Age of Edward Contest

Title: Catastrophic Complication

Your pen name: Patent Peekaboo Poses

Type of Edward: Russian Revolution Edward

If you would like to see all the stories that are a part of this contest visit: The Age of Edward C2 Community:
http://www(DOT)fanfiction(DOT)net/community/The_Age_of_Edward_Contest/70125/

DISCLAIMER: Nothing (Twilight related and Communist Revolution related) belongs to me , except the fact that Trotsky is Edward's mentor. And the Bella in this little bugger. No person parallels her in real life.

April 14th, 1940

(EPOV)

"If an injury has to be done to a man, it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared."

-Niccolo Machiavelli

I couldn't tell whether Trotsky was lying or merely joking when he told me to go out and have fun. We had stayed at the hotel room for the past few months since his book The Revolution Betrayed was published. I had not left his side ever since.

I knew Trotsky could and would trust me with his own life. In fact, he had. Ever since 1915, when I was merely an orphan boy scraping by on the streets of London, he took me in as his own. When exiled in Siberia, I was with him. When Results and Perspectives was written and published, I was with him. When Lenin died, I was with him. Trotsky was my parental figure. He was always my idol, standing up for what he believed in. Although he was a firm believer of Marxism, he did not go to the extremes – which required murder – to fulfill it.

We stayed at the little hotel near Orange, a city on the Sabine River. It was said that Trotsky was in Mexico City, but being exiled meant not coming back to the origin, and Orange was not the origin. Mexico City was old news. The Revolution Betrayed was published there, after that; we decided it was time to move along. It was hard, deciding where to go exactly. Texas seemed like an opportunity; Trotsky and I would buy a ranch with the money from his novella, we would lead a pacifist lifestyle – one that required no mention of a violent revolution. I had seen too much bloodshed in my twenty-odd years. Trotsky, however, had not. He had oppressed all his rage, not committing heinous acts of violence, saving it for that one bastard – Stalin. Many times, I tried to convince him that all of this was not necessary; we could finally lead our paragon lifestyle, without any distractions.

But Trotsky's mind was set. The longer he stayed in Mexico, the longer his rage was oppressed. It was then that I decided we should leave Mexico and travel upwards, towards the land of the brave. Travelling was a hassle; although my alias had certainly helped us. I was a journalist at The Spark, running a column on the petty things in life. The pay was appeasing, it was enough for Trotsky and me, and that was all we needed.

"Edward, my boy, shouldn't you have a life of your own? Stop wasting your prime time on a weak ol' fellow like me and enjoy your time. Go to the streets of Sulphur and enjoy yourself!" he said to me one evening.

"Oh, would a son ever leave his father's side?" I retorted, smiling.

"Would a son ever disregard his father's orders?" he smiled back.

"Alright. When shall I leave for Sulphur?" I asked him, petting his knee.

"Why not tonight? It is Friday! I can manage a night alone, my boy!" he bellowed, and I smiled. I picked up my wallet and quietly acquiesced. I travelled out of the hotel, getting a bus to take me to the bountiful streets of Sulphur. The bus ride was soothing; only certain chatters of conversations could be heard. I think Trotsky was right, maybe this was what I needed—to think things over, soothe the crumbles out. I could not even recognize how time flew by; it seemed like just a minute ago, I was paying the driver my fare!

I stepped out of the bus and looked around the streets. It was nothing like Orange, where everything was hushed. The streets were vividly lit with streetlights, where people walked in crowded groups. The ambience was nothing like how it was with Trotsky. Trotsky and I were both very terse people. Silence was welcome with us. Apparently, the people of Sulphur welcomed boisterous conversations. Every minute or so, someone would bellow. I walked slowly, absorbing what Sulphur had to offer. There were bars alongside the road, so I chose to stop at one.

At the top, Cherry Martini was displayed in red neon letters, the is topped off with cherries. I entered there with apathy; I wasn't much of a drinker. Trotsky and I shared drinks every once in a while, when something absolutely astonishing occurred.

I sat down on the stool and the lady behind the bar asked me, "What can I get you?"

"Just rum is fine," I smiled towards the lady. She had her blonde hair in a bun behind her head, and she looked to be no more than 30. She wasn't skinny; yet she wasn't corpulent either. She nodded her head towards her, handing me the glass of beverage. I took the glass to my lips and sipped the rum. I didn't act nonchalant about it – the rum was alcohol, and I hadn't had alcohol for over many years. It was only mundane that it would affect me so. I shook my head, trying to ease my head of the unwanted discomfort. It didn't work, in fact, it only made it worse.

The lady smiled at me, her eyes twinkling. Still smiling, she said, "You don't drink much do you?" Was it really that visible? I shook my head, saying no. She clamped her hand around my shoulder, patting it. She chuckled a bit and walked away. This was a nice break with all the surrounding distractions about Trotsky. Reflecting back on it, I finally understood what he meant. I had spent so much of my time looking after him, there was almost no time left for me. But being selfless was always good for society. The society needed altruistic men during that dismal time.

Sitting in that barstool, I was amazed by what people did during their free time. Some just drank beer, like it was something that would absolve them for their sins. Some shamelessly flirted with others, while it more than apparent that they were just not in control of their libido. I was not in full control of my libido as well; there were some instances when I had to … take care of myself. I admit, I was not proud of my habits, but a man in his prime did need release every so often.

So I sat there, thinking about release and what great euphoria it brought me. It was no coincidence that I needed release then. I cursed my traitorous body for not being to enjoy my night out. My breathing became labored as I saw a brown haired beauty walk in the bar. Her gorgeous mahogany hair spilled across her indigo dress, hiding her perfect shoulders from the rest of the world. Her face was just as stunning, her auburn doe eyes were in a seductive trance. She walked with such alacrity that the cacophony was silenced as soon as she stepped in the room. All eyes were on her, regardless of their sex. She stopped her stride, taking a seat next to me. Her smile was one of a hedonist and I knew that she was more than willing to give me, or rather my body, needed. Her body structure was rather the one of a child. I liked her very much. Probably more than I should have.

"Hello," she smiled at me. I was instantly head over heels for this person. She had the faintest aroma of the sweetest smell. Her lips were so pink and rotund that I wanted to immerse myself in her. I struggled to simply say a hello to this lady, so I managed a hand wave as I quaffed down my drink.

"My name is Bella," she offered her hand out. I thought about reciprocating the gesture but then hesitated. If her mere presence had such a pernicious effect on me, then what would having mundane human contact do to me? I was certain that I would spontaneously combust. Yet, my traitorous body responded before I could control myself. The handshake sent my body into a deep conflagration. Her skin was so soft; I was right- this attraction could not lead me anywhere safe.

"My name is Edward," I responded, my voice sounding unusually low and hoarse. I pulled my fingers back and she looked shocked.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Edward," she purred. She was going to be the death of me. Her voice sounded so benign, and the way she pronounced every syllable of my name was going to be my moribund.

"I could say the same for you," I whispered back. Mentally, I was preparing myself for the conversation. My mind was so distracted by her beauty; the way the dress clinged to her hips and how it stopped right on her thighs.

"Could? Won't you?" she smiled back. Her guile was just as charming as her face.

"Of course, my apologies. It's a pleasure to meet you, Bella," I said, looking at her. Her cheeks earned an extra blush as I said her name. Was it possible that she reciprocated my feelings? She giggled so childishly that I was amazed. Her laugh was even more saccharine than her voice. The rest of the room had gone back to its usual cacophony as Bella and I continued our laconic conversation.

"Would you like a drink?" I asked politely, referring to the barren glass in my hand.

"No. I'm perfectly fine. Would you like to go out for coffee? I know it is rather late at night, but alcohol doesn't really suit me," she pleaded. Who was I to refuse such a plea?

"Of course. Why don't you go get ready? I am rather sorry that your trip was ephemeral," I apologized. She waved a hand towards me as she stood up, as if she was saying "don't worry about it."

"We'll have much more fun at the café than this stinky old barn," she smiled at me. I took out my wallet and turned to the lady behind the bar. I reached for a twenty dollar bill, when she said, "Look kid. Don't worry about it. It's on the house." She was nice.

"C'mon Edward!" Bella smiled, leading us towards the exit. She had an over coat that went to her knees. She walked out and held the door open for me.

"Isn't that my job?" I teased her, becoming aware of how the tension had slowly escaped. She shrugged her shoulders and replied, "Maybe it is. But I was never a fan of chivalry."

"Really? That's a shame. Up until now, I thought that every female was a crazed fan of chivalry," I teased back. While I was joking, she seemed to be very serious.

"No. I'd like to be the dominant one," she whispered huskily towards me. I gulped down, we had stopped walking.

"Is the café coming up soon?" I asked, trying to ease the sexual tension that arose again.

"I'm afraid the café's a long way from here. Although, we could enjoy something in my apartment," she murmured, stalking up to me.

"I'd like that," I took a deep breath, she was blatant. She wanted sex; I needed it. I'd been covering my shameful erection since the bar.

"That's just my luck. Look at that. Here's my apartment," she winked at me, although I was much more aware that this was not a coincidence. She held my hand and led us upstairs to her door.

She released my hand only to open the door and lead me inside. Within the first few seconds I was inside her apartment, the devouring had begun. She placed her bountiful lips on top of mine and ravaged my mouth. Her hands went behind my head, attaching them to the base of my neck. She threw the over coat off her and jumped me so that her legs were attached at my waist.

She tasted so sweet – it was like pure sugar, with a mix of honey. I had never tasted anything so sweet in my whole life. I'd like to believe I was a Utopian, and my utopia was attached to me, kissing me like there was no tomorrow.

"You taste like fucking ecstasy," she murmured in between kisses. I was momentarily shocked. Fuck? She was a dirty little girl. I clamped my hands around her waist, pulling her closer to me. She responded my grinding her luscious little bottom towards my pelvic area, which did nothing but enlarge my current problem. She hummed in appreciation and I only held her tighter. I was certain that my hand prints would be visible tomorrow morning.

"As do you," I murmured in her ear and I pulled away from her enticing mouth to rid her of her shirt. She saw the loss as an opportunity and removed my shirt as well. In a matter of seconds, we were both attached to each other, shirtless. My tongue licked at her bottom lip, the one that protruded out to emphasize her pout. It tasted like her. My hands traveled up to her lacy red bra, hanging at the clasp. I was temporarily confused; I did have no experience at this part. Bella tittered as she reached behind herself; I groaned at the loss of body contact.

"Don't fret darling, we'll be ready soon enough," she said. I was certain that she would in fact be ready immediately. She took herself off me, and removed all the hindering articles of clothing still on her body. As soon as all of her clothes were off, she began to unbutton my shirt one button at a time. She wasn't joking about the dominant fact.

I decided it would be best to let her do whatever she wanted. She took my shirt off and threw it somewhere. Her next objective was my pants. She opened the top button, while my hands lay on her bare waist. Before I knew it, we were both naked, and my erection was pressed against her soft abdomen. She gyrated her hips, causing me to lose my control.

"Where is your bed?"I growled at her. I didn't mean for it to come out so nastily, but under the circumstances, it was a given. She held my hand and walked towards her bedroom. I watched her behind with vigor. It swayed from side to side as she stalked towards her room. She opened the door and led us in.

Within a few moments, my lips permanently attached themselves on to Bella's soft ones as she stumbled back into the bed. I was on top, not her. Her nails scratched my back as I devoured her pearly neck. I placed butterfly kisses along her collarbone, down to her breasts. I weighed both of them in my hands, handling them as if they were fragile. I placed a kiss at the tip or her areola, causing it to pucker in delight. This increased my pleasure as well as hers, so I continued my task of placing docile kisses along her perfected breasts. By the time I reached her bellybutton, her torso was heaving in delight and her breaths came out in rapid gasps. I followed my trail down to her trimmed little triangle. She was a natural brunette – my favorite kind. I ran a finger through the little triangle, earning a gasp from the beautiful lady.

"Edward, god help you if you don't hurry up…" she said in one gasp. Her torso never stopped heaving. I chuckled as I dipped my finger down to her slit. I was absolutely astonished by how drenched her slit was.

"My my, someone's a little excited tonight," I grinned while my finger teased her little nub. It ran down the entrance, circling around her clit. Her legs arched up, and locked behind my back. I was at eye level with her honeypot, and I was enjoying the view. Immensely. This was so much better than imaging what it would look like. Travelling around, I didn't have much experience with girls, although I'm sure it was going to change tonight.

My finger entered the slit, and I was startled at how tight she felt. I could feel her throbbing with my hand. My finger teased her clit and she began to gasp. I drew circular patterns around her protruded nub, eliciting only pure moans of pleasure. I drew my finger back and licked up the juices still on it. She tasted immensely sweet.

I positioned my throbbing member at the front of her entrance, while she wildly bucked her hips towards it. I rammed it with one full thrust and I felt complete. I thrusted several more times into her, I bit her neck, provoking her release. I sucked at the bite mark, only causing it to darken in color. A sheet of sweat covered our bodies, while she squealed in delight as her release left her. With her release beginning to lessen, her vagiana clenched around my shaft as I pulled back, only to ram it in her again. I paced a sweet kiss on her bountiful lips as I ejaculated. We were both finished, so we lay there, gasping for breath, holding each other close. She wrapped an arm around my waist, as I held her head near my shoulder, giving me access to her mahogany hair. I gently ran my fingers through it, while she slept. I don't remember how long I did that, because I fell asleep within the first few minutes.

The next morning, I woke up by myself. I grabbed my briefs and pants. I put them on, and travelled outside of her bedroom to find Bella making coffee in her kitchen.

"How do you like your coffee?" she asked me, wearing a white robe.

"Black please," I answered back, trying to find my shirt. Bella poured out the steaming coffee into a mug and walked over. She handed me the cup while I gave her thanks.

"I hope this isn't too awkward, but I really have to leave," I said, as I found my shirt. I didn't want to leave the brown eyed beauty. I had become attached overnight.

"Oh no, that's fine," she smiled, setting her mug on the table. I stood up, awkwardly leaned over to give Bella a hug then walked back.

"I hope I'll see you around," she said to me. I didn't want to disappoint her little heart.

"I hope so, miss," I murmured as I walked outside of her apartment. I took the bus back to Orange. As I travelled back, the brown eyed beauty wouldn't leave my thoughts alone. I went to my hotel room, hoping to tell Trotsky about my adventurous night.

"Trot-!" I stopped midsentence when I found him, dead on the bed, with a pickaxe shoved into his skull. On the side of the bed was a note that read "No man can resist her."

A/N: I'm done! Huzzah! Remember to leave a review and don't forget to vote! Oh, I'd like to thank the hosts for choosing this time to do the contest. This entry helped me with history, and vocab. Do you know how many vocab words were used?! :) Thanks! Oh, and about the ending, I realize that this is a bit puzzling for the majority of the people, but there is no character in this ff who parallels the real murderer in real life, so you can decide whatever. If you still have some concerns, leave a review / PM me. I'd be happy to explain my rationale.