15. The Spy

15

THE SPY

LESTER

It's been two weeks since Daisy Burton spent the day at my house. Fourteen days since I've had a conversation with her that consists of more than three words.

Morning, hello, bye. That's all she has said to me.

And I still can't get the kid out of my head.

I keep calling her that, because that's what she is. She's only eighteen years old, and my student . I need to keep reminding myself those facts, because I'm afraid they're slowly getting erased like chalk on a green schoolboard.

She kissed me.

What a goddamn mess.

If anyone would have seen us, it would have been over for me. I'd have to say goodbye to my job, to my career as a respected professor at the art institute.

But no matter how hard I try, I can still feel her lips against mine. So soft, so saccharine.

It makes me feel sick to my stomach that part of me didn't want to pull away. I wanted to taste her. I wanted to do a lot more than that.

It's sickening. Lusting after a student who could be my daughter. Despicable. She's exactly half my age.

It makes me no better than the men who touched me.

She's cold to me now. All business, no smiles. No giggles or flirty jokes.

Nothing at all.

And I fucking hate it.

It's my own damn fault for not setting proper boundaries. For letting her flirt with me. Touch me. I saw it for exactly what it was, and I let it happen.

I'd say that I regret it all, that I wish I would've handled it differently. Though that would be a lie. If I were put in the exact same situation now, I wouldn't have changed a thing.

I might have even indulged a little more.

Because that's what happens in situations like these. Step over the line once―you'll do it again. The line will move farther and farther out of reach, until it gets blurred altogether.

That's what makes things like these so dangerous.

I put some of my students' written assignments inside my briefcase before I lock my office door behind me. Walking across campus on the way to my car, a familiar laugh hangs in the warm, quiet evening air. I stop in my tracks, taking a peek around a carved archway on my way outside.

Daisy walks between two tall male students, one of which has his arm around her neck, pulling her close to him. There's another boy walking backward in front of them, talking to her with a dirty smirk plastered on his tanned face.

I don't know them. They're not in any of my classes. But I don't need glasses to see that they're douchebags with one thing on their minds and one thing only.

When one of them moves his hand over her ass and squeezes, I nearly lose it. She doesn't seem to mind, because I hear another loud giggle leave her mouth.

She's not leaving with them, is she? Does she have one goddamn clue how dangerous that is? College boys are known for fucking around, and rape is something that frequently happens to girls around these parts if they're not careful.

And Daisy Burton is not being fucking careful at all right now.

So I follow them, even when they all get inside a car and drive off. I hang behind, leaving enough space between our vehicles to not cause suspicion. Not like they would even notice, because students are generally high off their asses from all the weed that they consume.

They drive to the woods on the edge of town, and I park my car a few ways back before I go to find them on foot. I spot their headlights in the distance, making my way through the trees and bushes, doing my best to be quiet.

Once I'm close enough, I take place behind a large tree trunk and watch them, keeping an eye on Daisy. I'm close enough to hear their conversations and the pop of beer bottles getting opened.

"You guys are bad." Daisy chuckles before she downs an entire bottle of beer in almost one go.

Christ. She has no goddamn regard for her own wellbeing at all. She's going to be so intoxicated that they can just have their way with her. If they touch a single hair on her head, I'm jumping out of these damn woods and slit each of their throats.

"So!" She bends over, putting her empty beer bottle down on the ground. "We doing this or what?"

Rock music blares from the speakers of the car, but the sound of the boys cheering and giving each other high-fives is clear enough.

Then she sinks down onto her knees.

I lose my breath, astonished as I dig my nails into the bark of the tree I'm hiding behind.

This is not happening, is it? I'm dreaming. I'm stuck in a nightmare.

When the boys get rid of their jeans and she starts sucking one of them off, I realize that I'm not.

This is real.

I blink hard, then do it again, my vision getting distorted from the force of it. When they return to normal, the scene before me is all the same. Only now she's making use of her hands as well, jerking the other two guys who stand above her, groaning their pleasure.

"Fuckin' hell, Daisy," the one who has his cock inside her mouth groans. "You've got a mouth sent by the gods."

She looks up at him before she takes it out and smiles. "Just wait until you find out what my pussy feels like."

Not wasting any time, she moves on to the other boys, giving both of them the same amount of attention.

Her hair is gripped tightly as one of them starts fucking her mouth, while her clothes are torn off by the others.

Every single one of my instincts tells me to jump out of the trees and take her away from here.

But I can't. Because she'll know that I have followed her.

How would I explain that? I can't even explain it to myself.

It doesn't take long before one of them lies down on the ground and Daisy climbs on top of him. She has no clothes on, save for her white socks. They have little bows on top. I've seen her wear them often with her Mary Jane platforms.

She rides him, and though I followed them because I was worried―or, well, that's what I told myself, at least―it doesn't seem like they're taking advantage of her. It actually seems like the other way around, as if she's using them for her own pleasure.

I'm so fucking abashed.

Her wickedly beautiful face is in my direction, and the headlights illuminate her tight body as she fucks the guy on the ground with enthusiasm, her tits dangling in his face. Another one takes place behind them, and I nearly lose my mind.

She's not going to let him… Jesus. She's not going to let him fuck her ass, is she? At the same time?

"Holy fuck," the guy chants in appreciation. "I can't believe this is happening. You're so fucking tight. Shit…"

"Yes!" Daisy moans, her eyes slanted in pleasure. "Fuck, that's going to make me come. Keep going. Harder…"

They follow her orders, and my mouth dries when her eyes move to the exact spot where I'm hiding. In the haze of it all, I haven't done my best to stay behind the tree.

And I know, in this exact moment, that she sees me.

Multiple expressions slip over her face, but not one of them is shock. It's as if she knew I was here.

But how? That thought seems ridiculous.

I remain frozen in place, and I think my heart stops beating inside my chest the second her lips curl up into a sinister smirk. Her way of saying; Hello, Professor. Enjoying the show?

I am not.

Or maybe I am.

I don't know what the hell to feel right now. My cock is excited, desperately throbbing and begging to be released from its confines. My chest feels hollow. My fists are balled up because I feel… angry, disgusted.

Maybe even jealous.

"Oh, fuck! Yes! Ah!" Those words, in that sweet, high tone of hers, are what make the millions of thoughts fall away. Because right when she comes, she looks me dead in the eyes.

And she smiles.

I need to get out of here. Right this second.

But my feet won't move. All motor function has stopped working. My wires have been cut. All I can do is remain standing, watching her.

The scene before me plays out like a porno movie, my body trapped in an illusion of malevolent weightlessness. It's like the sickening sensation of falling into an abyss as I watch her eyebrows furrow in pleasure, her cries a lullaby even more haunting than the screams of my victims when I aim to hurt.

It doesn't go on for much longer, because, to my relief, college boys don't last long. But what goddamn relief is it when it feels like she has driven a knife through my stomach and twisted it around three times. Once for each man she let inside of her.

Why does it feel this way? Why do I feel anything at all?

Clothes are gathered from the ground, the fabric stained with dirt and bodily fluids. The boys get dressed, while Daisy remains in place for just a few more moments, her bare knees digging into the sand as her eyes never leave the empty darkness between the trees.

The place where I still reside.

I'm close enough to see her facial expressions, but I'm sure she cannot see me anymore. That doesn't stop her from tilting her chin upward and shooting me a wink and a grin. Her hands roam over her chest, squeezing her perky breasts and moving further down over her pussy. She slips two fingers inside, then takes them up to her lips to taste them thoroughly.

At last, she blows me an air kiss before she gets up and turns around, skipping to the car like a little girl who just got an ice cream cone after begging her mommy for one.

Way too happy for what she has just fucking done.

I should've realized that there is not one damn ounce of true virtuousness in her. Part of me thought―or hoped ―it was her innocence that made it only look like she flirted with me so much.

Now I know that every single comment was made with intention.

Because if this is what she's capable of? I can't even imagine what more she can do.

She starts singing along to a song that's playing from the car radio, seemingly without a care in the world.

It's as if it's all one big joke to her. As if giving her body away to these animals means absolutely nothing at all.

She bends over and reaches for something on the backseat―her schoolbag. The men lean against the hood of the car, each with a beer bottle in their hands as they casually converse. Daisy joins them after she takes something out of her bag.

I squint my eyes to observe what it is, and I notice she's putting something on. A jacket or a… Wait, is that…?

I recognize the beige cardigan instantly. It's the one that went missing without a trace after I wore it on the first day of the new schoolyear.

How did that end up in her hands? Did she take it? Why would she?

She accepts a beer when it's handed to her, then looks over her shoulder in my direction with another daring grin, as if she's making sure that I've seen it. That I now know that she is the one who stole it.

This girl is a mystery to me from this point on. One I desperately want to unravel, like the frayed ends of a knitted sweater. Addicting, because once you pull the thread, there is no way of stopping until only the ruins of a once beautiful, whole thing remain.

One last glance at her and I retreat into the darkness, finding my way through the trees until I'm back at my car. The second I'm inside and catch my breath, I take my cock out of my underwear with an irritated growl.

It's all one big blur. A discombobulation of naked flesh and the sounds of skin slapping against skin. Groans of pleasure and swearwords and praise from men who deserve nothing even close to the girl they got to be with tonight. Filth on the ground. Limbs covered in dirt. Bright headlights and loud music.

All of that falls away in an instant when I close my eyes and think of her .

The angel in the midst of it all.

In the midst of corruption and defilement.

Despite the foulness of it, she looked remarkable. Like a queen orchestrating her manservants to do whatever she wanted. Powerful, fearless.

I followed her after school to offer her protection in case she may need it, to keep her safe from the college kids who were surely going to hurt her. But I've never seen a woman less afraid of anything, more in her element than anything I've ever witnessed before.

And it is maddening.

Because the only thought that kept blaring through my head was: it should have been me .

Her face becomes clearer in my mind, and I start stroking my cock harder, in a faster rhythm. I touch myself to her sweet moans, those cries of pleasure…

Her tongue darts out, licking her bottom lip before she gives me a sinister smirk. You wished it was you, didn't you, Professor?

Straddling my lap, she whispers in my ear, trailing a long path from there down to my neck with her tongue. You could've had me. So many times I presented myself to you on a silver platter. All you had to do was take me… Opportunities, wasted…

"Yes…" I growl out loud as I stroke even faster, even tighter. "Fuck…"

Another imaginary lick tickles my flesh, and I feel my balls draw tight as she sinks down onto my throbbing cock.

I'm so tight, Mr. Gilbert. Could you handle it? Could you make me feel better than those boys?

"I fucking could," I grunt, slamming the back of my head against the headrest. "Better than… better than anyone ." The words are strained, and it takes three more yanks before I lose it. Spurts of hot semen cover my skin and part of my slacks, and it only adds to the impending explosion that is my grievance, my resentment.

When my eyes open back up, I turn on the little light above the seat and let my sore sight adjust. I clean myself up and drive home with my fists balled around the steering wheel and a speed that surpasses the limit exceedingly.

My mind is pandemonium. An unknown territory that must be feared.

This is not me.

I have my business in order. No chaos―that's what my killing is for. That's how I keep things in a straight line, the terrors locked inside tiny compartments in my mind.

But it's like all those compartments are cleared out and each and every single one of them is stuffed with Daisy Burton. They are sealed with their keys, bolted shut with extra chains, and she is occupying them with no way to get her back out.

What is happening to me?