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13. Lady Stardust

13

LADY STARDUST

DAISY

I take a quick glance around Lester's roomy kitchen before I sit down on a tall stool beside the island, and the dogs go back to their comfy place in the living room.

The kitchen is colorful, with a floor consisting of hundreds of tiny uneven-shaped tiles in colors of apple green, brown, and dark yellow. Cabinets made of nicely carved wood hang above the yellow countertops, the material dark and smooth.

Lester sets the vibe by putting on some music, giving me a grin. My eyes shine with admiration as my mouth opens on a silent gasp. "Ziggy Stardust? You like David Bowie?"

"Of course. He's a visionary. Very talented."

"Marry me," is all I say.

He just laughs as he opens the fridge and starts gathering ingredients for the tacos. He splays them out on the countertop, grabbing a large knife and cutting board from one of the cabinets.

"Let me help." I jump off the stool and take place beside him. "I can cut the veggies. I'm good with knives."

"You are, huh?" he asks amusedly, handing me the handle.

"Oh, yes. I'm not one to be messed with." I swing my hip playfully, touching his thigh.

Looking down at me, there's humor in his gaze. "I believe you. Little spitfire you are."

"You don't know the half of it, Professor." I start cutting some red and green bell peppers while he turns on the stove and cooks the ground beef. I cut the onions last, because they always make my eyes water.

"Fucking hell," I complain when they start to burn like a bitch.

He stifles a chuckle. "Can't handle cutting a few onions? Really, the girl who just told me she's not one to be messed with?"

"Onions are my greatest enemy. My only weakness, I promise." I blow a piece of hair away from my face, and he reaches for a piece of tissue.

Holding it underneath my eyes, he gathers up the tears, his hot breath tickling my forehead. "You poor thing."

My skin pulls tight, painful eyes forgotten. The energy in the air crackles almost audibly, along with the sound of the ground beef cooking on the stove. The way he looks at me is electric. There's no way he doesn't feel it yet. This, between us.

He's so close to me, his chest almost touching my chin as he hovers over me with his tall physique. "Feel better?" he asks with his honeyed voice.

I nod. "Thanks to you."

He pats me on the head with the palm of his hand, then turns around and resumes his job in front of the stove. Grabbing the cutting board, he slides all the vegetables into the steaming pan. It already smells delicious, and I'm ravenous. The ice cream cone was the last thing I ate, and that was hours ago.

"Anything else I can do?" I ask.

"Maybe grab the corn tortillas from the cabinet on your left and get us some drinks. I'll handle the rest."

I do as he says, looking through the fridge, not finding much besides different kinds of beer and ginger ale. "What would you like to drink?"

"A Carlsberg, please." I grab two. "You're not old enough to drink," he states dryly as he raises an eyebrow. He's folding the tortillas to make taco shells, and dinner seems to be almost ready.

I scoff, smirking. "I'm old enough to fuck, so I'm old enough to drink. You're not on the clock, Mr. Gilbert. No need to supervise me."

"Fuck's sake. I can barely keep up with you," he mutters under his breath.

"Ah!" I squeak. "Language! One dollar in the swear jar. And by swear jar I mean my pocket." I look down at my bare thighs. "Since I don't seem to be having any, you can just slip it in here." I lift up the blouse, sticking my thumb inside the waistband of the boxers. "I've always wondered what it's like to be a stripper."

"Good God. Just go take a seat, you." He waves his spatula through the air and resumes his task with a deep sigh.

I giggle, nearly vibrating with energy. "I haven't set the table yet. Let me do that first. After that, I'll stuff my face with yummy tacos without saying another word."

"Good girl."

I stop in my tracks on my way to grab the plates, my smile gone. I think I've just lost all function over my body. I'm a robot and the scientist who made me has cut the cables or something.

Can. Not. Function. Error. Error.

Good girl. That… oh, fucking hell.

He looks casually at me from over his shoulder, unaware that my pussy just turned into Niagara Falls. "Plates are in the left cabinet. Cutlery is in the drawer below."

I give him a curt nod and start gathering everything before putting it down on the dinner table. Lady Stardust by Bowie starts playing, and I clap my hands together happily. "Oooh. I love this song."

He chuckles when I move my hips, on my way to go full-on dancing. " The boy in the bright blue jeans jumped on the stage, and Lady Stardust sang his songs of darkness and disgrace ," I sing, then point my finger at him in the hopes of getting him to dance with me. I wobble my lower lip when he shakes his head. "Please?"

He rolls his eyes amusedly, sighing before he grabs my hand. I pull him toward me, swaying my hips while I move around him. "Come on, Professor. Show me what you've got. Get your groove on."

Grabbing my hand, he pulls me into a pirouette underneath his arm, just like the way my parents always do. The movement makes my blouse ride up and expose my skin. The dryer must have been done with my clothes hours ago, but he still hasn't grabbed them. And I'm definitely not going to be the one to suggest I wear more clothes. Not when I've felt his lingering gaze on my body all day.

It's not much of a dance song, but we make do. Maybe it's even better than an energetic dance song. This way I can practically force myself into his arms and rub my ass against his crotch. Which I surely do. I'm not wasting an opportunity like that.

I can feel the moment he holds his breath. Grabbing his wrists, I fold his arms around my shoulders, lulling my head back against his chest as we both softly move along to David Bowie's heavenly music.

My satisfied hum is audible over the record player, and the sound turns into a whimper when I feel something hard poke against my lower back.

Yep . That feeling is unmistakable.

When he tries to pull away, I don't let him, tightening my grasp around his wrists instead. "Don't stop," I plea, my voice desperate. "I like dancing with you."

His only response is a groan that vibrates against the top of my head, and I think he's sniffing my hair.

I feel like I'm going to explode any moment now. I'm soaking my professor's underwear.

Another vibration ripples against me and I realize he's singing softly. I don't miss the way he seems to hold me closer to his chest, either. " He was awful nice, really quite paradise… He sang all night, all night long… "

When the record clicks onto the next track, we both return to planet Earth, letting go of each other. We meet eyes for just a brief moment before we resume to our duties in the kitchen in silence.

When dinner is done and we both get settled at the table, he makes me a plate. Taking a large bite of a taco sent from the heavens, I groan my pleasure. "Fuckin' A, Mr. Gilbert. This is the best damn taco I've ever eaten."

He huffs a smile. "Thank you."

With my mouth full―manners forgotten―I tell him, "Thank you . For today. For being so kind and letting me stay here till the storm clears. For painting me. For making this a totally awesome day I'll never forget." I swallow down a big bite. "And for dancing with me. Dancing is sort of special to me."

He nods appreciatively. "Of course. You're a fun little lady to be around."

I stifle a giggle. A fun little lady ? Jeez. I sometimes forget that he's kind of an old man.

"Why is dancing special to you?" He takes a sip of his beer, then sucks some sauce off his thumb. I have to audibly shut my mouth closed when I focus on the movement.

"Because of my parents. My dad's kind of a romantic. Dancing is one of the ways he shows his love for my mom. When I think of my childhood, I think of them dancing together or with me." I smile when I look down at my nearly empty plate. "They're soulmates. I hope that one day, I get to have a love story just like theirs."

When I look up at him, he leans back in his chair with a beer in his hand, watching me. "That's beautiful, Daisy."

I tilt my head and tap my beer bottle with my fingernails. "How about your parents?"

His expression changes in a flash. "They're dead."

I mean, I kind of figured that he wasn't on speaking terms with them, because in all the times I've broken into his house, I've never seen a picture of his family. Except for his twin brother, Landon.

Before I get the chance to ask about it, he stands up from the table when a meow sounds through the room. "There you are." He crouches onto the floor, petting Luna's head. "Where the hell have you been all day?"

"Aww," I hum as I join them on the floor, reaching out my hand for the pretty cat to sniff. "What a beauty."

Luna and I are actually great friends. We've built a connection during the many times I've broken in here. So with a trusting tilt of her head, she rubs against my palm.

"Never thought I'd see the day." Lester raises his eyebrows. "She doesn't like people, let alone lets anyone pet her."

"Well, I'm honored." I smile, and Luna starts purring as she moves her whole fluffy body against me, her long tail tickling me in the face.

Right then, a loud bark enters the kitchen, and the moment of peace is over. Luna jumps onto the dinner table in shock, and the dogs run over, ready to fight.

I groan. "Fucking hell. Don't be so dramatic, guys. It's just a cat, not a burglar."

Lester and I both get up off the floor, and he walks to the window, looking outside. "The storm has cleared."

I take a deep breath, disappointment mixed into it. "Time to go, then. Could you get my clothes?"

When all of that is done, we're out the door. We put the dogs into the backseat, and they happily wag their tails, ready for the next adventure.

Electric Light Orchestra softly plays on the radio as Lester drives, and I sit back and relax. I switch between looking out the window and at his hand on the gear shift. The way his veins thread throughout his hands and arms is pure porn, and I should see if I can sneak a photo of it sometime. Add it to my Lester Gilbert book.

"Is this it?" He slows the car down, looking out the window.

"Yeah." I nod, sighing contently. "Today was great."

His eyes sear into me like a laser beam, the corner of his lip and moustache curling up. "It was. I'll get the door for you, help you with the dogs."

He doesn't move a muscle, though. All I seem to be able to do is focus on his lips. Time slows, and my brain grabs its bags and leaves my head, ready to take a vacation. Because the only sentence that blares through my head, echoing and bouncing against its confines, is: kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.

I don't know what makes this moment different from the rest of today. All day I've wanted to jump him, but I still had self-control. I was able to keep myself in check because I was thinking about the plan. The bigger picture.

But that picture is faded right now.

Before I know what I'm doing, I lean forward and press my lips to his. For two incredible, fleeting seconds, all he does is freeze. I'm about to taste him, find my way into his mouth with my tongue, before he abruptly yanks his head away.

I let out a gasp and fall back into my seat. A growl rips from his throat as he grips the steering wheel tight. "This is not okay, kid. You can't do this."

I let out an embarrassing whine. " Kid ?"

"Yes. That's what you are. You're a kid."

I cross my arms. "I'm not. I'm just Daisy. And I'm a woman. Don't treat me like I'm a child. I thought you… Fuck ."

"Don't you realize what you just did? I am your teacher. You are crossing the line."

"You don't find me attractive?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, with a whole lot of vulnerability tainted into it.

He lets out a humorless laugh. "Of course I don't. You're just a girl. You're half my age. This cannot happen again. Am I clear, Miss Burton?"

I want to crawl out of my own skin. Embarrassment coats my flesh like a fur coat on a hot summer's day, the thing tightly molded around my body with no way of shredding it.

I ruined everything. Only for one desperate kiss.

I swallow down the hurt that crawls up my throat like a nasty rodent. "Clear as crystal freakin' meth." Yanking open the door, I get out before I open the back to gather the dogs.

"Daisy," he tries, but I can't stand to be here for just one more minute.

When the dogs are out of the car, I hold their leashes tight in my hand before slamming the door closed, almost sprinting to the front of my parents' house.

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