Much to our dismay, neither KatieBelleCullen nor I own Twilight. We just took the liberty of taking SM's characters and saucing them up a bit! XD

Here's my genius, stunning, fabulous partner-in-crime Katie's chapter - it's freaking EXCELLENT! Her saucy sex kitten Bella is to die for! So enjoy lovelies, because it is with great pleasure that I present to you: BPOV!


BPOV:

Forks High School.

God, what a filthy fucking cesspool.

The never-ending rain beat down on the insignificant brick buildings, sloshing sloppily over the dreary scene. And that's exactly what this shithole of a town was. Dreary. As hoards of dull, black raincoats scampered towards shelter, a lump began to rise in my throat. Where was the style? The sense of adventure? Did anyone in this godforsaken shitpit know how to have a good time? Of course not, I groaned. How could they? There was nothing to do here! I sighed in defeat. Whatever threads of hope I had been clinging to since arriving in this murky puddle abruptly snapped, sending me plummeting into a dejected gloom. This was going to be a long, god-awful semester. And a half. Fuck. Me.

Fuck. Renee.

I forcibly pushed my way out of the hunkajunk that my father, Charlie, had bought for me, pointedly ignoring the disgusting, metallic groan of the door as I slid my long legs out of the seat, letting my heels tap gently against the ground. As my eyes surveyed the pitiful excuse for a school, I let out another long, exasperated sigh. I was already mentally ticking down the seconds until my 18th birthday, the day of all days, when I would be officially able to get the fuck out of Forks. With a frown, I slammed the rusted door to my Chevy and glanced down at my schedule. English. Okay.

With a determined shake of my hair, I started towards the tiny English building, letting the heels of my Jimmy Choo's click comfortingly against the slick asphalt. I clucked in disgust as rain continued to pour from the sky, and sped up my pace towards the dingy, brick building that loomed before me. I grit my teeth as I entered the throng of black jackets, which seemed to sully my elegant, white lambswool coat, just by association. Miscellaneous nobodies in all their varying stages of pitiful turned to gawk in my direction, but I kept a sultry smile on my face as I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Fucking morons. It wasn't that I was uncomfortable with attention - I loved a spotlight as much as any other girl with full, pouty lips and a gorgeous set of tits. It was the way they stared that bothered me - as if I had walked in with three eyes and webbed feet. It's called class, dipshits.

I was already thoroughly annoyed by the time I reached my home room, and I forced myself to take a steadying breath as I wrapped my perfectly manicured fingers around the door handle. Well, here goes fucking nothing.

First class: English.

Everyone stared. Good, I thought, they should. I may have been the new girl, but I was no fucking spring chicken. I had seen more than these pathetic little shits could ever dream of, and I put on a face that made them damn sure aware of it. I strutted my way up to the teacher's desk, leaning forward more than was really necessary to hand him my schedule. With a ridiculous squeak, he stamped my paper, then passed it back to me, waving his hand vaguely towards the rows of desks, urging my fine ass to take a seat. Class went well, fucking boring, but well. That is, until the very end, when disaster struck.

The bell had barely rang when Tyler Crowley, obvious resident geek - complete with coke-bottle glasses, for Christ's sake - hopped right up on my shit. He spent five solid minutes asking my tits about our schedule, our life interests, hopes, and dreams, before I finally pushed right past his sorry ass. Bleh. This kid needed a swift kick in the balls, and I would have given it to him, if I wasn't so sure his fucking hand would get in the way. Jack off. But as I stormed down the hall towards my next class, I wasn't able to completely block the tiny voice that was steadily rising in the back of my mind. The voice that couldn't help but wonder. . .is this all I would get in godforsaken Forks?

As I stamped defiantly towards my second circle of hell, a ray of sunshine burst through the fog of my despair, taking the form of a golden-haired man, slinking my way. Fucking finally, I thought. The guy was tall - probably pushing over six feet - with a disheveled mop of shaggy blonde hair, stunning blue eyes, and a relaxed, easy smile. I didn't normally go for the surfer, stoner types, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and this guy wasn't half bad. Definitely doable. I swivelled towards him, sly smile in place, but my hopes were immediately dashed when surfer boy continued onward, shooting me one, furtive glance before ducking his head and passing me at full speed. Son of a bitch - I knew that look. Surfer boy was taken. God fucking dammit. It made sense, though. Even in this sort of town, with a population of three and a fucking half, a guy like that was never single. I watched with a calculating look as the only decent meat I had seen so far hauled ass around the corner, disappearing from my sight. Oh well, I shrugged, no biggie. It had been a while since I'd had a good chase, anyway. If, by the end of the day, there was no other lickable dick to be found, surfer boy would have to watch his back. Bella Swan would not be denied, girlfriend or no. I smirked as I found my next class, and held my perfect nose high as I sashayed through the door.

Second class: History

All eyes instantly locked on me. Same old, same old. With my killer bust and legs forever, who wouldn't look? I made a show of stretching myself against the desk once I was seated, letting my legs extend beautifully while I arched my back. Most of the girls, including two ridiculous bimbos with fake tans and over-processed hair, eyed me with despair. That's right, bitches. Bella. Swan. History, if possible, was even more boring than English, and I busied myself by eye-surfing the classroom. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. . .Wait, turn around. . . . . .Ugh! Fuck you. Fuck you. . .After a few minutes, I nearly choked with disgust. Was there something in the water here?

Class finally ended, and I stood quickly in relief, ready to move forward to whatever bullshit it was that would take up the next hour of my life. I started towards the nearest exit, but was promptly blocked by a weasely little turd named Eric Yorkie. He appeared out of nowhere, nasty little fucker, with oily hair and acne that went on for miles. In addition to blocking my escape, he proceeded to dry hump my leg until by the grace of God, the dumbfuck teacher finally called him to his desk, causing Yorkie pup to scurry away, tail tucked between his legs.

Yep. A long. Fucking. Semester.

I didn't give a shit about the subject matter of any of my classes - I was in advanced placement back in Phoenix, otherwise known as The Real World, which made Forks material look like fucking nursery rhymes. Dejectedly, I snatched my blackberry from my purse, quickly typing in a message to my long-time friend, Sandy, who was lucky enough to still be in Phoenix. Bitch.

Shoot. Me. Fucking. Now.

Sandy responded immediately, like I knew she would.

Come on, it can't be that fuckin bad.

Wanna bet?

My truck is ancient. My school is a clusterfuck of outhouses. There is no dick to be seen.

I'm screwed.

Oh, come on, was the disbelieving reply. This ain't a fuckin catholic school, am I right?

I didn't bother to respond to that one. It might as well have been.

Don't stress, there's always that one guy on campus that can fuck like Nick on coke. You just gotta find him.

A reminiscent smile crossed my face as I remembered Nick. – all star football player, and fuck god extraordinaire. That boy knew how to lay it, no questions asked. But my smile quickly faded back to a scowl as annoying raindrops began to pelter against the rooftop again, reminding me exactly of where I was.

Yeah. Fat fucking chance. I answered

She knew me better than to respond.

With a sigh, I dug my schedule out of my bag, already jonesing for sun, warmth, and guys who could fuck. The crumpled piece of paper in my palm revealed Biology to be my third torture tactic of the day. Well, let's get this bullshit over with.

On the way, Eric fuckin Yorkie caught sight of me, and yipped at the heels of my Jimmy Choo's all the way to class. This had to be some kind of sick fuckin joke. Any minute now, I would wake up, back in sunny Phoenix. Any minute now. . .

Another pathetic yelp from Yorkie shook me from my moment of hope, and I scowled murderously as I turned towards the door of my next class.

It was settled, then. I was going to have to invest in a vibrator.

Third class: Biology.

I pulled the heavy door open with full force, sighing regrettably when it didn't squash the York under it's ten-ton weight. With a last, lethal leer at the Pup, I turned to face the next pitiful pile of small-town shit-on-my-Choo's.

And then I froze.

He was sitting in the back, left corner of the classroom, dressed in a white, button-down shirt that perfectly outlined the square shape of his strong, sturdy pecs. His long, masculine legs jutted out from the pathetically undersized plywood desk, making the damn thing look like nothing more than a child's toy. His bronze hair stood in wild, sexy disarray, looking alluringly disheveled as a few loose tendrils hung in haphazard, uneven lengths across one side of his smooth forehead. His jaw was square and strong, with a surprising amount of stubble for a high school student at lunchtime. He had his lean, toned arms stretched above his head, bent at the elbows so that his long fingers cradled the back of his head. But it was his deep, piercing, downright wicked, emerald eyes that made me momentarily weak in the knees.

His intense stare caused my body burn with delight as I imagined those deep eyes burning into mine as I raked my fingers through his luscious, copper hair. I saw my body, entwined passionately in his as we moved and rolled across midnight blue sheets. I heard him growl with fierce and wild passion as he pounded relentlessly into my soaking pussy, and I imagined the feel of his dick pulsing inside me as he came. I wanted to taste him, bite him, ride him until he exploded inside of me. An astounding assortment of lascivious images continued to assault my mind, spinning like a movie reel before my eyes until I was interrupted by some asshole, coughing sickeningly on the back of my neck. Reality swiftly caught up with me, effectively ending my erotic daydreaming as I turned to sneer at the slimy prick behind me. As the little shit practically ran to his desk, I shook my head, clearing my mind of the surprisingly lurid fantasies involving the man with the wicked green eyes. Fuck surfer boy. This guy was 100 man, and I was going to make him 100 mine. I looked again towards the head of unruly bronze hair as I began to strut confidently down the isle, parading my sexy ass right towards the empty seat beside him. As I sat, I made sure to bend my body just right, giving him a fantastic cleavage shot, then arching my back as I turned to give him a full-on view of my perfect, curvy ass. After adding my signature Bella move of tossing my long, mahogany hair behind my shoulder, I glanced over at him, a coy smile playing on my full, glossy lips.

And my jaw hit the floor.

This motherfucker wasn't even looking at me. Not even a sly corner glance! Nothing at all! I was immediately pissed. Who the fuck did this guy think he was, ignoring me like I was some plate of chopped fucking liver? Oh, hell no. I would show him.

Class started, and I immediately launched into my sexy scene. I crossed my legs in his direction, flaunting my long, shapely legs. At my first available opportunity, I raised my hand for an answer, purposely jutting out my breasts and answering in my best sultry, breathy voice. All through the class period, I saw the vision next to me clenching and unclenching his fists, looking everywhere but at me. Did he really find me so disgusting that he couldn't bear to look in my direction? I quickly surveyed the rest of the classroom. Sure enough, every male within the vicinity was panting at me, tongue out, drool dripping. That's right, assholes. I am Bella. Fucking. Swan. Whatever this guy's problem was, he was gonna get over it - fast. Cuz I had my eyes set on him.

And no man. Ever. Refused. Me.

All too soon, the dismissing bell rang through the air, and I watched in near horror as the object of my desire practically ran from the room. What the fuck was that about? Never once had I been so blatantly ignored. Every other guy that I had ever deemed worthy of my time had been eating out of the palm of my dainty little hand within a millisecond. And here I was, pulling out all the stops, and this motherfucker doesn't offer so much as a glance? Fiery determination pulsed through my veins as I realized what my next move would be. I would make that man fall for me. I would not take no for an answer. I stood up, taking time to carefully straighten my jacket and smooth down my silky hair. I was going to seduce the beautiful boy with the sexy green eyes - I was dead set on it.

As I strode towards my next class, two words rang clearly through my mind, echoing in time with every click of my heels, each swish of my delicious hips.

Game. On.


Yep, that's right. The game is on, and the fun has officially been set in motion! Hell yeah! ;D

I don't know about y'all, but I'm just dying to know what Edward thought of sex kitten Bella. I wonder. . .could chapter 3 have possibly been written yet? Show us some love if you want to find out!!