Big thanks to the amazing Dollybigmomma for volunteering her awesome beta skills for this story. Since it is my first attempt at writing, she certainly had her work cut out for her.

This story contains a lot of sexual humor, bad language and embarrassing situations. It's silly, and I've tried to put a good laugh in every chapter, so if you are into serious stories, or are easily offended, you probably shouldn't keep reading.

That being said...read and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, SM does. I'm just having fun with her characters.

Chapter 1: Moobs and Wet Dreams

BELLA

"Emmett! If you think I'm going to let you meet our next client wearing that, then you've definitely whiffed too many of your own silent-but-deadlies today. Your brain's turned into goo!" I shouted.

"But Bella!" Emmett retorted petulantly, "Everybody who comes in here is so uptight. I thought it could be a nice icebreaker if I was only wearing my Ghostbusters boxers," he whined.

"Well, take that thought and shove it right back up your ass where it came from, Emmett!"

We were expecting our newest client any minute, and my dear friend was sitting in the middle of our little utility closet/office in his underwear. I'd swear if he hadn't been my best friend since we were five, I think I might just have to kill him. He reluctantly got up and put his jeans and t-shirt back on. Although I wished he had chosen a better shirt to wear, rather than the one that said "Save a Tree, Eat a Beaver." He was such an asshat sometimes. I think he might have actually thought he was spreading an environmentally friendly message. I often wondered how he ever got into college.

Emmett and I were in our final year at the University of Washington. I was getting my degree in Psychology. I had started up my own paranormal investigation firm for research purposes for my thesis. Our name was Supernatural Hunters in Training, or S.H.I.T. Yeah, that was Emmett's input into our little project.

Somehow, I was able to secure a grant from the school for this little endeavor. I still had no idea how that had happened. I couldn't usually convince a bank teller to give me money out of my own bank account, let alone thousands of dollars from the school to pursue this hair-brained idea of mine.

My thesis was on the relationship between paranormal activity and fear. I hypothesized that most paranormal situations arose from fear, clouding our ability to sort out fact from fiction. Fear tended to come from the unknown, and rather than looking at things in a logical, scientific way, people tended to just classify it as paranormal. It had always struck me as fascinating how people, through their own fears, would overanalyze things to the point where they couldn't see that the simplest explanation was usually the right one.

We'd had a few cases so far. They were all "things that go bump in the night" and "doors closing on their own" types of cases. We were very easily able to dismiss their claims, usually finding old pipes and drafty hallways to be their so-called ghosts. Right now, we were waiting for our newest client, Esme Cullen. She had called us and said that she and her family had been experiencing some interesting things in their newly- acquired, turn-of-the-century Victorian home. She didn't seem to want to elaborate over the phone. She kind of sounded a little embarrassed, actually. I'd told her not to worry, and that we could talk in person in my office. I expected her any minute now.

"Bella, does this shirt make my moobs look good?" Emmett asked with his cheekiest grin.

"Oh, my God, Emmett, your moobs are so big and bulging in that shirt. I think you may need to buy yourself a frilly little man-bra for them," I answered sarcastically.

"Um, excuse me, are you Bella Swan?" a timid female voice spoke behind me.

I turned around, feeling a little embarrassed over the conversation I was sure she had just heard. My eyes met with a gorgeous middle-aged woman, who was looking at me expectantly. She had a small frame, heart-shaped face and caramel-colored hair that cascaded down to her shoulders in soft waves. What caught me a little off guard were the piercing emerald green eyes that were staring back at me. The depth of their color was so perfect that there was no way they were real, they had to be contacts. Bitch.

"Yes, I'm Bella Swan. You must be Esme Cullen? It's a pleasure to meet you." I put my hand out, and she shook it firmly. "Why don't you have a seat and tell me what it is that's going on in your home, and we'll see what we can do to help," I offered as I motioned to the chair I stood next to.

"Thank you, Ms. Swan," she sighed in relief as she sat down.

"So, why don't you just start from the beginning, and we'll go from there…" I started, hoping to urge her on. She seemed very timid and nervous about her situation.

"Well, about three months ago, my husband and I purchased a turn-of-the-century Victorian in the Queen Ann area. It's quite a charming house, and when we found out the price, we just weren't able to say no. The Realtor told us that it'd been on the market for a long time, so the price had been reduced several times. I just considered us to be lucky that no one else seemed to notice what a gem the house was. It needed some updating and restoration done, but that's what I do for a living, so I jumped at the chance."

I nodded and smiled, letting her know that I was listening.

"It wasn't until a few weeks after we had moved in, and the renovations were well under way, that I noticed things weren't quite right. At first, it was just eerie feelings and things like that. Sometimes, it felt like someone was standing right behind me. The hair on the back of my neck would stand on end, but there would be nobody there. A couple of times, I found pictures that I had just hung on the other side of the room with the glass shattered," she fidgeted with her hands and stared at the floor as she spoke.

"Believe me when I tell you that I'm as big of a skeptic as any, and I would not have come here if there was any other explanation for what's been going on." She looked as though she wanted to continue, but was holding back.

"Was there something else you wanted to tell me, Mrs. Cullen?" I asked trying to get her to open up.

"Yes, I just don't know how to explain it exactly," she replied very unsure of herself.

"Please, Mrs. Cullen, don't feel uncomfortable about anything you have to say to me. I've heard just about anything you can imagine being in this line of work. Out of the ordinary is completely normal around here." She seemed to relax at my reassurance.

"Alright, well…um…about a month ago, I noticed something else." I saw a pink blush spread across her face, as if she was really embarrassed about whatever this was.

"Please, go on. There are no judgments here. We're here to help you," I reassured her, hoping to make her feel comfortable.

"Well, my son and daughter live there as well. They'd noticed some of the other things going on, too, and like me, they wrote it off as paranoia. There were some nights when I'd wake up in the middle of the night to find my husband moaning and writhing around in our bed. I assumed he was either having a really good dream, or a really bad dream. After I noticed how often I was having to wash our sheets, I realized it must've been really good dreams he was having," she stated, blushing more crimson now.

"You mean the dude was having wet dreams?" Emmett blurted out, making us both blush at that point.

"I suppose he was, but being politically correct, I'd rather refer to them as 'nocturnal emissions' if you don't mind," Esme retorted.

"I can understand your concern, Esme, but in all honesty, I'm not sure what about this you find to be paranormal," I said furrowing my brows with confusion.

"I didn't think much of it, either, until I realized the same thing happening with my son, Edward. He started looking very tired all of the time. He always had dark circles under his eyes, and I noticed that he was washing his sheets quite frequently as well. A couple of times, I heard him moaning in his room at night, just like Carlisle. When I mentioned what I was witnessing to my husband, he blew me off, saying that he was probably just sneaking some girl in at night, which is what young men do. He said that maybe if we were intimate more often, then I wouldn't have to make things like this up to occupy myself," Esme blurted out in haste, obviously offended by her husband's comment to her.

I couldn't help myself…I giggled. True, it wasn't my most professional moment ever, but that shit was funny.

"Well, I'm glad you find this amusing, Ms. Swan. I see that maybe I've made a mistake by coming here," she seethed through clenched teeth.

"No, no, no, I apologize, Mrs. Cullen. I wasn't laughing at you! It's just that your story is pretty incredible. We here at S.H.I.T. take every claim very seriously. Surely you can see the humor in your story, but that's no excuse for my response. Of course, this case being of such a personal nature, we'll handle everything as professionally and discreetly as possible. I apologize sincerely for my little outburst," I got out all in one breath.

"Well, I suppose I can overlook it, since you're willing to help," she said as her face relaxed.

"I think the first thing we should do is come to your home and set up some recording equipment in the hot spots and see if we can catch anything on tape," I explained. "At that point, depending on what we find, we'll make a plan of attack. Will your family members have any problems with being recorded while they sleep?" I asked.

"I'll have a chat with them. Hopefully, they'll indulge their silly mother," she replied with a little chuckle.

"Well, Mrs. Cullen, it was wonderful to meet you. Give me a call after you've spoken with your family, and we'll set up a time to come out and install the cameras," I replied with a genuine smile. She was a very nice lady. I felt very comfortable around her.

"Thank you, Ms. Swan. I'll be in touch."

With that, she stood and walked out the door.

I was not sure what this lady was smoking in her free time, but this was shaping up to be an entertaining case if nothing else.