laptop screen and collected his things, glancing at his wrist watch.

…

..

.

Bulma stormed the hallways, contemplating going to the Deans office. She was so frustrated with this man. She tried to calm herself. He was allowing her to re-do it, which was completely unlike him, but still. She was tired of it. She had never in all her years of college had a teacher who constantly picked her out from the rest of the class. Everyone in the class knew who the bad egg was. She was tired of it.

She contemplated for at least thirty minutes whether or not to go to Dean and report him. She even pulled out a pen and paper to write each little detail out. She had to figure out what she wanted to say before approaching this Dean. She didn't want to look like a whiny little kid, complaining because the teacher who gave her one measly 'D' on a paper, which was not the case. There was more to it.

Bulma pushed her loose hair behind her ears and walked toward the front desk. A lady with a headset sat working on a crossword puzzle. The old woman glanced up and smiled sweetly at her, pulling the window open so she could hear her speak.

"Hello dear, what can I help you with?" She asks her, chewing her gum loudly.

Bulma pursed her lips and glanced up toward the visible upper level of this particular hall. She licked her lips and leaned in, "I need to speak with the Dean of the Phycology department." She blinked a few times, "I am not sure where to find this person."

The older woman nodded quickly, closing her eyes in the process. She pointed to the stairs that lay directly over the box she called her office and smiled, "You see these stairs? You will go up these stairs. Take a left and walk all the way down until you see 'B 200s'. Once you get there, she is all the way down the hall. She has her own private section and majority of the time it is locked. I am not sure if she is in today. You might need to leave a note in her mailbox." The lady nodded and winked at her as Bulma looked down at her, raising a brow.

"Thank you very much," The brunette nodded, situating the strap of her bag on her shoulder as she turned and made her way toward the stairs. She practically ran up the steps and around down the hallway before slowing her pace. She took in a deep breath and held the note pad of hateful words pressed tightly to her breasts. Her blue eyes scanned around the hall, looking for signs that directed her toward the 'B200' section of the upper floor.

As she made it to the end of that particular hallway she noticed a separate section. On the door was a sign that said the Dean was out for the day. Bulma's eyes narrowed and she cursed under her breath. Of course the moment she wanted to go and her anger was at its peak, the Dean was gone. She raised a hand and rubbed her fingers across her lips, looking around for anyone, no one in particular, just someone. Maybe someone could tell her when the Dean was expected back.

Bulma pursed her lips, "Great," she whispered to herself as she approached the closed door, which had not a single window. She reached out and gripped the door handle. She didn't even need to wiggle it a little to tell that on the opposite side it was locked. Bulma dropped her head back and her eyes closed.

"Seriously?" she asked herself, growling in frustration and kicked the door ever so slightly before turning.

She paused and her eyes widened slightly as she heard the door click open. Bulma glanced over her shoulder, noticing the slight crack in the door. Her eyes narrowed.

"Now, why in the heck did it do that?" She asked herself, noticing a light was on inside. Bulma poked her head in, taking notice of the chairs and sitting area. What was she, a shrink?

There was a small hallway that led to another door, which was slightly cracked. Bulma tilted her head to the side and approached the door slowly. She hoped she didn't get caught snooping, but who cares. All she had to say was the door was unlocked so she thought someone was there to speak to. They wouldn't question that, right?

Bulma licked her lips and set down her bag near a chair. She gripped the note book and approached the slightly open office door, or so she supposed it was an office. She swallowed hard. Someone was inside. Her brows knitted. She felt like a naughty child snooping. Bulma straightened her back and shook her head.

Come on, Bulma, grow up. Just waltz in there and tell the lady already.

She quickened her pace, but still kept quiet. She extended her hand and gripped the door handle, but she paused. What was that? Bulma blinked a few times, frowning slightly. Was that what she thought it was? The blue haired student listened. Yep, she heard it again. That was most definitely a moan. She licked her lips and looked through the cracked door.

Inside was the very same woman she saw at the bar with her... Bulma's lips parted and her eyes widened. The woman's blouse was split down to her belly button, showing off her black lacy bra and the swell of her large breasts. Her hands were gripping the edge of the desk, turning white from the pressure. That loose brown hair of hers cascaded over her shoulders and spilled across the desk. Her eyes were closed tightly and her pouty lips were lightly parted as moans escaped them. Her body was being thrust against her desk, hard. A pair of hands was roughly kneading her exposed rear end as their bodies collided together at a rough pace. It was dark in the office. Only a small lamp on a mini end table provided light.

Bulma felt her stomach clench and an odd warmth pool between her thighs. She felt dirty. She couldn't believe that she was standing their long enough to see what was happening. She knew what was happening right now before her very eyes. She covered her mouth and nearly screamed when she finally got a good look at the man gripping the Dean's shapely hips. That flame style hair, that beautifully chiseled jaw, and finally that glistening, muscled chest exposed to her wandering eyes through his unbuttoned dress shirt.

Her very own Professor was behind the woman, roughly taking her from behind. His teeth were clenched as he sped up his pace. He was rough, cruel almost with his movements. The only thing was she seemed to be enjoying it. It seemed that with each rough thrust of his well-formed hips, her screams grew louder. Bulma nearly fell back as her Professor grabbed the woman's mouth, roughly pulled her body back, and whispered in her ear causing her to quiet her cries.

Bulma gasped softly and rushed away, gripping her bag and carefully making her way toward the exit, hoping they didn't hear her. They didn't seem to even notice she was there, thank goodness.

She ran down the hallway, toward the main entrance of the hall. She was gasping for air. After she felt she had put enough distance between them, she plopped down in a chair and caught her breath. She needed a cigarette and quick.

She couldn't believe her eyes. She actually just saw her professor, Mr. Absolute-Prick, fucking the Dean of Phycology. What in the hell? The Dean was the women from the bar. Well, she didn't think he honestly had it in him. No, who was she kidding. She wondered how he would be in bed plenty of times. She scrunched up her face and shook her head.

"For god sakes!" Bulma nearly shouted.

How could she honestly face that woman now? How could she possibly confront her and tell her about Mr. Ouji. If she was screwing the guy on a regular basis she doubted the lady would do a thing. The most the Dean would do was most likely give him a tap on the hand and then… spread her legs. Bulma laugh out loud, shaking her head. She sucked in a breath, placing a hand to her chest. Her heart was beating.

_God, I hope they didn't see me…_

Bulma thought to herself. How was she going to act normally around this man?

ooOoo

That completes Chapter Three. I hope you all are enjoying the story so far. This is going to be a very complicated story. Both Characters are sort of complicated in their own way. Don't worry, this is a B/V. Don't completely freak…

Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter Four

_**Unmasked**_

_Chapter Four_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing…_

_Warning: This is a mature fanfiction…no one under the age of 18._

_A/N: Sorry for the delay. I have been busy with the community, work, and planning. Not to mention in about a month I will be moving. Bear with me guys!_

ooOoo

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..

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Yesterday was off the charts weird. She was glad that she got a small break today. One of her classes was canceled and on top of it she didn't have to force herself through the double doors of her work. Her mother had texted her, telling her to stop by the flower shop after class, and that was what she was going to do. Usually her mom didn't bother her, but it had to be something, those texts were never sent without a reason.

Bulma walked around the corner, heading toward the strong floral scent escaping the opening and closing doors of her mother's flower shop. She pulled her shoulder bag close to her neck, bumping it up upon her rear and entered as a men exited. She looked around, finding her mother's smiling face from behind the counter. Bulma couldn't help but grin.

Her mother glanced up and smiled from ear to ear. She offered the customer their receipt and walked around the corner, wiping her hands off on her company apron.

"There is my beautiful daughter," Her mother opened her arms wide and embraced her, which Bulma accepted gratefully.

"You are busy, I should have come a different time, or maybe even after you closed the shop," Bulma's blue eyes skimmed toward the register where a few of her extra help wandered from the back to assist her mother.

She had once thought it would be nice to have a family owned business where she could work and get paid, but the more she matured she realized she wouldn't feel right getting paid. She wanted to make her own money. Plus she would never allow Lorelei to pay her as a regular employee anyway. She was family, family was expected to help. Lorelei was nice enough to pay for her dorm room as well as her schooling. She didn't need to be paid anything after all that her mother had done for her. She truly was grateful.

"No, I am all caught up. I have a wedding this weekend and a funeral on Sunday. For the first time your mother is way ahead of herself." Her mother said, chuckling and tucking a few strands behind her ear.

"Oh that is great. I am glad you aren't stressing." Bulma looked around, leaning against the counter and watching as the workers and possible customers made their way around the shop.

"How is your day? You look stressed. Is everything going alright at school?" Her mother's brows knitted slightly as she began to situate the large leaves surrounding a flowered creation of hers.

"I am fine, it is just…" Bulma paused and bit her lower lip, turning and smiling. She began to shake her head, "It really is nothing,"

Lorelei turned and narrowed her eyes, "B, I know you better than that. Tell me what is going on. Do you need some cash? Clothing? Food?" Her mother asked walked toward her and speaking in a hushed tone so no one could hear them.

Bulma brushed some hair behind her ear, "No, just a certain professor of mine. He has me doing a lot for the class. I started on this re-write, but I have to finish it. No big deal or anything. I really am fine. I have enough money as well, so please don't try to slip me any." She warned, flashing an amused look with those blue eyes.

Her mother's lips puckered slightly, scolding her daughter with her eyes. She never liked it when Bulma refused her. Lorelei would do anything for her daughter that much was clear. Bulma knew it thrilled her to help, but she just couldn't let her do anymore. As her Lorelei turned around, growing quiet and withdrawn, Bulma sighed softly feeling terrible that it was a constant war when it came to cash and help.

"Fine, but how about we do lunch then, my treat?" Lorelei's mood changed quickly. She had been scheming. Her mother winked playfully at her daughter and rounded the counter.

"Fine, lunch sounds good. When did you want to go out?" Bulma asked, blinking a few times and turning to observe a few more of her mother's customers. She waved casually since many of them were regulars and knew her and her mother quite well.

"I was thinking a late lunch tomorrow?" Her mother asked, brushing few of her locks of hair behind her ear and waving a customer over to ring them up.

"Yeah, that is fine. I will try and get things done tonight then. I have to finish this paper, like I said, but I will meet you at our usual at three o'clock tomorrow." Bulma smiled brightly, pulling her bag up once again and waving good-bye.

It had been so long since she had last been out with her mother. She missed the woman's goodness. She was kind hearted and did almost everything right. The first time she saw her, she knew she would be a perfect fit. She never rushed her, and always made her feel comfortable. Bulma smiled and chuckled aloud remembering all the sweet favors she would do, just to win her over the first few weeks.

Bulma sat down upon the bench near the bus stop, watching the cars speed by. The bus was coming down the long stretch. It was stopped, letting college students pile upon it before it closed its doors and loudly plugging forward toward her stop. She closed her eyes and felt for the zipper of her bag, sliding a hand into her pouch to grip her pack of cigarettes. What she would give for a cigarette at this particular moment. The bus ride wasn't too terribly long. She would be back at her dorm in about fifteen minutes.

A loud honk made her jump and her blue eyes flip open. A look of pure annoyance slid across her previously calm features as she stared upon this particular person with nothing but loathing, and all he did was grin back.

"Hey Brandi, need a ride?" Yamcha leaned in against the passenger seat, getting a good look at her.

Why did it seem that every time she was having a quiet moment this idiot showed up? He worked with her; she had a class with him. She was pretty sure he wanted to do more than just hold hands by the look in his eyes whenever they were alone. What was she going to do? She figured yelling would suffice, but then she figured he would only retaliate someway so that he didn't look like a creepy stalker man, and then she would become even more annoyed. He would most likely follow her even if she decided to take the bus, fuck it!

She shifted uncomfortably upon the bench and raised a brow. She gripped the pack of cigarettes. Without one smart ass comment she stood up just as the bus approached. Bulma slammed her book bag through the open window, hitting Yamcha in the chest as she opened the door and slipped in. She carefully took the bag and grinned.

"Sure," was all she said, clicking her seatbelt into place.

Yamcha rubbed the center of his chest, grinning ever so slightly with a cocked eyebrow, "That was easy. I was almost one hundred percent positive that I would have had some sort of fight with you." He gripped his gear shifter, and dove off down the road.

"Well, I figured that I would give in or I would be in an argument with you the exact amount of time, or more that it took me to get home on the bus. Also, you most likely would have followed me home knowing your creeper status. That is why I decided to allow you to drive me back to my dorm. Plus I really need a cigarette." Bulma said softly, pulling a small cylinder free and placing it between her lips.

"Were you buying flowers for someone?" Yamcha asked, flipping on his blinker and gripping his steering wheel.

"Um, no, not…um," Bulma sucked in a large drag and slowly let it out, trying to figure out whether she should answer him or not, the noisy son of a bitch, "It is my mother's flower shop." Bulma's blue eyes flipped to the side, a soft smile formed on her lips.

"You get along with your mom?" Yamcha asked, quite interested.

"Oh yeah, she is amazing. She tries so hard to make me happy. If you wanted a prime example of 'mom of the year' that would be Lorelei." Bulma chuckled.

"Ah, well I wish I could say the same. My mother died when I was young. It is just me and my father now. We aren't close, which is a pity." Yamcha looked down a moment, darkness floated across his features as he spoke of the man.

Bulma tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear as she sat up straighter, "You need a smoke?" she asked softly, knowing full well how much the death of a family member weighed on a person's soul.

Yamcha's eyes brightened slightly. He seemed to push away the memories and in that moment he chuckled, smirking broadly. He was up to something.

"Not necessarily that type of smoke." Yamcha pulled out a small pipe from his center council and packed a very small piece Marijuana from a small little plastic pouch as he directed his car down the straight away with his knee.

Bulma's lips parted slightly as she watched him light the tip of the small pipe and took in a puff, holding it and slowly letting the smoke escape. The smell of Marijuana filled her nostrils. The brown haired college student chuckled softly and looked around. They were in broad daylight. Why the hell was he doing this in broad daylight? She didn't feel like being arrested today, nope not at all. What about her career?

_Oh god, hush Bulma…think, think… Alright, I will open the door slightly and was it tuck and roll? Stop, drop, and…for god sakes!_

"What are you doing?" Bulma asked, slipping down in her seat.

"Don't tell me you have never smoked before?" He asked her, flipping the pipe toward her, offering her a puff. She glanced at the smoking end, her eyes becoming wider. She honestly didn't know why she felt so uncomfortable, she had done worse things. It was just a little marijuana.

"Don't laugh, but no. I smoke cigarettes, but not the green." Bulma pursed her lips and shook her head, becoming agitated that she was practically forced to tell him she was inexperienced in something. It made her uncomfortable. He took another puff and then offered it once again to her.

Bulma swallowed hard and took the pipe, looking around as if there was some invisible camera taking note of each bad move she decided to take this very day. She placed her lips upon the pipe and took in a small puff, coughing the moment the smoke touched her lungs. It was strong and thick. She didn't like the burning feeling in her throat and lungs, but it quickly faded as she coughed it out. She placed a hand over her mouth and began to lean forward. Yamcha leaned back in his seat and began to laugh at her. He was completely amused by this.

"Why are you laughing?" Bulma coughed one last time before passing it back, which he began to pack once again.

"I am so glad I was the first person to introduce you to the world of pot smoking. A little hard to believe, but I am glad none the less." Yamcha grinned stupidly as his lidded eyes shifted to the pipe. He lit the end once again and took another hit.

Bulma rolled her eyes, starting to feel a bit odd after the large puff. How long did it take, how many puffs would she need in order to feel this 'high' that everyone experienced when smoking? She honestly never contemplated it before. That was until this obnoxious idiot came along and he decided to play a game of puff-puff-pass. Bulma guessed he wasn't so bad after all, though he wouldn't hear her say it aloud.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to. Just try and relax, clear your mind." Yamcha took another puff, handing her the pipe, which she took willingly and without questions. He pulled into her dorm's parking lot and grinned over at her as she indulged in the drug. It was a start of a good night.

…

..

.

.

..

…

Yamcha kicked the door closed as he held two pizzas in his arms along with cheesy bread, a two liter of Pepsi, and hot wings. Bulma was lying on the floor of her door room, looking up at the ceiling. She began to chuckle softly.

"I was just thinking about how we met, I was such a bitch. Why would you want to have anything to do with a girl like me? You must have been really desperate. Did you have blue balls, Yamcha?" Bulma began to laugh hysterically as she cupped her arms around her mid-section, watching him come in with the food. She hopped up and landed upon her bed.

"Yeah, I suppose you were a bitch, but that is why I liked you." Yamcha shrugged, laying down the food and taking a piece of the cheese pizza. He nearly inhaled the first piece, so did the brunette.

"Well, that just means you are a bitch yourself, but not in a good way." Bulma shook her head, taking a wing from the box and began to eat it. Yamcha raised a brow, interested in her ritualistic way of pealing the boneless wing apart.

"You know what sounds good?" Bulma looked up, grinning childlike. It was something Yamcha had never seen before, especially with this uptight woman.

"What?" Yamcha said with a full mouth.

"A life supply of M&M's. If I had that, I think I would be so happy." Bulma grinned, taking another bite of her wing.

"Right," Yamcha began to laugh, shaking his head, "You know I think I prefer you high."

Bulma glared at him and took a small bite of a piece of pizza she lifted to her mouth.

"I feel bad that I haven't been coming to Ouji's class lately." Yamcha said, taking a drink and laying back upon Bulma's bed, watching her inhale a whole half of a pizza in minutes.

"Don't be, our little professor has been super busy anyway," Bulma licked her lips and lay back upon the bed, placing a finger over her lips, signaling it was a secret.

"Busy, with what? Trying to drive his students insane?" Yamcha raised a brow and then slowly closed his eyes.

"No, he is fucking the dean." Bulma didn't at all beat around the bush. After that she began to giggle wildly, "I saw them."

Yamcha's eyes snapped open and he slowly rose from the bed, looking down at her giggling form, "You saw them? Now who is the 'creeper'?" He said dramatically.

"Fuck you, Yamcha, it wasn't like that. It isn't like I get off from sitting outside someone's window. Let me explain myself." Bulma snapped an angry glare in his direction.

"Alright, creeper, explain to me what happened." Yamcha grinned, scooting closer to her lounging body.

"Well, I was going to speak to the dean about our Professor's constant nagging and his unfair grading, but most of all I wanted to explain to her that he was a scum bag that gets a kick out of pissing me off." Bulma sucked in a breath, "I walking into her office and didn't get far after…well you know."

"How did you know it was him?" Yamcha chuckled softly, leaning in and brushing some of her hair from her eyes. Bulma swallowed hard, noticing the closeness.

"Well, the door was cracked." She shrugged, looking away and scooting slowly in the opposite direction, "I happened to see through that…and there he was." She shrugged, taking in a slow breath as he inched closer to her.

Yamcha traced a thumb along her jaw line, trapping her beneath him as he forced her to look him in the eye. His lips parted as he watched her mouth with his chocolate brown stare. He began to smile ever so softly. Bulma couldn't speak. She couldn't even think straight. That moment she reached up to push him away and his hand gripped her wrist as he leaned in closer.

"You have the more beautiful eyes," He breathed, leaning in nearly brushing his lips against hers.

_He is not going to…oh yes he is…_

Her mind was running wild. Bulma wished she could sink through the mattress, far away from his touch, "Yamcha…" She said softly, trying to free her chin from his grasp.

The door slammed open and her blonde roommate peaked in holding a bottle of jack in one hand and a two liter of coke in the other. Her eyes were glossy. She had been drinking. There was a young man with her, gripping her around the waist and kissing at her neck. He pulled away and rubbed the back of his neck noticing the room was already occupied.

"Holy shit," Steph laughed aloud, nearly dropping her bottles, "This is too good. I am glad you are taking my advice; though I was hoping it was the other guy I was telling you to bone…who was it again? Your Prof…"

"Shut the hell up, Stephanie!" Bulma nearly shouted shoved Yamcha up and straightening her brown hair.

"What the hell is that," She began to sniff around, pausing in front of her friend, "It smells like…" Stephanie gripped her guys hand and pulled him into the room and paused, shifting her gaze toward her friend, "Is that reefer?"

Bulma began so smile ridiculously, tapping her foot and reaching for her glass of Pepsi.

"So what, I decided to try smoking. It isn't bad."

Stephanie grinned playfully, popping her hip and looking her friend up and down, "Yep, and then you were going to have kinky stoner sex. I like your style, B." She turned to face her boy toy, "Oh, this is Don. Don, this is Brandi and…?" She raised a blonde brow, waving her hand toward the quiet guy as he ran his own hands through his thick, dark locks.

Yamcha looked up and nodded to the Don character, "Yamcha," he said casually.

"You guys should come to a party with us. It is just down the block. I needed to come back to change my shoes, but I am even more excited that you both are here. Come on; come out with us, Brandi." Steph begged, bouncing in place, nearly falling over in the process.

Bulma was coming down from her high, she glanced over at her closed laptop and cursed softly, "I really would like to go out, but I have a paper that I need done in a couple days." She licked her lips and rubbed her sore eyes. What time was it anyway?

Bulma glanced toward the clock, taking note that it was nearly 10:30PM.

"Brandi, you can work on it tomorrow. You are a smart girl. Just come out with us. I am sure Yamcha would be game, right Yamcha?" She sat beside him, grinning playfully.

Yamcha looked her over and chuckled, "I think it would be fun, come on. You can get serious tomorrow." Her fellow student stood up and gripped her hand, pulling her close. Bulma shoved him back and shook her head.

"Fine, we will go out, but I am not getting slammed." She warned Stephanie, who seemed to be ignoring everything she was saying. The blonde was just happy she said yes.

"Oh you will have fun! Come on, Mr. Yamcha, show my friend here a good time." Stephanie grabbed her drunken boy toy and then exited after she changed her shoes.

The all traveled to the small house party down the block. Apparently it wasn't as small as Bulma would have liked. The music could be heard from the street and people were piling in and out of the two-story home. Stephanie greeted about ten people upon arrival. Bulma wasn't at all surprised. Her friend had plenty of other hangout spots and was a social butterfly. They were immediately sucked into a game of beer pong. There were three tables going on in the entire house, which was amazing considering how popular the game was usually at these functions. It created fewer problems within the house. The game could be very competitive when drunken fools were involved.

One game quickly became two, and then three. She had to sit down after a certain amount of shots that were being passed in-between games. Drinks were coming her way because her friend wouldn't let the party aspect go. Of course she didn't take into consideration that Bulma needed to be up to begin re-writing that bitch of a paper.

She tried roaming the house, but after she decided to cut herself off, the sleepiness grabbed ahold of her and was shaking her mercilessly. She wasn't sure where Yamcha had gone off to. The last time she saw him he was heading to the back with a freshly packed pipe. She honestly didn't realize how much of a pot head Yamcha was. It didn't bother her any. She just guessed he was becoming extremely comfortable in his ways around her.

Bulma plopped herself on the chair facing one of the beer pong tables. Steph was just finishing up her game with that Don guy.

"Brandi, you have to keep drinking sweetie." Stephanie whispered in her friend's ear, "Either that or keep active. You can't be falling asleep, it is too early. How are you going to get any?" She laughed softly, placing her forehead against her friends.

Bulma's blue orbs opened slowly as she grinned, "I am not sleeping with him, Steph. He isn't even a friend." She pursed her lips, feeling the rim of Stephanie's cup brush her lips.

"Oh yeah, that is why he was all over you." She whispered playfully, pulling the drink away.

"What you walked in on wasn't what it seemed." The Brunette grinned, pushing her blonde friend off.

"Well, you need something. Use him and throw him away. It is what I would do."

Bulma put up a thumb and crinkled her nose, "That sounds like great advice. Thanks Steph," She patted her blonde friend upon the shoulder. "I think I want to sleep."

"Don't go to sleep yet," Stephanie whined, trying desperately to offer her another shot.

Bulma cuddled up upon the chair and closed her eyes, not being able to shake her alcohol induced slumber.

…

..

.

Bulma opened her eyes early morning. The soft rays of light shone in through the slightly parted drapes. She felt the soft skin of her flesh caressing against the sheets. Pulling the comforter over her nude form she signed softly. Bulma inhaled and stretched under the sheets, but paused. Her eyes snapped open and in and instant she nearly darted from the bed. She knelt in the middle of her small bed looking down at her very naked form. The only thing on were her panties. She glanced to the floor and saw Yamcha snoozing away. Stephanie was lying in her own bed and passed out, most likely not to wake until noon.

Bulma reached out a toe and poked the sleeping man. She called his name softly, poking a little harder. Finally she barked out his name, thrusting her foot hard into his rib cage. Yamcha cried out loudly, gripping his side and rolling to his back.

"Yamcha, what the hell happened?" She asked, pulling the sheet to her bare breasts.

Yamcha cracked an eye, wincing in pain still, "What do you mean?"

"Why are my clothes off, you fucking idiot." She growled lowly in his throat and pressed her naked back to the cool wall.

"Well, I took them off, don't you remember?" He looked around, blinking a few times.

"You…"

"Oh shit, yeah you were super shit faced. You kept insisting that I join you, but I didn't want the next morning to end up like…well, how it is now. I guess this situation was a lose-lose."

"Shut up," She nearly screamed, "So…" Bulma paused a moment, fumbling to find her words, "We didn't…?"

"No, we didn't." He glanced up at her, grinning softly and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Thank god, I would have had to castrate you." She whispered softly, closing her tired eyes. She massaged them softly before re-opening them and glancing up toward the ceiling.

"Yeah, I figured as much. I was honestly taken back that you even thought about sleeping with me last night." Yamcha then looked puzzled, "But you did keep calling me Professor Asshole, which I was completely confused." He glanced up at her, raising a brow.

"That meant nothing. I was drunk. I don't even remember getting back to my dorm. Hand me that shirt." She wiggled her index finger in the direction of an oversized night shirt.

Yamcha grabbed it quickly, tossing it in the brunette's direction. He sat up, leaning against the bed. He signed and watched the sleeping blonde. He shook his head remembering she was the worst last night. It took him four different attempts to round her up. The second to the last try he was seriously considering tying her up and dragging her back.

"I am shocked she hasn't puked." Yamcha chuckled.

"Why did you take off my clothes, creeper?" Bulma pursed her lips after dressing herself under the sheets.

"You puked all over yourself. I didn't want you sleeping in that all night. If you don't believe me, in your closet in a plastic bag are the dirty clothes. It smells horrible, but my main concern was getting us into bed." He ran a hand through his thick hair.

Bulma's lip parted as she glanced suspiciously toward the closet in which her puke coated clothing was most likely bagged.

"So, who drove?" Bulma asked.

Yamcha shrugged, "That Dan guy…"

"Don?" Stephanie's head shot up, as she peaked through the monstrosity in which was her hair.

Bulma raised a brow and tilted her head to the side, "He isn't here, Steph."

"Please tell me I am in my bed…" The blonde whispered softly, wiping the back of her hand across her dry lips.

"You are in your own bed." Bulma said loudly, lying back against her pillow.

"Thank god," the blonde said, hugging her pillow, "Brandi?"

"Yeah?" Bulma asked, glancing to the side.

"Did I get lucky last night?"

Bulma's eyes narrowed, glanced down at Yamcha who was shaking his head, "I don't think so, Steph." The Brunette laughed after hearing a soft grumble.

ooOoo

Bulma grabbed some food, a coffee and collected her laptop. She was running on fumes. The ache in her head was not helping her to finish this paper, but she got through it. After a good amount of time spent on this re-write, she was not at all worried about the outcome. In all honesty she was completely irritated and completely over this class, period. She didn't know what else to do. All she really could do was plug along, and stay silent.

That was what she was going to do. She would not say another thing. She would not respond to his rude commentary and she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing how mad she truly was.

Bulma clicked rapidly, going through the print options. Her eyes skimmed the illuminated computer screen in the lab as she searched and then pressed print. The white sheets quickly immerged from the printer. She gripped the warm sheets between her fingers, cradling it to her chest. The brunette quickly slung her back pack over her shoulder and headed to her destination, Professor Asshole's office to be exact.

She had spent a few more hours revising and fixing her 'sorry excuse for a paper' when finally she decided it would have to do. It damn well better do, considering she skipped two classes to catch up. Not to mention there was so much she had for other classes that this should not be her main propriety. Of course she was determined to prove him wrong. In order to get all her other class work done she and to wrap it up and move on. If he didn't like it still, she guessed he would have to suck it up and pipe down with the bad ass professor persona, which she knew would be extremely hard in his case.

As she approached her professor's office door she noticed it was closed. Her stomach oddly sunk and her felt a wave of anxiety wash over her. She didn't want a repeat. Bulma honestly didn't think she could handle another show, considering the last time she felt like she was two seconds from literally collapsing from pure shock. Clearing her throat, Bulma extended her hesitant hand and knocked loudly on the door, gaining the attention. In her mind it would withhold any physical activity going on inside, saving her from what might be next.

She could hear papers wrestling, a chair move and then an annoyed voice from behind the door, "Come in,"

The young woman leaned in and gripped the door handle, popping the door open slightly with her hip. She swallowed hard and kept her features straight as a board as she entered the confines of his cramped office. She raised a brow and blinked, looking around as if confused. Odd, for someone who was giving it to the Dean she figured he would be given a little more space for his services.

"Miss. Williams, what brings you to my office?" His onyx eyes regarding her quickly before turning his attention back to the papers he was grading.

"Well, I didn't want to come here, but considering I was forced to be here because of my revised paper, I guess I really had no choice in the matter," Bulma tapped a finger upon her pursed lips, giving her paper a toss upon his desk. She mentally kicked herself. No more back talking, Bulma.

Mr. Ouji ceased his movements as the paper obstructed his vision. He laid his pen down and gripped the paper, looking slightly confused. Bulma raised a brow and crossed her arms over her chest. Oh boy, here it comes. The brunette pursed her lips tighter, popping her hip.

"Interesting, very good Miss. Williams. I forgot to e-mail you the other day. You see I was busy with a meeting." Bulma's eyes widened slightly, forcing herself not to roll them, knowing damn well where he was. The dark haired man chuckled darkly, leaning back in his seat and draping his arm over the back of his computer chair as he looked upon the flustered face of his student, "But I revisited your paper, you deserved a higher grade. You didn't even need to complete this one. I must have been having one of those days." He placed it upon the stack and grinned, "I am glad you can follow directions, Miss. Williams."

That very instant her mouth dropped open, "Are you…serious?" Bulma dropped her bag on the floor and ran her hands over her loose locks, blinking rapidly, "I spent two hours revising when I could have been working on other…I skipped classes…" She dropped her arms at her side and shifted her body toward her teacher, "You did that purposely." The brunette nodded.

"I did no such thing," He narrowed his liquid black eyes, tilting his head back and crossing his arms over his wide chest.

"That is a load of bullshit, you most certainly did." Bulma shouted back at him, point a finger. So much for the self-talk; all of that nonsense was down the drain. He had just royally pissed her off.

"Miss. Williams, I will not stand for this in my office…"

"Oh quit this, 'Miss. Williams' shit, I am getting sick of this pathetic class. I would go to the dean," She paused, gritting her teeth and sucking in a breath. Her anger was getting the better of her, and for a very good reason, "but I know what you do with that woman. It would be silly to even bring it up to her. She would defend you till the end, right?"

Surprisingly her professor's eyes brightened with interest, yet showing no emotion. Not even a hint of emotion.

"Tell me, Mr. Dude, Mr. O, 'hey you' even," She sucked in a shaky breath.

"Miss. Williams," His eyes narrowed, "I will ask you one time…"

"Do you even have a degree?" Bulma placed her hands on her hips, tilting her head to the side, biting her lower lip before continuing.

"Do not…"

"Or do you get by..by…" She continued to ramble.

"Disrespect me in…"

"By fucking all the higher ups?" Bulma paused just as he calmly got out the last bit.

"My office…" Vegeta's nostril's flared as he slowly turned his chair to face her.

"What don't tell me I was spot on?" She began to chuckle, shaking her head, completely shocked that she went as far as she had already. Honestly, she was proud she was speaking her mind, but what happened to the ignoring speech? Though, Professor Asshole most likely had yet to hear it from a student, since she was willing to bet that no one had the balls.

"You need to be punished, Miss. Williams." Vegeta's gruff voice lowered an octave as he watched her with those blazing eyes.

"Don't tell me you are seriously going to punish me?" Bulma began to laugh, "What, are you going to spank me?" she waved her fingers around, continuing with this silly game. She laughed out loud once again, placing her hand on her flat belly.

Vegeta's eyebrow quirked slightly as he stood up quickly, shooting out a hand and gripping her wrist. Bulma gasped loudly, as her eyes widened in shock. It happened quicker then she could respond. Her Professor gripped her shoulder, bending her at the waist and pressing her warm cheek to the cool surface of his desk. He was right over her. His lips were inches from her cheek. She could feel his hot stare on her face and neck as he reached around and gripped the button of her jeans. Bulma whimpered softly, looking at the corner of her eye as he held her in place. Vegeta leaned to his right and just then Bulma could hear the door quickly lock.

"What are you…?"

"I'm going to spank you, of course," He whispered lowly, intensely, "Wench,"

Bulma felt a tingle in her loins as her knees buckled. He held her up as he pulled her thong and jeans away from her rounded rear end. He moved away from her rear, allowing her to feel the cool air brush over it. Within seconds his large hand collided hard upon her flesh. The sound of skin colliding with skin was contained in the small office. Of course those outside would most likely hear it if they got too close and that frightened her. She cried out, feeling tears prickling behind her eyes. Vegeta's hand came up the middle of her back as he gripped the back of her neck.

"Hush now, little girl, you don't want people to know what is going on in here." He smirked, laying two more hard strikes upon each one of her cheeks.

"Please stop…" She whimpered feeling disgusted that she actually was enjoying the feel of his hand on her rear. His hand stroked over her skin as he leaned back in and smirked once again.

"You don't want me to stop," He whispered to her, licking his lips, "Do you?"

"Yes, I do, please," Bulma blinked back her tears, "I'm so sorry," she choked back.

"Did you learn your lesson?" Vegeta asked, pulling her up and turning her around, none too lightly, "Hn?"

"Yes," She said softly, her lips parted as her blue gaze went to his lips as he leaned in, her lips parting more with anticipation. She wanted him to touch her more, no it couldn't be. Could it? She was completely turned on by this right now. She couldn't believe it. Her breasts were peaking and she was willing to bet she was soaked. Bulma closed her eyes before reopening them to meet his intense gaze.

Vegeta's thick brows narrowed slightly as he watched her mouth, "What is it, Miss Williams? You didn't think I was going to kiss you?" His head tilted slightly, looking rather amused with her reaction.

"Yes," She breathed, her eyes hooded.

_You just admitted that you liked it…he knows you wanted more…_

She mentally cringed. Vegeta grinned, showing those straight pearly white teeth as he gripped her shoulder and moved her toward the door, "Don't forget your bag, Miss Williams. If your paper does not score as high as the older, I will give you the highest grade." He sat back down in his chair, no longer looking at her as she straightened her hair and blinked, opening the door as she slung her bag over her shoulder and exited wordlessly.

When she arrived back at her dorm, Bulma went straight for the body length mirror located on the back of her dorm room door. She stared at herself. She was in completely shock with herself. Her hands traveled the length of her body, eyes following. The brunette took in a deep breath and turned slowly, prying the jeans and panties away from the tender flesh. The asshole marked her. She could see the red swollen flesh raised and in the shape of his hand. There were multiple marks.

Her finger traced the outline of the hand, wincing as she brushed spots that hurt more than others. Bulma licked her lips and slowly walked to her bed, laying down and kicking off her jeans. Her hand traveled down between her legs, feeling the damp material. She was excited, excited for his touch. She closed her eyes and sucked in a breath as she dipped her fingers between her nether lips. She cried out, cried out the name of her Professor.

God, she needed to do something about this grown obsession. Fuck, she was calling it an obsession. She tilted her head to the side, glancing at the clock. She needed to take a cold shower, get dressed and meet her mother. God, she hoped Lorelei wasn't in a nosy mood today.

ooOoo

^-^ Thanks for reading! Please take a look at my profile if you are interested in our b/v community. The links are located there. We have recently had Tempest, Catgirl, Okieday, Lady Lan, and piccolo is green join. We hope to see you there! Thanks again.


	5. Phone Call 1

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The Phone rang in his pocket. Vibrations traveled up the length of his dress pants. His hand slipped in. He pulled it free, pressing the answer button. Taking in a deep breath he listened.

"_We have new information…"_

The voice was stern, thrilled even. Yes, the man had found what he most wanted.

"Yes, I see there is good news. I am pleased." He man said, stroking his grey mustache.

"_Yes, we have found her, boss."_

He could practically feel the evil grin through the speaker of the phone.

"_I have the means to bring her now, just say the word."_

"No, you will not do anything. Keep doing what you do best and I will call you at the end of the week. No more questions."

"Yes, boss." The man responded his voice low knowing the excitement had yet to come.

The man with the phone clicked the end button, stuffing the phone back into his pants. He lifted the glass of scotch to his lips, taking a small drink as he observed the computer screen which had a visible picture of the now brunette Bulma Briefs.

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..

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End file.
