Hey guys, its your fave author ever, ;P , Glitter. If your reading this story you are probably from some of my other stories, so I'm just going to say…Three's a Family will be updated this weekend for sure. I just…I need to write something else right now.

This came from the…weird, misunderstood part of my mind, maybe even a bit of the pervy side. But I'm a happy pervert. *smiles creepily* I don't really know for sure what it's worth, but I have the urge to write as it is 9:20 pm and I'm watching Criminal Minds. So reviews make for a superbly happy writer, which equals more chapters, which makes you guys happy, which makes you guys review, which makes the entire circle repeat itself again.

Disclaimer: SM owns all, however, this story is copyrighted under RideTheGlitterDick 2010. And I tattooed Bella and gave Edward a trilogy of best-selling books.

Chapter 1: Crop Tops and Liquid Leggings

"You're late!" a voice sang somewhere near my ear. I reached up and patted her cheek before moving to her nose and squeezing. "Bella, I don't think this is helping," Alice said seriously, though I couldn't take her that way with her deep, rumbling voice.

I released my best friend and rubbed my eyes. "How late am I?" I asked groggily, rolling over to cuddle my pillow.

Alice absently tugged my hair and I could practically hear the smile in her voice as she told me I was a half hour late for my first class. I told her to get out of my room, to which she complied with a stupid little laugh and closed the door behind her, before I actually got out of bed. Glancing out my window, I took note that the sun was high, bright, and just asking for some skin to penetrate with its rays. Today was the first day of my final year of college. It sucked to be late on a day like this! Ah, but that hunk of metal the store called an alarm clock was shit, so I was stuck behind.

I wanted to finish college with a major in Art and a possible minor in English, as a background to lean on. Art was the first and only thing in my mind, though, because it lead to my passion, my love, my obsession: tattoos. English was merely something that would catch me if I fell; like a trampoline for an acrobat. On the side, to take more time, I was taking an extra course on Photography and one more on Art that wasn't entirely mandatory for my major. Today I had English and my extra course of Art Expression afterwards.

Running low on time, I ran to my closet and pulled out my black liquid leggings, pairing it with a cream-colored cropped top that didn't quite touch my hips. Our college had no dress code; after all, I could walk into class wearing my pink lacy thong and a t-shirt and not get in shit. No I'm totally kidding.

My thong's actually white.

From the constant rubbing of my hands to my eyes, they were red when I went in for my make-up so I left it. My hair was wavy from my sleep, and maybe slightly dirty but looked good. I pulled it up into a messy ponytail, which showed off a layered-petal blue flower with "Isabella" scripted over it, reaching both neon green leaves on either side. With the shirt I was wearing a lot was visible.

When I emerged with my bag from my room, Alice was sitting on the couch with her laptop and a pile of papers surrounding her. I almost didn't want to ask my love what she was doing, but ever sense her new clothing store had opened in the local mall of Seattle, she had been so busy. Smart bitch was already out of school and into the working world. "So Alice, what. Is. Up?" I asked, drawling each word, still trying to put off this annoying English class.

"I hate the pink they painted the changing rooms," she complained. "I'm trying to get some deal with the painters to redo it to a hotter pink at a low price because my budget is so tight right now, but I don't know if they're gonna budge on it." She sighed, clearly conflicted here.

I smiled at her. "Maybe Riley needs to get his fiiiiiiine ass over here to cheer you up," I suggested, wagged my eyebrows. "A little romp on the kitchen island, perhaps?"

Alice laughed, throwing papers on the floor. "Fuck no. You're the kinky one here; you've probably never even done it on a bed!" I tried to keep a straight face while her's contorted in her laughter, but it was hard because the chick was just that contagious.

"Give me a break," I laughed, grabbing some change off the counter for Starbucks. "I bed the guy after I provide him with the knowledge of my kinky side, handcuffs in the backseat of cars and all." I was only half-kidding: I really haven't handcuffed a guy in the backseat of a car though I reallllly wanted to. So what I was a dirty prevent girl. Sue me. I go kicking and screaming.

After her laughing subsided, Alice sat up straight and started organizing her papers as she gave me a firm once over. "Love it," she said in a calculating tone, squinting her pretty blue eyes. "Sexy, fierce, and maybe slightly slutty." I burst out laughing as I reached for the door, wiggling my ass in direction, denying this supposed 'accusation'. "Oh God, Bella, I'm going to miss you around here these days!"

"Don't worry, doll, I'll be back so soon, you won't have time to miss my super-fine ass," I joked.

"Well, your super-fine ass is late for class, Swan, so get a move on." I looked back at her with a frown. "Mr. Nealson retired from English and the new teacher is young and de-liscious!" Alice held up some book, super thick with dark colors for a cover. I wrinkled my nose because, honestly, for an English minor-er, I hated reading books. And sometimes my language fucking sucked. I walked back over to the couch and ripped the book from her hands, examining the cover for a few seconds.

"It looks like shit," I muttered, tossing it back to her.

She made a weird "uff" sound when it hit her lap, and I bit back a "that's what she said". "Bella, how can you say that? Fangs Pierce Sun is the hottest series right now in the entire world and they're even making a movie out of it!" Alice exclaimed. Her bouncing excitement scared the shit out of me, so I grabbed my phone and texted Riley.

Dude, can u get ur ass over here & fck the happiness out of her? Thnx

"Swan, are you listening?" She snapped her fingers in my face and I had no choice but to settle back and actually listen before she knocked me onto the floor. "This is the third book in the series and it's honestly gold!" she drabbled. "Like, the tragic love he writes about honestly almost puts Romeo and Juliet to shame, and that book-slash-play-slash-millions-of-movies were the fucking bomb! This guy creates like…" Alice flipped the novel over, the tips of her fingers turning white from the pressure of them against the hardcover. "'An intriguing read,'" she read, "'of dark love and impulsive decisions. One of my favourites. Ooh, Bella, Anne Rice wrote that! Isn't that awesome?" She squealed in her seat, reading off numerous quotes that meant nothing to me in her over-excited voice. Kind of like a school girl getting eaten out for the first time. I grinned. Yeah, that's exactly what she sounded like.

Finally, ever so finally, she shooed my ass out of there, claiming I was keeping a "Literacy God" waiting. I just laughed at her. Hard. What a fool.

I was closing in an hour of tardy time but I still stopped for my Grande triple chocolately-ship Frappuccino with extra whipped cream at the Starbucks on campus, before jogging to the Literacy buildings. I was texting my friend, Mike Newton, who may have been a little too over-helpful for just a friend, but since I saw nothing more than friendship, it was no biggie. He said the class was getting lectured about the guy's life and writing career. So in other words, I didn't miss anything worth shit.

I pushed open the door to English, still sipping away at my heavenly drink as I strolled into the classroom, not blinking an eye at the new teacher. Some grumpy old man that the media stated could write. Insert eye roll.

Now, I wasn't popular at school, but every young female and male liked a little rebellion. I liked doing but never watching it. Some people liked to watch but not do. In the eyes of these kids, I was just that: a motherfucking rebel. Badass, as Angela Weber called me. Maybe I would garner a new reputation for my final year here, because, after all, I wanted to get serious this time around. Even if I was still doing shots in my bed at night, with Alice or alone, but still more serious than the last few years. Anyway, rebellious. Yeah, I was a fucking rebel and everyone loved it. The teachers, no, but they didn't matter much.

People greeted me with calls of "hey's" and "sup's", the usual, and I gave an exaggerated nod to everyone in acknowledgement, made my way to my desk and sat down, happily slipping my chocolately goodness. Then I looked up.

The silence in the room added to the suspense when my eyes were assaulted by the holiness of all man.

Okay, so I've read my share fair of FanFiction – the only stories I can actually sit through without gauging my eyes out – and reading it I sometimes wondered how to female protagonist would suddenly fall head-over-heels for a man or just notice him in a crowd from dozens of other men. But now I could see why.

The English teacher, whatever his name was, the "Literacy God" or whatever, stood out like…like when you're camping and you sit to wait for the stars to show up. The sky is all so dark as far as you can even see and then there's this single bright spot that stands out from everything else. It makes you really look and really study, intrigues you.

And fuck, this guy had me at first glance. His eyes, which were giving me a slightly annoyed look, were the brightest green I'd ever seen. My last boyfriend, James Rae, had had brown eyes. In fact, a lot of my close friends had brown or blue eyes, and these green ones was the most pleasant change. Maybe it was the combination of the green with the rich bronze-and-red hair sitting atop his head. Or maybe it was all that with his even, pale skin and tall, muscled body. And he looked incredibly young to be a teacher, much less a best-selling author. I'm sorry, Alice said this guy is a fucking writer? He looks more like the porno guy who helps MILFs live out their fantasies! And fuck, if I didn't want to be a MILF right now.

He stood up at the front of the room with his arms crossed and with the white button-up he wore showed off the tense muscles of his forearms. I think I almost had a heart attack when he raised his arm and the shirt rode up to let me see his skin. I felt a throb in a place that had been experiencing a bit of an unwilling dry-spell. But I was feeling that the whole 'dry' shit wouldn't be going on for much longer.

"Thank you for finally showing up, Miss…" the guy said, slipping on a pair of glasses and glancing down at the desk in front of him. I looked at the board behind him: Mr. Masen. I quickly pulled out my iPod Touch and created a note to find porn films with a guy named Masen; hopefully that would help the problem I was feeling below the belt. "Swan. Miss Isabella Swan," Mr. Masen said, calculating. "I like to have respect from my students, which means seventy minutes late is intolerable in my book."

I smiled. "Which book? I heard you have three." I wanted to see his sexy-as-fuck man smile and laugh. It would just be a dream to hear him moan.

He smiled but it was condescending. "Jokes are barely tolerable in this class room; English is an art that is best learned practised, which means that literacy part of your brain needs to be turned on, not the immature side."

I already liked this uptight teacher, maybe not in the typical student-teacher way.

Mr. Masen was sexy as fuck, and 'sexy' equals 'sex', which means so much in my book…. When he launched back into a previous lecture, I just admired him from afar. All my other teachers are old or middle-aged, none of them all young and sexy and nice to look at and doing weird things to my words and shit. And here I, and every other girl here, is blessed with this sight for the next year. He was pretty passionate when he talked about his books and the depth behind normal words in different contexts; the way his eyes shined was sexy. Fuck, this man was the definition of "sexy".

Just last weekend I thought God was against me, but now I was thinking he was walking beside me and not in front. And I felt, at that moment, that I was as obsessed with him as I was with Tyra Banks or thriller movies.

EPOV

"Have you always wanted to write?" asked a small brunette with glasses. "Or did it just like, suddenly come to you?"

I smiled slightly. "Well, writing has always came to me ever since I was a child," I said slowly. "In middle school I was writing very developed short stories for my age, and my fascination with writing had started so early that my first novel was completed December 14th 1999 and published 2002. And the series still continues today."

A few kids looked in awe of this short story while others looked like they could care less. Honestly, I don't know why I took to teaching English when I could have easily continued with the next book in the Fangs Pierce Sun series, but I guess I wanted to share the knowledge of literature. So many teenagers are ignorant and need to learn that reading is a part of our culture as Americans, and writing is just the icing on the cake.

I don't like kids, never have but probably will when I finally find the woman my parents approve of and we marry. Then the next logical thing is babies. But until then, I didn't want anything to do with them. Teenagers are worse though, I hate them. I'd have babies right now if I knew they wouldn't turn into bitchy, annoying, whining, complaining teenagers. Technically speaking, the kids in this particular class weren't teenagers – they were adults and in college not high school – but after spending an hour with them in the same room with all the talking, you wouldn't have guessed.

As I opened my mouth to call on another student, the class door opened and closed loudly. I always hated when my classmates were late for classes back in high school. I looked up as a chorus of people offered their greetings.

She was gorgeous – but dirty. Her hair was dark and long, pulled up and out of her face, showing her firm cheekbones and translucent skin off. Above the dark orbs of her irises, the eyelids were pinkish and a little purple. Her insanely long legs were covered in a shiny black material that made me do this fucked-up sigh thing. This high-riding t-shirt left little to the imagination – it also showed when was on her skin. It was this kind of thing, tattoos, that I was raised to know as dirty or degrading, but she looked…sexy. Sexy? I asked myself. Really? This student, who was late for my class and covered in tattoos, wearing revealing clothing, and I thought of her as sexy? Shit, I really needed to write.

Shaking my head, I turned back into the hard ass teacher I knew these kids needed. "Thank you for showing up, Miss…" I slid my glasses on quickly and glanced down at the sheet on my desk. She was the only one absent. Isabella Marie Swan. "Swan. Miss Isabella Swan. I like to have respect from my students, which means seventy minutes late is intolerable in my book." I wanted to swear, I wanted to swear so badly, but I had to get to know these kids and their personalities and working habits first.

She grinned. "Which book? I heard you have three," she said smoothly.

My own smile threatened through the mask of frustration I really was feeling with this student. Looks like I get to know the attitude of this girl and her role in this class already. "Jokes are barely tolerable in this class room," I announced, not just to her but the whole class. "English is an art that is best learned practised, which means that literacy part of your brain needs to be turned on, not the immature side." I'm glad she never responded to that because I don't know how well I would have done with dealing with it.

The class got on with but I felt awkward standing there. Isabella made it awkward. She was too bold of a person for me to even look at or talk to. The marks on her skin proved she was loud and outrageous. So to give myself a break from my Isabella-induced awkwardness, I sat down and asked the students to introduce themselves and give four interesting facts. The boys were typical: skateboarding, Xbox, and making out with their girlfriend. The girls weren't too shocking either: Justin Bieber, shopping, and partying. The row had passed for Isabella once but she claimed she wanted to finish her Starbucks first. I had nothing to say to that, didn't tell her to improvise, just skipped to the male next to her, Mike Newton.

While the next few spoke about themselves briefly, I continued inconspicuously staring at her and watching the detailed cross on her upper right arm move with each flex of her muscles. From afar it looked perfect with a shiny-looking sword sticking from the top. There wasn't much color to it but it was rather rough-looking, like it reflected her personality.

I shook my head as she started talking. "I'm Bella, call me Isabella and die," she said casually, toying with the green straw in her cup. "I love body art, America's Next Top Model, partying, and I can beat any bitch down." She didn't even crack a smile at her words when everyone else erupted in laughter.

This entire class was going to beat me down, I could already tell. Maybe in an attempt to stay slightly sane I'd have to avoid this Bella. Tattoos reek dirty and grunge, and yet I was thinking of this woman as sexy. I really needed a shower to cleanse me of these sick thoughts about this girl. My parents would be so disappointed. I could hear my mom now, listing off what kind of drugs she's probably on, how she won't make it far in life or with a career. I bet my father would even suggest she was dating a drug dealer and bearing his children on the side. My parents were hypocritical people and I wasn't naive to say they hadn't made me into the same thing.

I could hardly be in the same room as this woman, covered in tattoos and her fucking intense eyes prying into my skull, the colors on her skin burning my eyes.

I wonder of writing these books about vampires has made me semi-crazy.

Ah, so there you have it 3000 words of the beginning of this story. So don't have offence to any future Justin Bieber slamming or Edward's fucked opinion on tattoos. It's the way he's raised so we're gonna go with it. This is coming from the dirtier part of my mind pretty much and these are like the kind of stories I read quite often. I hope you guys like it. It's like smut with plot.

So about my other stories. Three's a Family's next chapter will be, I repeat, up this weekend. Responsibilities, you guys are so good to me and made me reach an all-time high of reviews per chapter, so we guys deserve a chapter. Again, hopefully this weekend. An Intense Dark Side is iffy still. Sorry.

So I'm sick right now, that's why I wrote this quickly, and I can get another chapter out this weekend if you guys like this. I don't think I'll be in school tomorrow so…hint, hint, nudge, nudge.

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