PLEASE READ: If you have triggers to the following: underage drinking, underage drug use, underage sex, swearing and eating disorders, please find something else to read. This is rated M for a reason. I am not a babysitter.

I need to thank my angel of a masterbeta, storytellerslie for her efforts, the marvelous marvar, literary genius KCerena, Savannah-vee and pre-reader h32mh32m who puts my ghetto ass Cinderella of a story in its pumpkin carriage. And all the people who encourage me to keep doing this; I can't thank you enough. I couldn't do this without you.

Can you imagine owning Edward Cullen? Even for a day? I don't think I'd have time for fanfic if I did own him. I wouldn't have time for anything. But sadly he ain't mine. Neither is Gossip Girl. I make no money.

Thank you for the alerts, the favorites and especially the reviews. I know it is already an expression of appreciation of some sort if you add me on alert. But I'd love it if you dropped me a line and let me know what you think. Reviewing is a good way to make friends too; my first ever review got me my first twi-fic friend ;)

And now, I give you Edward.

EPOV

I turn to Trixie. She's chewing gum, and even though it makes her look like some kind of barn animal, somehow it's also fucking sexy. We are in a bathroom, but I'm lying down. I notice she's wearing a hot pink bra, and I smirk and get ready to sit back and enjoy the fuck out of this. There are white tiles on the wall and it feels kind of institutional, like a hospital. Then the surroundings fade as she gets to work. She takes me in all the way. My kind of girl.

It's just about to get good when she releases me and smiles. Now she is wearing a nurse's uniform, with a freaky plastic mask. Shit is getting hardcore, and the look in her eyes is kind of evil.

I'm starting to wonder if I'm into it. The next thing I know, she's snapping on some blue latex gloves, then winking at me and reaching for a drill. I realize I am in a hospital bed. She turns on the drill and starts moving it to my ear with slow but steady hands. She's gonna drill my skull!

It feels like the drilling has already started. Then I open my eyes. Mother of fuck, it's just my cell. It still feels like some evil bitch is actually drilling me in the head. This is shaping out to be one really shitty hangover. Once I find out who it is, I might just murder them. I turn it off. Peace. Fucking finally. I try to drift back, catch up to the point in the dream where I was in Trixie's heavenly oral orifice. Fuck, that damn dream kinda freaked me the fuck out. My boner starts to shrink. Then that piece of shit starts ringing again. Apparently I haven't managed to turn it off. I reach for it, but as I move my head from the pillow the pounding gets worse. My brain feels like it's squirming inside my skull. I think I'm groaning, but I'm not sure. It could be whoever just started moving next to me. I find my phone, ready to tear a new one and then possibly several more to whoever the fuck is causing these highly disturbing drilling delusions.

"This had better be a matter of mother-fucking code red National Security or I'll be hanging the fuck up."

"I wasn't aware you knew nuns willing to go that far to teach about fun times in the communal kitchen," a deadpan but girlie voice replies sarcastically. Bella Swann. Well if that isn't fucking fantastic timing. She isn't about to lose her touch, much less give up her ridiculous reign of the pathetic high school we both go to. "But then again, if there were freaky thug nuns, you would know where to find them. So, what's up?" I groan. I know asking this question is not why she called me, and I could do a lot better than conversing with her at this hour about nothing. It's a Saturday morning, everyone else knows better than to call.

"Well, it's funny you should ask. I was in blissful slumber, avoiding facing the mother of all hangovers when I was pretty fucking rudely interrupted."

"What were you doing in the summer to have such a crappy tolerance, Edward, Jesus camp? If you have this much trouble handling a Friday night out, then I don't see a bright future in this whole golden youth spiel you've got going on. It's three in the afternoon, a socially acceptable time to call anyone but a patient on life support. What's next, are you planning on spending New Year's with your dad?"

"Bella, just shut the fuck up." With one of my hands I'm kneading my forehead, willing this fucking ache to go away. I don't succeed. Fuck, I shouldn't have snapped at her. I still owe her for last year, even if she was too busy making sure her summer was spectacular enough that the pictures on Facebook would blow the school-herd's mind. After the Belly comment Jasper planted on her last night she's likely to lose another five fucking pounds; she only gets this bitchy with me if she's really upset. I hoist myself up, resting my head on my hands 'til my headache settles a little. I'm about to start talking into the phone but realize she hung up. Of course, queen B won't take kindly to people verbally mistreating her. Despite the feeling of having bleached shit for brains, I chuckle. Oh so feisty. I redial. She is down, she will answer.

"I really hope you're calling to apologize, Cullen. I had a shitty day; I don't need you and your Amish-teenager's-first-night-out hangover making it even shittier." I get up, and put on my smoking jacket. Jasper says it's preppy, and according to Emmett this particular item signals that I take it up the ass, but I'm hot enough. I can pull it off. I get out a Lucky Strike and light it.

"If you had ever had a hangover like mine, Swann, you'd be right here, in a nurse uniform, with a steaming mug of kopi luwak coffee and English breakfast, offering me any part of your body to use as a stress ball." My head is still fucking pulsing, and I groan. Bella as a nurse. One can dream; plus, you can't help but tease the eternal 'Virgin Isabella.' It's what we do, Swann and me. Honestly, there may have been a time I meant it, and I think she would be offended if I stopped, but she's either clearly not interested or great at resisting; fuck if I know. Maybe she's frigid? I mean, I don't think so; I've seen the videos she sent Jasper over the summer, and it seems she definitely has some kinky in her. Not to mention an ass that would give a hard-on to a corpse. It's very cruel to tease a man that way when she won't do shit. Not that I tried pursuing her actively – I'm not that lousy as a best friend – but her lack of interest does scar my ego a bit. But I know she gets off on a little flirting. All girls do. I exit my room and start walking down the stairs. "Now that I think about it, that's exactly what I should have. Your lovely lady lump could be a life saver. You really should consider it. Saving lives would be a fantastic item to have in your extracurriculars." I take a drag, inhaling deeply and exhaling oh so fucking slowly, and then throw myself onto the couch next to some sleeping body and look out to the clear skyline and Central Park. I love the place, because it's like that city in the clouds. I always did love the almost bird's eye view it gives of the city.

"I'm sure nursing an entitled brat from a hangover would convince anyone to like me. But I didn't call you for advice on extracurricular activities. Tanya's back."

Fuck me, I almost forgot about Tanya. Yeah, it's not the easiest thing to do. I know Bella will probably never be able to.

"Yep, Tyler told me yesterday. So, you talk to her yet?" she asks. It's Mike sleeping next to me and drooling onto my couch. He's almost completely naked. And is that an apron? I kick him off the couch.

"Fuck you," he mumbles into the carpet, then falls asleep again. What the fuck is up with that apron?

"No you imbecile, I have not. I don't know if you remember, but when we caught her in flagrante delicto at the Black and White gala, I took your side. We haven't spoken since then, and I told her I would tell her mom if she didn't stay away." Bella's right. I take a moment to walk down memory lane back to that month I thought I should give monogamy a shot. Let's just say, I have a newfound understanding of the reasons I had for avoiding it in the first place – and then some.

"Well, I hope you didn't expect her to stay away for good. I mean, did you think you could make her transfer schools? Besides, you only took my side because she lied to you about it. You'll forgive her," I say. And she will. Bella and Tanya always make up; at this point, I don't think they can function without each other. And anyway, I never forced her to take my side.

"Well isn't that nice; I run her out of town for you and you can't even act a little grateful for it, sullen!"

"Bella, she went to fucking Europe in May, and stayed away from New York for the whole summer. So did most of class, at least that's what I've heard. Do you really expect me to thank you for that? I never even asked you to do any of it." She is trying to make me feel guilty. Oh, no, the Swann mindfuck. I was kind of grateful for her standing up for me at the time, but it was never about me and anyway, it's not like her being in the city for the summer would have bothered me.

"Edward, she wasn't just gone from the city. She was absent from the social scene. To this day no one can reach her on her cell; it's still switched off. Can you recall hearing from her over the summer? It was all mindless rumors, like her making a porno directed by Michael Bay. She was gone and you know it, and you deliberately made it seem like it was because you played her, when it was quite the opposite, if I recall correctly. If I hadn't gotten rid of her, everyone would know that it was you who got played, so please, try and be a little nicer." Jesus Christ, my brain can't handle that kind of stuff in its current state. I take another deep drag, hoping it will put some sense back in my lousy slacker brain. It wasn't just me who was 'played,' but I don't feel it necessary to volunteer that information.

"Okay, Swann, what do you want me to do? Tell her to change schools?" I ask sarcastically.

"No. I want you to know why she's back and if she is willing to grovel. If so, maybe I can forgive her, and we can put this behind us, if it's okay with you." I sigh. Bella is the strangest creature. She was less pissed when Jasper lost it to Tanya in eighth grade summer camp, because Tanya immediately told her about it, and apparently that wasn't right, but it was okay. Lying is a heinous criminal offence between BFFs, but apparently sharing dicks isn't. Not that Bella has much use for a dick anyway. She is one of those inscrutable women you always hear about. I don't mean that as a compliment.

"I'm long past it, B. I know you miss her, let's just face it; you're too fucking proud to go to her and admit it, so I should find Tanya and make it seem like she's begging, and then you can make things right, and go back to 69ing each other before going to bed." Of course, it would make her look like the weaker one if she went to Tanya and I'm pretty fucking sure there has been some experimentation between those two. If only I had proof...

"Yeah, you've got it right. I guess I shouldn't be surprised you found out about what we do when we have sleepovers," she says casually. I almost believe it for a moment, but I wise up. Yeah, right, Virgin Isabella.

"Awww, Swann. I know you tried things, and it would be my fucking pleasure if you came to me with any questions you had on this particular topic, but I know you'd never admit it. Frankly, it's your loss. T and I always had some serious chemistry," I chuckle. "I know things. For example there's that delicious spot…"

"Eww, gross. Shut up, Edward, I'm really not interested. So now that you've agreed to visit Tanya, you'd better hurry, so you can catch her. She's in the Waldorf and she just finished getting her manicure."

"Wow, that was fast," I laugh. "I never even agreed. And by the way, just how much time did you spend lurking on her Facebook page to get this info?"

"I have a life, I don't hang around on Facebook, and she stopped using her account. The info is from someone on the inside, so it's good, but that's all you need to know. Now go, and tell me how it goes. Please. Edward, you owe me and this is important."

I take one last drag, then drop the cig into one of the beer bottles on my custom made coffee table. I do owe her; I guess I'll just have to suck it up. But it's not like it's less awkward for me to confront Tanya after the shitstorm of events that at the Black and White gala.

I go into the kitchen, drink two bottles of Fiji, and take two Advils. Well, fuck it, now I have to go meet Tanya of all people looking like freshly washed shit. Maybe I should eat something. No, I'll just get to it once I'm at the Waldorf. Or stop somewhere after.

I call Ted, my driver, to get the car ready. I could walk, but in this state it's not fucking likely.

I struggle up the stairs and into my room to find that there is someone blond on my bed. I think I remember her being interviewed last night while I was fingering her at our table, but I'm not positive it was real. She's some celebrity then, maybe. I guess I won't have a hard time getting rid of her. I am underage, after all.

Isn't seventeen the sweetest?

"Rise and shine," I say, dragging the covers off of her. I note to myself that her mammoplasty is mediocre at best, but that otherwise she has a decent body. Then she turns toward me and realization dawns on me. Heh, Miss America. It's funny; she's incidentally also a member of some Women For Values fucking hypocritical organization. Well, based on how she handled herself last night, she does value cock. Maybe I should support their work. "You have to leave. My dad could be home any minute." She sends me a smile that is supposed to be alluring, but it only convinces me her IQ's probably in the double digits.

"Come on, last night was so much fun. Just give me some time to recuperate, and I'll be back up again. Wow," her eyes get wide when they land on Daisy. "What the hell? That is so weird! I didn't notice it last night."

"No, of course you wouldn't." Daisy is a white statue is of a woman kneeling on a pedestal, with her knees spread apart, her chest jutted out and her head held high. Her hands are held behind her back straight with chains on. She has on a white afro wig and a rod is placed strategically under her. Actually that's the tap, but I never actually filled it up with milk. I don't exactly know what rotten milk smells like, but I would like to wait for another way to find out. Maybe once we have a Clockwork themed party, but probably not.

"So… are you, like… into that?" she asks, biting her lip in what I presume to be an enticing way, pulling down the sheets slightly. It's such a shame that the only reaction this priceless film relic gets out of her is to think I like to treat women like dogs which I don't. That BDSM shit freaks me the fuck out.

I sigh. It might not be that easy to get rid of her.

"Listen, it was fun, but you have to leave. Now." She turns her head back to the pillows, and mutters something about being sure she won't be the first my dad found here. "That might be true, but he said he'll take legal action against the next adult he finds me with." Truth be told, be wouldn't want the scandal that would come with that, but if it gets the bitch out, it works for me.

"What?" Her head suddenly springs up. "You're a minor? What the fuck? I thought you were in college." She jumps up and starts looking for her clothes. "Where the hell is my dress? It was on loan from de la Renta. I'm gonna have to pay for it if I don't find it. Jesus, you seemed so much older. Why the fuck didn't you let me know?" I watch her putting on her bra and panties, and I really just want her out, so I try to let her down gently.

"Well, you seemed so beautiful, and I felt some serious chemistry. I thought you felt it too. I certainly don't regret it. But I don't want you in trouble, so you should leave, now." This is not the reason, but I decide to pull my best manners out, hoping it will be easy.

"Yes, I felt it too." She goes on looking for her dress, but comes up empty handed. I hand her one of my fitted purple label shirts and a pair of boxers. Then she gets a contemplative look on her face. Oh, fuck…

"Maybe if we stayed here and explained to your dad, we could continue somehow."

I shouldn't have brought her to the apartment. These faux-Christian, social climbing, gold digging bitches get greedy when they see where I live.

"We would just have to keep it out of the public eye and it would be, like, totally okay," she says beaming at me and no doubt congratulating herself for her brilliant idea.

I need to get her out of here fast; I don't want a repeat of her offer to continue covertly dating a wealthy minor, or to give her a shot at trying to sweet talk my daddy into anything. I gave her an out. I told her it was good. Not once have I alluded to wanting anything more, so I opt to be blunt.

"Yeah, I was really curious about how a Republican redneck beauty queen fucks. I've never had the honor, and one of my friends said it's not to be missed. I'm really glad I took that chance, Kelly. Of course we could have a repeat whenever you're in the city; we'll just talk to my dad about it." I guess I was a bit harsh. She indignantly huffs, stops looking for her clothes, and then storms out of the room.

"I'll tell the help to send your dress back," I shout after her, but she flips me off.

Well, now that that's done I'll take a shower. I throw my smoking coat on the bed and walk into my bathroom while tugging a little on my hair. The bathroom's not huge, but it's got a magnificent shower, and a fairly large bathtub. I stand in the shower and start the water. I'm starting to feel better, I think. As I stand under the water stream, I try to reassemble the murky memories of last night.

We went to the Soho house, sad as that is. Tyler started bitching about not wanting to be seen at a club where you can just buy your way in. Like anyone gives a shit about where he's seen. And Jasper was already there. Then the Swann called, and if she doesn't drag Jasper away with her whining, he always kicks shit up a few notches. So that's what we did. Then we headed to Oak, because Em wouldn't quit busting our balls about how he was at that motherfucking DJ fuck-me-if-I-can-remember's party and how hard it rocked his world. Emmett is so fucking west coast, it hurts.

Lauren's dad owns the place, so we're on the list, and we had no problem getting in. But there was some fucked up event before that, with all these self-important C-list celebs. Not our scene, but Em wouldn't let up. So to kill boredom, and in a gesture to bid farewell to the summer and welcome our junior year, we all did a few lines. I remember the first. Then we got mixed up with a bunch of girls, and after my seventh goose it all gets blurry, but I guess I did some more. I think I might have done some E, too. Or was it Speed? Fuck if I know. I promised myself I wouldn't do any more E.

So after that we ended up with a bunch of girls. I recall us crawling into the limo, but not a fucking thing about what happened in there. I remember the sex was good, though. She was a bit on the loud and porny moaning side, and came up to talk way too much while giving head, but all in all, she gets a six.

I lather myself with some shampoo, and then just stand there, gazing down at my feet. This is just one of those days… I continue my Special Ed impersonation for a few more minutes, before leaving the shower. I think about shaving but fuck it, it's not happening today. I dry myself and then tie the towel around my hips. I look in the mirror. A better-looking version of the Dawn of the Dead. I'll take it.

I walk into my closet. I don't want to make an effort, not today. Fuck Tanya for choosing the only hotel in New York with a dress code; now I won't be able to wear jeans. I put on a pair of Calvin Klein boxers, getting out a pair of white chino pants and a light blue shirt. I've gotten a little tan so it'll be good. I decide on a pair of docksiders, but I can't be bothered to wear a belt. I get out a new pair of Wayfarers. I keep losing my glasses. I have no idea where my last ones are. I don't want to go out there and face the world today. I look in the mirror again. Well, time to face the music.

I collect my wallet and my cell. I go down and kick Mike awake. "Man, you need to get out. I'll call help to clean this place up. Carlisle will be in tonight." He groans. Must have done some potent shit last night.

I call Linda, our housekeeper, who has her day off today, telling to call that cleaning crew who cleans when she is not available. The crew will be here in half an hour; hopefully they'll let Mike out. I leave them a note to send back the gown to where it came from, if they find it. Whatever, I'll let them figure it out. Mike gets up, and attempts to walk to the bathroom. Miserable fucker. I muster every ounce of strength and leave.

I run into Chelsea in the elevator. She lives a few floors bellow us, so there is no feasible explanation for her to be in the elevator on this floor – except for the obvious. It's kinda sadly transparent, and I try not to freak out that this public library of STDs might be stalking me. She is one of those women who saw Pamela Anderson get famous in the 90's with her fake hair and fake tits, and she thought she could duplicate the miracle with 5k and a bottle of peroxide. She forgot to account for the masses of other fake bitches who tried the same thing, so after her failure at getting famous, she went for the next best thing: snatching up a rich husband and becoming a trophy wife. So Mrs. Chelsea Peterson has nothing to do but keep herself upgraded with her new plastic surgeon who actually has a medical degree, and try to keep Mr. Peterson's bank account trimmed with her shopping sprees. And try she does.

"Well, hello Ed. How's it going?" I don't say anything, just look deep into her eyes and send a smooth smile her way, but slowly look away before I can give her the wrong idea. I guess that implies I'm living the motherfucking highlife. Or not. I'm wearing sunglasses, so I guess it's open to interpretation.

"I heard from Herbert you got in at six, and were so wasted you almost felt him up?" She laughs her hyena laugh that makes me want to bleach my ear canals. "In case you have any trouble, just come over. I learned this awesome hangover recipe from this surfer when I was in Bora Bora. It's really fetch." Herbert is our doorman, who happens to avoid her at all costs, so I have no idea how she managed to get this out of him.

I guess the reason for her clinginess is this one time when I got fucked up on E and absinth with Jasper and a few Swedish girls we met at Butter in the summer. Some of the memories are missing, but thankfully my brain function kicked back in just as I was about to go down on Chelsea, in Carlisle's office. I still get shudders when I think about it. Fuck me, sluts like this don't have pussies, they have vaginas. It looked so well used and abused, it resembled a rotting exotic flower that had been chewed out a few times before. As soon as I took a good look at it I knew there was no way my tongue was going in there, so I kind of just left her there. Now she probably thinks I'm some inexperienced schoolboy with a phobia of pussies. I only have a phobia of vaginas. There is no telling what has been in there, and I'm kinda glad she thought I was incapable of putting my dick in her. I mean, I guess I was. Unfortunately it appears she got charitable and wants to 'help me'. That's her version of being a good Christian, I guess.

"Thanks, you know in moments like these I always begin to miss my mother. I know she would have been just like you." I don't even look at her, just smile and hope the creepiness factor will turn her off. She angrily huffs, then laughs and punches the button for her floor.

"See you around, Eddie." I don't think so. But you shouldn't shit where you eat, I learned the hard way. I get out and wave to Herbie. Ted's already waiting for me with the car.

"Morning, Junior. You know, my mother always told me if you if you can act like a man at night you should be man enough in the morning too." Ted is the best. Sometimes I feel like he's the uncle I never had or the grandfather I wish I had. God knows it's hard not to hate the spoilt rich that you have to drive around like he's a fucking invalid, but he takes it in stride. Usually I prefer not to be driven around like a privileged asshole, but today I'm loosening my morals up a little.

"In your mom's day alcohol was illegal. Clearly her extensive experience allows her to say things like that."

Ted just laughs. "Point well made. A chap like you should be a little hungover on a beautiful late summer Saturday. I guess I'm just an invidious old dog."

"Already coaching me for SATs." I roll my eyes with a snicker. "It's appreciated Ted, but trust me, I don't need it."

"I won't give up so easy, junior. Where will this lovely afternoon take us?"

"The Waldorf."

"Will you be staying long?"

"God, I hope not." I think Ted is picking up on my vibes. I'm not in the mood for idle chat. Not today. Fuck my life; I really don't want to do this. Bella is always bitchier than her usual self – if that is even possible – when she comes back from Europe. Hanging out with her boring blue-blooded grandparents and other self important aristocrats makes her all fucking stuck up, which usually annoys the shit out of me.

Sometimes when she looks at me with that look in her eyes I just want to shake it out of her, or remind her of that summer camp. If Rosalie had known what kind of monster her bullying posse was about to create she would have backed the fuck off. I kind of wish I had told her to do just that. Not that she would have listened; I don't think. Bitches like that never listen to anyone until there's bloodshed; maybe not even then. Evolution doesn't seem to have occurred in their case. Before, Bella used to be so shy and timid. I remember she hid behind her nanny when we first met on some play date in the park, but kept looking at me with her huge brown eyes when she though I couldn't see her. She gave me a cookie in the end. I think she was my first crush. Either her or Lillian, a blond girl with pigtails who had pink nails, and liked to show her panties. I was pretty indecisive back then.

Whatever, Bella's shyness turned into haughtiness and an arrogant sense of entitlement. The funny thing is that it actually works, and most of the herd at school eats that shit up. It's fucking pathetic really, watching her put on that fake class act, getting other bitches to do her bidding and begging her for validation. That's just the thing: if you're a teenager you only respect people as long as they don't give you any kind of validation.

That's why her friendship with Tanya is so fucking weird. These girls are like fire and water. Tanya couldn't give two fucks about class and decency. My kind of girl. Oh well. It was that kind of thinking that got me into this motherfucking mess to begin with. I really think sex is the ultimate form of self expression for her, and she's just a helluva lot of fun, always down for crazy shit.

The rules don't apply to her either. If anyone else pulled the stuff Tanya does, she would be put down as a whore, but Tanya can get anyone to like her in two minutes. Watching her play guys like a pro is one of the most fascinating things I've ever seen. Once she got the valet to bring out a Porsche to her at club 21, telling him she lost the ticket because it was in her bra, then 'accidentally' flashed him to top it all off. The guy almost had a heart attack on the spot. Yeah, and then she got the actual owner to drop charges. That shit would be Discovery documentary material, if they actually made anything worth watching.

It's no wonder with that body. Mother of fuck, I think God or Jesus or Buddha, or whoever the fuck's in charge, molded her tits himself as an example of perfection. They just stand up like there's no gravity, like nothing can ever hold them back, looking so fucking proud and flawless. It was all God's hand, trust. And the sex; I'm not saying she is the best lay, but the only thing that comes to mind when looking for something to compare it to is Elysium. Where you lie in green fields and drink of the river which makes you forget and you're just there and happy in that moment. Tanya has no agendas or ulterior motive: she won't try and sleep over after or try to date me or announce it on twitter, she won't get jealous and neither will I. We come together in mutual appreciation of the art of fucking and it's only the good vibes that stay afterward, no awkwardness, no feelings, just release. Like a masturbation fantasy coming to life. It's every guy's dream, really.

So, obviously I've got plenty of reasons for trying to make us an item. Plus it was spring and there were all these couples and Moronic Mike and Jessica were double dating Tyler and Lauren, Jasper was feeding organic chocolate coated organic strawberries to Swann, and it seemed so good and effortless, I thought why not give it a real try. Having only dated Rosalie for three months when I was twelve as reference was getting old. Tanya was the obvious choice, since it was always so simple and easy for us. It actually took some time and effort to get Tanya to 'go steady' – I just cringe thinking about that – but when it did happen it was okay, in the beginning. Most people were surprised, but it really didn't feel different; we kissed in public and went out a few times and had more sex in the first few weeks.

Going out with Tanya was fun, but tiring. I guess it's like looking after a hyperactive five year old with ADD, always looking for trouble. So our dates ended up more like playdates where I was the frustrated nanny, looking after an idiot with a hazy grasp on self- preservation. It made my brain bleed. I didn't want to deal with Tanya in that capacity. Slowly, I realized a relationship simply meant having to deal with shit you didn't want to deal with, getting both of you frustrated because you have to deal with shit other than sex, turning your sex life to shit.

So when shit started going downhill I did what any guy would have done; I applied the continent rule. It doesn't count as cheating if she's from another continent. It's universal really. I'm not sure girls got the memo, but one of the conveniences of the continent rule is that memos tend to get lost across continents. This way everyone wins.

I had several sessions with Lita, the Australian masseuse whose ability to release tension is miraculous. Plus she looked a bit like Tanya, and when you cheat with someone who looks like your girlfriend it's not cheating, it's a tribute. She wasn't a masturbation fantasy coming to life by any standard, and I'm pretty sure she alluded to taking things to another level, but I deflected her advances pretty fucking fast with the news of my girlfriend. Lita got kind of pissed after that, and her heart just wasn't in it anymore. I was fucked. I lost my Elysium fuck buddy, and while the friends with benefits thing is popular, none of the girls grasped the concept quite like Tanya did.

And there was the myth that once you cross into a relationship with a fuck buddy there's no going back, so I was just trying to come up with a smooth exit strategy that would prove this myth wrong. The Black and White gala was the perfect opportunity; it was hosted by Swann and Tanya and it was boring as fuck. At the end of the evening Swann and I were looking for Tanya so they could go and give their speech. We stumbled upon her in the storage room, on top of her mom's then-fiancé, Laurent. At first I was kind of relieved. I wanted out, and I thought if I cut her some slack now, we could go back to being what we were, problem solved.

But master orchestrator Swann had other things to say. Bella was pissed because Tanya apparently shared all her fuck stories with her, I mean even Jasper. And Bella had already suspected there was something going on between her and Laurent, but Tanya kept denying it. So as it turned out, Bella felt more cheated than I did. She figured we were both poor souls played by Tanya.

Thinking back, I'm sure she sensed my lack of enthusiasm, because she started yelling that she "would not let me become the laughing stock of the whole school," and that "it was not my fault that I couldn't satisfy Tanya". She made it seem like this whole fiasco would make me look bad, which had never even occurred to me. The way she stood up for me made me apprehensive and by the end of her little rant I wanted Tanya to leave, too. Now, I think maybe if it was just me and Tanya, we could have worked it out, but Swann got me to gang up on Tanya with her. All because Tanya had lied to her. And now I have to face Tanya with all this awkwardness, and come here like Bella's motherfucking messenger. But she was right; it could have blown up in my face. You never know with Tanya.

The car slowly pulls to a stop in front of the hotel, and I try to rub the hangover out of my head one last time, but the effort is completely wasted.

"We're here, junior."

"Thank you, Ted. Actually, come to think of it, this might take a while, but if it's more than half an hour, just call me on my cell and tell me I forgot the batteries for my pacemaker at home, and that I might end up in coma if I don't get them or something."

"I'm sure I can come up with a better excuse than that."

"I don't doubt it. Just get me out of here." I get out of the car and think about having one last smoke before facing the firing squad. I wish we could resolve this in the way we usually do, but something tells me that after what went down she won't be waiting for me with legs open wide. I walk to the reception desk and wait for the concierge to finish explaining to a Thai ladyboy how long it will take for them to fill her tub with goat's milk. I want to throw up thinking about that. Finally the ladyboy leaves. The girl behind the desk is kind of hot now that I look at her more closely. She has blond hair and green eyes, and has this innocent vibe going on. I know better than to believe the vibe, but she still looks fun. I remove my glasses, flash a smile, and look deep into her eyes. It works, she looks at me for a beat too long, then catches herself and starts to fidget with something on the desk.

"How can I be of assistance, sir?" She looks back up at me with a shy smile. She must be new.

"Well, this is really awkward… but my cousin came in from Wyoming just to visit my grandma for her birthday. It's supposed to be surprise for Gran." I just keep looking into her eyes, and she stares at me, already imagining what I look like underneath this shirt. I'm onto her. "But she forgot to give me her room number and she's not answering her phone. I'm kind of worried about her; I really have no idea if she even arrived. Could you give me Tanya Denali's room number, and see if she already checked in?"

"I'm sorry, but I really can't give out that kind of info."

"I know, but I'm really worried. She made this trip here alone, just for Gran, could you please just tell me if she's checked in? It would really be a relief to know she is not in the hands of organ traders right now," I pretend to laugh uncomfortably. "I just read this awful story about them. Miss…" I look at her name tag. "Green, it would be an enormous favor that would make me your slave for life." She blushes, then looks around covertly and goes to type a few numbers. Bingo.

"She checked in yesterday, would you like to leave a message for her?" I think about it for a second, but I already know which room she's in and I'm not here to invite her to my non-existent grandmother's birthday party.

"No, I'll just email her. Thank you very much."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"We actually have wireless in the lobby, and it's free, so you can use it and you could stay here, you know, as long as you want. And, you can come to me with any questions you might have." Her smile is genuine and honest. She seems like a nice girl, but I must not get sidetracked; plus, chances are she'll find out really soon Tanya is no hillbilly from Wyoming.

"Thank you, I think that's exactly what I'll do."

I walk out of her line of sight towards the elevators. This place is a bit too preppy for my taste, but I still have to admit it's pretty fucking fantastic as far as hotels go. We always have some black tie party here around Christmas time, and this place always gets me kinda nostalgic, even if most of the time those parties are boring as fuck until we take it elsewhere.

I press the elevator button and get in with an old couple. The woman is going on about some opera and the guy looks like even the thought of a night there causes him physical agony. Poor old fart, he could be driving around town in his midlife-crisis-mobile, getting barely legal gold-diggers mud wrestle over him and all the plastic cards he has to offer. Instead he's stuck here with this wrinkly old hag, who forces him to go to places no straight men go voluntarily without the promise of some decent ass, and that doesn't seem to be in the cards for him tonight. That guy's as good as dead if you ask me. I know if I were him, I'd feel like that. I wonder when that point comes when you just give in and say fuck it, I don't care about all the ass I could get. I'll never understand. Please god, let me never understand.

We reach the eleventh floor, and I throw one last sympathetic glance at the dude. Tough life, man.

I think Tanya was expecting me to show up; that's why she came here. She knows I'm not fond of this place. I assess myself one last time. Maybe if I catch her in a very good mood, things might even get a bit hot and heavy. I can hope, but I should definitely expect the worst. I knock on her door once. No answer. I knock again, a bit louder this time. I really don't want to look like the idiot who stands outside the door knocking for half an hour. Maybe she's not here. Just as I'm about to leave, wishing I got more out of the concierge chick, the door opens. It's not Tanya, but a skinny, pale dude who oozes the odor of fetid cheese and weed. Well, some things haven't changed. Tanya wastes no time.

"Hey, man. Whadya want, dude?"

"I want to speak to Tanya."

"Yeah, okay." He scratches his stomach and I notice the top button on his jeans is undone. This, apparently, is my welcoming committee from Tanya. "I forgot, dude, what did you say, who are you?"

"I'm her mother," I sneer, waiting for his two active brain cells to kick in. "Seriously, why the fuck do you care? And who the hell are you?"

"It's okay, Dorian. I told you Eddie and I have to hand in that biology project for the extra points." Tanya appears in a white dress, which showcases her tits perfectly. Maybe she doesn't hold grudges after all. Or maybe it's just wishful thinking.

I think I'm about to find out.

Reviewers get a teaser from two chapters ahead, from the stalker's blog. I'm kind of disappointed there has been only one question submitted to the stalker to be answered, I thought people would be more interested.

Now, go read Dee12's Election. It is brilliant in oh so many ways. I might or might not have asked her yesterday to sign my boobs. That's how brilliant. Go read.

After you've reviewed. Thank you gals, you know that reviews keep me going and without them I might just run out of steam.

Go on and ask me why I've proustified Bella's name. I dare you ;)