A/N
So the usuals Steph Meyers is an angel who owns all the Twilight stuff and when she was looking the other way I snuck Edward out the backdoor and down a darker alley.
Many thanks to lambcullen for her skills with a pink pen…among other things…you pwn me, but you knew that.
Snshyne, you are a wee star and I really appreciate your pre-reading super powers.
Song List for this Chapter:
Parabola: Tool
Why Don't You Do Right: Peggy Lee
I Dreamt of Edward: Carter Burwell
Phascination Phase: Carter Burwell
"Men's courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead. But if the courses be departed from, the ends will change." -A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens.
***
BPOV
Jesus Pole Dancing Christ.
Why? Why did I let him touch me like that? He's gonna think I'm some sort of overly easy horny divorcee.
I took another swing at the body bag, my hands taped up. The satisfaction of my fist hitting the bag reverberating up my arm.
I felt my face turn beet red every time I thought of the way his fingers had touched me. Jake had never shown that much interest in me. He was more of a wham bam and rollover-snore kind of guy. At least I knew what to expect.
The sweat gathered and dripped between my breasts. I could feel the stitches straining in my arm, but I didn't give a fuck.
And then for me to lay there like some kind of idiot and not even offer, what, like, a hand job? Oh God. I just want to crawl into a hole and fucking die. How was I ever going to go out and collect my mail again?
That was it, I had to move. Moving was an option.
I pulled in my fists and kicked the bag with my foot, feeling a squeeze of muscle in my abdomen.
Who the fuck was I running from? I was here first. He should move.
I panted, the workout making me feel better. If I was gonna beat the shit out of myself mentally, I might as well take it out on something. Parabola blared in the background and I tried to focus on the Tool song and drown out the thoughts in my head.
I had this room designed when I first moved into the house. After the divorce, and Jessica helped me move in, I knew I had to do something. I was angry all the fucking time. I didn't want to take pills, music was no longer an outlet, and the fuck if I was going to therapy. It was actually Tyler, Jessica's fiancé who had suggested it. He was some sort of sports medicine guru kickboxing fanatic. I snorted, remembering the way I had allowed him free reign on designing a training room/studio. He had attacked it like a little kid in a toy shop. He wouldn't let me see anything at the time, and when he finally had the room finished, it was like he was taking me to fucking church. I had to admit, he had done a great job. There were mirrors all along one wall, a weight machine and treadmill along another wall. The room was on the back of the house and had large windows that looked out onto the backyard area. The floor was padded and springy on one side of the room, and the training dummy sat on that side. The punching bag was bright red and hung from a steel chain from the ceiling.
Repeatedly I beat at the bag, landing kicks that hurt, but the pain felt good. I kept going until I was a sweaty panting mess on the floor. If I didn't smoke like a goddam chimney, it would probably be a bit easier. Fuck me, I would pay for this later, soreness in my muscles but I almost looked forward to it.
Christ, I need to go back to work. At least that was some sort of routine. Banging around in this house was driving me crazy.
Taking a deep cleansing breath, I pulled a towel around my neck and unwrapped the tape from my hands. The decision to work out was probably a very stupid thing to do with my arm. The wound was already starting to throb. I needed to do something, though, while my thoughts buzzed in my head like hornets.
Heading into the kitchen, I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. I padded towards the stairs, passing the front door en route. I noticed the mail truck pulling away. I took another swig from the bottle, and squared my shoulders.
I was gonna have to face the music at some point. He's probably not at home. Mr Fucking Medical Degree with those hands, those long artful fingers of his. He had found places down there even I didn't realize existed.
I sighed.
I threw my towel over the railing, smoothed my hair back into my ponytail and unlocked the front door. Pausing, my body tensed at the threshold.
Just go outside and get the fucking mail.
I stepped out, and shut the door behind me. In all of my over analyzing, I had forgotten it was the end of November and fucking cold. Great. But I wasn't going to retreat now. Shoes would have also been a good idea. My feet were still taped from my session this morning. Ah well. Hopefully anyone who passed by would notice and it would help to build the crazy-old-single-lady-who-lives-on-the-corner-image I was trying to encourage.
The sky was gray and overcast, the fog had lifted but the air still seemed thick, as if we were due some snow. I shivered, the sweat on my body now freezing in the cold air. Genius, I am not.
Oh God. I'm turning into my mother. This is the kind of shit she would do. Forget her jacket and wander outside for the mail in, I looked down, tight work out pants and a sweaty red t-shirt. My thoughts strayed to her and I realized I hadn't visited her in almost a year. Halloween was her favorite holiday and I always went to see her as much as it creeped me out.
'Cause there was nothing like spending the afternoon of Halloween with your mom in the graveyard. She would probably need to be weeded, no one else took care of the gravesite. This is the first time in almost ten years I hadn't gone to see her. And I was only realizing it now, a month later. My head has been up my ass this past month, with the production, Jessica moving and Mr Magic Fingers across the street.
I allowed a glance towards his side as I neared the end of the driveway. In the late morning air, I could hear piano music coming from somewhere. It was dark and softly sad.
I opened the mailbox and pulled out some envelopes. Bill. Bill. Junk. Bill. Junk. Then I stopped and felt the blood drain from my freezing limbs. There was an envelope with my name written in long sweeping calligraphy. The envelope was starkly white and the black ink was not from a ballpoint pen. I shoved the mail under my arm so I could open the envelope. The flap was tucked in and with shaking hands, I pulled it out. Inside was a small note card. In the same flourishing script as on the front of the card was a note:
Bella
Last night was an entirely satisfying evening and I hope you found it as pleasurable as I did. I would love to have you over for dinner or nibbles next Saturday evening.
Edward
My heart palpitated and I suddenly needed a cigarette. Oh fuck. My master plan to lay low was never going to work. I glanced over to his side of the street again, but couldn't see much of the house over the hedge.
I took a deep breath and retreated back inside. My cell phone was on the counter, I knew I could text him back. Would that be ok? What the fuck was the etiquette for these things? Why was I allowing myself to be an idiot about this? Pick up the phone and act like a responsible adult, for fuck's sake.
I sighed, and looked at my cell phone warily as it sat motionless and dark on the countertop in the kitchen.
I jumped when it started to vibrate and the screen came to life. It was as if it was growling at me. Technology always knew. I picked it up, noticing it was a text from Angela.
Hey girl. Post Show party this Sat night. U comin? x
Oh shit. I quickly texted her back.
Dunno yet. Might bring a date x
I wondered if Edward would want to come to a post show party. I suppose if he was interested in hanging out with me, he might as well meet the rest of my crew and cronies. I decided I would text him to see if he was game.
Got ur note. Have a Post Show party that nite. Do U want 2 go 2 show and then 2 party? x
I bit my lip, wondering if he would respond quickly. I wasn't disappointed.
Yes. What time and may I pick you up? E
I text him back:
Show is at 8PM. Pick me up around 7:00? x
He responded shortly again.
I look forward to it, Bella. E
I felt a giddy rush go through me and an odd sense of achievement. I looked around as if there would be someone in the house then jumped into the air and fist pumped towards the ceiling. Making a YES sound only Kevin McCallister could be proud of, I skipped up the stairs, phone in hand.
***
BPOV
I took a deep drag on my cigarette and examined myself one last time in the mirror.
My free hand smoothed over my black pencil skirt, it laced up the back with red ribbon and a small bit of red lace peeked out at the bottom. I wore a simple black knit top underneath a black cardigan with bright red tattoo design swallows embroidered over my left breast. I had my eyes lined, my lips red and my hair up. I was lucky enough to have had my stitches removed earlier in the week and the wound was now a nasty looking pink line on the inside of my arm.
I blew smoke at the mirror and flicked ashes into the ashtray. I was staring myself down, the coward on my shoulder telling me to hide in the closet and not come out until he moved away.
I shook my head and moved towards the closet but only to pick up my black pumps from the shelf where I kept my nicer shoes. I grabbed a simple black purse from behind the door and walked back out into the bedroom. I jumped out of my skin and nearly dropped my cigarette when I heard the door go.
I stubbed out my ciggie in an ash tray on the dresser while I put my shoes on. I ran as quick as I could in four inch heels into the hallway and down the stairs. Sliding to a stop in front of the door, I took a deep breath. It was like there was some sort of magnetic pull emanating from him, I could feel it coming through the fucking door. I depressed the metal handle and pulled the door open wide. There he stood in all his glory, like some kind of fallen angel. I watched as he ran his fingers through his bronze hair.
How did he look that good all the time? It was like he wasn't real. Or human.
He wore black trousers and a matching suit jacket with a crisp white pressed shirt. Some of the buttons had been left undone at the top and my eyes were drawn to the small bit of chest and collarbone that was exposed. I tried to swallow and not stare but my heart beat loudly in my ears and in my lacy boy shorts.
Oh Fuck.
"Um hi," I said shyly, "I'm just finishing getting ready, do you want to come in?"
He nodded, his dark eyes capturing mine and I stood awkwardly hypnotized in the doorway until he smirked and motioned towards the room behind me.
"Was that an empty invitation, Bella?" he asked, his voice velvety soft.
I sputtered, "What? No. I'm sorry! My mind drifted away. Please come in." I moved aside for him to pass by. He brushed against me and my nipples screamed.
I took a steadying breath and went into the kitchen, fully aware of him following behind me. His shiny dress shoes clicked on the tile and I bit my lip. We passed by the living room and I blushed, remembering the last time we'd been in there. I'll bet he remembered too.
Do not hyperventilate.
Maybe he'd give me mouth to mouth if I fainted.
Focus, Bella.
I tried not to let my hands shake with nervousness as I transferred keys, make up, cigarettes, lighter, phone, and wallet to my smaller purse. He stood beside me, silently observing which only made it worse. Why was it I could stand up to James, run a whole crew of people, but this man totally disarmed me?
I gasped when I felt his fingers on my hand and I froze at his touch. I closed my eyes, the last time he touched me running through my mind, his long fingers searching, moving, discovering.
"Bella…" he said my name and I felt my legs turn to water.
"Bella, you're shaking. Are you all right?" he asked.
I looked up at his face, he was very close now. His thumb stroked over the back of my hand and something tugged at my stomach. I realized he was waiting for an answer.
"Um, yeah. I guess I'm just nervous. I don't usually sit in the house during shows." I tried a small smile, hoping it didn't look like a grimace. I turned back to my purse but his hand tightened on mine.
"Look at me." I turned to him, my stomach in lovely corded knots. His other hand under my chin, he leaned down and something about him put me at ease instantly. The way he smelled, it was masculine and woodsy but there was some darker note behind it I couldn't place.
He leaned down, his perfect lips brushing against mine. It didn't seem enough for him, and he came back in for another pass. He gave me his bottom lip as he settled deeper into the kiss. I sucked it into my mouth. Our bodies moved closer and my hands crept up to grab the lapels of his jacket pulling him closer. His hands settled on either side of my jaw, holding me as if I were made of delicate glass.
I moved one of my hands up, needing to touch him, his skin. My fingers connected with his chin, I moved them up towards his cheek. One of his hands came down as his tongue licked over mine, his fingers wrapping around my wrist. I swear he could probably feel my pulse beating, my blood thickly pouring through my veins.
He broke off and we panted, our forehead touching, his nose alongside mine.
"Are you ready to go?" he said after swallowing.
"Yes." My voice sounded funny to me almost distant. He took my hand and we moved towards the front door. He opened the door and turned towards me, smiling.
I stared up at him and watched as he moved back towards the kitchen. He returned quickly, his footsteps measured and I glanced at his feet.
His feet looked big. Does that mean he-
"You forgot this." He said, a trace of humor in his voice. I looked up to see my purse in his hands.
Oh my, this was going to be a long night.
He led me out to his car, which was parked on the street. This time I was able to identify it, even in the dark.
"Is that an F430?" I asked, the slick inky lines of the car making me almost as wet as the man holding my elbow as I gawked as we made our way down the driveway.
"It is. I hope that's ok…?" he asked, his voice light.
"Um. Yeah." I smiled up at him and playfully leaned into his side. His face told me he wasn't quite sure what to do with the movement and I looked back at the car. Maybe that was too much. Maybe he didn't do that whole playful thing.
Breathe, Bella.
He opened the door for me; I got in, my legs sliding over the red leather upholstery.
He shut the door and I watched him walk around to the front as I put my seatbelt on. The way he moved made me bite my lip.
He got in, closing the door and I studied him out of the corner of my eye, his arms moving fluidly, his fingers switching the car on. He revved it and I whimpered, the vibration of the engine and his presence nearly bringing me to orgasm. I squeezed my legs together, and bit my lip as he palmed the gear shift and set the car in motion.
The car was quiet except for the purr of the engine in front of us and I shifted in my chair, feeling tense. He glanced at me from the side and turned the heating on.
"Sorry, are you cold?"
Far from it.
"So what made you buy a Ferrari?" I asked, trying to make mundane conversation.
"I haven't bought Italian in a while and decided a change would be nice," he answered.
I choked. In a while? "So you like fast cars?"
He looked at me, his eyes holding me to the seat and then back at the road. His mouth kicked up at the corner as city lights flashed dully through the tinted windows.
"I like a lot of fast things, Bella. But sometimes, slow is a better approach. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Yes." I gulped. He knew exactly what he was doing.
We sat in silence, the vents of the car pumping warm air into the car. After a while it was too hot, and we reached at the same time to turn the heat off. Our fingers touched, and a rush of electricity shot up my arm, settling in a dull hum over my body.
He must have felt it too, the heated gaze he shot at me as his jaw locked making it hard to breathe.
There was a small parking garage in the city that was only a block away from the theater and he maneuvred the car into a space. While I tied to disentangle myself from my seatbelt, he opened my car door. I jumped, not expecting how quickly he was around on my side of the door and he helped me out of the low car.
There were no words between us as he escorted me towards the theater. The air was crisp and the sky was clear, tiny points of light shivering near the cold light of the moon. City lights dulled their glow, but couldn't deny their silent strength.
We arrived outside of the theater and weaved our way through the crowds. Our tickets were reserved at the box office and I waived at Maria as she passed our tickets through the glass. She pointed at my arm in, a question in her eyes and I smiled and gave her a nerdy thumbs up.
Edward's hand rested at my back and when I turned to him, his hand moved to my hip.
"Do you want to go inside and find our seats? I made sure they gave us really good ones."
He smiled, nodding and I had to remember to breathe and run after my train of thought before it completely left the station.
"Ok, I think we need to go this way, then." He followed beside me. I unsteadily led us up a dark hallway to wear the reserved seating was.
The seats were in the middle of the theater on the aisle. I hated sitting smack dab in the middle of the row and Mike made sure I had my seats where I wanted them. Edward invited me to sit down first, which meant I couldn't have the aisle but my mind couldn't register a no with his dark eyes looking at me like that.
I sat down as he took the seat next to me. Our knees briefly touched, but rather than pull away, they stayed connected, both of us enjoying the current.
Was this what it was supposed to feel like? With Jake it had always been like putting on an old pair of broken in jeans. Well, at least it was before I found out he was a two timing asshole who was willing to fuck anything with tits and legs. Except for me.
I steered my mind away from those thoughts and focused on Edward. I stared at his hands where they rested on his legs, thinking of all the places I wanted them.
Edward suddenly breathed in deeply then, his brows furrowed. He looked around him, as if he was searching for someone.
"Is something wrong?"
He looked back at me and then continued scanning the people in the theater.
"No. I thought I saw someone I recognized, that's all." He answered faintly, his eyes still studying faces.
The lights blinked then, indicating the show was to start soon. The house seemed full and more people flooded in to take their seats. I'm sure Victoria will be pleased.
I licked my lips, dragging my eyes away from Edward's hands as the lights dimmed and the beginning of the show started. As soon as the lights were out, and the stage was darkly lit in moody reds and shadowing blues, I felt it.
It was like someone had turned a dial, the spark between Edward and I gaining voltage. Midway through the first act, he put his hand on my knee and I closed my eyes, trying to get a handle on myself. His touch burned through the fabric of my skirt. I felt his fingers contract, squeezing my flesh, and I felt every movement throb and pull, until it ran through my veins and settled between my legs. His thumb moved back and forth in a hypnotizing caress that was getting more and more difficult to keep from squirming over. The scenes on stage played on, descending into lower rings of hell and I bit my lip as demons vied on the stage in front of me.
The curtains closed on the final act of the first half of the play. I breathed out as the intermission lights came on, filling the theater with light. My cheeks felt on fire and I glanced at Edward through my lashes. He seemed tense, his jaw locked, but his hand was still gentle on my leg. He shoved his other hand through his hair.
"Do you want to get a drink, Edward? There is a bar in the reserved area."
He nodded and stood up, offering me his arm.
I took it gingerly and we moved towards the exit. "It's up that hallway and to the left. Will you excuse me? I'm going to find the lady's room. Tell them you know Bella, they charge a fortune for wine in here."
He nodded and reluctantly let me away from him.
The intensity was almost too much. I felt like I could breathe normally again as I walked towards a door that led to the backstage area.
I shoved through the door and smiled. I felt reborn, enjoying the sights of final night intermission mayhem.
I loved final night. Everyone seemed to get along, the teams backstage and onstage pulled together and the camaraderie between everyone involved was always a great atmosphere.
Even James was less of a prick.
Marcus nodded to me as I entered the backstage area. I actually missed his quiet acknowledgements.
"Hi Marcus! Are you going tonight?" I asked.
His dark eyes met mine and he nodded. I smiled back at him, glad he would be there.
"Bella!" one of my crew members shouted and a small crowd of darkly dressed techs swarmed towards me. I was all fucking gushy over everyone. They seemed really glad to see me as well. They each filled me in on usual dramas and the small bits and pieces that I had missed during the show's run.
The sights, the smells, the sounds and hustle and bustle were like home to me. The darkness of backstage like a warm childhood blanket that I never wanted to let go of. It hit me how much I was attached to this eerie old place, even the haunted old parts that no one ventured into. Mike greeted me, I could tell he was about to hug me but Yorkie saved me by throwing an arm around my shoulders.
"Well well, Bella! I knew you couldn't stay away from me any longer!" His eyes were devouring me. I knew it wasn't usual to see me in a skirt. He turned back to Mike, "Fuck off, Mike! Don't you know the look of lust in a woman's eye when you see it?" He turned back to me, a trace of humor in his eyes, "It's ok baby, I got your back."
I snorted as Mike tried to smile but failed miserably. Yorkie squeezed my shoulder and whispered lowly, "Glad to have you back, Swan. This place sucks donkey balls without you at the helm."
He let go of me before I could respond and headed back up to his light booth lair. I smiled, shaking my head while I watched him go. Yorkie was actually alright when his dick wasn't in his hands or on his mind. I heard a squeal and Angela came running up to me.
"Bella! Jesus, it's so good to see you. I know it was only a week, but it felt like a year!" She stepped closer to hug me. She let me go instantly and stepped back.
"Are you staying?" she asked, hope in her eyes.
"Nope. I'm on a date." I said a little smugly.
Her eyes widened, "Oh Em. Gee, that's right! Are you bringing him to the after party?"
I nodded, "I think so, if all goes well."
She raised an eyebrow at me and took a step back to look at me, "Is that what you're wearing?"
I bit my lip, "Um yeah. Is it ok? Jess helped me the last time."
"Bella, you look totally hot. Is he here?" She looked hopefully behind me.
"No, in fact I need to get back. I sorta snuck back here to see how you all were doing." I sheepishly smiled at her.
"Bella?! What the fuck?! Get back out there, and don't worry about us. We'll see you at Newton's?"
I nodded and headed off to meet back up with Edward. I entered the bar area and found him leaning against a tall table in a corner. A glass of wine sat on a napkin in front of me.
I bit my lip and looked up at him. "Hi."
"Hi." He answered, and pushed my wine glass towards me.
I sipped at it, studying his face, "Are you enjoying yourself so far?"
His dark eyes somehow became fathomlessly darker, and he opened his mouth as if he were tasting the air around him before he responded. I felt my heart stop when he looked deeply into my own eyes.
"Immensely, Bella. Are you?"
"Am I what?"
He smirked, "Enjoying yourself."
"I am." I swallowed more wine, the dark red liquid running over my tongue and warming my insides slightly.
I looked up at him, he was studying me, "Are you looking forward to the after party?"
He looked at me, his gaze simmering, "The experience should be enlightening. Are these your colleagues who will be there?"
I sipped and was surprised to find the glass almost gone, "Yes, I have to warn you though. A lot of them may look twenty-five but they are more like sixteen. If it gets to be too much, let me know and we can go somewhere else."
His mouth kicked up again into a small smile, "I will keep you informed."
The lights blinked in the bar and I set my glass down. He offered his arm to me again, "Shall we?"
I placed my arm with his and we made our way through the halls and back into the house, finding our seats through the masses of people. We sat down again, our legs touching and the same burn started low, and was stoked and roaring when the lights went off. I don't even remember much of the second half, other than his fingers trailing lightly over my arm. I had shoved the sleeves up of my cardigan and his fingers brushed lightly over me, and I clenched my thighs together when his leg rubbed against mine.
I took a deep breath as the curtain fell, and the actors came out to take their bows. His fingers found my pulse on my wrist and the sensation over the delicate skin was unnerving.
The lights came on then and we both stood at the same time.
"Do you want to go backstage? I can show you around while they clean and lock up before heading over?"
He nodded and I took him back out to the hallway where I had made my earlier escape. I pushed through the door but he caught it and allowed me to walk through first. He followed behind me and then walked quietly by my side. His tall frame and handsome jaw seemed otherworldly and out of place here, as if these two parts of my world shouldn't meet.
I showed him the make-up room, some of the spare offices, the stairwell to the catwalk, and the props and costumes area. There were people milling about backstage, they all waived or called out a greeting, throwing curious looks at Edward.
I saw Angela, and her eyes popped out of her head as she looked at Edward. She had an armful of various textures of fabric and costume. She teetered over to us, en route to store them.
"Edward, this is Angela, our resident Dominatrix over costumes. Angela, this is Edward Cullen."
She seemed momentarily dazzled, as he greeted her in his warm caramel voice. It was good to see it wasn't just me who melted into a puddle at the sight and sound of him.
He let go of her hand and turned back to me. I continued the tour as Angela sped off, her face blushing.
I showed him the darker backstage area, including my perch and the lectern where I spent majority of my time during the show. I led him out onto the stage and was showing him the lights. He had his arm around my waist as we walked off stage to the other side where the larger set pieces were kept. I was pointing out the piece that had fallen on me when he stiffened.
The hand he had on my hip tightened, and it started to hurt.
"Edward, your grip is a little tight. Are you ok?"
His jaw locked and he loosened his grip.
"I'm fine. My apologies." he said, his voice strained.
I looked around us and saw Marcus pushing the dust broom across the stage.
I waived and his eyes widened.
"Um, Edward, this is Marcus Voltaire, one of my top stage techs. Marcus, this is Edward Cullen, my date."
A/N
Yes, backstage Marcus and Edward's Marcus are one and the same.
EPOV next chapter. Cuz I love you like that.
I have a blog to concentrate all of my teasers and links to. The link is now on my profile.
Thanks for sharing this story with others, and thank you for reading and reviewing.