Stephanie Meyers owns all things Twilight. I just make them darker.
##
EPOV
"Remember our tub in Chicago Fia?"
We're in that massive tub of ours, lazily soaking and listening to Debussy's Pelleas et Melisade. Je Ne Pourrai Plus Sortir wafts through the room, lit by Jasmine and Sandalwood scented candles; those thick ones that last for ages she has imported from France.
No fooling around, just being. Eyes closed, enjoying the sensation of the warm water on our marble skin, not breathing. Just being.
We'd made love, slowly and sweetly, no biting, scratching or cussing, with pillows stuffed under her hips as she wrapped her legs around my waist, our favorite position; just like the night when we'd returned from the granite slab after she accepted my proposal and kissed me while our family clapped and smiled and hugged us, so excited that we'd both made it through what eventually became referred to as "The Incident" relatively unscathed.
We'll never do that again. We learned our lesson; we're not thick.
Am I a monster and a gentleman, as Sofia has mentioned?
Yes.
And is she a monster and a lady as well?
Of course she is; I wouldn't have her any other way.
Can we be careless with humans' emotions?
Yes.
You have to realize that we're brilliantly dangerous but not stupid.
We leave that to humans.
They have plenty of that to spare.
Just ask Bella and Jake.
Besides, nobody asked you to like us.
We're both happy the way we are: Monstrous and selfish.
And so crazy in love, it's sickening.
##
"Well, do you, Fia? Remember that tub?" I ask her again; she's so relaxed I'd thought she'd vanished deep into another one of her trances.
Opens her eyes, turns and looks up at me, from where she reclines against my chest. Smiles, purrs softly. Stretches out her left arm from under the tepid water, admiring her new engagement ring as she turns her hand to and fro, watching how the candles send shimmers of light around the room from the diamonds and sapphires now adorning her left ring finger.
Despite her initial hostility towards Sofia, Mother would be so proud of her now. She was coming around to accepting Sofia by that autumn anyway; I'd already told Mother and Father that I wasn't going off to university without Sofia as my wife. That was an interesting conversation with them, as I recall. I didn't back down either; stood my ground. "Look, either she comes with me, or I don't go. Period. And I'm marrying her, you can't stop us; I have my money, we'll go abroad if you try. That's final."
My father was incredibly incensed with our deepening relationship, which I found ironic, considering it was his idea to bring her into our lives, for me. What did he expect, that I'd sleep with her once, and then discard her? I found that very thought repugnant: I loved Sofia, she was the only person I knew who understood me, tolerated my mood swings, and helped me through them. Mother would just shake her head as she swept past me out the front door to the waiting car, on her way to yet another one of her charity outings, advising me "Please Edward, snap out of this moodiness dear, it's become tiresome to Mother."
She had all the time in the world to help other children, but not the one who needed her help the most.
They had both figured out we were sleeping together by then anyway. I didn't go back to the mansion for a week after my seventeenth birthday; I'd started moving more of my clothes and belongings into her flat afterwards. As far as I was concerned, we were married, in everything but name.
And I was the only person who knew her past, her secrets. And I didn't care. They made her the strong woman she was then. And still is today.
Sofia was so proud of me that day when I stood up to my parents. Thankfully the stress didn't start the cycle again. I'd just come out of my first manic cycle, which was two weeks of hell; that's when we realized that something was seriously amiss with my brain, but didn't know what or why it was happening. But she didn't flee; she stood by me and helped me through it, even though she was nearly as bewildered as I was by my behavior.
"Oh, do I remember that tub. You know what I remember the most? How small it was. How you had to bend your knees to fit in it, and we were still cramped for space. But we made do, didn't we Eddie?"
I can read her thoughts; see how she's remembering how we managed to fit the two of us in that claw-foot tub, in the black and white tiled bathroom in her Lincoln Park flat. We fit in this one the same way, except now you could float a small flotilla in it; in that tub, the only thing that could float in the bathwater was a bar of Pears soap.
"Why do you ask Eddie? What are you up to? Or is this just another stroll down memory lane?" Narrows her eyes, she's not stupid. She knows I'm up to something.
"Just wondering, Kitten. That's all."
"Liar liar pants on fire." Sticks her tongue out at me, then licks her lips, narrows her eyes while raising her eyebrows. I roll my eyes and groan, since that's set Caesar stirring again.
"Don't start with me Kitten. I have a busy day ahead of me. Have to get you girls to SeaTac. Check on the guys working on the cottage, finalize the new Bosendorfer purchase; take Nessie shoe shopping up to Seattle after we drop you off. Daddy - daughter day." Smile to myself at that last thought; I love being with Nessie, watching her grow and discovering the world around her, remembering how it felt to do the same. Wishing that Sebastian could have done that as well...
I'll even take her to McDonald's and swallow back the bile as I watch her eat one of those horrid kiddie meals, the ones with the cheap trinkets made by slave labor in China.
The same labor that paid for our jet.
##
Later Carlisle and I are taking Charlie out hunting for Elk, show him the ropes; he picked up on deer easily. Knowing how to hunt in the first place has been helpful. And he's gone through his transition quite well; his self-control is impressive. Now we know where Bella's came from. He should be able to go back to work next week; his contacts aren't disintegrating like hers did.
"Well then, I'm getting dressed. I feel like a raisin, we've been in here four hours already." Fia stretches and rises from where she's been laying against me. Take in her backside, still as perfect as the first day I saw her in her birthday suit, with those two dimples on either side of her spine, just above her tight round ass. Which stirs Caesar even more: Down boy, not now.
I don't move: I'm a statue. Think of other things Cullen: The market. Laundry. Vacuuming. Installing WiFi in the office. That stupid MST3K movie that Fia and Emmett love to watch: Cave Dwellers. Open-heart surgery. The Harley. Oh shit that wasn't smart, now I'm remembering that little side trip we took in Montana on the way back from Wisconsin. And so is your buddy down below.
"Edward, tell Caesar that he can become reacquainted with Cleo when I get back from Paris. We'll only be gone a few days. I know he's all twitchy again, I can sense it." She's wrapped up in her robe now, slides past the tub into our bedroom; doesn't look down towards me. Hear her open the door to the closet, she starts tossing shoes and clothes out onto our bed, onto her chair. "Go take a hot shower honey. I know you need to, go ahead. Like I've never done that when you were gone for a while." She's packing her bag, only taking one this trip. They'll be gone four days; she's already had one fitting with the designer up in Seattle and she's blocking me from knowing either who they are, or what her gown looks like. Alice won't budge either; neither will Rosalie or Esme. It's like the four of them are a couture black ops squad.
"Ah, sure, I'll go do that" I gulp. Sometimes I feel like I'm human again. For someone who is for all intents and purposes dead, my libido sure isn't; if anything, it's amplified, and I'm not in a manic phase now. Then it's worse; it seems I want it all the time. Fia's handled it incredibly well, but that last cycle nearly did her in. I really treated her like crap, and I hate that, it's not the real me, the one who loves and respects her; who would never regard her as a sex toy or, well, a whore.
Which starts the anxiety, wondering if I'm cycling back into Mr. Wonderful again. Shit. Not now.
"Edward, you're not cycling. I can sense when you're about to, and you smell like Cinnamon honey. Don't fret." Pokes her head around the door and smiles at me. Throws me a kiss and a bottle of lotion for the shower.
Blow out my breath; didn't realize I was holding it. Open the drain, get out of the tub, hit the shower, lotion in hand, to take care of business and then get on with my day.
We have two weeks until the wedding. Lots to do.
##
SPOV
I love Paris. Especially when it's just us girls there. And this trip will be extra fun, since I'm getting my wedding gown. I showed Alice what I wanted, and she made that 'squee' sound we do that drives the guys nuts; they don't understand that part of being female is being, well, silly sometimes.
Alice emailed the photo of the gown I want over to my favorite couture house a few weeks ago; we have an appointment there tomorrow afternoon with Nicolas for my final fitting – they already had my measurements from that last time they created this dress for me, its not like my weight fluctuated over the past fifty years. Edward will be so taken aback when he sees it; I hope he likes it.
Ah hell, he's gonna love it; Alice already told me he will.
And afterwards, Rosie and Ali and I are going shopping for lingerie.
With our cell phones.
##
He's so nervous about cycling again, and I can't blame him. Especially with the stress of the wedding coming up, and his responsibilities with running The Firm, helping Charlie through his transition and overseeing the cottage renovations.
It'd be a lot for someone who isn't Bipolar.
But I'm confident he'll be fine for a while. He still smells strongly of Cinnamon, so I know he's in good shape.
Carlisle and I were doing research on scents and brain disorders when I found information on Beagles of all things being about to sense when a human was about to have an Epileptic seizure. I was so impressed by that, how one creature could sense how another, of an entirely different species, was about to have some profound physical change. I showed it to Eddie, and he was impressed as well. Huh Kitten, maybe this is similar to how you can tell when I'm about to cycle. But you're much cuter than a Beagle and you don't shed nearly as much.
I rolled my eyes at him, gave him a smooch. He laughed and kissed me back, then proceeded to kick my butt at chess. Again.
When he tells me that the scent of my quim reminds him of strawberries and cream, I know Mr. Wonderful is returning.
When he doesn't say anything at all about the scent of my quim, I know the veil is about to descend.
And I really can't tell you which one is worse.
##
EMMETTPOV
I drove Rosie, Jasper and Ali to SeaTac in the Jeep. Carlisle took Esme and Nessie in his Mercedes. Wardo drove Missy in the new Lexus: The Cullen Family Caravan, rolling through Forks on our way up to Seattle. The four of us laughed our assesoffat the humans as we went through the center of town, watching them as they gaped at us like a bunch of jacktard windowlickers.
Too bad Charlie missed this show today; he would have loved it, seeing all those idiots who gave him so much shit behind his back when he was human, like he didn't know it; staring at us, jealous and scared shitless of us at the same time. Hell, he's still going to be the fucking town's police chief; he didn't get that job because he's a moron.
And Charlie's fitting right in with the family too; he's just too cool. Now I have someone else to watch football with, other than Missy. At least I won't have to explain nearly every play with him, like I do with her. And maybe I can win some money off him; she always takes me to the cleaners when we bet, especially the Packers Bears games. Jesus, her and her Wisconsin teams, her love for them is ridiculous. Wardo never misses a chance to tease her about that, especially when the Bears or the Cubbies win; she gets all flustered but is still a good sport about it.
Passing through Port Angeles, I glance over at Rosalie, sitting there like a fucking Barbie doll, blonde with her make up just perfect. She's still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Lucky for me she found me that day back in the thirties; I still can't believe she's mine forever.
"Rosie, you can buy whatever fancy French underwear you want baby, just leave the panties in Paris. No sense buying what doesn't stay on anyway."
Which gets a major laugh outta Jasper. I know my bro is thinking the exact same thing about Alice. And I wouldn't be surprised if Wardo was too about Missy.
Rosie punches my right arm at that one. Hard. My baby can pack a wallop.
Wait until Wardo sees what Jazz and I have planned for his stag party up in Vancouver; gonna make up for the last one that fucking Bella put the kibosh on. Sofia was so pissed about that: "What the fuck is wrong with going to a peeler bar for your stag party? Isn't that in the contract somewhere? Is she a moron or something? No strippers? Jesus..." This morning just before we left, Missy pulled me aside in the garage and poked my chest with her right index finger to make her point: "Emmett, take Edward up to Vancouver for his stag party; they have the best strippers in the world there, take him to Brandi's. Because if you don't, I will." When she whispered her idea to me for Wardo's night it nearly gave me a woody, it was so freakin' hot.
We'd already had something in the works along those lines, and I know he's gonna fucking love it. Got the VIP room that's only for the really high rollers set aside already for us; big surprise waiting for him there...
Missy asked Rosie to be her Maid of Honor. Last time we got hitched, Missy was hers. Alice will probably be the next. Rosie and I tend to get remarried every five years or so. I don't mind. Gives us that many more wedding nights, which doesn't suck.
Wardo asked me to be his best man, which I was happy to do. We've been through a lot together, especially these past two years. Seth is standing in as well, which I know is pissing off Jake.
Fuck him. I never liked that whiny ass dog anyway. Always moping about the house, stinking up the place, and all because of Bella. Damn I'm glad she's history.
But Seth?
Totally cool; doesn't smell like a wet dog, and rolls just like he's one of us.
Which come to think of it, he very nearly is. Too bad he's a shapeshifter; he'd make one hell of a vampire.
##
EPOV
It's just the two of us in the Lexus, driving up to SeaTac; Nessie wanted to drive up with Carlisle and Esme, which is fine, since I have a surprise for Sofia - her new AmEx Centurian card, replacing the one she has under Sofia Masen for her to use in Paris for whatever she desires; hell, she can buy restaurant-size containers of mayonnaise with it for all I care, just want to make the transition over to her being Sofia Cullen that much more enjoyable for her. I know after 90 years of being Sofia Masen, she'll need some prodding. She's resisted becoming a Cullen for a number of reasons, none of which are worth going into, as far as you're concerned. Family business.
"Here's the printout of the shoes Nessie needs honey, and the ones for the wedding are at the top, they're the ones that are most important. And please don't take her to any toy stores, she has enough toys; books are fine, but no more toys, her room is a disaster as it is and, do you really need to take her to McDonald's, that's so unhealthy, and... Edward, are you listening to me?"
Cocks her head at me, gives me The Look; she knows I'm not. I'm miles away, thinking about the wedding, how beautiful she'll look, how excited I am to be marrying her again, with the whole family there. How close the cottage is to being completed, what my brothers are up to for my stag party: I picked up Vancouver and strippers from Sofia when she and Emmett were having their little confab in the garage earlier.
What an awesome woman I have. This will be a far more interesting stag party than hunting with the guys which I enjoy but please, strippers versus elk? You do the math...
"Uh, yeah Fia, shoes at the top are the most important, no toys, books are okay and maybe no McDeathburger. And Vancouver, something about strippers in Vancouver" I grin at her, I just cannot resist teasing her, love watching her mouth drop as her eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
"Wha..how..oh dammit Eddie, that's supposed to be a surprise from the boys to you. Please, honey, don't tell them you know, they'll be so disappointed, please Eddie" she pleads, grabbing my right arm to make her point. I look in the rearview and see Emmett shooting me a puzzled look. What is up with them, did he figure it out? Ah crap. I hear him think.
"I'll act surprised Kitten. And thank you, you know how much I enjoy that type of wholesome, quality entertainment, especially if you're the one providing it."
When she pulls that Joanie Stubbs from Deadwood outfit from the closet, the one with the top hat with the huge diamond buckle on it and prances around our bedroom that gets Caesar going every single time. The only thing better is when either Al Green or Mozart's The Magic Flute is playing when we're rolling around the sheets. The Queen of the Night's aria reminds me of when the two of us attended a performance of it when I was sixteen, and she caught me staring at her breasts in that green dress, the one father bought her with the crystals on it that hugged her just right, left nothing to the imagination...I shift in my seat remembering what that did to me; how she saved me from my embarrassment when she glanced down at my trousers and saw my erection, and then took her stole, turned towards me and carelessly dropped in onto my lap while chattering away about how much she enjoyed the music, smiled at me, and winked. You can imagine what that memory is doing to me now.
It's going to be a long four days.
##
SPOV
I'm so upset with myself that he figured out that the boys are taking him up to Vancouver for his stag party. Even Carlisle is going along with them, which is so unlike him; he'd outgrown that type of entertainment ages ago, literally.
"Don't worry Kitten, I won't tell them I know" he promises. And I know he won't but I'm still annoyed with myself. I should know better; he's able to cut through my block now, have to really watch my thoughts.
Pulls me to him with his right arm, steers the Lexus with his knees; again driving far too fast for my comfort, but I know better than to say anything.
"What are you digging for in your jacket Eddie?" I watch as he pulls something small and black out of the inner right pocket of his jacket, then takes his right arm back. Turns and smiles at me, huge smirk on that beautiful face of his.
"Here Fia. This is yours. Buy yourself whatever you like in Paris. You have to spend at least two hundred fifty grand a year on it, so have fun. And don't put your gown on this, put that on the account at the designers; this is just for your use."
Takes my right hand, places the black titanium card into my palm. I look down and cannot believe what I see.
A new Centurian AmEx card, with Sofia Cullen embossed on the face. Holy Mother of Consumer Spending. I'm packing major plastic, and my life is now really fucking fantastic. Well fuck me five ways from Sunday he's really got things under control.
My first reaction is to be upset with him, argue about how I'm not Sofia Cullen yet, this is credit fraud, but I look up at his face, happy and open with those emerald eyes so full of love; I just keep my trap shut. Besides, apparently the good people at AmEx don't think its credit fraud, otherwise they wouldn't have done this, opened an account with my new name. I have one under Sofia Masen, but I bet that's been closed by the man sitting to my left.
"Don't bother using the one under your name now Fia. You're correct, I closed that one this morning. Use this one. Happy early wedding present baby." Leans over and kisses my mouth, still open with amazement. Looks down at me again, puzzled by my reaction.
"Sofia, you're not the boss anymore honey. Relax and enjoy yourself over there." Christ act like you're happy about this Fia, not like I just killed a puppy in front of you. What is up with her anyway? She's a major consumptive; she could be the patron saint of Balenciaga and Prada... I hear him think.
I gulp and give him a huge smile. He's right. I'm retired, but I feel like I need a retirement job. Maybe teach knitting or something, I can still pass as human, more so than the rest of us. Sunny days would be a problem though maybe I can do something online...
"Oh Eddie, thank you honey, this is so, so..." I search for the right word, "Unexpected. Oh my God I am going to so have fun with this." Damn right I am. I'm going to buy so much lingerie and perfume and stuff for Nessie and get him some new clothes something from Prada, and maybe some new Porthault sheets for the cottage and a fuckload of jewelry and diamonds and, and oh my God I'm getting wet I'm so damn excited, and I know he can smell me, he's shifting in his seat, I know what this is doing to him. Turn back towards him and really kiss him, tongue and all, let him feel that stud.
This is better than the feeling I had when I closed Bella's Centurian account. That was pure power, laughing when I saw the statement that had one purchase on it: Thirty dollars worth of gasoline. The attendant at the gas station had to help her use it, she couldn't swipe it through the mag strip reader the card was too thick. Bloody human...
Ruffles my hair with his hand, just grinning at me. "I have one request of you Kitten."
"What Eddie?"
"Leave the panties in Paris. The other girls are."
I giggle, can't help myself.
"Yes sir."
That's my girl...
##
Here's the real reason I was so upset with the new AmEx card: When I marry him again, I won't be Sofia Masen anymore, much less Sofia Kowalski.
I'll be Sofia Cullen.
And it'll be like I never existed. Which is what that damn piece of black titanium reminded me of: I'll be just like Joanie Stubbs, sold into whoredom by her father.
All that money I brought with me, that rightfully should have been Edward's, if he had made it to twenty-one, which is the deal his father and I struck, way back in 1915? Which would have entitled him to become one of the wealthiest young men in the country, much less the world at that time?
Gone...
It was all in my name, as long as I remained either a Kowalski or a Masen. Edward legally has no right to it; he's forever seventeen. Carlisle has no right to it either: He's not a Masen. So that's why I was so upset: It was like my life was being extinguished, just like the flame on a candle, snuffed out in a heartbeat.
Except we have a bunch of our fortune stashed away, where Carlisle will never find it, doesn't even know it exists. We're not stupid, its one of the reasons the two of us left him back in 1920 – we didn't want him to know just how much we were worth, once we got married. Didn't want him taking advantage of us for the money. We really didn't trust him then, not like we do now.
Which is where Charlie comes in.
Helps to have the law on your side.
##
ALICEPOV
I've been fairly quiet throughout this whole story, haven't I, which is unusual for me, I know.
But I have to tell you, Sofia looks just exquisite in her Balenciaga gown; it's an exact copy of Edward's favorite, that red one; the gown that he won't let her loan out, he's so concerned it won't come back – it's truly a rare piece, I believe there are only six or so left in existence.
Except this version is in blush pink, with the bow over the lower back portion reduced a bit, and the bodice is pulled in; really accentuates Missy's waist and her girls, which I know he loves. And she's kept that lace veil that she wore in 1920, in Venice, when she married him the first time; she'll be wearing that on the big day as well. Tried to get us to agree to let her wear her pink Chuck Taylor's, but Esme talked her out of it: "How will you waltz in those clodhoppers Missy? Honestly Sofia, you're the best dancer of all you girls, Edward would be so disappointed if you didn't wear something more special on your day."
And Sofia had to agree, albeit a bit sheepishly; she knew Esme was right. So we found her a pair of beautiful silk shoes with a Louis Fourteenth heel, with crystals and pearl beads on the instep. Hopefully Nessie will wear them at her wedding.
She's planning on wearing the pearl drop earrings Edward gave her so long ago, paired with a simple pearl necklace that Esme is letting her borrow. We found her garter here in Paris as well; she can't wait for Edward to burrow himself under her skirts and pull it off her thigh with his teeth. I hope Seth or one of the other boys from the pack catch it, it would be nice to throw them a wedding some day, they've been so wonderful towards us, especially Seth, Quill and Embry.
Nicholas was just amazed at how well the dress fit her, couldn't understand how she fit into a dress that was made for her over fifty years ago, but at least he had the good sense to keep his thoughts to himself; heaven knows he's making enough money on this dress, plus the gowns for Rosie, Esme and myself. All couture pieces, one of a kind.
Edward told Missy money was no object, and we took that to heart. This wedding will be so much more classic and beautiful than the pretend one; we've even hired the Seattle Symphony Orchestra to perform. Carlisle wants to see Edward and Sofia dance to Strauss' Waltz Number Two, just like they did in Venice, since he missed it.
And the guest list is mostly our kind; the only humans are the pack and Billy, plus Edward's contacts in LA, with their dates, and some of Missy's knitting friends from that Ravelry site she haunts. Some of them we're flying in from as far away as France, England, Cleveland, Detroit, Pennsylvania and one of the Carolinas. We're putting them up in a bed and breakfast in town that's renowned for their service.
This will be the best wedding ever.
As long as Bella and Jake don't show up and ruin it.
##
JACOBPOV
"Hello Jacob."
I jump about twelve feet in the air; fucking Cullen, he's so damn stealthy, I never heard him or even smelled him when he sidled up behind me in the frozen foods section, as I loaded up my cart with a bunch of those three for five dollar pizzas that taste like cardboard dipped in red melted crayons.
"What the hell do you want Cullen?" I snap, my heart pounding, he still freaks me out.
Doesn't say a word, just looks at me with those cold amber eyes of his, glances down at my cart, sees the food there, the ice cream and cereal and steaks, all provided by his pay off money; what was left after we made the repairs to the house and I salted some away for myself, in an account Bella doesn't know about.
"Jacob, you are aware that Sofia and I are getting married next weekend, correct?" So fucking formal, like he's still in 1918 or something. Keeps that laser-point stare going, feels like he's drilling through my eyes, into the back of my brain.
Blink to stop the laser from penetrating any further, nod my head and gulp.
"Yeah, who doesn't; the whole freakin' towns yabbering about it; so what? Why should I care?" Please just move away from me Cullen, get outta my sight. Jesus, where the hell is Bella, she'd give him a piece of her mind about now.
"There is some concern that there might be a, shall we say, disruption of the festivities, which we'd like to avoid at all costs." Hey buddy speaka da English; I don't understand what the hell you're talkin' about.
"Huh?"
Watch as Cullen sets his mouth in a tight line; he's trying to keep his temper in check. I've heard when he lets loose it ain't pretty; ask Bella about what he did to her in the cottage that day when she caught him and Blondie Junior hugging, him kissing the top of her head like he was trying to suck her soul outta her.
"Jacob, I don't want Sofia's day ruined by either of you showing up and causing a scene. Is that plain enough?" Laser-eyes are really drilling into me now; I can hear Bella a few aisles over, and from what I can make out, Blondie Junior is giving her the same spiel. Great, tag-teaming us, bet they followed us in here. Jesus Christ I just wanna get out of here, away from them.
"You don't have to worry about me Cullen, I wouldn't go anywhere near your little hoe-down. Bella, though..." Let that hang see if he takes the bait. I could use some more cash.
His eyes don't change, but now he gives me a tight smile, which is really creepy.
"We were aware of that possibility Jacob, and I'd like to offer you a solution to avoid that from occurring, which, of course, would be in your best interests." In other words, he's making me an offer I can't refuse.
"How much?"
Looks up at the ceiling, shakes his head, that tight smile still in place. God he is one scary ass dude when he wants to be.
"Jacob Jacob Jacob. How thick do you think we are? Of course you want more money, that's a given. Let me ask you what you think is a fair amount."
"Another quarter."
Doesn't answer me, I know he and Blondie Junior are yakking with each other; I wish I knew what they were saying.
"That would be fine Jacob. Sofia has also suggested a trip to Vegas might be in order for both of you as well. How's TheHotel sound? We'd provide your transportation and lodging of course, all other costs would be your responsibility."
TheHotel? Fuck me, that's rich. I figured they try to dump us out in the 'burbs somewhere.
"Yeah, sure."
Cullen's tight smile opens up a bit; I can see those razor sharp teeth just behind his lips. I'd hate to feel their bite.
"Thank you Jacob. You'll need to be at SeaTac on Friday morning; be sure you give yourself time to allow for traffic. Wouldn't want to miss your flight."
I catch your drift Cullen, believe me, we'll be there plenty early. Look over my shoulder, seeking out Bella, thought I heard her voice around the corner.
When I turn back around, Cullen's gone.
Just like a ghost.
Damn...
##
VANCOUVER BC – FIVE DAYS LATER/EPOV
The boys and Carlisle brought me up here to Brandi's. The entertainment is more than adequate; it's fucking impressive. The girls here are amazing, especially their pole dancing skills.
I've lost track of how much we've spent in tips for the dancers; Jasper and Emmett made it clear to the management that we don't drink, period, and that we didn't want to be bothered by any of the employees attempting to sell us anything other than lap dances, but that we'd more than make up for it with our tips.
The best part of the night so far has been watching Dad's face as he was on the receiving end of his first ever lap dance; I whispered the thoughts rolling through his head to my brothers, who could barely contain themselves; Emmett was literally on the floor at one point, he was laughing so hard. We made sure we tipped his dancer very well for her efforts.
"Mr. Cullen?"
It's the manager. Four heads shoot around. He startles at how fast we moved; have to remember where we're at, keep our tics and movements more human-like.
"Which one?" Jasper asks, like he doesn't have a clue. I know they've planned something for me.
"Uh, Edward?" the manager squeaks out.
"That's him, he's the groom" Emmett jerks his thumb at me, grinning. Wardo, you have no idea what is waiting up there for you bro, you are going to jizz your pants.
Lovely Emmett. Thank you for that visual.
"We have a special room set aside for you sir, your brothers and father have arranged some entertainment especially for you, if you'd care to follow me, please?" The manager motions towards a spiral staircase, set to the left of the main stage.
"Enjoy yourself bro!" Jasper blurts out; he and Emmett are hanging all over each other. Carlisle doesn't say a word, just sits there next to them, arms crossed, looking like the Goddamed Cheshire Cat.
Up the stairs I climb, having absolutely no idea what awaits me. The manager shows me into a superbly appointed room, motions for me to seat myself on an overstuffed club chair, which sits by itself in the middle of the room, facing two backlit screens on either side of an empty stage that sits flush with the floor.
"Your entertainment will be here shortly sir, enjoy." The manager leaves, closing the door behind with a gentle click as the lock catches.
Sit down, glancing around the room. I have no idea what's going to happen, but a part of me feels like my sixteen-year old self, the first time I caught a glimpse of Fia's breasts as they struggled against the green silk gown, the one with the crystals that caught the light and made her face even more beautiful; anxious and excited at the same time, and so afraid she'd catch me in the act.
The lights go out, with only the lighting behind the pair of screens remaining.
##
That's when I smell her: Honey and sunshine.
"You can look but no touching Edward, that's not allowed; if you do, the show's over. Now enjoy yourself boychik."
Spin around; she's nowhere to be seen. I swear I just heard her whisper in my right ear. What the hell?
Clair de Lune drifts from the speakers. I look back over at the stage.
Oh my God. There she is.
My angel.
My Kitten.
Silhouetted against the screen, Sofia stands in profile, holding two large fans constructed of Ostrich plumes, one behind and the other in front of her.
Twirling across the stage, back and forth in front of me in time to the music, my favorite piece by Debussy, my wife begins dancing, deftly moving the fans; allowing me only the briefest of glimpses of her body as she does. I can feel the air move across my face as the plumes swish through the ether as she approaches me, flirting, before flitting away, nimble as can be.
A Fan Dance: Her special surprise for my stag party; the surprise Emmett and Jasper were in on from the beginning.
I'm speechless. It's just incredibly beautiful and erotic at the same time. The implied is much more stimulating than the blatant. I follow her graceful movements with my eyes, not wanting this to end, this reminder of our past, this art form that's all but vanished, remembered only by a few, like ourselves.
This is the best gift she could have given me tonight – a part of our shared past.
One that only she'd know about, and knew that I'd love.
I am the luckiest boy on the face of the earth tonight, dead or alive.
##
A/N: YouTube has a wonderful clip of Sally Rand performing a fan dance at the 1934 Chicago World's Fair, if you're interested in seeing the most famous fan dancer of the 20th century. Dita Von Teese also performs an amazing fan dance, but her work is not available there. I just couldn't see Sofia giving Edward a hot, sweaty lap dance, even though I'm sure he'd enjoy it during one of his manic cycles; the Fan Dance seemed more his style.
I found several similarities between Sofia and Joanie Stubbs, the hooker/madam from Deadwood – both sold into whoredom by their fathers, both incredibly smart and determined to overcome the hand dealt them. Unlike Joanie, Sofia didn't find comfort in the arms of other women, like Joanie did (with Calamity Jane), but instead stuck with her green-eyed boy, who was her ticket out of The Life.
Thanks to the UU girls on Ravelry, who were lucky enough to be invited to the wedding; remember your manners, and watch out for that Garrett: Even though he's still with Kate, he does tend to have a roaming eye. Just don't let yourself get in a dark corner with him. He bites. Hard.
Oh! Maylin from Ravelry is selling hand-dyed yarn inspired by My Little Hobby. You can find it at her Etsy shop: Tricoterie.
Next week: The Wedding and the Honeymoon. Lemons finally, it'll be worth the wait.
A big Dating Game Kiss to my beta, Regan. MWAH!