Porn Star Dancing

Author: Breath-of-twilight ( KF Goodyear)

Rated: M

Written for: The Fandoms Fight the Floods.

Looked over by Ann- thanks doll for putting up with my OCD ass.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or any of the original characters. I just make them do sinful smutty things with each other. The song is not mine, either.

Summary: Bella has some serious expenses and a massive tuition. With no surviving parents and no scholarship to fall back on, she gets a job in a place that may not be respectful, but pays the bills.

When she gets a new boyfriend, she decides to keep her nightlife on the down-low. That is, until he finds out exactly what she does for a living.

BellaPOV

"So, when do we get to meet your new guy?"

I roll my eyes and glare at her. Rose knows I never want him to know exactly what I do, much less have him come here. I don't like keeping things from him, but I had never outright lied, either. I told him I worked at a bar downtown. I've just never told him what I do there, or what kind of bar it is, either. I really didn't plan on working here much longer anyway. So, I didn't see the point in causing such a strain on a new relationship. Especially, considering I want this new relationship to be a lasting one.

I really wouldn't mind so much, introducing him to Rose and Alice and their respective others, but some of the other girls here give a real bad name to the place. I would never be able to argue my way through this one if he ever gets sight of the likes of Lauren or Victoria.

"Never. Well, maybe after I'm done here," I bargain with her. Hoping this will placate her. She is one of my best friends, and I don't want her to think I am embarrassed by her. Because I'm not. But I am a little embarrassed of myself, and Edward comes from a very high-class family. He would never understand what it is like for me. With both my parents dead and one hell of a massive tuition, I had to find some way to cover the bills without resorting to selling myself. Working at the Eager Beaver isn't exactly high-end or anything- but it is definitely a few steps up from prostitution.

"Don't worry, doll. I understand. If Emmett didn't work here, I don't think I'd want to tell him, either."

I smile up at her and squeeze her hand that is resting on my shoulder. She'll never know just how much her support means to me.

Alice comes bouncing into the room; her body all covered in sweaty glitter and a huge smile on her face.

"Wow, what a crowd tonight. Hope you have your good dancing shoes on, Bells. The kiddies are frisky tonight."

I chuckle softly at her pet name for the pervs that come in to our bar. Not all of them are like that, though. We occasionally get a decent man in here, just curious, or dragging along his woman so they can share an 'experience' together. But they were few and far between. Most men that come here come for the show. They come to bond with their buddies and act like they are the shit. Most men are far from 'the shit'. If anything, they are shitheads.

"Thanks for the warning, Alice. Is Jasper here, yet?"

"Yeah, he's just outside the door waiting for you." I nod my head and grab for my bracelet on the counter. It doesn't really go with my outfit. It doesn't go with any of them, ever, actually. But I wear it so I have a place other than my underwear or bra to slip money into. I slip out the door and smile up at Jasper as he pulls away from the wall with a huge grin on his face.

"Aiming for big bucks tonight, I see."

I chuckle. "Aren't I always?"

He shakes his head and chuckles softly. He knows something is up with me, has known for awhile now. He's too darn intuitive for his own good, and out of all the friends I have made since working at the Eager Beaver, it has been him that has been the hardest to keep my leaving from.

"I know you don't want to talk about it, but if you ever need someone, you know you can talk to me, right?"

"I do, Jazz. I do. I'm sorry. I...I just need to figure it all out in my own head first, okay?"

He wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his side, "No problem, tiny dancer. Now, go get 'em." And with that, he shoves me in the direction of the stage. I take a deep breath as I hear Mike, our DJ, announce me, and I push the well behaved, goodie-two-shoes Bella to the back of my brain and let loose the tigress-of-sex-appeal and do what I have to do to get the education I believe I deserve.

~∞Ѿ∞~

Pounding, loud pounding, startles me awake, and I groggily try to figure out where the incessant noise is coming from so I can beat the person causing it.

My face twists in irritation as I realize it is coming from my apartment door, and as I slide out of my bed, murderous thoughts trying to push through the fog in my head, I fall flat on my face, my legs tangled tightly in my sheets.

"Fuck you and your pounding fists. Go the hell away," I scream as I kick at the offending sheets. The pounding resumes just as I manage to right myself, and I stalk towards the door and whip it open, ready to tear some asshole a new one.

I am mortified and apologetic the second the door is open, because Edward is standing there, a confused look on his beautiful face, and a bag of something absolutely mouth-watering in his hands. I open my mouth to spit out apologies and plead for him to forgive my rudeness, but my stomach rumbles in pain and hunger, and it seems that is enough of an apology. Edward smiles brightly at me and ambles in through the door, placing a peck on my forehead as he passes me.

"Rough night, I assume. Don't apologize, and don't be embarrassed, even the perfect Bella Swan has off moments. I like it, makes you seem more...human." Edward chuckles to himself, obviously finding what he said amusing and I roll my eyes at his silliness; but secretly it is these exact traits that draw me to him so intrinsically.

He is imperfectly perfect with his godly looks yet crooked nose, his pouty lips and foul tongue. His angelic face such a drastic contrast with his loose tongue and favoured use of colourful words.

God, I think I just might love this man. Those thoughts stop me dead in my tracks, and I blanch as an afterthought, wanting to smack myself for thinking such deep, disturbing things. Edward and I have been dating for just over a month now. There is no way I could be in love with him. It...it just didn't happen that fast.

Edward pats the seat beside him on the couch, and I shake my head to clear unwanted lines of thought and sit beside him. His arms instantly wrap around me, and his lips press to mine. They are kind of cold, and he tastes like strawberries, and instantly my hunger has nothing to do with food and more to do with the sexy man sitting next to me. I kiss him roughly, greedily, until he gently pushes me away with a soft chuckle and motions for me to eat.

My mind is anywhere but on my food. My eyes watch as Edward's lips lick, chew and part. It is all kinds of messed up, but I am seriously jealous of that cream cheese bagel right now. I swallow a low groan that begins to rise up my throat and stuff a piece of some sort of food into my mouth to distract myself. If I don't, I know I will surely jump this gorgeous specimen of man-meat beside me. I've wanted to take our relationship to the next level for, well, almost the whole time we have been dating, really; but Edward seems old fashioned or something, never pushing me too far or getting lost in the moment. It's kind of sweet, but mostly infuriating, and frustrating as all hell.

We put on a movie and waste away our Saturday in a blur of cuddles and kisses, and somehow, without realizing it, we fall asleep.

For the second time that day, I was awakened by someone banging down my door. I groan and try to roll over, only to practically smother myself into warm and musky, and... breathing?

I shoot up like a firecracker and look down at Edward's sleeping form. We have never slept in each other's arms before, and as much as I am tempted to crawl back onto the small sliver of couch-cushion he has afforded me and curl into his warmth, I don't understand how he could still be sleeping through all of the annoying banging. I stumble in a drunken fashion towards the door and yank it open; my mouth opens to chew up the poor fucker on the other side of the door, but before I can say anything, Alice prances past me and dances into my living room, her eyes immediately falling on Edward's sleeping form.

"Is this the delicious man-meat you have been hiding from us, Bella? Damn, I can see why. Hurry up, get dressed, we're going to be late for work." I stare, slack-mouthed, as she sits on the chair beside the couch and creepily watches Edward as he sleeps; and then what she has said clicks in, and I frantically glance at the clock. It is almost six, and I am due at the bar at seven.

I sprint towards my bedroom and grapple at whatever clothes I manage to find. I don't need to worry about work clothes. I keep all of my 'outfits' in my locked-up closet at work.

Alice, however, does not; and as I walk back into the living room, I find Edward awake and eyeing Alice with curiosity as she jabbers away about a furry cat and something to do with a fork.

I panic, seeing them together in the same room, my real world and my work world; and I don't stop before I open my mouth and stammer out, "Come on, Alice. We'd better get going or we'll be late."

I'm at the door before she can protest, and hopefully before she can say anything that might give me away. I have a month left at the Eager Beaver. I gave my notice last night. James wasn't too happy to be losing one of his 'best girls,' as he liked to call me, but he took my written notice and shooed me out of his office with a, "You'll be back. They always are," and didn't say so much as boo to me for the rest of the night.

"Bella?" Edward's soft voice stops my mad dash, and I turn towards him as I push Alice past me and out the door.

"Can I have a kiss before you go? And why is that girl dressed like that to go to work? Who is she, and why haven't I seen her around before?"

Fucking Alice and her need to be ready before she even got to work. Somehow, she still always manages to spend yet another hour getting ready after we get there, too.

I kiss him, hard. Hoping to distract him while I sort out my head. He pulls back all too soon, and I am too flustered and scared. So, I just smile weakly at him, knowing that I may have just lost the best thing to have ever happened to me, and peck him one last time on the cheek.

"Later, okay. I'm going to be late. And that's Alice, by the way. You would have met her sooner or later."

I leave him standing there, staring after me, questions unanswered, and feel a lump of fear and regret block my airway. I fear this will be the last time I see him, and it is a crippling sort of pain that rockets through my entire body, almost causing me to buckle and fall to the floor. But I don't. I can't. One more month of doing this and my tuition will be paid, and I will have enough money set aside to live off of comfortably until I finish school and find a decent, respectable job.

~∞Ѿ∞~

Saturday night is our busiest night, and Jessica has called in sick. Again. I, personally, think she has grown smart and gotten herself a normal job, but doesn't want to say anything to James just yet, not until she can be sure she can last in the real world. This is only me guessing though, maybe she really is sick again, for the fourth Saturday in a row.

Rose, Alice and I each agree to take one of her songs. I'm slow on the get go; that, or Alice and Rose are just too devious for me; and I somehow manage to get stuck with the last dance of the night. No sneaking out early for me. Now, I'll be stuck here until at least three AM.

My first two dances are just that, dances. I don't do lap dances. I never have. If it wasn't for the men pouring in asking specifically for me to be on stage, James would have fired me long ago. But they do, all the time, with or without the lap dances. I'm sure all of the other girls make much more than me because they do perform lap dances, but I feel better sticking with the stage and the occasional table dance.

I have my legs propped up on the large wall-length mirrored counter in the change room and am counting out my take for the evening. I don't get paid hourly; I refuse to work for the actual club. Instead, I am considered freelance. I pay James a hundred bucks a night to be here, and anything I make is mine to keep.

I finish counting; almost a thousand dollars, and I still have that one last dance to go. Rose comes sauntering into the change room and smiles at me.

"I know you don't do them, but I thought I'd let you know there's a guy out there, a fuck-hot guy, that has been demanding a private dance from you all evening. He even so much as waved five hundred dollars in my face, thinking enough money would get you out there."

I stare at her, wide-eyed and full of disbelief. I have had good tippers before, and I mean good, but nothing close to that. A hundred dollar bill was a rarity; twenties and sometimes fifties swarm through this place, but never in a lump sum amount of a few hundred dollars. This is the Eager Beaver, not Showgirls in LA; we just don't get too many high-class business men in here.

I stutter a bit and stare up at her. I know I shouldn't, but I can't stop myself. That five hundred could go towards a car, a car that I currently don't have. A car would make it easier when I left this place and could no longer rely on Rose or Alice for a ride. A car would allow me the comfort to go back home, possibly, maybe...the house was still there; it was mine, and I haven't been back to see it since I rented it out and left behind all the ghosts that haunted me there.

"Tell him if he's still around after my last dance, I'll do it."

Rose's mouth drops, her eyes slant and she gets a knowing look in those bright blues of hers, and I know she knows. It was only a matter of time, really. But I had wanted to be the one tell her.

"I knew it. You're leaving, aren't you?"

I nod. What can I say to that? She already realizes that I have kept it from her. I won't flat out lie.

"Why didn't you tell me, Bells? I'm so proud of you."

My head swings up, and I look at her in utter disbelief. I expected her to be angry, feel deserted or abandoned and kept in the dark; I definitely didn't expect her to be happy and...proud?

"I...I wasn't sure, Rose. I never meant to keep it from you. I just told James the other day. I gave a month's notice, and I think I may have lost Edward because he saw Alice at my place tonight, and she was all dressed up and acting like, well...like Alice and shit; and I'm scared. I think I might love him, and that freaks me out just a little. He doesn't know I work here, and I know I should tell him, but I just know he is going to leave me when he finds out, if he's not already considering doing just that after earlier; and my tuition will be paid off this week, in full. I can buy a car, pay my bills, and still have the comfort to scour jobs without settling...and..."

"Shhh, tiny dancer, calm down. That was one hell of a mouthful there. I understand your anxiety and worries, but you have to know, Bella, no matter what, things will turn out the way they are meant to. Just stop worrying yourself silly and let the cards fall where the cards are going to fall, no use trying to strategically place them; the slightest breeze can topple even the most intricate of placements."

Rose pulls me into her arms and squeezes me tight. It almost hurts, but not enough to pull away from her. It feels too good, to be held like that, cared for. It has been a long time since I have felt this way with anyone other than Edward, and even with him, the feeling is new, even awkward at times.

"Clean yourself up. You're on in twenty minutes. I'll go tell your hottie-stalker what you said and come back and get you, okay?"

I nod and swipe at my moist eyes, hoping I won't have to redo all that makeup. I really hate wearing it, never mind applying it.

Fifteen minutes later, Rose is back, my face looks pretty normal, and I am ready to go.

"Hot hair dude said never mind. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable, but he sent you this, told me to tell you to open it after your dance, and also requested a specific song when I told him you'd be dancing once more. I didn't see any harm in humouring him, so I gave the DJ the song. I've never heard it before, but the beat should be wicked awesome to dance to, so, you should be fine."

I approach the stage and hang my robe on the coat rack at the side of the stage. I do what I always do and clear my mind and switch personalities. Regular Bella could never handle doing what I do, so when it was time to work, I used an alter-ego of sorts, tiny dancer, as my friends like to call me. She is a good dancer and can swing her hips in a circular motion that leaves the kiddies drooling, and when she dips and grinds down that pole, the room is silent because the men there have no clue how to go about dealing with their raging erections. She is in control at all times and doesn't take shit from the pervy ones that have the nerve to attempt to touch her. Regular Bella is too stunted and awkward to pull that off. But she does what she has to do to make it work, and it does, work, that is.

A couple of the regular girls are on stage together. Their song is about halfway done, an overplayed, sleazy song that is now looked at as a strippers' song. I have to hold back a snarky comment or two every time I see these girls up there dancing and grinding on each other like chimpanzees in heat. It really appears as more of a freak show than an erotic dance, as far as I am concerned.

I make my way over to Mike so I can get a quick listen of the beat of the song I am about to dance to; I need to know how to start off, at very least.

Mike is his usual perverted self, hitting on me the second I open the booth door.

"Hey, Bells. Looking fine tonight. Want to grab a drink after work?"

I roll my eyes and playfully shove his shoulder as I sidle up beside him and bat my lashes. "You know I don't date people I work with, Mike. Sorry, but I sure would love it if you'd slip that CD Rose brought you into this slot, right here...so I can have a quick listen to it." That's all it takes for Mikey-boy to turn into a blubbering nonsensical excuse for a male. His tongue can apparently no longer articulate, and with trembling hands, he does just what I asked of him, slips the CD into my walkman slot.

Rose was right. The song is hot. I can work with it, no problem. I quickly scan the surprisingly still crowded bar, hoping to pick out the guy she mentioned. But there are too many faces, and a few look like Rose's type and the rest just blur together in dancing red, green and blue; so I have no clue who he might be, and decide maybe I don't want to know anyway.

I wiggle my fingers in a wave-like motion to Mike and leave the booth and make my way back to the stage. The swapper-twins are almost done, and I take a deep breath and close my eyes, seeing the moves that I will dance to the song in my head. By the time the men are done hooting, I can hear Mike announcing my dance; and I am ready.

The lights dim low and the strobes stop altogether as I walk onto the stage and face the back wall and press my back against the cool, metal pole. I raise my arms above my head and twine my hands around the pole, and as the beat starts off and blares out, I let myself lose control to the music.

I slide down, the pole placed between my cheeks lathered in glimmer and then drop my arms and bend forward; and when the lyrics pick up, I squat and spread my legs. My eyes are closed and my lips are pursed, and I can feel the music coursing through my entire being. The irony of the lyrics in this song are not lost on me, and I smirk devilishly, lost in character, as they pulse out into the large room.

Kelly won't kiss my friend Cassandra,
Jessica won't play ball.
Mandy won't share her friend Miranda,
Doesn't anybody live at all?

Apparently, the kiddies go wild for this sort of music, and the catcalls and deafening whistles pick up, instantly. I decide not to waste time and crawl towards the edge of the stage and teasingly place my pointer finger in between my lips and gently suck. As it pops out of my mouth, I flick my tongue out and up in the air and smile at the guy who just shoved a bill into my sparkling, silver g-string. He is an older gentleman, looks kind of embarrassed, a rarity here; and even in the dark, I can see his cheeks shade over with a blush, and I just can't resist, so I blow him a kiss; and he beams up at me with his eyes alight with sheer joy.

Amanda won't leave me empty handed,
Got her number from the bathroom stall.
Brandy just got way too much baggage,
And that shit just gets old.

I make my way back over to the pole and grip it high up and swing, my legs twist and curve around the metal and I am twirling for a moment before I lower down, stretching the muscles in my arms, and spread my legs as I lower myself to the floor. I lean forward, a sultry look on my face, my eyes half-lidded, and pop my knees up and crawl my way to the other side of the stage. There are a crowd of over-eager, younger men here. They have bills at the ready and are waving them in my direction, licking their lips, and cheering drunkenly. I lay sideways in front of them, knowing this way they can all reach me at once, and scissor my legs. I cringe, almost, as one guy gets a little handsy and pinches my boob as he tucks his bill into my bra, but I readjust my face, teasingly shake my finger at him as I raise onto my haunches and rise to my feet.

He just loves it all the more, his lips widening into a huge smile and then I see his hand lower to palm himself, and I am not staying around for that shit. So, I make my way back to my pole and spin and raise and swirl, all the while keeping my face in a carefully crafted expression of lust and enjoyment.

But I got a girl who can put on a show,
The dollar decides how far you can go.

She wraps those hands around that pole,
She licks those lips and off we go,
She takes it off nice and slow,
'Cause that's PORNSTAR DANCIN'!

She don't play nice, she makes me beg,
She drops that dress around her legs,
And I'm sittin' right by the stage for this,
PORNSTAR DANCIN'!

Mike makes the signal that the song is slowly coming to a close, so I make sure to strut around the edging of the stage, drop, spread, and pop in a few selected places, and wait for the bills to be shoved into my strings. One guy tries to tug at the tied bow in the back of my bra, but when I first started working here, I learned rather quickly how anxious horny, drunken men could be, and I had long since began sewing my ties together once they were sized and tied just right. He frowns when he realizes his sneaky finger-work has gotten him nowhere, and I lick my lips at him and wink. He appears stunned by my actions and his failure, so I lean forward, hiss between my teeth, and snap up the money that is still perched between his fingers.

Your body's lightin' up the room.
I want a naughty girl like you.
There's nothing harder to do.

I swivel around and sashay towards my pole one more time, and a motion that Mike makes catches my attention. He is angling his head towards the dark corner of the stage, close to the emergency exit. Barely anyone ever sits there unless the place is packed because the view is lousy and it gets drafty from employees sneaking out for smokes through the exit.

I squint slightly, trying to see what he is motioning to, and can barely make out a lone form. It is silhouetted and almost appears shadowy, and the man is sitting back in his chair, his arms crossed against his chest. This must be the man who requested this song.

Before the song can finish, I decide I should pay him a small visit. It's only fair; he asked for this, and even left me an envelope of something that felt a lot like a stack of money after finding out I didn't do lap dances. Of course, he didn't know that I had actually caved and agreed to give him one, all for the sake of the dollar amount.

As I approach his empty side of the stage, it appears he leans back even more into the darkness. I am curious and wonder why this man is so bent on hiding himself for me. So, as the song continues, I sway from side to side sensually, with my hands pressed into my neck, and then I take a few more steps forward and slowly slide them down my chest, over the swells of my barely covered breasts; I loll my head back, my long, wavy brown hair tickling my back and as my hands glide lower still, across the expanse of my stomach, inching….

Stacy's gunna save herself for marriage,
But that's just not my style.
She's got a pair that's nice to stare at,
But I want Girls Gone Wild.

I can hear his breath hitch. It is ragged and heavy; and for a moment, I worry that he is in this corner because he is an all out freak and is jerking his meat; but then he makes a grunting noise, and my head jerks up, my eyes lock with where he is sitting, and just as my fingers reach the edge of my g-string, he leans forward a bit, a smug look on his beautiful face; and my heart stops, my breath catches, and the lyrics of the song slam into me like a wrecking ball….

But I know a place where there's always a show,
The dollar decides how far you can go…

A strangled whimper peels out of my lips, and my body sags as he stands to his full height, his eyes blazing into mine; and before I can even comprehend exactly what has just happened, he is stalking towards the emergency exit. The resounding clank of the large steel door rings in my ears as he disappears, and I can't bring myself to care that the song is not over yet and I should still be dancing. Instead, I dash off of the stage, tears of ridicule pooling and a hue of hot embarrassment staining my cheeks, and run to the dressing room.

~∞Ѿ∞~

Within seconds, Emmett is at my side, and his large arms engulf my trembling body. I lean into him, disappear into his massive form, and just lose my shit. I sob and wail and even pound his chest with my small clenched fists. He allows me to do this. He is too good to me. I am so glad Rose has someone like him. Someone so caring and thoughtful. Someone who accepts her for her. My thoughts turn angry, and suddenly, I am mad at Edward for being here. I wonder how he found out, and if maybe he followed me to work and had been watching me all night long, biding his time, playing some sick, twisted game. And I want to yell at him and tell him he is being an asshole and totally can't say anything because he'd be contradicting himself. I mean, he was here, too. How does he, as an observer, get off scot-free? He is just as bad for being here, watching and paying, as I am for dancing and accepting payment. As quick as the anger comes over me, it is gone; and I am left feeling defeated and guilty. Maybe he could have been my Emmett. Maybe. If I had just told him exactly who I was, upfront.

"It's okay, tiny dancer. Let me grab your coat. I'll drive you home." I whimper into his chest. I don't bother changing. I have no one to hide from now. I let him lead me, my face ashen and my limbs weak, to his over-sized jeep. Only when he grabs me by my waist and hauls me into the open door, do I realize we have an audience. Everyone is watching. Alice with sad eyes; Rose with a look of pure anger marring her usually soft face; patrons, customers...James. James looks pissed. His nostrils are flaring, and his eyes are slanted, and I know in that moment that my notice wasn't needed; I am now jobless. I hang my head. I can't bear to look at them all. I don't want to see the pity, the anger and the amusement etched on their faces. People who I have known, or at very least seen come and go, for the last few years of my life. They all know now; they know I'm not the feisty, smooth tiny dancer they have taken me for. I am just meek, pathetic, nerdy Bella, and now I am also a sobbing mess of streaking makeup with a tattered heart.

Emmett pulls up to my building. He offers to walk me up. I don't want him to. It's not that I am not grateful for everything he has done, is trying to do, because I am. It is just that I don't want him to witness my humiliation any longer. I know the second I walk through my door I will be assaulted with the smells of Edward, the memories of our times together in my place, and the nagging thought hanging around of what could have been? I don't want anyone to have to be party to that. This is my burden, and my burden alone.

I trudge up the stairs that seem to be never ending, and once I am at my floor, I can already see my door, big and brown and I swear it is sneering at me, taunting me, laughing at my crumpling form. I growl softly, not even meaning to, and take the few steps towards my door. For the second time tonight, I slam my fists into some hard and solid, and it feels fucking good, freeing, relieving. The pain that tingles up and into my wrists is welcoming, physical pain is easy, apparently; emotional pain, not so much.

When my hands are bright red from pounding and my body sags against the door, I finally let myself in. I shut the door softly behind me. I don't bother turning on the lights. I don't really want to see, not really, but still kind of. I also don't want to forget. My hearts thumps in my chest frantically as I inhale the sweet scent of him, all musk and man and cinnamon gum. A soft sob rises in my throat. All I want to do is collapse into my bed and sleep away the pain that is radiating throughout me, but as I step forward, I realize some of that pain is physical; my feet are aching, which is not so surprising considering I am still wearing my spiked-heels. I drop into the chair in the living room and begin untangling them from my calves...

"Do you know how hard it was to restrain myself seeing you in those heels? Never mind that delicious get-up." I yelp as Edward slides out from the shadows near my bedroom doorway and moves towards me. My breath falters as he lowers himself to the floor and begins untying my laces for me.

I watch him with watering eyes, so many things swirling through my head, words I need to say, but none that I can seem to articulate at the moment.

His hands are so soft, so gentle, and when my feet are free from their deadly confines, he starts to rub up my calves, towards my thighs, his fingers inching higher and higher. I don't understand. He doesn't seem to be mad. He almost seems...turned on? But I don't want to miss my chance. I have to say something. Anything.

"I'm so sorry, Edward." He raises one hand and places his finger against my lips, "Shh. I know you are. So am I." He lowers his head and kisses my bare thigh, his lips lingering there as his tongue swipes against my pebbling flesh. His touch, these things he is doing to my body, all so simple, but oh so mind numbing, are doing just that. I'm trying to think straight, to understand what has happened, what is happening now. It all seems surreal, and for a second I wonder if I haven't completely lost it, imagining him here with me, giving me the one thing I longed for in our relationship that I was never able to attain. He finally looks at me, right at me, and his eyes are blazing pools, his pupils dilating with fiery passion. Slowly, he edges towards me, sliding in between my legs, his hands gliding further up my thighs, past my hips, up my sides, until they are resting on either side of my head. He holds me there, in his intense gaze, and licks his lips, his eyes darting down to look at mine, parted and slack. I am a pile of wanton woman right now. I want to attack him, ravage him, take from his body and tend to my own, but I don't. Right now I am regular Bella, tentative, cautious, and quivering nerves; and I'm not sure, even if I wanted to, that my limbs would obey me. I'm lost in his scent, his touch igniting some dormant sexual tease in me; and I want to just take his pouty bottom lip in between my teeth and show him in a torturously slow way what I am dying to do with his body.

I remember, for a moment, how we got here; and the urge to explain, to understand, overrides everything else. I gently push on his chest and stare into his scorching eyes.

"Edward, I need to explain. I want this, please know that. So bad, but I need to explain. I have to know you're not just doing this as a way to get back at me. I..."

"You don't have to explain anything, love. I've known. I've always known. The very first time I laid eyes on you, I knew you were the one for me. I should be the one apologizing to you, but I won't. I refuse to apologize for this."

"I don't understand?!" I search his eyes with my own, trying to see inside of him, my mind unable to decipher what the words he is saying mean. None of it makes sense. He knew, always?

"But...why...how? I...I...why didn't you tell me?"

"I can't explain it in any way other than this, Bella. I am a selfish, needy creature. I used to frequent the Eager Beaver, searching. I was always searching for something I seemed to never be able to find. My heart, my body, my mind, they all had some idealism they were on a hunt for, craving.

"My body, it seemed, was at constant battle with my mind, and my mind always fighting my heart; but then I saw you and the confusion stopped. For once, my body, mind, and heart were all screaming the same thing. 'Mine!'

I watched you, for years. I learned everything I could about you. I wanted to understand what made you tick. How you became the tantalizing, perfect creature that you are. But the more I learned the less I understood. You were like an enigma to me, Bella. It was like I was always one piece away from figuring it out.

"So, I finally introduced myself to you at school. I got to know you personally, rather than from afar; and then something changed again. I couldn't reconcile the woman I was so obsessed with, with the woman you actually were. I expected cold, sexual deviant, and slightly flirty; instead, you turned out to be so sweet, caring, gentle, soft...the complete opposite of what I was looking for.

"I fought with myself, my nature, praying that I could be what you apparently needed. But earlier today when we feel asleep together, I realized something. I didn't want to change me to be with you, and I didn't need to change you to be what I wanted. You were both already. The sexually-charged, snarky girl I first saw in the club and the sweet, loving girl I got to know as a person.

"I wanted so much for you to confide in me yesterday when your co-worker picked you up. I have wanted you so bloody bad, but somewhere along the way I fell in love with you, and I couldn't allow us to take that next step, to connect that way, until we were honest with each other. So, I decided to come to your work last night.

"I knew you didn't normally do personal dances, but the bastard in me thought you might for the right amount of money, but then, after I made my bargain with your friend, I couldn't put you in such a position. I was going to leave. I was about to sneak out the back door when the song started, and then I was stuck, consumed with your body and the way your hips moved so sensually. I couldn't go, and when you finally saw me, I froze. I didn't know what to say, all the words I had gone over and over all night in my head vanished and I was left with nothing but an aching need to toss you over my shoulder and tie you to your bed so I could spend the next week claiming your heart and your body, marking you as mine, and I was ashamed. So, I ran."

I felt like an ass once I was able to rein in my emotions, my desire, my need to consume you, but it was too late, and I was already halfway home. So, I came here and used the key you showed me hiding in the laundry room. I had to tell you, Bella. Because now I know that I can't live without you. You complete me."

I don't wait for him to finish. He might already be done, but my need, this growing ball of lust building within me, is too much; and I tackle him. My arms wrap around his shoulders, my lips crash into his, and soft mewling noises come out of me in small gasps as our lips open and close, moulded together and moving frantically.

A part of me thinks I should be furious, disturbed by everything he has done, what he just confessed to. It is sort of creepy, but even more than that, it is fucking hot. Apparently, I love freaky-stalker men, or at least this one; and I spend the rest of the night and well into the early morning hours showing and sharing and teasing and touching. And when we are both exhausted, completely sated from our tasting and joining, we collapse together, arms and legs entangled and sweaty; and everything feels right, perfect, actually. I close my eyes and let his gravelly voice, whispering words of forever and of all the naughty things we can do in that time, lull me to sleep.

Who would have known I am such a kinky sex freak? Not me. But I am, and he's right. We have the rest of our lives to play out our fantasies and make up new ones together. And I plan on holding him to just that.

I wrote this for a very worthy cause, and I hope it was of some help in raising funds. I would love to hear what you think of this snippet of teasing. So, please hit that review button and lemme know.