I am Isabella Swan.

I had just got a call from my best friend Alice to meet her down out the local community theater for the new awesome show in town.

"Isabella?"

"Yes?"

"Are you talking to yourself again?"

"Yes."

I threw the tube of toothpaste at the mirror.

When I got to the theater I picked my tickets up at will call and headed for the theater gallery where seats were and when I got to the edge of the staircase, I took a deep breath and steeled myself.

I gripped the edge of the railing as my trembling legs made there way up.

One leg.

Other leg.

This leg.

Then the other leg.

And the third leg.

Where'd that leg come from?

And then my foot caught and I came crashing down face first onto the carpeted floor. As I trembled in a fetal position, a man and his toddler child passed my on the treacherous staircase and with tear blurred eyes, I watched the small child climb the stairs, one leg in front of the other, his pampers swishing with each graceful climb and cried again. So many people take for granted the ability to walk without diabolical scheming thin air tripping you every inch way.

"Clear the path, lady." I looked up and saw a boyish blond man standing above me in a theater uniform.

"Mike?" I asked incredulously. "Are you following me?" I gasped.

"What? No. Look you need to move, lady. This is a fire hazard."

"Mike Newton, I told you I DO NOT want to go to prom with you!"

"You're a crazy bitch, but I need you to move the crazy outside. You'll get me fired," he said sternly.

I rolled my eyes.

"Don't expect me to buy that. Bella? Bella Swan? You were only obsessed with me for four years of high school." I scoffed.

"Oh yeah," he said. "I remember you now."

I smiled demurely, flattered.

"Was it the mahogany hair, the creamy translucent skin, or the signature blush that gave me away. I can do it on command now, you know," I bragged and scrunched my face together creating the deep fuscia rouge that made hearts melt. He frowned.

"Ah, actually your wearing the same shitty green cable knit sweater you wore every day to school," he said and peered closely at my chest. Of, course. What a stalker.

"Is that the same mustard stain you got from Tyler after you ran on field in the middle of a football game screaming he belonged in your bubble because you could read his thoughts there?" he asked.

"No. It's not," I snapped and clutched my chest. "Tyler didn't throw that hotdog at me anyways."

I stormed off.

After I crawled up the rest of the staircase.

The show had already begun and I was oh so quite as I took my seat. Suddenly, from stage right, the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen in the world took the stage. A pale grey pallor, butterscotch eyes, and wild, Wild, WILD, bronze hair.

Sex hair, to be sure. That hair had been fornicated upon, no doubt. Felatio hair, indeed.

I wanted to adorn him in a crown of anal beads to be worn in lieu of thorns on his silken nest of sexually promiscuous follicles, because he was something heavenly. I wanted to nail him to a cross and bath in his blood.

Err…

I mean, tie him to my bed and churn sweet mud-honey with him and my table lamp. Oh so sweet. Flow freely, so freely. The elixir of the Gods for my… for my…. Adonis! Yes, Adonis! An Adonis he was. How I think of these things, I'll never know.

When the show ended, I waited off stage for my Adonis to receive his adoring fans.

"Bella!"

"Hi Alice. Did you shrink again?" I asked looking down at my pocket-sized friend.

"Yeah," she shrugged. "You know me, Pixie Alice! AHAHAHAHA!!!" she laughed and people eyed her nervously.

"Oh, Alice," I said amusedly and nudged her arm. She fell. "Oops!" I said.

"I'm fine. Look, I am going shopping tomorrow and if you'd like, I can pick you up a new sweater and schedule you for a bikini wax."

"Shopping again Alice? You go EVERY DAY. But this sweater is new," I defended and she frowned. "And I am not getting a wax."

"Suit yourself," she shrugged. "I gotta go because it's visiting night and I need to go talk to Jasper."

"How is he?"

"Good. With good behavior he'll be out in fifteen," she smiled. "But I'll wait FOREVER. I saw him in a vision once, you know."

"Yes. When you met, right?" She smiled.

"Yeah," she said dreamily. "If he hadn't robbed my liquor store that night and knocked me out with the snub end of the pistol, I would never had my VISION, and my life would empty. You just can't explain soul mates."

I sighed. Jealous.

"Isn't it hard not being able to see him for conjugals?" I asked wondering if I should search the prison pen pal list I had at home.

"Yes, but we'll always have that first sweet time," she mused.

"How much could you remember from that, though. You were passed out on the liquor store floor."

"Yes," she smiled crookedly. "But the flashbacks…I mean, memories of that first time hold me over."

Lucky girl.

She scuttled away on all fours and I continued patiently waiting for my ADONIS to receive me. I watched him standing with the rest of the cast from the acting troupe. The long black cape, faux widows peak, and fake blood drawn in marker gave him all the allure of a modern day Dracul. I timidly approached.

"I just wanted to say I thoroughly enjoyed the show," I said sweetly.

He stared.

"You were amazing."

He blinked.

"Are you new in town, do you need someone to show you around?" I hedged.

He twitched.

"I'll cut to the chase. I'd love for you to come back to my house with me," I proposed.

He was quiet.

"I am Vampire," he stated finally. His voice? Velll-veeet!

I beamed.

"I know, it was great show. You're a really good actor. But I was wondering if I could tempt you away from your chaste mores and into some kinky business back at my flat," I explained.

"But I am Vampire," he replied.

"I love method acting," I drooled.

"Ah-ah-ah-ah," he said. Just like The Count. Yum. But I was tired of the foreplay.

"Look, if you come back to my place I've got a jar of spermicidal lubricant and swedish lamp that ergonomically designed. and I'll even throw in a fisting," I offered. He frowned at looked down at my tiny, tiny, tiny fist because my wee little hands are so very, very small.

"One fist, or two,' he said in a shrewd tone with lowered brows.

"Two," I smiled.

"Done." he nodded.