Summary: Bella Swan leads a double life. By day she is Bella Swan, the straight A', Ivy league, college student, and by night she is Isabella, a seductive stripper with sass and no class. One night, things take a turn for the worst. Bella sees something she doesn't expect...or rather someone that goes to school with her.
That is just in the wrong place at the wrong time !

The oh so smart mouthed, heart breaker Edward Cullen. How is she going to get herself out of this one? What will happen when her two worlds [meant to be separated] are about to collide?

Chapter One: I hate you Edward Cullen !

Bella P.O.V.

Glamour. Fun. And Fame.

That was what I repeated to myself, over and over again inside my head. I pretended I was some glamorous fashion model strutting down the runway or some famous singer doing her thing on the stage in front of millions of screaming fans. I was in my own world; I was pretending to do something that I wasn't.

I was pretending to be someone that I wasn't.

I wanted so badly to believe that I was some awesome celebrity, but as I heard the whistles and howls from an audience made up of mostly over aged, old, drunken men, I was pulled back into reality. The reality that was sadly, called my life. The life of Bella Swan.

I was no Natasha Bedingfield or Jessica Alba.

I was the girl with no voice. Plain, old boring, POOR, Bella Swan with light brown eyes, a slight upturned nose, and pink lips. My oval head was framed with reddish brown hair that lie flat against my small shoulders. I was average height and average sized with two pair of left feet, always tripping over this and always tripping over that.

I was nothing special. Just a sophmore at an Ivy league college in the small state of Washington. I was trying to make it. I needed money to pay my half of the rent, which was due this Friday for an apartment I shared with three other girls. I needed money for new clothes since I was out growing my old ones. Money for school books. Money for food. Money for a lot of things. That was why I was doing this.

For the money. It was what I needed.

Whoever said money couldn't buy happiness, was wrong.

Money buys you everything.

At first, I tried to convince myself I liked doing this. That I liked the way others appreciated my slender body. The way men praised me for doing a couple of sexy, flexible, dance moves in skimpy little costumes, taking off my clothes, and swinging my hair around like a crazed party girl. I forced myself to believe that this was what I wanted. That this was who I was.

But, I was only kidding myself.

I didn't want this. Who would? What happened when I had a family of my own one day, with little children running around giving me grey hair! What was I supposed to say? : "Kids, mommy's a stripper. That's what she does for a living." What did that sound like to you? Yes, you can say it. Don't be afraid to say it, because I was thinking the very word in my head.

Insanity.

I was insane.

For doing what I do. It's gross, I know. It's disgusting. I should be ashamed of myself. And, I was. I had heard it all before. From those of the people, which was very few, that knew of my secret. They told me everything in the book, and I took it in, not applying their advice to my lifestyle. It wasn't like I chose this job. I needed it. It payed more than others did, and that was all I was really interested in. The first night that I did this, I felt a rush. A sense of power.

The feeling didn't last very long though. After a while, it all began to get a little old. I felt no pleasure in what I was doing, but guilt and regret. I couldn't change it though. I had no where else to run, no where else to turn. This was my last resort for money.

Sure, I had parents. But they didn't care about me. They were poor, and what little money they did have, they spent on alcohol and drugs.

I was nineteen. At the young age of fourteen, I had learned to fend for myself. I had to learn the ways of adulthood without guidance from my mother or father. Every time that I thought about them, hot tears prickled my eyes. Why didn't they love me? Why was I born? Was I a mistake?

I tried not to think about them; I hated them for the childhood I had had. Never being able to invite friends over for fear of them discovering my secret about my parents, never really making friends because I was too scared to let anyone in, and never being able to be driven to school or picked up. Never participating in after school activities. None of that. Growing up wasn't easy or normal at all. And I blamed my mom and dad.

For.

All.

Of.

It.

It was time for me to step up. Stop pitying myself. Stop feeling sorry for myself. This just made me a stronger woman. Pretty soon, all of this would be over. This job was only temporary. What I wanted to do was to dance professionally behind singers like Beyonce or Brittney Spears. That was never going to happen; I knew that. I might have been the biggest slut bucket there was, but I wasn't naive. I was far from it.

Being a stripper and doing a few hot moves for the crowd, was the closest thing to dancing that I was ever going to get.

Beggars couldn't be choosers.

I had to work with what I was given, and that was exactly what I was doing right now. Something better would come along in the future.

I strutted down the runway, my prop for tonight- a marble table. The silver pole stood at the end of the walkway. I stared out at the people here tonight. Dark lustful eyes of men gazed back at me in awe of my sexiness in this sleazy outfit. I wore a school girl outfit.

A short white tee, that showed off my flat, tanned torso. Two star tattoos were on either side of my hip bones. A long pleated black and red tie hung from my neck. I wore a short matching plaid skirt that barely covered my thighs. My long graceful legs were showing tonight, bronzed and sparkling in the disco lights coming from the ceiling. Long socks covered my ankles and I wore hot, black, six inch heels, surprised that I could walk in them properly.

I climbed onto the table seductively.

I closed my eyes, and took in a short breath. I pretended all these men staring at me were my fans. I pretended to hear them shouting out my name.

I was in my zone.

I was the devious, sex kitten, Isabella Swan.

She was my alter ego, my stage presence. Plain old Bella Swan couldn't get the job done. Her fiercer, sassier, self had to.

I tilted my head back, while sitting on the table. I pulled the elastic from my hair, and shook my head, my long curls falling on my shoulders. I heard whistles from the audience. "Com'ere baybeee" I heard a man slur, drunkenly. I shot him a flirty smile, before standing up on the table in my heels. As I stood, I rolled up touching my smooth legs. I raised my skirt and hooked my thumbs in my lace panties.

I began to purr.

The Cougar was out to play.

I pulled them down slowly, teasingly. When they were finally off, I twirled them around my index finger before throwing them into the crowd of howling men. They were such dogs. These greasy old men. It would have been nice to see a man there my age for once. Or at least someone who wasn't in there late forties or early fifties.

Next, I moved over to my short top. I began to unbutton the shirt, my medium sized breast plunging out of it. It lay open, showing off my perky boobs. With exaggerated slowness I took it off, dropping it to the floor. I slid off the table, and onto the stage. I began to crawl, meeting the eyes of the men watching me.

I easily got into a split, my right leg behind, my left in front. The old geysers threw money onto the stage. I stayed in my position, crawling my fingers up to my breast. The tectno music playing in the club tonight pounded through me. I tried not to bob my head to the beat of the familiar song. Instead of flinging my bra off right away, I began to make my way further down.

I picked up the money and stuck it in my shoes. It was a lot of green on the stage tonight. I had a strong impulse to count the money right then in there, but I knew the rules of stripping. It was rude, tacky, and most important of all- a major turn off.

I stood up again, making my way to the pole, my skirt, tie, and see through bra still on. I bent down into a back bend, using my flexibility to my advantage. No other strippers here could do this sort of stuff. The weren't passionate about dance the way that I was. Once my hands were on the floor, I rocked gently, and brought my leg off the ground. I thrust it into the air, kicking it up as high as I could. The force from the kick, took me over.

And I had just done a bridge walkover and stuck it perfectly.

"Wooohooo. Baybeeeee. Showw me moreee!" The crowd screamed at me.

I fiddled with the tie, my delicate fingers running over the patterns. I began to loosen it up. I took it off, and it too dropped to the ground. I ran my hands up and down my body, letting out a high pitched laugh that didn't sound like my own. It wasn't a happy laugh. It was one of victory. I knew I had won tonight. The green that was being thrown at the stage tonight was more than I had seen in a while. This would definitely cover my rent. If I kept at it, I could get more money to put in my stash that went towards new school books.

I shook my shoulders, causing my boobs to shake. I bent down to the floor, and I guess, I humped the floor. I didn't know what to call the move I was doing. I had seen it in Ciarra's 'Ride' video, but had never actually practiced what I was doing right now. As I bounced up and down, the video of Ciarra dancing played in my head.

She was an awful dancer, and hopefully tonight I would do the true choreographer of her moves some justice.

More money and more money was thrown onto the stage.

I wrapped one of my legs around the pole. I hadn't even gotten to the real stripping yet.

I placed my hands firmly on the bar, and twirled on it. I climbed up, and spun, as I slid down. I let out a moan, letting the men here think this was actually making me horny.

As if.

The whistled and hooted louder.

Finally, I snatched my skirt off. I shook my hips to the beat of the music, the pole againsst my back, keeping me steady. Then I back flipped over to the end of the stage. I hopped off and into one man's lap. I felt his dick pressing against me. He had a toothy grin and reeked of beer. I tried not to cover my nose. My eyes watered, the smell was so strong.

Suck it up, I told myself as I hopped up and down on this man. I threw my head back, his hands roaming all over my body. He stuck his money in my bra, and I pecked him on the cheek. I moved on to the next guy, not really looking at any one's face as I went from one man to the other.

Opening my eyes, I took in the face of the new boy that I sat on.

He didn't smell like beer, but expensive cologne. I gasped, when I saw who it was.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no.

"No, no, no, no , no. This can't be happening" I whispered to myself, pausing in my routine to get a hold of this current situation. I was half naked, no practically naked, with only a bra on. I studied this boy's face, taking in all his features, still whispering silently to myself. His expression masked my own.

He had dark brown hair with blondish natural highlights. His eyes were an all too familiar piercing green, seeming to look right into my soul. His eyebrows were thick, and he had long eyelashes. His straight nose was pink from the cold- it was mid December. Great, that meant he had just gotten here. He hadn't been here long enough to see my whole routine. I tried to look on the bright side of things, but still my heart raced wildly in my chest.

I held my breath in embarrassment, my cheeks growing hot.

The boys own high cheek bones were tinted with a soft red. I didn't know what he was so ashamed about. I was the one here- stripping like the dirty whore I was. He was just here to watch. He was a guy, and this was what guys did. Watched women strip off their clothes and show the opposite sex their body.

But still, I was shocked!

I had specifically chosen this strip club because it was far away from the campus of my college. How the hell had he shown up here? Was he stalking me now?

"Hey, whats the hold up?" an angry, watcher shouted at me.

I snapped out of it, and so did my unexpected guest.

"Yeah, what's the hold up?" He asked, his green eyes gleaming and a crooked grin on his lips.

Oh yeah, he was just fine. His embarrassment was nothing. Glad to know, I was the only one in here feeling like a stupid, trampy, fool.

"Edward Cullen, did I ever tell you how much I hate you?" I asked him with a forced smile, knowing my boss was somewhere watching me from the sidelines. I had to act like nothing was wrong. Like seeing him here, didn't affect me at all, when in truth it did. He couldn't know he still got to me. What we had had once before was over. It was stupid, and meaningless. I told myself this as he felt me up and groped all over me.

"Yes, Bella. You have, actually. This makes you're twenty-third time. I've been keeping count."

He leaned up to kiss me. I felt my stomach tighten, and emotions from the past began to resurface. I wanted to pull away, but all these old guys would ask for the money back. I was here to give them a show. An entertaining one. And if I bailed out now, my boss was sure to fire me.

I closed the space between up, letting his lips graze mine. The audience went wild with roaring hoots of praise and whistles.

"Can you bounce for me?" he asked, pulling away from me.

He was so arrogant, and self-centered, and just beautiful.

The three things I loved and hated about this man.

"This will make the twenty-fourth time. I hate you Edward Cullen."