DISCLAIMER: This story is a Twilight spin-off/crossover of the movie made for TV in 2000 titled Sex and Mrs. X. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, dialogues, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE: New Angle

What do you want to be when you grow up?

That was usually something adults asked children in school. The answer to that question varied from a princess or fairy, to astronaut or policeman, and even President of the United States. We all had to grow up eventually and, with time, our dreams changed, became more realistic.

Then, one day, you woke up and you asked yourself that question. When the answer could be something along the lines of a sensible businesswoman with a cheating husband, you realized your dreams wilted faster than a flower in the dead of the Alaskan winter. But to Madame Esme, that would be the time to swoop in and forge new dreams, and today she would help me with mine.

"We shall begin with the first rule of holes," said Madame Esme from her perch behind her desk. "When you are in one, stop digging."

I nodded, listening intently to what she said from across the room. I had sat down on the same love seat I had when I first came into this room, thinking the familiarity would bring me comfort.

So far, I was feeling like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

Madame stood up, and walked over to the fireplace. She stood in front of it, looking straight at me.

"We must analyze your most significant relationships, so that others won't follow the same path. Tell me, Isabella, before your husband, how many long-time boyfriends did you have?"

I thought back to my days in high school, and only one guy would fall in that category.

"Only one: Mike Newton."

"How long did you two date?"

I bit my lip, remembering. "About a year and a half. He invited me to junior prom, I said yes. We went to the dance, and then he asked me to be his girlfriend that night. That summer, I lost my virginity to him after his parents' Fourth of July barbeque."

"Who ended it?"

"Me."

"Why?"

"He wanted me to go to U-Dub with him, but I had a scholarship to Dartmouth. He gave me an ultimatum, and I picked Dartmouth over him."

Madame stated pacing in front of the chimney.

"And your husband, how did you meet him?"

I sighed. "I met him at the freshmen seminar, where we noticed we had the same English Composition class and became friends. He asked me out a couple of months later. We dated for a year and then he popped the question and I said yes. We got married at Christmas. We were both twenty and still in school, but we thought we could make it."

"What changed?"

"According to him, nothing."

"Pardon?"

I grimaced, remembering the bullshit excuses he gave me. "The night he left, he said I was the same woman he married. No exceptions, just the same boring woman."

Madame stopped in her tracks and turned to look at me. "I hope you found something extremely hard to throw at him."

I laughed.

"And there is that smile…"

I blushed and look down to my hands on my lap.

"Do not worry, Isabella. We will prove him wrong by making you the exception."

"How do we do that?" I asked curiously.

Madame pursed her lips. "Let's start with a small test. When I say a word, you say whatever comes to your mind, d'accord?"

I shrugged. "All right."

She walked around the loveseat and started pacing behind my back.

"Men."

"Pants."

"Love."

"Candy," I said, and then cringed.

Served me right for skipping breakfast.

Madame chuckled. "Time."

"Clock."

"Marriage."

"Love."

Madame smiled at that. "Sex."

I hesitated for a second. "Bed?"

"That was not what you were going to say."

I groaned and shook my head. "No, I was going to say none."

"None…" Madame walked around the loveseat and then sat down next to me. "So, this is where the game takes us, to none. Do you dislike sex?"

I scoffed. "No. It's not that I dislike it; I guess it just never occurred to me."

"Why do you think that is?"

I ran my hands over my pant-covered thighs. "I suppose it's because… well, um… it didn't happen that often."

"Did you ever initiate it?"

"I used to, a lot of times when I was younger," I said nostalgically, remembering the days where I would don one of Peter's shirts with nothing underneath, and then wait for him to get home.

I was lost in my thoughts, when Madame patted my hand.

"Where is that girl now?"

I looked up at her. "What girl?"

"That girl who just spirals through the fields, completely barefoot and with her hair falling wild without care in the world, just enjoying the moment."

I huffed and thought about it. "She graduated top of her class from her private school, then studied journalism. She worked hard. Met who she thought was the perfect man…"

"…and forgot to have fun along the way."

I frowned. "I had fun."

Madame smirked. "Let us redefine fun. Fun is that slightly tipsy feeling you get after your third sip of champagne, when you feel as though you could try anything, and you are not afraid. That is the feeling that you should be searching for."

I bit my lip and leaned back, my head resting against the back of the loveseat. "Maybe I should just start drinking," I sassed.

Madame chuckled. "You have been serious and responsible most of your life."

"Yes, yes!" I exclaimed, standing up and walking to the window next to Madame's desk. "It comes naturally to me. I never worried about competing for boys; I worried about maintaining my GPA and staying on the Dean's list!"

Madame stood up and came to my side. "I understand that, I even admire it. As a career woman, you have been forced to take on certain male traits. You feel that if you show your sexuality, you will not be taken seriously. It's time to stop and shed this, Isabella. Especially after hours."

I groaned and sat in the window seat. "I'm not sure if I can."

Madame sat next to me, her lips pursed with a pensive expression. "You are right, you can't."

I gasped. "I can't?"

"No, but Mademoiselle S can," she said with certainty, crossing her legs. "You will not be Isabella, you will be Mademoiselle S, and she can do whatever the hell she wants. She is a clean slate."

"Mademoiselle S?" I asked, unsure of what she was talking about, and thinking she might have lost her mind.

"I don't have to teach Mademoiselle S anything. She is already cultured, eloquent, with impeccable manners and great fashion sense. She is ahead of the game."

I smiled, liking the sound of that.

She raised a finger. "But foreplay, intimacy, how to get what you want from a man… that I can teach her."

I squirmed in my seat, dreading to ask, but eager at the same time.

"Allez, Isabella. Let it out."

I puffed my cheeks, letting out the breath I was holding, and finally asked, "How?"

Madame grinned. "First, appearances are important. They always have been and they always will be, and Mademoiselle S is in need of a new angle."

She stood up, went to her desk and pressed the intercom button. "Simone, would you please ask Guy to bring out the car?"

"Bien, Madame."

She turned back to me. "We should try to bring out in you what Paris is known for."

I raised an eyebrow. "Which is?"

She smiled mischievously. "Illusions, of course."

BETA: Mauigirl60 | PRE-READER: Alterite

This was one of my favorite scenes in the movie, Jacqueline Bisset is so charming in it. I hope I did it justice.