I'm picking at a brownie with one hand while the other is being smeared with some sort of flowery scented lotion.

"He's not here."

I will myself not to blush.

"What? Who? What are you talking about?"

Alice rolls her eyes.

On the other side of the counter Rose snorts in to her ginger beer but says nothing.

I couldn't sleep last night. I was all fucking abuzz after the auction, my body tense and shaky. Charlie's disgusting snores had seemed louder than ever to my ears and I'd repeatedly growled, rolled over and pulled the pillow on to my head. All to no avail.

The last time I'd looked at the glowing red lights of my alarm clock it'd read 3:43. That's in the AM folks. As in too fucking late. Or early. Or whatever.

Anyway, I'd decided that I'd just stay awake. You know how it gets to the point where the little amount of sleep you will get'll be even worse than not sleeping at all? Yeah, so I made that decision then promptly fell asleep.

I woke up to find Charlie long gone, off on one of his fishing trips, no doubt totally fucking refreshed after his superb night of zed catching. It was after ten, the sheets were sticking to me, I could feel the slight sting of pillow creases across one cheek and my phone was blinking with a new text message from Alice who, I suspect, wakes at the ass crack of dawn, leaps out of bed and sings along with the fucking birds like that bitch Snow White.

Needless to say I'm in a shitty mood, not in the least helped by Alice insisting that I spend precious minutes of my life choosing between three extremely similar shades of pink nail varnish, the preferred of which she has painted on to my bitten fingernails.

This wouldn't be such a big deal only the painting was preceded by a good hour of buffing, filing and something called 'base coating'.

I'm at the end of my tether and starting to realise exactly why Rose always looks like someone just stuck a hot poker in her right eye.

"Done," Alice announces, in such a way that suggests she's expecting thanks.

"Great, thanks."

There's a silence punctuated only by Alice opening the fridge and moving plates and cans about, her tiny body almost disappearing inside as she searches for something.

"You can ask us Bella," she shouts from what I'm starting to suspect may be a contemporary gateway to Narnia.

I sigh loudly but continue ignoring her. I don't know why, it's not like I don't want to know. And both she and Rose have totally noticed my not so subtle visual search of their home.

"He's out biking with Em and Jasper," Rose says, obviously sick of skirting round the issue, "they'll be back before dinner."

"Whatever," I shrug.

"Don't even pretend you don't care after that totally hot make out session last night," Alice is nothing if not perceptive, I'm desperate to see Edward, even if I'm pretty sure I should be not caring. Or pretending not to care.

"At least let the girl pretend not to give a shit," Rose deadpans, eyeing the array of food Alice has just laid before us - an Esme prepared offering because she and Carlisle are away at some charity thing in Seattle for the weekend and the kids are fending for themselves. They need to send that woman out to Ethiopia or whatever.

Something I've noticed about Rose is that she can seriously eat. She's already polished off a chicken wrap before I've even decided what to pick up. I can only imagine that she's had to learn to work fast, what with spending so much time around the human trash can that is Emmett Cullen.

Alice picks at some food with delicate fingers, nibbling on breadsticks and hummus while observing me carefully. I know from the look on her face that there's no way I'm escaping talking about Edward.

As if on cue she starts, "are you getting back together then?"

"I don't know that we were ever really together in the first place."

It's true, Edward and I had never really been official. I'd told him that I didn't do dating, that relationships were pretty much out of the question and although he'd clearly been narked about it he'd mostly left the whole thing alone, letting me take the lead. Mostly.

"Of course you were," she scoffs, "just because you didn't put a label on it doesn't mean the relationship didn't exist."

"Did you…?" I know what Rose is trying to ask and I'm pretty sure she knows the answer so I just shake my head and she goes back to her food.

"You're going to talk to him," Alice states, in a way that suggests some kind of fucking fortune telling. I consider draping her head with Esme's lace tablecloth and pimping her out at fairgrounds.

"I guess. Although I don't know what I'm going to say. I still think he's a dick, just for the record."

Rose barks a laugh at my assessment, "Edward Cullen will always be a dick Bella, it's just a fact of life."

"Hey! That is my cousin you're talking about," Alice allows a small smile to play at the edges of her mouth even as she tries to look pissed at us.

"He's a prize ass hat Brandon and you know it."

"Rose!" Alice tries her best but she can't control her giggles, "I truly hope that this hasn't been removed from where it might have been," she's waving a breadstick at us.

"Oh Alice, Alice, Alice," Rose is across the room and reaching in to a cupboard, "surely you know by now why Esme had to buy this?"

She's brandishing a broom triumphantly, visibly holding back her laughter.

"Are you trying to tell me that my dear sweet cousin was behind the mystery of Esme's missing broom?"

"Bella, please understand," Rose is pulling a mock serious face, "the missing broom has been a Cullen household mystery akin only to the murder of JFK or the identity of Jack the Ripper. This," she shakes the brush violently in the air, "is a poor substitute for Esme's favourite sweeper, so cruelly taken from us in the prime of life."

"It had so much more to give," Alice is out of her seat, joining in with the show by pretending to be devastated. Even though it's all some sort of in joke I can't help the snorting laughs breaking out.

"It did, it really did," Rose addresses the broom, "I'm afraid to say that you, dear New Broom, are a poor, poor replacement."

Alice nods sagely, "never will the broom be replaced in our hearts, or in our minds. And we may never know the true fate of the missing broom."

"What the fuck are you two like?" I choke out breathlessly, throwing a bread roll at Rose.

But Rose hasn't finished yet, "the real tragedy Isabella, is that I believe we all know the truth, we all know where the broom is…"

"No! Don't say it!" Alice has somehow managed to make her way on to the kitchen counter where she is now lying, the back of one hand resting against her forehead in a mock faint.

"YES!" Rose bellows, shaking a fist at the sky, "the broom still walks among us Miss Brandon! It's killer one of our own!"

"Don't say it! Please don't say it!" Alice is wailing and for some reason she's adopted some kind of Scarlett O'Hara accent.

"You see Bella, I've known from the very first day the broom disappeared who had taken it and where he had hidden it."

"I can't deny it any longer, it's true," Alice squeals, leaping off of the counter and falling to her fucking knees, "it was him, it was…"

As she breaks off Rose cuts in, her voice low and mysterious, her fingers stroking an imaginary moustache, "It was Edward Cullen Miss Swan, Cullen himself anally retained the missing broom."

The two of them grip on to each other in peals of laughter.

"Ah man, they're only kidding around!"

The unexpected voice snaps us all out of our hysteria and our heads swivel almost as one just in time to see Edward stiffly climbing the stairs, as if he truly does have a broom lodged up his perfect ass.

Emmett and Jasper are pulling pretty much the same expression, a mixture of wry amusement and 'you've fucked right up there'.

"Shit," I mutter but Rose and Alice only wave off my concern.

"He'll get over it," Rose says, slapping Emmett's dirty hand away from the food.

"Sure, he'll have practically forgotten all about it by 2017," Emmett scoffs.

Jasper is more thoughtful, quietly washing his own hands in the kitchen sink before turning around to fix me with his special 'insightful' expression.

"I think he's more hurt at Bella laughing at him than anything else."

"Oh, for fucks sake!"

I mean, where does he get off being pissed at me. It's not like…well, ok, he did say sorry and all but…I wasn't laughing at him per se.

"Fine," I huff, hopping down from my stool, "I'll go say sorry."

"You don't have to do that," Alice states from her new position superglued underneath Jasper's arm, "it wasn't you that was being mean about him."

I wave her off with a sigh, "no, I've got to deal with him some fucking time anyway man."

"Don't let him make you feel shitty again."

I give Rose a grateful smile before making my way up the stairs with no fucking clue what I'm going to say.

I find my way back to Edward's bedroom without having to think – I'm fairly certain my chocho has its own compass – but once I'm there the poor girl shrivels up in fear, possibly trying to turn in on herself, even though faced with the scene of a rather pleasurable crime.

In fact such is the abject fear that Edward's door inexplicably strikes in to my heart and my lady parts that I hesitate before turning around, ready to run like a fucking douche, all the way home to Daddy.

"You can come in Bella," I swear to God, Buddha and Allah that dude's a mind reader or some shit.

I hesitantly turn the knob and peek around the door to find Edward perched on the edge of his bed, unlacing his sneakers.

"Hey," I mumble and he looks up at me, nodding in greeting.

There's a smear of mud across his left cheek and something about it makes me go all gooey, like somebody's swapped my guts for silly putty. In fact it's not just the smear of mud but the filthy close fitting t-shirt, sweat drenched hair and pissed expression he's rocking. I'm glad he's not wearing cycle shorts mind you, I'm not convinced even Dr Hot Jr could pull those off.

Mmmm…pull those off

I do my best to connect mind and mouth before I start visibly drooling.

"Look, Edward, I'm really sorry about that," I nod my head towards the door, assuming that he'll know what I'm talking about, "I mean, it wasn't fair to…"

Bare footed now, he stands up. I think I even kind of want to lick his feet a little bit.

"Would you wait here for just a minute Bella?"

I nod mutely and he smiles vaguely in return before disappearing through a door that I assume is his bathroom.

Listening to the shower running and trying my best not to imagine him actually in the shower and, you know, wet and…everything, I cast my eyes over Edward's bookcase. It's immaculately arranged, seemingly in some sort of order, though damned if I can work out what his system is. Running a finger along the spines I can't help but feel my heart clench a little bit. Edward's books are so varied and so...something I can't put my finger on.

Smiling I pull out a copy of The Catcher in the Rye. It's so obvious but so right. I can totally imagine Edward fancying himself as Holden fucking Caulfield. I'd known so many boys who had a copy of Salinger's teenage angst bible but there was something about Edward keeping his well-thumbed copy in between Vanity Fair and Slaughterhouse Five instead of wandering around wistfully with it under his arm whilst wearing a red fucking hat that makes it seem ok.

All through the book he's underlined stuff. I guess for a school project maybe. I don't know. But there's all these bits underlined. Some of them are double underlined.

"I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff. I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I'd do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be."

He quotes it word perfect while I'm just standing there, frozen with my back to him like a fool, the book open in my hands, feeling his warm breath on my neck.

He reaches over and plucks the book from my fingers, making me jump right out of my damn skin. A droplet of cool water falls on my arm and I follow its path with my eyes, just watching it run downwards and evaporate.

"Word for word Cullen, nice," I gather myself and turn, keeping my gaze fixed firmly on the floor because I know, I know,the cunning bastard has come out of the bathroom still dripping wet and only clad in a motherfucking towel, "I'd be impressed, only every guy in America reckons he's Holden fucking Caulfield."

"Huh," he murmurs, "I don't think I'd want to be Caulfield. He's hardly one of literature's great heroes is he?"

"So, who would you be?" I chance a look up at him and wish I hadn't. But am completely glad I did at the same time. The vision of him standing in front of me, a fluffy white fucking towel wrapped around his waist – no, not his waist, it's hanging off of his damn hips, exposing that little trail leading down from his belly button – the light smattering of hair on his chest damply clinging to his pale skin and his auburn 'do dark with water, plastered to his forehead and, for fuck's sake, a half smile that sends a message south on his inhumanly beautiful face…well, I've sent that, to borrow an awesome phrase from Emmett, directly to the wank bank.

"I've no idea," he flings the book on to his bed and I kind of want to follow it, "what do you think?"

"Rochester?"

"Miserable? Rude? Cruel? I sincerely hope the similarity is only in our given name Bella."

"Ok, Mr Darcy."

He sighs and ruffles his hair, "well, at least he's supposed to be handsome."

"Tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me."

He roars with laughter, though whether at my ability to pluck a fucking Austen quote out of the air or the incongruity of me doing so I don't know. Before I have a chance to decide he's upon me, so close I can feel his body heat through my clothing.

"You mean you can't over look Darcy's snobbishness and arrogance? Even though he does try to do the right thing?"

"I didn't say I had anything against him," I breath.

"Even though he can be dreadfully judgmental?"

"I don't think he is, not really, I mean, I think Elizabeth misunderstands him. In fact she's probably more judgmental than he is."

Before I can so much as roll my eyes at the fact that we're playing out some fucking scene like we're between the pages of a novel ourselves Edward's caught my lips in his and is moving them slowly.

The kiss is less eager and rough than our last but it's so much more sensuous. His hands find their way around my waist, under my shirt, where they start ghosting over the skin of my back. I respond by firmly placing my hands on his chest, reveling in the feel of his naked skin, letting my palms run over his tightening nipples.

"I am sorry," he mutters, not moving his mouth from mine so the words go right through me, "I had no right to say any of the things I said."

I can't reply, so instead I make an 'mmmm' sound. I think I've made my point.

"I need you to understand that what I said to you, it wasn't a judgment on you Bella, it was my stupid insecurities…"

"Edward?" I murmur, letting a thumb flick over one of his nipples so he shivers.

"Umm, yeah?"

"Please shut the fuck up."

He laughs in to my neck, letting his mouth explore the too sensitive skin there at the same time and I swear to god I'm actually panting. Which is kind of embarrassing.

I don't even realize he's moving us backwards until the backs of my knees hit the edge of something and, fuuuuck, I'm being lowered down on to a bed by probably the hottest guy in the world, who is now hovering over me, his erection fairly obvious between the thin fabrics of my worn jeans and his towel.

Oh god, he's only wearing a shitting, fucking, damn, fucking towel.

I manage not to scream or punch the air, or rip my clothes off as if they're attached only by Velcro, male stripper style, but instead allow myself to feel the delicious weight of him on me, the way his warm hands are finding their way underneath my tank and up until they find my straining nipples attempting to make a break for freedom through the lace of my bra.

He squeezes gently and I buck in to him, causing a throaty growl to rip from his throat and one arm to reach under me, lifting me slightly and pulling me around until I'm entirely stretched across the middle of his bed. I'd complain about being thrown around like a fucking rag doll, but you know, I'm not caring so much right now.

"Jesus," he breathes, looking down at me, watching my face as I struggle to catch my breath, my chest rising and falling fast.

Agonisingly slowly he pushes my shirt up over my head and throws it away as if it's mortally offended him. Take that evil cotton.

With a small smile Edward leans towards me but leaves my lips hanging, instead using his tongue to draw lazy circles over my breasts through the almost sheer fabric of my bra, making me groan far too loudly. Although at this point my parents could walk in and pull up a seat and I'd ignore them, so the idea that my friends on the floor below might possibly hear me making sex noises? Not giving a shit.

His tongue and lips continue their explorations, gently flicking under the edges of my bra before running down towards my waist, his expert tongue – I daren't consider where he learned this trick – tickling in to my belly button. It's the kind of thing that should be weird but it's not, it's totally fucking hot.

Somehow, and I'm assuming it's the work of the devil, his towel has remained firmly in place throughout his ministrations. I have no idea why I haven't so much as tried to tug it out of its apparently too tight knot, this kind of restraint is very much Not Me.

In fact, while I'm considering this – and I don't know why or how I'm thinking at all since I'm fairly sure that blood should be being diverted from my brain at this precise moment – I suddenly notice the unexpected sensation of a button popping, closely followed by the gentle pull of a zip. I look down in surprise to see Edward face to cooter with me. Or near as damn it. The muscles across his shoulders are undulating and tensing as his arms run down to my ankles, pulling my sneakers off of my feet without a struggle, closely followed by my socks (God, please don't notice the fucking Spiderman socks), leaving my feet to be caressed and stroked and, lord have mercy, kissed.

Nobody has ever bothered to lavish my hooves with quite so much care. Edward takes it upon himself to pay individual attention to each toe, massaging and kissing and, if it wasn't making me gasp and squeak repeatedly, I'd find the whole scenario pretty damn bizarre.

He moves up to my ankles, pausing to yank on the cuffs of my jeans, pulling the denim away from my body in one slick movement, leaving me lying before him only in my mismatching underwear. I can't find it in myself to give a shit that I didn't carefully consider matching my panties to my bra at that moment though because the way Edward's looking at me right now I feel like I could be wearing a steel chastity belt or my days of the week panties and it wouldn't make a bit of difference. His green eyes are dark and hooded and his breathing is shallow, his face deadly serious. Every inch of the man holding himself over me, sweeping his gaze slowly over my body, is tensed to spring, tight and coiled.

For a moment our eyes lock and we simply stare at each other, waiting for one of us to do something.

I don't know which of us moves first but suddenly my fingers are in his hair, tangling and pulling and our mouths are crushed together, moving frantically. He's pushing down on me and pulling me up to meet his body at the same time. My legs are wrapped around his waist, heels forcing his pelvis as close to mine as to cause me to jerk upwards with the sudden pressure on the delicate nerves being moved and massaged by the rigid length of his cock.

"Oh god," I moan as his mouth once again finds a breast, biting and sucking through fabric, and his hands fumble around to tackle the clasp of my bra.

He isn't smooth and practised, of course he isn't and I'm pretty glad about it too, he bites a little too hard, chafes my skin when he concentrates on one area for too long and curses when he can't undo my underwear. But compared to anything else I've experienced, it's sheer fucking perfection.

The sensation of skin on skin is all the different because this time it's his skin, the noises I'm making are more abandoned and wild because it's him charming them out of me, the feel of inexperienced hands and inexpert lips seems all the more perfect because those lips and hands belong to him.

"Edward," I pant, screwing my eyes up so I don't have to look at him, trying to just not fucking feel what he's doing to me, "Edward!"

He hums in to my shoulder, his hands stilling on my bra clasp but his hips still moving against me.

"We need to…" I gasp as he hits the most perfect, sublime spot and sends a wave of warmth through my body, "oh God Edward, please…"

"Let go Bella," he whispers huskily in to my ear, he can sense my reaction to his movements, he knows what he's doing to me as he continues rubbing his length gently, agonisingly slowly against me, "I want to see you."

"Fuck," I almost yell, freezing underneath him, forcing my ass as far in to the soft mattress below it as I possibly can, pushing against his chest with all my strength, "we can't do this."

I think for a moment he hasn't heard me but then he stops moving abruptly, letting one long breath shudder out of him before he untangles himself from me and moves away, refusing to even raise his eyes.

"I don't…its not that…" I stutter, pulling the comforter up around me, like it makes an iota of damn difference, "ah shit, I'm sorry."

"Did I hurt you?" he murmurs, his eyes still trained on the carpet.

"Fuck, no Edward! You definitely haven't hurt me, Jesus," I hiss.

Shuffling off of the bed I trail over to him, the comforter dragging behind me like a bridal train. When I reach him I put my only free hand up to pull his head up so he's looking at me. He tries to avert his eyes but damned if I'm going to let him play the fucking martyr on this one.

"Fucking look at me Edward," I demand.

He does and I nearly offer to commit hari-kari right there to appease him, such is his wounded hang-dog expression.

"You know what you said about having a relationship that means something to both of us?"

He nods, running his tongue over his bottom lip but not saying anything.

"I've never had that Edward. You were right you know, about it all being a big experiment for me. Everything in Phoenix was about getting away from the real stuff, it was easier to hid behind this…this sexual bravado, the drinking and the partying. It was easier than admitting that I was totally fucking lost and confused and scared.

"I don't want you to think that you have to do this, or that it doesn't mean anything to me. I can't tell you what I want right now, but I want to try and do this your way…"

He frowns, "but I kind of want to do things your way."

"Stop thinking with your dick Edward."

He laughs and all the tension between us is gone.

"I think I might prefer to have this conversation fully clothed if you don't mind," he grins then, glancing down at his makeshift skirt.

"I kind of like you in that," I confess, letting a finger trail down the vertical dip in the centre of his torso, towards the promised land, "you know, if you're comfortable?"

He raises an eyebrow, "I'll stay in the towel if you drop the comforter."

"Okay, fine," the bastard's got me there, I'm not about to have a heart to heart in non-matching undies. But then I haven't got a body out of a fucking Grecian myth, "but if you'd rather not put a shirt on or whatever, I'll probably be ok with that."

Edward grabs some clothes from a chair and disappears in to the bathroom while I begin gathering up my discarded belongings. He returns, clad in faded joggers and a thin, stretched out t-shirt and, somehow, it's as damn sexy as the towel. It's got to be that fucking hair. I can see no other explanation. He holds all his power in his follicles.

"Nice socks."

I scramble to pick up my Converse but he beats me to them, holding them out of reach, "I like them, please can we leave Spidey exposed at least?"

"You're so fucking weird," I exclaim, clambering back up on to his bed and sitting cross legged.

"They're not my Spiderman socks Bella."

Edward chooses not to sit on the bed with me, instead sitting on the edge of his black leather sofa, elbows resting on his knees. I kind of ache at the lack of his touch but it makes sense not to have him too close, using his man voodoo on me.

"I meant what I said last night," he changes the subject so quickly my head spins, "I am sorry. Whatever happened in your past, it's done with, it doesn't change who you are now and how I feel about you.

"I was shocked and I overreacted. Some of the things I said were unforgivable Bella, but I want you to know that it was nothing to do with you, it was all me and my stupid ego."

He paused, running his hand through his already riotous hair. I wanted to say something but I couldn't think of anything that would make sense.

"When I look at you I see this beautiful, confident, smart woman. You've got so much experience, and not just – um, you know – sexually. You've done so much and experienced all these things that just haven't even entered in to my little world here in Forks.

"The first day you arrived here none of the boys at school could take their eyes off of you, you must have noticed it, nobody talked about anything else. But you took it all in your stride, you just flicked them all away one by one and…well, I don't know why you wouldn't do the same to me."

"You don't see yourself very clearly," I frown but he doesn't seem to even hear me.

"I want to be exciting and experienced and right for you Bella but I just can't be. I can try but I just think I'd let you down."

"Edward Cullen," I storm, crawling off of his bed and kneeling down between his legs, "don't even think that. The only way you would ever let me down is if you tried to be somebody you're not. If I didn't like you just like this don't you think I would've flicked you away too? For fucks sake, I'm the one who can't live up to you, I mean, you're just so fucking..good."

He laughs at that and his fingers dive in to the hair at the nape of my neck, massaging the tense muscles just there.

"You're good too you know," he whispers, leaning down to plant a kiss on my head, "you've just made some questionable decisions."

"Uh, you're not off the hook yet knitpacker, watch it."

He lifts me off of the floor and onto his lap, nuzzling in to my neck as I curl in to him. I don't know what the fuck it is but I just love that he makes me feel so small. It's like he can protect me or some shit. I'm usually all hard ass bitch but something about Edward makes me want to be a weak little girl. I don't suppose it's a good thing but I'm working with it for now.

"Knitpacker? Geez, I need to get me a Bella to English dictionary."

"You need to get that broom out of your ass."

"I'm actually going to kill Alice and Rose for that you know."

I can't help the snigger, but try my best to hide it, "want me to kick their butts for you Cullen?"

"Only if you particularly want Emmett to throw jello on the three of you."

"Lesbian jello fights don't turn you on baby?" I pout.

"Not ones involving my cousin and Queen Bitch down there, no. If we're talking you and, oh, say Olivia Wilde…"

"Seriously? Jesus, Edward, could you be any more obvious?"

"What?" he kisses me gently, "I don't want to share you anyway."

"So does that mean you're my boyfriend?" I kind of get a bit of a warm glow at the thought although Bitch Bella wants to pinch me really hard for it.

"If you want. At least until Olivia looks me up."

I punch the top of his arm, hard. Like that hosebeast has anything on me.

"But I was thinking…"

"Don't strain anything."

"How did you not get a Saturday Night Live call up yet Bella?"

I grin and figure I should probably let the poor guy get a word in edgewise.

"So, I want you to help me. I've always been this straight-laced, boring guy who gets his homework in on time and makes his parents proud."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

"I know," he grimaces, "but I keep thinking about what you said, about me sitting on my porch waiting for excitement."

"Oh shit, Edward, I didn't mean that," except I kind of fucking did.

"Yes you did," oh, ok "and you're right. I want to be more like you, I want to be able to seize the day, to be ok with making mistakes and having fun. Carpe diem and all that."

"You could start with dropping the Latin sweetheart."

"Did you just call me sweetheart?" he growls and stands up, taking me with him across the room where he throws me on to the bed again.

I squeal and push him away as he tries to kiss me again, his hands making a beeline for my tits.

"Here's the deal, goody two shoes, I'll help you to loosen up if you help me with something."

He sits up, looking at me expectantly, "with what?"

"I want you to teach me how to be good."

A/N: I hope you can all forgive me for being a major cockblocker again, I promise one day there'll be more than dry humping on these pages! I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter - is poor old bore-ward misunderstood by his mean ol' family? Will he be able to let his sex-hair down? And can Bella be good? Most importantly, what would you like Edward to teach you? Piano? Mountain biking? Biology?

As always thank you so much for reading, adding and reviewing. I'm astounded how many are adding this tale to their favourites, even if you are keeping very quiet ;) EQx