A/N : It's been a while , eh ? Well , if anyone of you read my profile , than you would know that I've been having computer troubles . But , FanFiction fixed those problems ! YAY . I was so elated when I noticed the OpenOffice download on the homepage . First off ; FanFiction won't work with the Mac processor – pages - & second , my back-up computer is dead . So , someone heard me chanting to myself not to "fucking kill the god damned bitches that designed PC" .

First story for a while , sorry . :)

3

THANKZ

It was the sixties. Weed, peace and hippies were upon us. Woodstock soon makes it's premiere. What can I say? We had a fucking time.

He sniffed and wiped his nose on the long sleeve of my shirt before he passed me the decorative bong that I'd saved up my money for. The smell wafting from the pipe was enough to get a druggie high, he'd said to me.

"Belly, we need to get out. Do something." Emmett scratched the top of his head and looked up at the ceiling. His muscled arms were flexing and unflexing with each heave of his burly chest. Emmett's face was like magic, like a round the clock high kind of look. He grinned suddenly as if thinking of something funny that he'd said or how he'd love to get with the blond chick living next door.

"We're always out, Em. We always find somewhere to get high... Like last night, the old school?" I grinned as I reminisced the sheer amount of weed that we'd smoked and vodka we'd drank last night. My lips automatically wrapped around the purple pipe in my hands and I revelled in the burning in my throat and lungs.

"Yeah, but we never go out. Like, we always just go get high. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love my Mary Jane. I'd just like to go somewhere nice or go out with someone else. Have some fun." Emmett glanced at me under his dropping eyelids. He shuffled over the two feet that distanced us and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. I coughed out the breath that I'd been holding and leaned into his embrace. I knew what he meant. All we did for the past nine months was get high and roam around the streets late at night.

"Yeah." I sighed and cleaned up my pipe before packing it in the worn brown shoulder bag that was always by my side. I felt Emmett kneading my waist and even though the rough cotton of my shirt felt rad against my skin, I wasn't up for it. The long mahogany hair that I'd always cursed on cascaded down my back when I shook my head in Emmett's general direction. "Not tonight."

I wriggled out of what was now an awkward position on the floor with Emmett and stood a little too quickly. My head spun as I grabbed for my bag and bolted for the door. Emmett's voice sounded before I got the chance to close the door. "Call me later?"

I was a horrible person for what I was doing. I'd strung along my best friend for years, I didn't even care how much he must be hurting every time I say 'no' or push him away when he tries to get close. His feelings for me never died down, though. Emmett's heart was too big, too kind for what I deserved. I just couldn't let 'us' happen, he was too good for me.

The cold air of downtown New York hit me hard in the face as I jumped down the three stairs outside Emmett's shack. Three taxis drove by, illuminating a group of guys about five blocks down the street stumbling about and laughing. Living it up. I wrapped my arms tight around my torso and braced myself for the 2 mile walk to my apartment, if you could call it that. I was just living in my sister's attic, which we called my 'apartment'.

I decided that facing my sister, high as hell, at five in the evening wouldn't go along well, so I tiptoed across the street and into the closest bar. I'm only nineteen, but I've been slumming it around the city for two years and I haven't been carded yet, so I figured I was safe. The stench of sweat, booze and smoke towered from the open doors along with faint girly laughter and big boisterous laughter coming from the drunkest of drunks. A lanky man stood by the bar apparently surveying the place.

My hands clutched onto my bag even tighter when I felt a hand grab for my ass, a loud wolf whistle to my right. I knew how to take care of myself, but you can never be too sure. There were two open bar stools next to a man who seemed passed out, or maybe he was just studying the counter. I plopped down onto one of the available stools, not wanting to make friends today.

I was surprised at the crowded dance floor and the barkeeps working over each other. It wasn't near peak hour, and it was a Wednesday. I shrugged my shoulders and tapped my hands impatiently on the hardwood in front of me. It wasn't long before one of the uniformed young guys came over and asked what I'd like to drink.

"A martini?" He raised an eyebrow and slid on a devious smile that you could just punch.

"Actually, I'm not really in the mood to get drunk. I'll just have four shots. Tequila." I smiled and propped my chin on my hands that folded on their own. His eyes widened before he nodded his head and hurried off towards the shot glass cabinet.

The smile on my face fell as I gave into my weariness and slumped forward a little onto the countertop. The man to my left belched and the scent of bacon and the cheapest beer ran past my nose seconds later. I spun around on my stool and watched the people grinding against each other on the dance floor. The new Led Zeppelin song, "Whole Lotta Love", was blasting out of the speakers set up around the bar.

A throat clearing behind me alerted me to the arrival of my alcohol. I turned slightly towards the bar and gave the bartender a perfect smile, confusing him for a second, before he shook his head and raised one eyebrow at me. I laughed out loud and poured shot after shot down my waiting esophagus. The man walked away towards other waiting customers with a grim frown plastered onto his pretty face.

I began to lose feeling in my fingertips and I tapped the wood beneath them experimentally, finding the sensation to be very delightful. The tequila that was making it's way through my blood stream had me feeling buzzed already, I was a slight lightweight. I bobbed my head to the sounds coming from the dance floor and relished in the feel of my brain swashing around inside my skull.

My barkeep decided to abandon me like a lost cause and the next person to serve me was a woman, coated in tattoos. She smiled at me, showing off her various oral piercings.

"Did it hurt?" I didn't know if she understood what I said, my words seemed lost amongst the many voices of the bar. She leaned closer to me, I laughed, and she backed away at, what must've been, the horrible smell of alcohol on me. I began to repeat myself but broke down in a laughing fit before getting out my question.

The tattoo girl shook her head at me, laughing along, and washed down the bar where the man next to me had apparently thrown up the many beers he'd consumed.

"What'll ya have, honey?" Her deep voice forced my jaw to the floor as I openly stared at her. I imagined having her pretty purple hair, having the money to get extensive tattoo work. I had my trust, but that wasn't to be touched until I was 21.

"Miss?" I was brought out of my musings to notice that the bar seemed awfully quiet for a few moments. I glanced around, not finding anything to verify such an awkward silence in such a crowded place, and turned back to the girl behind the counter.

"I'll 'ave, uh, uh-nother coupa shots. Thanks" I blew a kiss her way and almost fell off my chair in doing so.

My vision grew blurry, my thoughts incoherent.

A tall man was seated next to me, how'd he get there? I grinned up at him before I noticed his coal black eyes. They fascinated me and I practically crawled onto his lap to look into them. His facial expression was stiff and he didn't move as I examined his extremely gorgeous face.

The tattoo woman kept coming back to me, kept bringing me shots of this, shots of that. I was beyond what anyone could call drunk and I couldn't've felt better.

My nerves and reasoning were completely wiped from my mind as I tromped over to the expanse of neon coloured tiles that signified the dancing space. I had a beer in my hand as I ground my hips into the air, dancing sensually by myself. Guys whistled, tried to come dance next to me, but I just growled in their direction.

Tattoo woman held my hair as I plastered the porcelain of the public toilet bowl with ounces of alcohol that I'd consumed in the past three hours. She patted my back when I began to dry heave and grabbed me some paper towels to wipe my face.

"You okay?" I nodded and told her I was fine, to get back to the bar. She left hesitantly, looking back over her shoulder for me to change my mind. I just nodded, I needed a little time to recuperate.

The rad drunk that I'd had didn't change anything. I should've known.

No matter how high I got, no matter the amount of booze I consumed, I couldn't get rid of the horrible guilt and the memories. Every second of the day seemed to swell with events that occurred almost a year ago. It wasn't completely my fault, yet it was, all at the same time.

It was late at night, the sun of the brilliant Californian day had long since set, and a masked man made his way through the city. Each week, the process repeated itself. Roam, kill, rest for a few days. Roam, kill...

My head spun as I remembered the most horrific newspaper heading that anyone could've read.

Isobella. The name had haunted him since two days ago, he'd met a striking young woman. She'd flirted with him, made herself seem so much more mature than her childish manner could ever had pulled off properly. He was so close to getting her, to feel what it was like to be with a woman again. Then, she just turned around and joined her friends and young, teenaged boyfriend.

His voice resounded in my head as I thought of how things could've been different, if only I'd been home that night.

Isobella. He'd looked her up to see where she lived. Perhaps she earned herself a lovely visit from LA's worst serial killers, for over twenty years. The mansion he'd pictured didn't compare to the gigantic house that he'd come upon on the end of a long driveway. Perfect, no neighbours. No one to hear her scream.

I grabbed my head and rocked back and forth on the white floor of the bathroom, shaking with what was becoming a panic attack.

He broke in the back window, what appeared to lead into the massive kitchen. Lights upstairs signalled to him that someone was up, if he was lucky, her. He tiptoed up the steps and peeked over the immaculate railing that ran alongside the long hallway that ran towards two rooms.

The light was turned on inside one room and he grinned in delight. It looked to be an orange-ish colour, so he thought that it was probably her room. The knob seemed to turn in his hand automatically, the gun came out of his pocket within seconds. Before he knew it, the barrel of the gun was pressed up against the temple of a petite brunette. She almost screamed, but his gloved hand covered her mouth quickly.

If it'd been me.

"Isobella. Mmm, I figured you would've known not to tempt a man like that." He licked along the shell of her ear before registering the deep blue eyes that stared at him in confusion and fright. His rage went through the roof and the trigger seemed to pull of it's own accord as her mother slumped to the hardwood floor.

I blacked out, but the memory still seared through my brain like a lightening bolt strike to the nervous system.

Seconds later, her father ran out of his room; shot down by three bullets to the chest. Two bodies littered the top story of the mansion, and when she arrived home, two hours past her curfew, she screamed and claimed that she was sorry she never appreciated them as much as she should have.

Someone was shaking me and I began flailing my arms about, trying to get the person off of me. I finally gave in and rested against whoever was holding me. Hands began rubbing my arms and whispering into me ear "it'll be alright."

When I got over my attack and cracked open my eyes, the face that was looking down into mine was devastatingly gorgeous and somewhat familiar. The bronze hair that fell about his forehead, the black pools for eyes, his perfect nose and sharp jawline. The seat next to me at the bar. The guy.

I gaped at him, causing him to laugh a little and grab both my hands.

"Are you alright?" His smooth, deep voice made my panties pool with wetness and I was surprised at myself. I nodded my head slightly, still staring into his bottomless eyes. We never broke eye-contact, yet it wasn't uncomfortable in the least. He just kept looking at my face, never released his hold on me.

I remembered the compromising situation this must've put him in and I stood up abruptly. Dizziness overcame me for a moment before I brushed off my jeans that'd collected dust on the floor and began to thank the stranger.

"Don't leave." He was standing next to me before I realized he'd said anything and his height was near intimidating. He placed both his hands on either side of my face, effectively trapping me against the wall. I tried not to look into those black pools of emotion, instead glancing down at the sound of each swoosh of my long bell-bottomed jumper on the floor. It was to no avail, of course.

The magnetism of his stare brought my face up, searching his for something. He leaned in just a fraction before he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. I felt the line between my brows fold up as I tried to figure out what was happening and why I felt so serene and calm, better than any drug induced stupor had made me feel.

His eyes snapped open and, if possible, his eyes got darker. The circles underneath those entrancing orbs took on a purple hue and his eyebrows shot up a quarter of an inch.

"Come with me." He dragged me along by my arm, out the bathroom door and to the middle of the dance floor. My heart was racing, whether it was from the thought of grinding my soaking pelvis against his or the ice cold temperature of his skin that I just couldn't shake, I'd never know. A drink magically appeared in his hand and he passed it along to me, holding it near my chapped lips. I narrowed my eyes slightly, but I was never one to give up a drink, right?

One of his pale, long fingered hands reached around to my lower back and held me close, moving slowly to what must've been a beat in his head. The way he moved, it was too slow for the hard rock song that many daring girls and egotistic boys sang along to. Moments later, after registering the skipping beat of my heart, I realized that this was his source of music. My heartbeat.

I'm sure my face went blank, or maybe I screamed in horror, because within a matter of about three seconds I was out of the bar and in the middle of a dark alley across the street. I shivered and whimpered at the biting wind making itself known, and the loss of contact with my stranger. I looked around in the dark, trying to pick out his white skin or the stark contrast of his eyes.

A hand was grabbing at my hair before I had time to twist around to catch a glimpse of the madman. The fingers dug into my scalp, probably drawing blood, and wrapped around many strands of my thick, wavy mane. I screamed out at the sudden pain that was the breaking of my left leg, but it was muffled by another of the hands that captured me.

His voice sounded in my ear, far too close for my instincts to not've noticed. "Don't fight." The copper hair fell down across his forehead, tickling my temple, as he laughed. The words sent chills down my spine, and was obedient.

His fingers left my skull and he turned me around in his arms to, what could only be described as glare, down at my small frame. I curled in on myself slightly, not wanting to anger him anymore by looking away, but not wanting to seem confident and brave by looking him in the eye.

"Ah, miss Isabella. I would say 'it'll all be okay' or 'I'm sorry for what I just did', but none of that would be true, of course." His menacing words came out sounding like honey and cinnamon, carried out in a breath that smelled of peppermint and the world's finest cigars. "I don't think my actions need much explaining, after all, you're quite perceptive and I believe you know what I am, correct?" He raised his eyebrows at me and when I didn't answer him, the snap of his hand against my skin resounded against the brick walls surrounding me.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded solemnly, accepting my new found fate with grief. I'd heard of them... Vampires. Not that anyone thought they were real, but credited stories made their way across the country and it frightened most listeners, brought terror into their eyes. I wasn't one of those. I'd blown it off and tried to forget everything I'd heard about pale white, ice cold men that could bring you to an orgasm within seconds. My lip had suffered over the weeks following the story, biting into them to try and contain the moans that I felt bubbling over from my overactive imagination.

"Well then, we can skip right on to the... What shall we call it, meal? Dinner party? I assure you it wont be as bad as you might've heard talk of. Just, be good." He curled his fingers under my chin, tilting my head back. His parted lips neared my own as I gasped out each breath as if it were my last, which could be the case any second.

I wasn't expecting the near cataclysmic reaction that occurred between our lips when he kissed me. Electricity sizzled along every inch of my skin, in every pore. My hand automatically grasped for his neck, pulling myself against him hard. He moaned aloud when he felt my body slam into the noticeable bulge in his tight fitting jeans.

Our groping was turning into the quick removal of some clothing articles; the top three buttons on my jumpsuit, his burgundy v-neck t-shirt. I ran my hands down his sculpted chest, marvelling over his perfection. The stories were true.

The satisfied sounds coming from both our mouths filled the alley as we continued rubbing and grinding over and against each other. The pure black of the night hadn't allowed my eyes to adjust completely to my surroundings, but I could pick out the ghastly white complexion of my vampire. I pulled my face into his again for another searing kiss as his hands pulled down my jumper. He kicked at the legs and finally relieved me of my pants.

His bent over position, from all the yanking on my shoes, put him directly in the line of sight of my crotch that I'm sure was emanating some sort of lust filled scent at the moment. His face froze, for a matter of what seemed minutes, then he ducked in between my legs and skimmed his nose along my panty clad pussy. I shivered and repressed a moan before grabbing his shoulders to keep steady.

He growled and pulled my arms away roughly, leaving dark fingerprints where his hands had wrapped around them. "No, little girl. I wouldn't tempt me if I were you right now." His voice became deeper with each word before he trailed off, looking at the massive amount of cleavage I was showing. I heard some muttering coming from between his two plump, red lips but I couldn't pick out exactly what his words were.

He tackled me to the ground.

My panties had been torn off in his fit of rage, my shirt too. I was left in a skimpy, white lace bra to his feasting eyes that roamed over my body. "So fucking beautiful" he whispered against my cheek before he licked his way up to my temple. "Fuck." The bad mouthing he was giving turned me on to no end and I found myself grinding against the material of his jeans. He groaned and pulled my face to his; "I'm gonna fuck you, little girl." It was funny that he'd called me little girl, he looked only a year or two older than me.

True to his word, seconds later I was near impaled on his rock hard cock. I didn't have to time to cry or laugh, even smile at the feeling of having him inside me, before his hips set a frantic rhythm that my body couldn't keep up with. I was on an extreme high, much better than all the drugs that I've ever done combined.

The feel of his hands squeezing my breasts and his pelvic bone crushing into my clit was too much to bear. With a couple more thrusts on his part, I came violently and the tears began to fall down my face. I cried happy tears as he kept fucking me, bringing me to orgasm after orgasm in minutes. Vampires definitely don't ever get tired.

My pussy was sensitive and I could barely stand after I felt the cold, long streams of his cum spill out inside me. One hand reached out to touch my thigh while the other busied itself with stroking my neck and my face. I smiled up at him, graciously, and kissed his nose that was within distance.

As if an idea struck him, he suddenly pulled my legs over his shoulders and began pumping his fingers in and out of my pussy. I shuddered and moaned at the intense friction that he provided over my clit and the tickling of his cock against my ass. Rainbows seemed to light up behind his face, pretty flowers and music began playing in the background. I sighed and felt a slight tingle in my thigh, near soft skin that met up with my privates.

The pulling sensation that ran through me only succeeded in drawing out my fabulous orgasm that seemed never ending in the first place. I began to feel sleepy and my eyelids drooped closed before the sound of his eery, cackling laugh forced my eyes to strain out of my skull to see him.

I didn't notice the blood staining his lips, the dripping sound coming from between my legs, or the high that seemed to consume my body. His face neared mine and I laughed before I acknowledged my one ponder of the evening. "What's your name?"

"You can call me Edward."

He kissed my lips once more before licking along my neck. I felt his razor sharp teeth graze across the skin behind my ear before they plunged into the main vein below my jaw.

His red eyes haunted my vision.

Then I began to burn.

LIKE ?

& I'm sorry for crushing anyone's hopes when I say this, but it's just a one-shot. No "Bella turns into a vampire & Edward leaves her & he finally comes back..." LOL . Yah, I think you get the point.

3 SORRY :D