Fan Fiction, Sex Gods and single Girls

A/N: I will not be held responsible for inhaled, snorted or spewed food/beverages while reading/laughing. There. You've been warned. :)


Chapter 9: Perceptions and Misperceptions

When Edward rang Bella and Jake's doorbell, he'd still been trying to formulate exactly what he was going to say. A portion of his apology would be on behalf of his penis, and that was something for which he'd never before had to apologize.

He felt sure Bella hadn't mentioned his errant erection to Jake, since he hadn't taken any fists to the face when they'd met. And he doubted finding out about it now would go over any better with big, burly Jake, who presumably had his own penis and erections to wave in Bella's face.

So to speak.

Noticing the U-Haul was gone, Edward was hoping Jake was currently in the process of returning it. The other possibility was that he had already done so, and was back home with his car parked in the garage. Edward sincerely hoped Jake wouldn't be there when he apologized to Bella. He had dodged the whole fist-to-the-face bullet once, but wasn't sure he'd be so lucky a second time.

He heard the ringing of the doorbell within her house, and a moment later the door opened. There stood Bella in a pair of form-fitting white shorts and a black tank top, with the strap of a pink bra slightly visible at her shoulder.

The first thing she did was ask him if he was…high. But then Edward realized she was actually greeting him in question format, asking "Hi?" as opposed to "High?" It was kind of an odd way to greet someone, but he was beginning to expect the unexpected from this girl.

She looked a little overheated and seemed a bit flustered, so he greeted her and asked if she was okay, telling her she looked a little flushed. He wondered if perhaps she, herself, was high? There did seem to be something wrong with her. It appeared as though she was having a hard time understanding the words he was saying, despite focusing so very intently on his mouth, because she just seemed…unfocused…and rather dazed.

But then she pulled herself together. Literally. Crossing her arms over her chest, she pulled her breasts together, creating a little more cleavage Edward didn't mean to notice. And then her usually somewhat snappy demeanor returned, as she asked why he was there.

This is it. Time to apologize for myself and my silk-clad, blatant boner.

And time to ignore her cleavage.

When he got to the portion of the apology intended to include mention of his manhood, he just wasn't sure what to say. She was still essentially a stranger after all, and he didn't want to offend her further. So he'd merely gestured at his genitals, avoiding references to erections. He felt himself blush and he didn't do that often. But once he saw her look of understanding and corresponding blush, he was glad he hadn't gone into more detail than a hand wave to the fly.

She crossed her arms more tightly then, creating even more cleavage he shouldn't have glanced at, but did, noting not just the cleavage, but an edge of pale pink bra cup. He averted his gaze and was pretty sure she hadn't noticed, thankfully. She'd been looking down, nodding, accepting his apology, much to his relief, telling him it was okay and that those things happened.

"Those things happened?" Really?

What kind of life does this girl lead?

Do men in silk pajama pants regularly accost her, berate her while she's disguised as a man, and find themselves hard for no fathomable reason?

And is she aware her pink bra is showing?

As well as her cleavage.

He disregarded his last thoughts as he contemplated the more logical implication of what she'd just said. Things like men finding themselves hard in her presence certainly could happen to her frequently. She was rather attractive, after all. More so than he'd originally acknowledged, in fact. She was petite and slender, yet curvy in all the right places, and she had all that long, thick, wavy, brown hair, and those big, brown eyes. It would be only natural for a man to find her attractive and react physically, possibly without even realizing it at the time, being caught up in a series of bizarre and noisy circumstances beyond his control.

He knew that for a fact.

Edward also knew how inappropriate it would be if a man were reacting to her appearance physically, while already aware she had a boyfriend. That could happen unintentionally.

Most likely attributable to inadvertently glimpsing her cleavage. And pink bra.

Or advertently glimpsing both when she wasn't looking.

Is advertently even a word?

No, probably not.

Why is it so confusing to be around her?

It's not like you haven't seen cleavage or pink bras before.

No. Been there...done those. So I probably just need to get laid.

Edward suddenly realized Bella's eyes were focused on the front of his pants.

Whoa... What the heck?

Her eyes flashed back up to his, and she blushed even more furiously, just as there was an abrupt responding twitch in Edward's boxers. He shifted his stance and shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to get a grip on himself. Not literally, of course, but he didn't want to have to apologize a second time for getting hard at her, especially since her boyfriend and his fists might be lurking about.

Should she be looking at my dick?

Sure, why not?

No! Good God, man! Do you have a death wish?

No, I'm just... Shit, I'm so confused.

In an effort to move the conversation forward, Edward kept his eyes more diligently focused on her face, avoiding anything south of her chin, and he finally thanked her.

Bella had seemed momentarily baffled, blushing and gaping at him, until he explained he was thanking her for the use of the ladder. She seemed surprised and relieved, and laughed oddly, and Edward recalled Jake's comment about her quirkiness. So he attributed her pants-glance, abrupt laugh, and baffling behavior to that confounding quirkiness, because she really was quite different from other women he'd known. Biblically or otherwise.

In the end she seemed okay with his apology.

And then Edward had thought to ask if she or Jake could possibly pick up his mail and newspapers for a few days. He realized he really didn't know them from Adam, or Eve, as it were, but he'd neglected to ask anyone else in a timely fashion, and with his usual go-to neighbors unavailable, he was now in a bit of a bind.

And that's when things got weird. Weirder.

She seemed fine one moment, accepting of his apology, and as far from hostile as you could get. She listened without yelling, or throwing or hanging a hat at him or on him. She hadn't huffed, stomped or slammed a door. And she seemed about to agree to his request. But for some reason, the minute he got off the phone with Kate, Bella was a different person…a more volatile, offended, and cranky person.

More like her usual self.

He'd apologized ahead of time for needing to take the call, and she'd seemed fine with that. But the minute he'd ended the call and turned back to her for her response, or to see if she had questions regarding his request, she had changed into a snarling and hissing hellcat. Or hell-kitten. Whatever...she gave him hell.

She misunderstood completely, accusing him of apologizing to get on her good side, simply to use her.

Then she said she wasn't one of his bimbos.

Where the hell did that come from?

Of course she isn't one of my bimbos!

Uh…not that they're bimbos. They're girlfriends.

Well, no…not really girlfriends. That implies a sort of permanence. So they're more like…dates.

Then again a date implies going out. And we don't always.

So the women I see are more like…female friends.

Friends with benefits.

Although most of them aren't actual friends. But I wouldn't call them benefactors.

They're more like empty-headed coital companions.

Like bimbos?

Well...yes. Shit. How disappointing.

It was then that Bella had referred to herself as a bitch, obviously referencing the hat. Obviously hurt by his gesture.

Why the hell did I even buy that damn hat?

Admittedly, he'd initially thought of her as somewhat cranky, but he really hadn't intended to hurt her feelings. She had just seemed rather clever and he'd thought she'd take the bestowing of the bitch hat with a sense of humor. It had been a tit-for-tat-hat.

Tit-for-tat…tit…cleavage…pink bra…

SNAP OUT OF IT! What the hell is wrong with you?!

I think I need to get laid.

She'd thought he had rudely welcomed her to the neighborhood, incorporating the welcome mat into the gifting of the bitch hat. No wonder her opinion of him had been so low. She really did think he was an asshole. He couldn't blame her. That would have been a low thing to do. Far lower than merely giving your new neighbor a "Bitch" hat on a hunch she had an offbeat sense of humor.

Giving her a "Bitch" hat, and meaning it sincery, would have made me The Most Profound Asshole of All Time.

And that would be a shitload to embroider on a baseball cap.

So he apologized. He didn't want to hurt her feelings, he didn't want her thinking so poorly of him, and he couldn't help but feel he'd really started off on the wrong foot with this couple.

And just like that, things shifted again. She agreed to do him the favor of picking up his papers and mail and bringing them into his house. But her voice had been flat, her responses abrupt, her demeanor devoid of personality. He was concerned that she didn't sound right, not like herself, but he couldn't get her to explain and then she was suddenly shooing him out the door and on his way.

Her moods in conversation had given him whiplash. She'd been all over the mood-map and in the end he'd been left just as uncertain as he had at the outset. He just didn't understand her and couldn't get a good read on her.

In the end she'd told him, "Have a safe trip," which was nicer than, "Go to hell," but he suspected she really would have preferred to tell him the latter. Instead she'd been nice about it. Nice, but oddly subdued.

And with that he left her house.

He felt confused and concerned, feeling that jittery sensation once again, as he'd crossed the street and reentered his own home. She was watching him. He could feel her eyes.

It was this conversations that Edward repeatedly reviewed and rehashed and reanalyzed as he returned to his house and left for the airport and even while at the airport. He set those thoughts aside only for a few moments, while Googling something on his phone, while waiting for the departure of his flight. In those few moments he'd searched for something online, found it, and ordered it with a rushed two-day delivery. But then immediately afterward, he began obsessing once again, even while boarding his plane, and continued to mull the encounter over while sitting in first-class during his entire flight to Chicago.

It didn't matter how many times he thought through things, a logical reason for her behavior eluded him. The only logical conclusion he could reach was that the girl who lived across the street from him was a basket case. Thank goodness she had a loving boyfriend, someone who understood her and cared about her enough to warn off new neighbors who had overstepped their bounds and had no manners. Hopefully her boyfriend looked after her and her many moods, because she probably needed someone's protection. From herself if nothing else.

But for the life of him, Edward couldn't figure out why any of this was his concern. And why he couldn't stop pondering it all.

He had better things to occupy his time and energy.

Like getting laid.

oOoOoOoOo

As Bella closed the door behind Edward, she moved into the living room and looked out the front window, watching the serial philanderer as he walked back across the street. He was hunched, raking his hand through his rakish hair, and he appeared lost in thought.

He's probably thinking about getting laid.

Well, if he were lost in thought, then that made two of them. Bella had never in her life felt as confused and off-balance and irritable and let down as she did around Edward Cullen.

Why is that?

She sighed as she watched him disappear inside his house. Picking up her coffee cup, she took it to the kitchen, dumped the now cold coffee, and poured herself a fresh cup.

She felt lonely suddenly. She was really and truly on her own now. Forks was far away. College friends had all moved on and elsewhere. Jake had gone back home to family and friends. Angela was on the other side of the state with her mother, helping an aunt adjust to widowhood. And now Bella couldn't even spend her day spying on her attractive and disappointing playboy neighbor, since he'd be flying beyond state lines for this evening's hook-up. He must have exhausted all of Washington State's resources for highly attractive, model-like bimbos. Thank goodness there were forty nine other states. Starting with Illinois, apparently.

She headed back into the living room, to her laptop. It was time for some fan fiction therapy. She decided to work on her story and at least spend time with her fictional characters. If you were the one writing the story, you could make those characters behave any damned way you wanted.

The first thing Bella did, was to send an email to her fic-friend, Star-Ho, to ask if she'd like to work on a banner for her new story.

Some sites, like Star-lighted and The Writers' Teahouse, displayed banners with story summaries. Other sites didn't post the banner with the story title, but it could be accessed from the author's profile page by clicking a link. But the banners on the other sites sometimes enticed new readers to check out the story, just like the cover of a book might lure a reader in to open the book and begin reading. So a banner was important.

From: B_the_Swangmail

To: stripedbeagleaol

Subject: Heeeerre banner, banner, banner!

Hi My Star-Ho!

Way sooner than I expected, I'm starting my next "Written in the Stars" story! It's a Stella and Ethan story, of course, because that's how I roll. Anyway, I'm hoping you'll want to make another awesome banner? *crosses fingers*

Here's the scoop:

Title: From Hate to Heat

I don't want to tell you too much, my Ho, because I know you'll want to read the story without spoilers, but here's a brief summary:

Stella Brown moves from the tiny town of Forks to big-city Seattle. She winds up living across the street from Ethan Collins. She's overwhelmed as she begins her teaching career. He's a rude and arrogant playboy. Stella can't stand him but he's kind of intriguing. Ethan can't stand her. Is that enough common ground to fall in love?

The story will feature the saga usuals: Stella Brown, Ethan Collins, Everett McCoy, Roxanne Hardy, Justin Walker, and Alexa Collins. They'll all work their way into the story.

Anyway, let me know if you're interested!

Laters, bb!

-bellybeans

Just as she was about to pull up the beginning of her new story, she saw a new message in her email and opened it.

From: angelbabyaol

To: B_the_Swangmail

Subject: Updates

Hey B!

Congrats on your first houseguest! Count me as your second one this weekend!

Can't wait to hear the newest about Dickhat. He can't be a complete dickhat if he helped you move in. Looking forward to spying on him with you. Maybe we could go toilet paper his house in the middle of the night? Just a suggestion. lol

I can't wait to read what you come up with.

Love you,

Angie

Bella giggled, thinking about the fact that she now had Edward's keys...the keys to the Dickcave. She could toilet paper the interior of his house while he was away this week. Or short-sheet his bed. Probably not the kind of thing one would expect from an almost twenty four year old high school teacher. Her prospective high school students would no doubt hold her in high esteem, but Edward would probably come unglued, yell and swear at her, and possibly threaten her with an erection.

She sighed as bits of last night's dream suddenly flitted through her brain before she stuffed them back into the dark recesses of her mind where they belonged. Those thoughts were too potent for this early in the morning.

Ethan, Pat and Edward all looked extremely potent as well…and they'd been stuffed into some dark recesses too…

Enough! Stop!

Clicking on her documents, Bella pulled up the beginning of her new story. She re-read what she had typed late the previous evening and decided she wasn't quite happy with the way she'd started. It had probably been too late in the evening to concentrate very well.

She tweaked her author's note a bit and added a preface similar to the one in the first book of the Written in the Stars series. She moved things around and added to what she already had. Before long, her fingers were flying over the keyboard, setting up the beginnings of her arrival in Seattle and her first encounter with Edward Cullen.

When she'd completed the preface she sat back to reread it. After several re-reads, minor corrections, and edits, Bella finally felt pleased with the preface to her story. She stretched and sat back and checked the time.

Holy fic!

It was already one o'clock!

It was amazing how quickly time passed when she was writing. She would write and go back and read and then she would re-write and re-read. Before she knew it an hour had passed. And then two or three. Or even more. It was easy to get sucked into the make-believe world of the fan-fic'ery. Although this time around, it would be based on quasi-autobiographical fact.

Sometimes, when she would come back from a break and re-read something she'd already written, she'd find errors or think of a better way to express herself. And so she decided to get up off the couch, take her long-empty coffee cup out to the kitchen, clean the coffee pot, and go for a quick run around the neighborhood.

There weren't many physical activities she engaged in, since she was essentially a klutz, but putting one foot in front of the other had proven to be the least dangerous form of exercise for her. She went upstairs to her bedroom, grabbed her hairbrush-microphone and pulled her hair into a ponytail. After putting on socks and shoes she headed back downstairs, locking the front door behind her and pocketing her key.

A car had pulled up across the street at Edward's house and she could see a woman inside it. She frowned, figuring Edward was already gone, but perhaps the woman didn't know he was currently unavailable and headed for the arms of another conquest out of state. The woman climbed out of the car as Bella did a few stretches, watching out of the corner of her eye.

The woman didn't seem to meet the same high, yet loose standards of the two other women Bella had seen over at Edward's home. She was a bit hefty and a little older and she wasn't dressed as provocatively as the other women Bella had seen, entering and exiting the Dickcave. She was wearing tennis shoes, sweatpants, and a baggy T-shirt. As Bella watched, the woman opened the trunk of the car, pulled out a bucket filled with a variety of bottles, a mop, and an apron, which she put on. Bella rolled her eyes. At least The Dick was a neat dick with a cleaning lady for his Dickcave.

Bella finished her stretches and took off running up Stardust Lane. The street was quiet, but it was a workday, and when she turned onto Moonlight Way she saw a couple people out and about...an older man walking a dog, and a woman pushing a baby carriage. Bella looped around the entire neighborhood, checking out each of the streets as she went. She slowed to a walk when she got back to Moonlight Way, and continued walking as she finally turned back down Stardust Lane.

The cleaning lady's car was still parked at the curb at Edward's house and a mail truck was delivering mail along Stardust. Bella watched as the mail truck passed her own house, moving along the road to the next unit, and then making the loop at the end, coming up along Edward's side of the street and stopping at his mailbox.

Probably the latest issues of his porn magazine subscriptions.

Bella peeked out the front window a little while later and saw the cleaning lady had left. She picked up Edward's keychain, deciding she would do her neighborly duty for the day. As she left her house and headed over to his, she still debated internally about Edward's questionable motives in asking her to perform this duty. He'd been nice enough to help out a bit with the furniture yesterday, and this morning he'd apologized and explained himself a little, and finally said a thank you for the use of the ladder.

But then he asked for a favor in the very next breath! How arrogant!

At least he explained he hadn't turned the welcome mat around on purpose.

Agreed. But then he stopped mid-sentence to take a phone call. How rude!

Kate…

Not necessarily one of his bimbos. She could be a business acquaintance, or family member, or friend. Why are you jumping to conclusions? And why does it even matter who Kate is? His private life doesn't concern you.

No…but does he assume every woman will spring into mid-air with a breathless, "How high?" when he asks them to jump?

Probably. And they probably do, given his appearance.

Well, I won't!

No. And you didn't. You made him wait a full minute and a half before you agreed to do his bidding.

Oh shut the hell up, you stupid inner voice! I was neither mid-air nor breathless!

Fine, bitch.

Bella had arrived at Edward's mailbox. She opened it and took out the few things inside: several bills, a postcard from Paris, a few pieces of obvious junk-mail, and a mail-order catalogue of high-end household gadgets. The newspaper had been picked up earlier by Edward, so Bella proceeded to the front door. She glanced at the keychain, selecting the appropriate key first for the deadbolt and then for the door itself.

As she was about to pocket his keys, Bella glanced at the miniature Eiffel Tower on the keychain and then looked at the postcard. Same Eiffel Tower. She was tempted to read the postcard, but knew that wouldn't be right, she couldn't take this opportunity to pry into Edward's life. And so she resisted the tower-temptation.

As she entered Edward's home her jaw dropped however. There on a console table in the entryway was a third Eiffel Tower. A replica that stood nearly two feet tall.

The third time is the charm.

It's a sign from the gods.

They want me to read the postcard.

As she flipped the card over, Bella noticed the flowing, feminine handwriting and she scoffed. But she stopped mid-scoff as she glimpsed the last line and signature.

"We'll probably be home before you get this. Love you, Mom."

Oh Bella, you are such an idiot!

Yes, but I was right! It was a woman's handwriting! Just not a bimbo's handwriting.

Bella proceeded into the quiet home. It was a little dim with the drapes closed, but she looked around as she shut the door and walked inside, getting her first real glimpse of the inner workings of the Dickcave.

Edward's home was beautiful.

Beautiful and masculine.

Just like him.

And it has the scent of…lemons.

Bella paused, turning that thought over in her mind. "Lemons" were often mentioned in summaries of fanfics, as an indication of sensuously sordid sexual activities. But they could also indicate the cleaning lady's preference for lemon-scented products while cleaning, dusting, and polishing.

Either way, it was a heady and overwhelming scent that seemed rather appropriate, considering the home's owner.

Bella shook off her citric-stupor and moved beyond the entryway.

The floor plan appeared to be the mirror image of her own condo, but it appeared the materials had been upgraded. His home looked like it had been decorated by a professional. The walls were a soft, dove gray, nearly blue, but not quite. The floor in the entry was a charcoal gray natural stone. She turned on the light and noticed the stone had flecks that sparkled and shimmered as it picked up the light. As she passed by the living room she noted the thick, medium gray carpeting, the black leather couch and cream leather club chairs, glass and gleaming metal tables and…

Oh my goodness… There's a freaking grand piano in the living room!

It was a beautiful grand piano, black and sleek and just so, so…sexy.

Holy crap! Edward plays the piano?!

Or maybe he has sex on top of it?

And then she noticed the three guitars hung like artwork on the wall.

Oh my God! A musical Dick! That's just so…unexpected! Wow...

And just look at all the other actual artwork! Jeez Louise and Jizzy Lizzy!

The room was spotless, neatly organized, and beautifully, decorated. Paintings on the wall, sculptures on tables, a stack of books on the coffee table. Everything in its place and just so. She wondered how much of that was due to the cleaning lady and how much indicated Edward a neat freak. A somewhat refined neatfreak.

As Bella passed the stairway to the upper level she peeked into the powder room. The walls were a darker gray, but with the same glittering floor tiles, gleaming fixtures, and black and pale blue accents. The mirror above the pedestal sink was framed by miniature glass tiles in gray and pale blue.

The kitchen was a cook's dream. It was her dream: stainless steel, top-of-the-line appliances, all sleek and shining. Granite countertops in a mix of blacks and grays and iridescent blues that complimented the same stone flooring as the entryway. The cabinetry was cream, with a few cabinets faced in a pale blue milky glass. Three brushed stainless steel and black leather barstools faced the breakfast bar.

Opposite the kitchen was the great room; sleek and inviting and warm. On the center of the wall facing the kitchen was a huge flat screen TV. One long, cream colored couch faced the TV. There was a large, black leather ottoman, with a pewter tray centered on it, directly in front of that couch, and a second, matching couch was perpendicular to the first. A soft looking, pale blue, gray and black plaid blanket was folded neatly along the top of the couch. The blanket matched the pale blue throw pillows on both couches. In the opposite corner was a comfortable-looking gray chair with black woodwork and a small, matching ottoman. A stainless steel floor lamp stood next to the chair, its shade angled down toward the chair. It would be the perfect spot to curl up and read, which was a good thing, because the entire wall surrounding the TV was covered from floor to ceiling with cream bookshelves, filled with books and a few random art pieces.

Edward is a reader.

An art collector.

A musician.

And he lives in a model home!

Who the hell is Edward Cullen and what does he do?!

Bella set the mail down on the kitchen counter. An object at the other end of the counter caught her eye. It was a small, old-style flip calendar, though it looked very high-end. Several entries were jotted in black ink in a bold, flowing script on today's page: Chicago 11: 55 – United 321 – Jason & Kate – 7:30.

Jason and Kate.

A couple.

Oh.

She flipped a few blank pages until she came to Thurday's page, with a few more neatly written lines: dep. Chicago 11:57 – arr. Seattle 2:26 Tanya D – 7:00 – dinner & movie.

Well, there we go. You don't waste any time, do you, Dickman? Back in town…back in bed.

And there must be more than one Tanya if he has to use a last initial.

Or perhaps the D refers to her cup size.

Bella huffed as she flipped back to last Friday's square. There was no mention of Victoria-Vicki-Tori. She must have been an impromptu conquest. Bella rolled her eyes as she read the entry for last Saturday: 1:30 – Meet Irina at the Marina.

Nice little rhyme scheme there, Dickman.

So Domme Barbie's name is Irina? Very exotic.

No mention of her cup size. Probably beyond the normal range of letters. Somewhere in the last half of the alphabet.

Yesterday's entry, merely read Mom and Dad – BBQ – 4:30."

Well, okay, so he's a serial philanderer who is also a good son and does things with his parents.

He can't be all bad.

Unless he just meets up with them to pick up this month's play money.

Bella flipped the calendar page back to today's page with a little sigh. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. She couldn't decide what her problem was. As much as she would have liked to irritate Edward a little by leaving a "Bitch" hat or some such thing behind in his home, she couldn't bring herself to pull a prank on him. Why did she even have those thoughts? Nobody had ever irritated her like he did. But really, who was he to her? He was just a random new neighbor. It was his right to live his life however he chose. Besides, didn't most men aspire to a hot car and a bevy of hot chicks? Why should he be any different? He was just living the guy-dream.

In a condo that looks like some upscale penthouse apartment downtown.

She took one last look around before heading back to the front door, and then she locked up and walked back home in a determined daze. The lower level was all she could take for her first foray into his home. So much of it had been unexpected and revealing, but of course, some of it had been totally expected and disappointing.

Yet, as she walked back into her own home, she was already kicking herself, that she hadn't had the guts to venture further. She hadn't ventured upstairs. She'd been too chicken, feeling like a creepy stalker, afraid Edward would somehow know she'd been examining his home like a slide under a microscope in a Biology class. And yet… She just couldn't help wondering what was upstairs…and if the scent of lemons was even more pronounced in Edward's bedroom.

Edward's bedroom…

The Lair of the Dick…


A/N: Would YOU lurk in the lair? ;)