Hello, everyone! I can't work out what you love most, the story, or Bella's blog posts! LOL

Something Strange on the Horizon

Morning all.

I think I worked out late last night, when I was way too wide awake on coffee, why most women in books are bare. Now, this goes back to reality and escaping it, but neither men nor women in stories ever get a pubic hair in their mouth or stuck between their teeth.

Not even in humor-filled stories do the characters have to stop to subtly remove a hair from their mouth, or worse, get one stuck in the back of their throat (deep throating, anyone?). The men always seem trimmed, too, because when the girl expertly deep throats, his pubic hairs never tickle her nose. They (the characters) also never fart, burp, or hear the noises coming from the bathroom when their lover disappears inside.

Oh, come on, how many of us women run the tap so the men can't hear us peeing?

By the way, did you ever think that with the tap running, it sounds like an elephant pissing? Wouldn't it be better to have a normal pee and the man hear that rather than thinking you have a severe bladder problem?

They never seem to have spots or blemishes, either. They're just 'perfect,' even when they're supposed to be so bad and deadly. These characters all seem to be perfectly flawed—until it comes to bodily functions, at least.

I know it's a double-edged sword. People want to escape reality with books, but at the same time, they cry out when the fiction world doesn't happen the way they want it the readers just a hint of the humanity of the characters can work wonders.

.

I think I'm dead. No joking about here, someone needs to call a doctor because I've collapsed in the chair and feel like my heart has given out on me.

"Three dances, Bella? Is that all you can manage these days?"

I heard Dad's chuckle from the chair next to me, proof that I hadn't killed myself on the dance floor. My feet were dead, though.

"I don't dance weekly like you and Mom, plus it's been years, so don't gripe at me." I moaned, wondering if it would be out of order to slip my shoes off in front of everyone. Too bad if it is, they have to go.

"Your new boss is staring at you. Is that normal? I can go have words with him if you want. I don't mind, Bella. No man should look at you like that. You're not old enough for a start," Dad muttered the last bit, but I still heard and laughed to myself.

"Does he look constipated and in need of a good blow out?" I laughed even harder when Dad replied that he did.

"That's his 'brooding, don't piss me off' look. If he weren't so damn annoying, I'd think it was a little sexy."

It was true. When he'd first started using his brooding face, he looked a little sexy. Okay, a lot, and it did things to me. I couldn't help it.

"Whoa, father here doesn't need those details, daughter of mine," he stammered. When I looked at him, I swore he was thinking about holes in the garden again. His brows were pinched together, and his left eye was twitching. Not a pretty sight at all.

"Come on, kill me a little more, old man." I sighed, then stood up, shoeless and happy, and held my hand out to him. He took it without question, though he did give my bare feet a strange look before leading me onto the dance floor. Since there weren't many other people dancing, we had a good chunk of the floor to ourselves. Although I was tired, it was brilliant.

That was, of course, until the song came to a close, and Prick-a-Doodle-Do came over and asked to cut in. Yes, my boss decided that he wanted to dance with me. I didn't know whether to say no and stomp on his foot or kiss him for the look he was giving me now.

I couldn't exactly kiss him, though, and stomping on his foot was out of the question because I wasn't wearing my shoes anymore. I gave up thinking and just decided to dance with him. Stupid move, I know, but I didn't have much of a choice after Dad growled at him and passed me over. So much for family loyalties.

"Did you know that your underwear is rainbow colored?" he asked the second Dad moved away from us. It was a good job Dad had gone. If Daddy had heard what he'd just said, Prick-a-Doodle-Do would've been six feet under before midnight.

"I should hope so, seeing as I got dressed allll by myself, with no help. I'm a big girl!" I gave a little fake-squeal with a serious amount of sarcasm thrown in for good measure. He rolled his eyes, but I saw the small smirk on his lips.

"Did you do it on purpose? You're wearing a pretty dress tonight, and your hair looks normal, so I wondered if you were wearing them to break the rules."

"I'm wearing a dress tonight because my mother bribed me with the promise of chocolate cake when I get home. My hair is 'normal' because I couldn't put the synthetic hair in the heated rollers, and I'm wearing these panties because I can, not to get noticed. Believe it or not, I wear what I wear for me, no one else," I griped then bitched at myself for not putting my shoes back on. I could just imagine the damage I could've inflicted on his shins with them.

"I like that."

"Like what?" I asked, puzzled by the look on his face.

"That you do stuff for you and no one else. You don't see much of that these days," he replied, and I slowly nodded.

I was having a strange 'Oh My God' moment because we were talking without fighting. It felt strange, and not in a good way.

The song ended, and I begged out of dancing again when he wanted another one from me. It didn't feel good to get on with him. Too serious and grown-up. I didn't like it one bit. At least I knew where I stood, kind of, when we were being bitchy at each other, but when we were nice, well, this felt strange and abnormal.

When I'd spent what felt like hours laughing at his poor arse, and he'd turned moody, I called an end to my night. I knew he'd get roped into dancing with the blue rinse brigade. No doubt he would get his revenge, but I couldn't not laugh. It was hilarious.

Just after midnight, I got home but found I didn't care about the time. Mom had promised. I was eating that chocolate cake before I went to bed.

.

I was on this so-called holiday. Three weeks had turned into a month, and I was starting to get worried that Prick-a-Doodle-Do was going to fire me. So, imagine my surprise when he called and said he wanted to meet with me this morning to discuss what role he wanted me to have with the business.

I didn't know how to take that. Over the phone, he asked about my qualifications, even though there was a copy of my CV in his office. He also asked about my interests and how well I knew people in the town. He gave nothing away about what job I would have, and that had me on edge. As I said before, I didn't need this job, but I liked it, even with the bitching.

"Mac, I just walked you, shut the hell up and go chew on your bone," I whined as I sat on the toilet.

Honestly, why do pets have to have your attention while you are on the toilet? If I'm anywhere else in the house, Mac is asleep on his bed. The moment I need to pee, he is scratching at the bathroom door and whimpering for affection.

When I was finished, I played with Mac for a little while then thought about dragging my arse to work to see what the Bossman wanted. Deciding to wear a simple white top with my short denim skirt, I wanted something more. The ensemble looked too simple and plain, so I gave it some oomph: black tights bedazzled with bright, multi-colored diamante stones.

In raiding my wardrobe, I noted that I would need to go shopping at some point because the next season wasn't too far off and I needed, well, wanted, a fresher look. It would all depend on what job I was given. With that thought, I headed out.

I walked to work, listening to my music, and paying no attention to the steps I took. When I found myself outside the office doors before I knew it, I had to curse my upbeat music choice. The building no longer resembled the old one, not at all. Scaffolding was up around the front of it, and plastic sheeting covered the windows. I hadn't been inside since I started my time off, and I was a little worried about how it would all look.

I had to cover my mouth and nose the moment I walked into the building. Dust and fumes from whatever work the Bossman had going on were everywhere. At least I didn't bitch about all the crap going in my hair. I might have been a girl, but I wasn't one of those types of girls. I didn't mind getting my hands dirty if I had to and often even enjoyed myself when doing it.

"Ah, Miss Swan."

I heard his voice before I saw him and was a little worried about how he could see me when I couldn't see two feet in front of my face.

"Your tights are like a beacon," he answered my unasked question.

"Well, now it just goes to show how good my sense of clothing is," I said into the dust-laden air. "Are we staying here, or do you have somewhere . . . cleaner, for us to go?" I asked and hoped he could understand me because there was no way I was lowering my hand from my mouth anytime soon. Who knew what was in the air.

"Why don't we go into my office?" he suggested, and I just stood there like a damn idiot. I had no idea where I was going anymore. The walls and doors had been moved all around.

"Take my hand," he said. The next thing I knew, my hand was in his, and he was pulling me through a slit in the plastic sheeting I hadn't noticed before. "I'm sorry for the mess, but they'll be done in a day or so, and then it's just the other stuff that needs to be done. You're okay with helping me put furniture together, right?"

Overalls and a tool belt? Hell yes, I can work with that! We passed through a doorway, and my first thought was, "Thank the Lord, there's clean air!"

"I persuaded Nancy and Gertrude to stay on as employees for the next few months, but they'll be working from home and mailing in their articles for the printed version of the magazine. We'll see how sales go to gauge where to take it after that. I've also been working on a website which will launch in the next few weeks. That's where you come in. It says on your résumé that you have some computer knowledge, correct?"

I would just like to point out here that he obviously didn't expect me to answer because he took another large breath and continued talking.

"I'd like to have the same articles on the website as in the printed form. Hopefully, that will entice the older readers to transfer over, but I'd need someone to help me with that. I'd also like to bring in fresh material. I know that reading is becoming a popular pastime and I thought that maybe you'd like to do a section each fortnight or so with that. You could do an online book club, of sorts. Women do that type of thing, right?" he asked, and I wanted to hit him.

There he was, sat behind his desk while I stood by the door—because there weren't any other chairs—and he was grinning at me. Prick-a-Doodle-Do had to be doing this to get a rise out of me. He knew that I liked reading, it was in the 'hobbies and interest' section of my resume. But what I really wanted to hit him for, was the 'women' comment. It wasn't the first time he'd raised that issue.

"So just because I have a vagina means I like to read and would want to run a book club?" I growled, and he was sensible enough to look down at his desk. The idea I had about stapling his scrotum to his desk resurfaced and seemed pretty good to me.

"No, I didn't mean it like that, Princess, I promise." His attempt to sound innocent really didn't suit him.

"Look, I'll do your stupid book club, but quit making mention of me being a girl, okay? We both know you're a dick and I have a vagina." Word slip, I know, but he was either dumb enough not to notice, or he did and was clever enough to keep his mouth shut. Either way, he nodded then we got down to details.

"I'm going into the city this weekend, and I'll grab some books from the bookstore there. Will any selection work, or do you have a specific thing that you read?" he asked.

"No horror. I don't do blood and gore, it's gross," I said carefully and gave him a look, almost daring him to say something.

"Romance it is, then."

He went on to explain that I was getting a pay raise. Not that I needed it, but who says no to money? I would also get my own office which I could decorate as I liked, so long as I met any of the public in a communal area, not in a rainbow-filled room that resembled a kid's playroom. Dick.

And that was the end of our meeting.

So, why does Edward call her princess? Because the first time he met her properly, face to face, she was wearing a tiara. Why does Bella call Edward a prick? Well, because he is, but in a funny way. Do you remember at school, when a boy tugged on your pigtails because he liked you? This is Edward's way of 'liking' Bella. He gets turned on by seeing her angry.

The next teaser:

You. Are. Dead.

Ah, I think he found out it was me. I stand by my previous thought, though. I need revenge after the books he gave me. There was no way I could read them and let those words stay with me, and there was a point I needed to make.

I have no idea what you mean ;)