This is my debut in the Twilight fanfic world. I hope to finish this baby towards the end of summer. Anyways, this is the prologue. :)

The one thing mothers always scold us about is biting our fingernails. I suppose it could portray a slightly unhygienic image of oneself, but I couldn't give a rat's ass right in that moment. All I wanted was to get home and be by myself.

The city of New York was cold that night. I had to wear that warm leather jacket that made me look like some kind of douche trying to look sexy and my beloved beanie. My hair was usually in its crazy disheveled way and my patience was running low. And don't even get me started on my nerves… I had my old chucks on, so it wasn't all that bad. I think subconsciously I was trying to look less like a college asshole and more like a high school douche.

Fucking Jasper, always trying to get me laid.

The house was packed, as was expected in an Alice Brandon party, and the music was blasting from the ancient speakers, making my head pound even further. The beer was stacked inside a huge metal tub of ice, right beside the beer keg. How much beer did those kids consume? Jesus

Classes were coming to an end and finals were just around the corner. Only Jasper would want to go to a fuckign high school party on a Thursday night.

"Jazzy, baby!" I winced internally at the sight: Alice Brandon skipping over to us with her pixie-on-crack voice and spiky hairstyle that only she pulled off. Nice kid, from a nice family, whose panties were currently wanted destroyed by Jasper Whitlock. I could just smell his desperation.

The sleazy bastard smirked and said in his overly husky voice "You look hot", stripping her with his eyes; because he's smooth like that.

Fucking Jasper.

Alice giggled like the school girl she was, even twirling on the spot to show Jazz her new skirt. I knew she was trying to show him she was going commando. I swear I saw her bare ass. Jasper was drooling at the little show. He was so pussy-whipped.

"Dude, do you know how tight those virgin pussies are? Not fucking kidding." He would say in that whiny little bitch voice that made him so transparent every time I fucked with him. "I am not fucking pussy whipped. I own my balls." He was slightly high when we had this discussion.

I rolled my eyes, looking around the place with vague interest. It was nothing much; just a two story house on the outsides of Manhattan, I think it had a garden but it was too fucking cold to go out. There was so much smoke around me, and it sure as hell wasn't cigarette smoke, even my eyes teared up a little. There were passed out girls on the floor, getting molested by future rapists of the United States.

Such a beautiful generation we have.

There were a few cute girls, but my ass was so not going to jail for some young meat. Only Jasper would pursue a high school girl. Fucking perv.

The stairs were empty, so I decided to go upstairs and go for a smoke in one of the bedrooms. Checking I had my shit I took two steps at a time, taking a freshly opened beer from a passerby, I locked myself in what looked like Alice's room. Shrugging I lit up my personal heaven wrapped in a paper stick. The smoke immediately relaxed me. I glanced at the smoking kills sticker the box had and laughed at its stupidity. I was still fucking anxious. The envelope was inside my jacket, burning a hole into my fucking chest. My hand was literally twitching to grab the damn thing and burn it. But I knew I wanted it, needed it.

"Here we go." I muttered, opening the large manila envelope. Originally, it was a neat, long envelope with the name Isabella Dwyer written neatly over my own name. I ripped it open and began reading the carefully written letter.

Dear Edward Cullen,

I've carefully read your application, double checked your forms and pictures, and am pleased to inform you that you are appointed for an interview. I prefer to meet in public places, such as coffee shops, since you are a complete stranger and inexperienced. You must understand, you are not yet chosen, this is an interview, we still have to compare our preferences and see if we can make this relationship work. Please, write back or contact me as soon as possible. I' am a busy woman.

Hoping to meet you,

Isabella

P.S.: Nice pictures.

I smirked, knowing how explicit my pictures had been. Aside from my ego boost, I was genuinely intrigued by Isabella. Although I had never seen her, she seemed nice enough when I reviewed my options with Mrs. Cope.

I was definitely inexperienced in this. Never had I been a sexual slave for anyone, and to know there was an online company that was EHarmony for perverts, only furthered my excitement and curiosity. I had thoroughly researched the different types of submission, and even learned a few techniques. I had always been very quiet and not very social, only when the situation required it, which transmitted in the bedroom. I guess I was freakishly quiet, only a few grunts, and I never really knew what to do. Being a submissive, I would be told what to do. There will be a scene that I had to follow, whishes I had to grant.

I got hard just thinking about it.

Taking a deep breath, I finished my heaven stick, and looked at myself in the vanity mirror, looking sick and happy. I decided to call Isabella that moment. I couldn't wait to see her.

"Speak," a female voice said smoothly. It sounded like a growl, but it was way hotter.

"Um… hi… it's… um…" Shit, Cullen get it together.

"Who?" she snapped. I grit my teeth together, kind of annoyed at myself and her.

"Edward Cullen." I said confidently, finally finding my balls.

"You can't call me here. This is my work number." She spoke slowly, and I swear I'd never gotten this hard just listening to someone speak- or rather growl at me. I liked it. "I'll text you my personal number." And she hung up, leaving me jaw-slack and fucking horny as hell.

My phone chirped and I quickly called her. "You're not a people person."

"You may not speak." She almost scoffed and I bit my lip, knowing my smart ass mouth will get me in trouble later on. "I don't appreciate smart asses. We will meet at 12 pm, at the Gramercy Tavern. Be punctual and dressed formally, Cullen. I hate hobos." And, again, Isabella had left me jaw-slack and horny.

I think I love this woman.

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