Author's Note: Stephanie Meyer owns the characters of this story. I doubt I'll mention it again.
Chapter One
She can be anything.
Your dirty secret. Your doting girlfriend. Her mother. Her daughter. Your whore.
She can do anything.
Suck you. Ride you. Beg. Cry. Fight you. Love you.
She can take you where you want to go. Make you the man you want to be. Show you what life is capable of. What you have been missing out on.
It's simple, really.
Send an email.
Receive a time and place.
Be there.
And Isabella will do the rest.
He looked nervous. Not the teenage-boy-having-a-girl-see-his-dick-for-the-first-time kind of nervous. But like he had an itch and felt rude to scratch it. Like scratching it would make him dirty. Uncouth.
From when she first opened the door.
Standing there, hands in his jean pockets.
Strange.
Usually the young ones stare at their phones. Pretend that seeing her for the first time, or perhaps not, isn't what is consuming their thoughts. Overwhelming their minds.
But he looked at her dead on. Even for only a second. Before looking at his shoes.
Yup.
He followed her inside.
Her place was spacious. A door to the left, a door head on. A kitchen, living area, and a third door, open this time. A bedroom.
Surfaces were clean. Not a picture frame. Not a candle. Just salt and pepper shakers on the small table in the corner of the living room. The kitchen sink shined. The cupboard doors were closed. No dishes to be seen.
She liked things neat and tidy.
No messes.
MA~TWIW~MA
She sat down on the soft, brown futon sofa. One throw pillow on either side.
He took the chair.
Leather. A recliner.
Placing her hands, neatly folded, in her lap, Isabella began.
"I assume you are looking for something specific. Something your girlfriend won't do perhaps…"
Get right to the point. No need to chitchat. What would it achieve? Isabella was not into wasting time.
His nervousness grew.
"No… umm, I don't have a girl, a girlfriend. I mean. Well, there is this girl. In English. She's well, beautiful. But I.."
He was rambling, wringing his hands, looking anywhere but at her.
And he didn't need to say another word.
Isabella tapped a finger against her bottom lip. Once. twice. She slowly uncurled, like a cat stretching from an afternoon slumber. Slinking her way over to the brown recliner, she leaned on her hands.
And arched her fingers along the tops of his thighs.
Bending in close, Isabella smelled just a hint of Axe deodorant.
Such a teenager thing.
But it didn't deter her.
Almost touching the rim of his ear with her lips, she breathed out.
"I can…show you."
He shuddered, the breath shaky and loud.
Ever so slowly, Isabella trailed her lips across his cheekbone.
He closed his eyes.
To the corner of his lips.
They twitched.
And pressed them gently on her target.
His were frozen. Hers, slowly moving. Teaching.
Sucking in his bottom lip, she inwardly smiled as he began to respond. Opening up just enough.
She switched to his top lip.
She moved her tongue.
Tasting, licking. His teeth.
And tongues met once he opened.
They danced. Anxious fingers started to move. He had one hand on her back. Both of hers were in his hair. That is until she took his other hand, still grasping, anchoring to the chair, and placed it on her breast.
His groan was loud, and she let him break away to look down at where he was touching. Where he had never touched before. She moved down to his neck, the clean, smooth skin something that was a bit of a luxury for her, she would admit.
His hesitant fingers tested her patience, so she sucked, licked, and tickled with just a bit more effort. That soft, baby skin of his neck.
His hand held on firmly. Kneading. Needing more.
Isabella didn't even think he realized he had pushed the neck of her tank top down, under the cup of her bra, and had already dipped his fingers in, touching her creamy, soft flesh.
Isabella pulled back.
MA~TWIW~MA
Taking both his hands, she slipped off the chair, off his lap. Tugging gently, he took the hint and stood up. His hands twitched, feeling the need to cover his erection no doubt.
Silly, Isabella thought.
Linking fingers, he followed her through the open doorway. The walls were bare, beige, with not a thing on them. But the bed, it overwhelmed the room. It was soft blue and creamy gold.
It didn't have a single pillow.
Isabella sat down and pulled so that he stood between her parted legs.
Her tank top was still pulled down, revealing the right cup of her bra.
It was all he could look at.
She kissed him once again, allowing herself to fall back on the little piece of heaven. And he followed.
Pushing on one of his shoulder, she swapped positions.
"Now, baby, I want to make you feel good. Really good. Would you let me do that, please?" Isabella slowly slid down his chest, and hips, and thighs, as she teased him with her words. Spoken with hardly a sound.
He whimpered. His eyes, dark as pitch, following her every action.
Sliding his belt through the loops, undoing it, and pushing it wide open, she immediately went for the sole button on his jeans. Then the zipper.
He groaned with relief as she pulled out his erection. Just that one touch made him twitch.
"I promise, baby, that you will like this. I know…" she dipped her head, breathing warm breath along his length, "that you're in pain. I will make it all better, okay?"
He whimpered again.
Isabella placed one hand on his cock, pushing it back so it rested on his stomach. She slowly licked just below before gently taking one ball into her mouth. She sucked and licked, switching from left to right. And from right to left. Meanwhile, her hands massaged his thighs, moving closer until she was rubbing light circles on his inner thighs, encouraging him to open just a bit wider for her.
Her hand replaced her mouth. She looked up to his face. She didn't want to go too hard on him. Make him lose control too early. For a guy who is just looking for some inconsequential experience, that would be the wrong thing to do.
But he looked alright for now.
Well, as alright as a guy receiving his first blow job could look.
Slowly, ever so slowly, she took the tip into her mouth, using her tongue to play along the slit.
And then she moved. Gliding her lips down, down, until he bumped the back of her throat. Again and again. Faster and faster. Until.
She felt his hands, hesitant as ever, come to rest in her hair. She moaned around him, and his fingers tightened.
"Go ahead," Isabella panted, popping off, her big, doe eyes looking up at his mere slits. "Control me. I'm here to serve you. To do what you want. What you need."
His moan was different, more desperate, and sure enough, he led her down his cock, guiding her back up, slowly. She licked and sucked, paying close attention to the head when she could.
It didn't take long before his breathing became harsh, his legs trembling underneath her. She pushed down even harder, gagging as he slipped down her throat.
He came.
"Fuck!"
She swallowed.
Ten minutes later, they said goodbye. He had agreed that what they had done tonight was all he was prepared to do just yet.
She told him next time would be about exploring her body.
They kissed.
"See you next time, Jasper."
He left.
MA~TWIW~MA
Isabella's phone rang later that night.
"Is the boy done?"
"Yes, Dr. Cullen."
"Your cheque will arrive tomorrow."
"Thank-y—"
Click.