Title: Bunc-uh-oh

Summary: When Edward knocks on the wrong door, he's invited in to a party he never anticipated.

Pairing: E/B

Rating: M for content

Word Count: 3986

Edward Cullen's car sits on the corner of Mockingbird Lane, the house in front of him much like the name of the street it resides on: brown and gray and trimmed in white, mocking him with the laughter inside. Silhouettes of women pass by the windows, the rooms lit in soft yellow light. From the safety of his Volvo, Edward squints at the numbers on the mailbox, and squints at the scrap of paper trembling in his hand. The handwriting is worn, the numbers and letters faded from the paper being opened and closed and shoved in the back of his wallet so many times.

Emmett's monster of a Jeep is nowhere to be seen, but Edward tells himself this isn't unusual. This is his coworker's house, after all, and there is a garage. Why would Em's car be out of the garage?

After one final pep talk, Edward exits the vehicle and locks his car, holding the clicker in his sweaty palm as he makes his way to the front door. The doorbell blinks curiously, beckoning him closer. He presses the button and waits. The longer he waits, the more anxious he becomes. Fog coats his glasses. Using his shirttail, he wipes the steam away from the glass as the door opens.

Once his glasses are perched back on his nose, he sees the woman. The first thing he notices is her smile. Big and white and melting away with the awkward rake of his eyes over her body. She studies him in return, not shy with the approving raise of her eyebrow as she notices the muscles under his shirt. Shifting in place, he's a kid again. A boy, no longer a man of thirty, but a child picking up a girl for their first date. He half expects the woman's father to pull the door open further, a loaded shotgun clutched in one hand, but there is no other man. In fact, all he sees inside are women, some slight, some curvy, all curious, flanking each other and staring at the man on the porch.

The brunette leans against the door, a mixed drink in her hand. Smile returning, she stirs the contents in a lazy circle but doesn't drink the liquid. Instead, she drinks in the man before her from his feet, to the jeans clinging to lean hips, to the tight black shirt. She breathes in his cologne and wants to melt into it and never come back up for air. "Can I help you?"

"I'm—I'm not sure I have the correct address. Emmett and Rosalie invited me—"

"They did?" The brunette furrows her brow. "I don't remember either of them mentioning bringing a newcomer into the mix."

Edward's cock stiffens when she says "into the mix." As appalled as he once was when Em mentioned tonight's party, he's equally as curious and horny. Key parties are a thing of the past, or at least he'd always believed. A thing of the seventies apparently come back to life. Gazing at the beautiful girl in front of him, he now understands why. A girl like her probably becomes bored with the same man, her body yearning for something different, something new and exotic. The thought deflates him somewhat, both mentally and physically.

What am I doing here? I don't sleep with random women at sex parties. This isn't the type of guy I am.

Edward jerks his thumb in the direction of his Volvo. "I should go. This isn't me. Tell Em I'm sorry."

"Hey, wait a second." The woman grabs his hand and pulls him inside, sipping her drink. Once he's standing in the foyer, she kicks the door closed, a gleam in her eyes. "Em's usually the only guy that'll play with us and he's bailed on us tonight. Said he had other plans that he forgot about." Edward opens his mouth to ask why he's not at his own house, but the brunette hollers to the women loitering around the living room. "Hey, girls, look what I've got! Fresh meat!"

The women stalk forward, each one like a hungry bird of prey: long talons for nails, colorfully painted faces, bulging chests barely contained in the revealing tops they wear. The brunette walks away, turning a corner and leaving him behind. Edward shrinks away, his back slamming into the door as the horde of women introduce themselves.

"Jessica Stanley," a petite blonde says, offering her hand. Edward shakes it, in turn shaking her entire frame. Her tits are bigger than her head, and bounce with each pump of her palm. Licking her lips, she leans forward, whispering in his ear, "Can't wait to play with you tonight."

"Shove over, sister," another blonde mutters, pushing Jessica aside and offering her hand. "Lauren Mallory, attorney at law."

"Attorney at law?" Jessica says with a snort, sipping her coconut-flavored cocktail. "Really? That's how you introduce yourself?"

Lauren smiles sweetly at Jessica. "You know how you should introduce yourself?" She bats her eyes. "Jessica Stanley Newton, ex-wife of Senator Mike Newton and newly-appointed, official slut of Mockingbird Lane."

"Cool it, ladies." The brunette returns with a fishbowl filled with keys belonging to the wives and ex-wives of some of the most elite men in Washington state. "Here. Drop your keys inside."

Edward obliges, tossing his clicker into the bowl. "This is how it really works, huh? We throw our keys in and everyone reaches for a set? Whosever keys you pick up is your partner for the night?"

"Partner for the night?" The brunette shakes her head. "Nah, you'll be with three other girls. After the game's over, I use these keys to give out door prizes."

Three other girls? Em said nothing about this being an orgy. And what kind of games do people play at key parties to win a door prize? What kind of sick prizes do these women give out at these things? Giant plastic dongs? Whips and chains? And why am I the only guy here? I've never see so many lesbians in one place, other than a Lowe's on a Saturday night.

The brunette laughs, her hand pressed against her chest. "You're kind of uptight, huh? Don't look so nervous. I'm Bella, by the way. And you are?"

"Edward." Sweat beads across his forehead and he wipes it away. "One last question. Do you, uh, play safe? You know, use protection? Because I've never done this before, and to be frank, I'm nervous as hell. It's been awhile since I've played with a woman, and never more than one at one time."

"Protection?" Bella lowers her voice, wrinkles her nose and shrugs. "There's no protecting yourself from these ladies. You've only played Bunco with one other person? Not sure how that works, and sounds hella boring. Tonight should be a blast for you. Okay, we're about to get started." Bella's voice rises above the low murmur of women. "If you're gonna use the bathroom, you better do it now. Otherwise, let the games begin!" She raises her fist to the air in a flourish and the crowd cheers. Edward's knees grow weak as the crowd envelops him, the women tugging at him from each direction.

"He's sitting at our table!"

"No, he's sitting at ours!"

Panicked, he attempts to duck away from the throng of flailing, yoga-toned arms, but someone shoves him into a plastic chair. Blinking, he glances around what appears to be a parlor for the first time. Four game tables are set up in the room, grumbling women depositing themselves at each one, casting longing looks to where Edward sits. Only one woman remains standing, and that's Bella.

"Are you … Are you joining us?" Edward asks, giving her a pleading look. Out of all the women, she's the only one who hasn't "accidentally" touched his ass in the past ten seconds, an action he hasn't overlooked.

"We can take turns," Bella replies with a sweet smile. "I didn't anticipate a newcomer, so there's really no room for me. That's okay though. I'll be on refreshment duty. The punchbowl needs refilling."

Bella excuses herself from the room, abandoning him yet again. Edward gazes around, looking everywhere but the table in front of him. Pictures adorn the walls. Paintings with her signature tucked in the corner of each one. Some are of beautiful flowers, some of the nearby ocean. Photographs sit in every nook and cranny. Some of her with an older gentleman who resembles her in a haunting sort of way. Some with an older woman with her same coloring. None of them with a man or woman who'd pass as a significant other.

"Ready to play?" Jessica Stanley asks, leering at him. She produces some dice, apparently from between her tits, rolling them in her hands. Edward panics, unsure what sort of roll the dice would play in their sex games. And why is he sitting at a table anyway? Will they strip him? Throw him across the cheap plastic and do what? He stares at the dice, memories of his brother, Jasper, an ER doctor, telling him about the unusual things he's found shoved up people's asses on x-rays. Bottles, light bulbs, hamsters … Dice?

Edward stands so quickly he almost turns the table over on top of the busty blonde. She yelps, her fruity drink depositing itself in her lap. For a split second she's furious, but the frustration washes away with a tight lipped smile. "Excuse me for a moment, ladies. Edward." Stomping away, she disappears down a hallway, presumably to a bathroom.

Edward clears his throat. "Um, will you ladies excuse me while I grab a drink?"

The drink is an excuse of course, a pitiful one while he searches for the fishbowl, needing his keys to get the hell out of the Sex House of Horrors before his anal cavity waves a white flag of surrender. He finds the glass bowl in the kitchen next to the brunette who's shoving a cookie in her mouth, her cheeks burning as she's caught inhaling the treat.

"Listen, you've been a great host and all, but it's getting late and I've gotta be at work early tomorrow."

Bella chews the remainder of the cookie in her mouth, swallowing and glancing at the digital clock on the stove. "It's seven o'clock," she says, her voice flat. "On a Friday." Pursing her lips, she taps one finger on the side of her mouth and steps forward. Edward backs up against the counter as she rests one hand on each side of him, appraising his face. "This is because of the four player thing, isn't it? You're intimidated? Tell you what, how about you and I go to the back room and play alone? Would that make you feel better? I'll even give you a door prize if you promise not to tell the other girls."

Edward nods, believing he's found Heaven. Her breath smells like chocolate and sugar and a mixed drink, and her eyes are slightly glazed from the booze. She taps his chest with one finger and motions him to follow her. Once they reach the back room, she slaps the wall in search for the light switch, but he doesn't give her time to find it before pushing her against the wall, his mouth on hers.

Startled, Bella doesn't respond at first, but the slow tease of Edward's tongue against her lips brings a deep-rooted moan resounding from her mouth. She returns his kiss, her hands traveling up the lean muscles of his back and down again until she's grabbing his ass, forcing him forward. Her legs part and he leans into her, cursing into her mouth with each flex of his hips. When they break apart for air, reality slams into her, hard.

"Wait, wait, wait," she says, giggling as his lips travel the length of her throat. "Oh, my God, I don't even know you."

"That's kind of the point of these things, isn't it? We're strangers."

"I don't understand." Bella gently pushes his chest and he stops kissing her sweet skin. Stepping away, he runs his fingers through his hair. "The point of Bunco is to make out with random strangers?"

"Bunco. That's the second time you've said that word and I still have no idea what you're talking about. That's the name of some sort of sex game, right? Is that … Is that what it's called when someone shoves the dice up your ass?"

Bella balks, shaking her head. "Sex game? Dice up your ass?"

"Look, I know you probably think I'm pathetic." Edward laughs, his frustration burning his irises. "Not knowing all this terminology people use these days. I'm an old fashioned kinda guy. I didn't even want to come here tonight, but Em talked me into it. The truth is, I haven't had sex in a very long time, not since—"

"Wait, wait, wait, hold up." Bella holds both hands in front of her, disgust evident on her face. "You thought you were walking into a sex party tonight?"

"Uh, yeah, probably because that's what this is." Edward's laugh is dry, unsure. "The fishbowl full of keys, the horny women."

"Bunco is a parlor game, you idiot." Bella laughs, fumbling for the light switch and flipping it on, her giggles deepening at the expression of horror stretching across Edward's face. "You know, the kind of game bored women play on Friday nights when their husbands or ex-husbands are busy engrossed in their own lives? Mostly housewives, but a few of us are professionals, such as myself and Lauren Mallory. And yes, they're horny. They're all very horny, but I doubt any of them sleep with random strangers at sex parties. You obviously have the wrong address."

"But … But Em and Rose …"

"Are my neighbors. They live across the street and come over to play Bunco with us sometimes. Rose more than Em, naturally." Bella lowers her voice to a quiet mutter. "Who knew they were secretly a couple of freaks, huh?"

Humiliated, Edward stalks around her and through the door. Once the fishbowl is firmly in his hands, he turns it over, spilling the contents onto the countertop. A sweet voice says his name from behind, but he grabs his clicker and heads for the door, hoping he never lives to see the beautiful brunette again.

...

Monday morning comes all too quickly. Edward does his best to duck and weave, hiding whenever he spots Emmett's head popping up from inside his cubicle.

Edward knows Emmett's looking for him. He knows Emmett's going to ask him where he was that night. Hell, for all he knows, Emmett's already heard where he was that night and he's getting ready to lay into him, good and hard. Just a couple of words Emmett had used to describe the activities planned for last Friday night.

Girls tended to talk. Emmett tended to talk. And from what Bella had to say about both Rose and Emmett joining in on game night from time to time, Edward can only assume they're all fairly good friends, that they speak fairly often and have already had a good laugh at his expense.

The thought makes him cringe. He knows he'll never live it down. Emmett's always been relentless in his teasing. First with Edward's cartoon themed ties, then with his brand new pocket protector and set of blue eyeglasses. Now this. Just another thing he has to add to the ever-growing list of stupid things Edward Cullen's ever done.

It's nearly noon before Edward works up enough courage (the need to relieve himself) to try and sneak past Emmett's desk without being spotted. Hearing the squeaky wheel, he times it perfectly with the mail cart. Hunched over, he exits his cubicle as it passes and Waylon gives him a questioning look.

"Wha-"

"Just keep walking, Waylon. There's no time to explain."

Tossing Stephenie a stack of envelopes, Waylon pushes the squeaky cart further down the hallway. With the bathroom in sight, Edward dives in head first as Waylon curves left. But it's all for nothing when Emmett steps into the bathroom behind him.

"Where were you the other night, bro? We waited forever." Emmett says before spotting a pair of shoes under one of the bathroom stalls. He waits until the toilet flushes and Tyler steps out. Emmett gives him a look that has him skipping washing his hands and running out of the restroom instead. Once the door closes, Emmett turns back to Edward.

"Do you have any idea how hard it was to convince Rosie to let you come in the first place?"

Edward opens his mouth to apologize, but Emmett interrupts.

"We were even and you made it odd. Messed up the whole ass to mouth ratio. But Rosie had it all figured out. We had all these new positions planned down to a T. Like, the literal T." Emmett gestures with his hands. "You heard of it?"

Speechless yet intrigued, Edward shakes his head.

"It's where the chick, right? She sticks her mouth on the- No, wait. It's the dude's mouth. The dude's mouth goes- No. No." Emmett creases his brow, either confused or deep in thought. He shakes his head.

"Whoever's mouth it is, it's hot. Okay? It was going to be hot. And Rosie was actually excited to try it. Like, really excited."

Emmett looks as if he's about to cry.

"You ruined my night, man. You ruined everybody's night."

Edward almost feels bad, but then he remembers the brunette and how she had looked at him. How she made him feel. All warm and fuzzy yet perverted inside.

"Sorry, man. I tried, but I just couldn't." Shoving his hands in his pockets, Edward shrugs, purposefully leaving out the incident with his disappointed friend's neighbor. Emmett hasn't mentioned it, so there's no way Edward's going to.

The look Emmett gives him let's him know all is forgiven.

"Hey, look, man. It's okay. Everybody freaks out their first time. I did. Tyler did. Even creepy, old Waylon."

Waylon?! What the hell does he do? Go around inviting everybody to these parties? Jesus.

"His wife's surprisingly hot, by the way. Don't know what she sees in him. Can't be the goatee. And he's got this weird birth mark on the tip of his-"

"Enough!" Edward shouts. He doesn't want to picture whatever it is on the tip of Waylon's anything. Having to look him in the eye when he next hands Edward his mail will already be hard enough. What if he had shown up at that party? What could he have not unseen?

The bathroom door opens and the boys act as if they're washing their hands before heading back into the confines of their cubicles. Edward tries not to think about what lurks just under Waylon's clothes and instead focuses his thoughts on the girl who he's probably ruined any sort of future interaction with. He wonders if she's seeing someone. If she'd consider seeing him. If she thinks about him. If she's thinking about him at the same time he's thinking about her. Which is all the time.

He's still thinking about her, potato salad in hand, as he heads into Emmett and Rose's clothing-mandatory barbecue the following weekend.

The heat is heavy. Almost a hundred percent humidity and Edward's sweating in all the wrong places. Some he didn't even know he had when he catches a glimpse of brown hair tied up high in a messy bun.

As the crowd starts to part, he can see the strap of her dress and the sun hits a bead of sweat rolling down the side of her neck.

His first instinct is to lick it. But that would be inappropriate.

More inappropriate than knocking on the poor woman's door and assuming she wanted to shove dice up your ass?

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Edward heads further into the crowd, his eyes on the bowl in his hands. He's involuntarily dancing from side to side, bobbing and weaving to miss the feet that periodically come into view when he bumps into a table, and startling the brunette beside him.

"Oh, hey. It's you!"

Please don't mention the other night. Please have forgotten about the dice. Please.

"Edward, right?"

Setting his dish down on the table, he nods.

"You left in a pretty big hurry the other night. The girls were really disappointed."

Were you disappointed?

"I have to admit you made an impression."

Edward's heart flies then falls.

"Ever since we met, I haven't been able to look at dice quite the same."

Squinting out the sun, Bella smiles up at him and he can't help but smile back down. A huff of laughter rushes out of his lungs. They burn as he looks away.

"I was hoping you had forgotten about that."

"Never."

"Right. So I guess it'd be asking too much if you never brought it up again?" Edward looks down at her, pleading.

"Oh, yeah. Definitely. That would be impossible."

Her amusement makes his discomfort bearable, almost worth it. That smile shines brighter than the hot, summer sun that's beating down on them. Edward suddenly feels the heat again when somebody bumps into Bella causing her to bump into him. They share a look before she passes him a paper plate.

"Mine's the mystery dish on the end there. So, steer clear."

Once they've piled food on their plates, they squeeze in on the tree hugger, sitting hip to hip.

Face in his food, Edward notices how cute her feet look in her flip flops. Bella notices the ankle socks sticking out from under Edwards sandals, surprised to find that what she would have made fun of before she now finds endearing.

Looking up at his profile, she wonders if he made it over to Rose and Emmett's kink fest. She kind of hopes he didn't and doesn't ever want to. If he wants to be kinky, she can be kinky. Like that one time with Jake and the banana peel.

"What?" Edward asks, making her jump. If it weren't already for the flush from the relentless heat, she probably would have blushed.

"Nothing."

Looking down at her plate, Bella pokes at her food. Edward glances over to watch her, wondering why she was staring at him. Did he eat funny? Was there something on his face? Edward wipes his mouth just in case there is.

"Jeez. It's hot, isn't it?" Bella fans herself then uncrosses and recrosses her legs. Edward takes the opportunity to glance at them.

"Yeah." He clears his throat. "It's pretty hot."

"Good weather for staying inside."

Edward agrees with a nod.

"So, you doing anything after?" Bella asks, taking a bite out her hot dog. Edward stares dumbly as she wipes the ketchup from the corner of her mouth then licks her finger. He remembers she's asked him something when she looks back up.

"Uh, no. Nothing. You?"

"Nah." She shrugs, swatting a fly off her shoulder. "You want to?" she asks, and Edward nearly chokes on his potato salad.

"Uh, yeah. Okay."

"Awesome."

Distracted, Bella waves to someone across the yard.

"So, why don't you stop by later?" Standing, Bella nudges him with her knee. "We can play Bunco. I'll teach you the correct use for the dice."

Smiling, Edward shakes his head and looks up at her. "I thought you said Bunco was more of a group thing."

"I did."

"But you wanna play. Just you and me?"

"I do." Backing away, Bella smirks. "My house. Eight o'clock," she says before disappearing into the crowd.

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