Author's Notes:
Gunfight at the O.K. Corral. But with poems.
The characters and Twilight universe are Stephenie Meyer's. I'm just having fun...

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Edward watched Bella and Alice go into the Veela café. He waited until just after 6 o'clock then slipped in the door, lurking at the back by the windows where it was darker. The place was crowded and as he'd suspected, largely with women. He felt a little embarrassed to be one of the few guys there and he guessed that the others had mostly been coerced by their wives or girlfriends with promises of bedroom gymnastics afterwards, amped up by the evening's hot verse.

Edward didn't think he could cope with being right beside Bella and Alice during the reading, especially after so long away from her. It didn't seem the right atmosphere in which to get reacquainted, especially as he'd probably have a hard on. He'd catch her after it ended and talk with her outside - and in the car, as he planned to get her to drive home with him.

He could see Bella across the room though and he feasted his eyes on her. She was wearing a deep blue blouse that made her pale skin glow and a full mid-calf skirt in wine red. God she was lovely, her cheeks slightly flushed as she chatted animatedly with Alice. She was casting surreptitious glances around the room, and finally she located him in the shadows. They stared at each other and he knew his face showed frank longing. He didn't try to hide it. Bella's gaze was intense, still a little troubled, but she gave him a half-smile and his heart almost stopped. He smiled back, enormously cheered even by the tentative acknowledgement.

"Excuse me everyone, excuse me, can we have some hush here now." Ting ting ting.

An older woman wearing rather too many strings of beads and a dress that seemed to be made of old chenille curtains was tapping a teaspoon on a glass. The babble of voices faded.

"Lovely to see such a good turnout here tonight. James will be signing his new volume "Doing the Juicy" after the reading so stick around for that. Copies will be on sale. And without further ado, I'm delighted to introduce one of Seattle's finest young poets, already with quite a reputation!" She winked and the audience tittered knowingly. "So ladies and gentlemen, I give you …James Laurence!" A small storm of applause, which Edward refused to join. Fuck if he was going to clap the slimeball.

The poet rose from the front row of chairs and stepped up onto the raised floor area as Chenille Curtains took his seat. He flicked his shoulder-length hair back and turned a smouldering stare on the audience, then opened a paperback and began to read.

"In the Shower

Skin to skin
Soaping your body
Spray sluicing from your curves
Hands on your wetness
In your wetness
As you writhe and I'm
Kneeling beneath you
Cleaning your dark salty slit
With my dirty tongue."

Edward winced - no holds barred from the word go. But the assembled ladies loved it and clapped enthusiastically. He looked at Bella and was worried to see how flushed and bright-eyed she was as she applauded. But it was quite hot in the café crowded with people, probably that was all.

James paused and glanced around the room under thick lashes. Jesus, did he just lick his lips? Then he was off again, declaiming another lascivious poem to his rapt listeners. Edward felt oddly uncomfortable hearing a man read erotic verse. Even more weirded out as his cock responded, twitching in his jeans.

"Finally

Teasing me all day
At the game, in the park
Walking ahead of me
Jiggling that sweet butt
Bending to tie your shoe
Straight-legged, back arched
Thrusting your ass at me
Asking to be fucked

Teasing me all night
At dinner with your folks
Fingers run up my thigh
Under the tablecloth
Fingers hot on my cock
Through the coarse denim
Helpless to stop you
I push into your hand

Finally we're alone
But still you're teasing
Flirting and half-undressed
Making me lose control
Punishing your teasing
With my hands, with my mouth
Then with my hard cock
I make you scream uncle."

Damn. Edward adjusted his erection as the applause rang out again. And Bella was breathing quickly across the room, flushed and excited, her eyes fixed on James. She was definitely reacting. Edward tried to calm the red wave of jealously that swept through him. He was reacting so of course she was. The poems were hot.

He suffered through the rest of the reading watching Bella gazing at James wide-eyed, obviously aroused. It hurt to see her respond to someone else even though he knew it was the goddamn poetry effect again.

And lets face it, if it had been him reciting those poems she wouldn't have just been sitting there. No, they'd have been doing the juicy right there on the podium in front of all these turned on ladies. The thought cheered him somewhat, and made him even harder.

He adjusted his crotch again, wondering if all the wet panties in the room were affecting him, scents of arousal rising all around as thirty or so excited women shifted restlessly in their seats, pheromones filling the warm café air and going straight up his nose and to his cock. God he wanted to fuck Bella so much.

Finally James declaimed the last poem, a raunchy number about watching his lover give him head which particularly resonated with Edward so that he had to turn away and lean his cheek on the cold glass of the window for a minute, breathing deeply until he had some control again.

The applause went on and on then Chenille Curtains was back, directing people to the signing table where books were for sale. The audience milled about in a babble of excited conversation and people began slipping away. Edward strained to see through the crush, scanning for Alice and Bella.

There - Bella was in line with a book, waiting for James to sign it. He didn't like the thought of her anywhere near him but what could he do? He couldn't charge over like a Neanderthal and drag her off by her hair.

Alice popped up in front of him, babbling away. Dammit, she was supposed to be minding Bella.

"Edward I tried to get her to ride back with you but she wouldn't make a decision and now I can't get through to her at all. She's totally preoccupied with this guy and his poetry. I'm sorry you were right about how it affects her, I shouldn't have let her come here tonight. I didn't really understand before or I guess I didn't really believe you. You'd better try to talk with her another night. I promise I'll get her home safely though. I'll work on her and set another meeting up. I owe you one, I'm really sorry."

Shit. Crushing disappointment gripped him and he thought furiously. What if she had no choice?

"Here's what we'll do Alice. We'll have a noisy fight over here then you'll storm off and drive home alone. If Bella has no ride she'll have to let me take her home. Please Alice, like you said, you owe me. Please."

Alice dithered, not happy, but in the end she caved and played her part, shouting dramatically.

"Fuck you Edward, I can do what I want. Don't you dare threaten to tell Mom and Dad that we came here tonight!"

"Listen sis, someone has to keep an eye on you and you know they said you weren't to come to this, this pornfest after they saw his book!"

"Don't you call me 'sis' you patronising asshole!" She was genuinely furious now. Alice hated nicknames.

"I'll call you whatever I like when you're being fucking stupid Alice!"

"Fuck you Edward, just fuck off and leave me alone!"

And she stormed out slamming the door, the bell chiming loudly above it. He winced, blushing with real embarrassment as the remaining ladies eyed him with some interest. Careful, they might find a flushed, excited young man quite toothsome after squirming in their wet panties for the past hour.

But where was Bella? He looked around frantically but she was nowhere. Nor was James anywhere to be seen as the last stragglers wandered to the door and collected their coats. Edward ran outside but there were only a few women getting into cars. No Bella. Was she in the toilet? He dashed back inside then out the back and pushed into the women's toilet not caring who might be there. No-one. In desperation he tried the men's, in case James was there - at least that would reassure him. No-one.

Back to the café and only Chenille Curtains was left, stacking the remaining books into a carton.

"Where did he go?" Edward was loud, no play-acting now.

The woman turned, startled. "What? Who?"

"Your fucking poet. James Laurence that's who! Where'd he fucking go?" He was standing over her, trembling.

"He's driving back to Seattle tonight. It's still early and he's got a fast car…but why?"

"He's got my girlfriend as well, the bastard."

"That young woman with the long dark hair?"

Edward groaned. She was with fucking James. "Yes - a blue blouse and a deep red skirt?"

Chenille Curtains nodded, looking cautious. "Well I'm sure they know their own minds young man. James tends to be a free spirit and your…girlfriend…seems to have made her own decision. I'm sorry but…"

"Listen." He wasn't sure if this was actually the case or not but it was worth a try and he doubted the woman was very observant. "She's below the age. It's statutory rape if he touches her so just fucking tell me where he's headed and I'll get her safely back to her parents again." Well there was only Chief Swan - wait, that was another argument. "Or I could just call her father now - he's the Chief of Police in Forks."

That was the clincher for her, as he'd hoped.

"Well I…I'm sure James didn't realise…she looked very mature for her age…but he can't really afford another scandal so soon after…" She frowned. "Alright. He lives in that big apartment block downtown, the Metropolitan Tower - apartment 93D."

Edward turned to go then spun back at the door. "Wait, what sort of car does he have?"

She shrugged helplessly. "I don't know about cars. Some sort of convertible. Red."

Right, the usual motorized penis. He crashed out into the night, the door chiming crazily, and ran for the Volvo.

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Edward calculated fiercely as he drove. It was nearly 8 o'clock now so James would probably take the shorter route across the Bainbridge Island ferry, not the long way around through Tacoma which took over two hours. But when were the next ferries? He pulled out his mobile and dialled Directory, then the ferry depot. They were at 8.45 and 9.35. James would never make the 8.45 ferry, he must be headed for the 9.35 one. But what if he did decide to just drive round through Tacoma and avoid the ferries?

There was no way of being certain, but Edward sensed that James would want to get Bella to his apartment as soon as possible, and that having half an hour to woo her with more of his fucking poems on the ferry when he didn't have to drive and had his hands free (Edward's jaw clenched at the thought) would appeal. Shit shit shit. He had to get to the Bainbridge Island ferry terminal before it sailed.

What was she thinking, he raged angrily - was she hypnotised by the sleazebag? Had he drugged her? Other than with his poems that is. He had to assume that she wasn't herself, that she wasn't in control - it hurt too much otherwise. But Alice had said she still loved him, and she'd never disobey Charlie to this extent if she were thinking rationally. No, that fucker had done something to her, something to trick and seduce her into going with him. Edward sped on through the night, flooring the gas pedal.

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He took the last turn far too fast and barely missed the gatepost of the ferry terminal as he raced to make the sailing deadline. It was 9.15 and as the Volvo accelerated towards the wharf he saw the red convertible behind three other cars, queuing to drive on board. Yes!

Skidding to a stop beside the red car he leapt out and peered in the passenger side. He could see Bella sprawled on the leather seat, her head on James' shoulder, giggling as he whispered something in her ear. His hand was on her knee and Edward snarled and tried to open her door. It was locked - the asshole probably used kiddie locks to make sure his prey didn't change their minds and escape.

James looked up at him, frowning. Edward ran around the car and pulled open the driver's door then wrenched James out of the seat. Bella fell giggling across the seats, sprawling loosely. She was definitely on something.

Then a hard fist smashed into his jaw and he fell, bruising his shoulder and grazing his hands on the wet asphalt of the car park. He tasted blood in his mouth.

James stood over him, glaring down. "The fuck you think you're doing you little punk?"

"Taking Bella home. I'm her boyfriend shithead." Edward clambered back to his feet again as James loomed over him with clenched fists, tall and solidly muscled. "What the fuck have you done to her? She's completely out of it."

James sneered. "Tricks of the trade jerk-off. But she came with me before she tried my flask of special brandy. So you're history, boyfriend."

That hurt, but Edward knew it was just the damn poetry again, sucking her in so James could fuck her up even further with some goddam date-rape spiked liquor. He looked around wildly. There were no cops here, and the ferry staff weren't likely to want to get involved and help him. And James was bigger and stronger.

He appealed to Bella.

"Bella baby, it's me, Edward. Please, come home with me now, this guy's a jerk and he's…"

James had him pinned to the car now, pushed back against the black cloth top by his throat with his back pressed painfully against the struts.

"Don't fuck with my pussy you little douchebag." Hissing poisonously in his ear.

But Bella had somehow clambered out of the driver's door and was on her hands and knees on the asphalt, shaking her head and still giggling as though this were all a game. She grabbed onto James and pulled herself upright hand over hand, clinging to him and swaying, her hair dishevelled.

"Baby doll," James crooned, still half choking Edward against the car as Edward struggled and tried to kick out. "Stay in the car babe, it's cold out here. I'm just getting rid of this little douche then we'll be on our way. You wanna hear more of my poems dontcha? You like my poems baby, remember?"

"Like poems. Hot…" Bella grinned blearily. "Watcha doin to Edward? Does he wanna hear poems too?"

"Fuck no babes, little Eddie here's got other plans and three's definitely a crowd." James grabbed Edward by the shoulders and thrust him away hard. He staggered and half fell again, but caught himself in time, coughing and rubbing his throat.

James had Bella pulled hard to him, arm tightly around her waist. She was giggling and leaning into him, her eyes unfocussed.

Shit. Fuck. He had to get her to go with him. There was one possibility, this asshole's ego being the size of Texas.

"Tell you what James, lets be old fashioned and duel for the lady. Poems at ten paces."

James snorted. "Fuck off you little pissant."

"No really - if you're such a fuckhot poet why don't you go up against me mano a mano, poem against poem. We'll let Bella choose which poet she prefers."

"You think you can compete with me in the poetry stakes you little fucker? I don't think so. Bring it on, but make it fast before the ferry leaves, cos this little lady and me have got plans."

"Fairy? What fairy?" Bella was peering around, smirking blearily.

"Right. Leave Bella beside the car and stand over there. We'll see who she goes towards when we each say a poem."

With some difficulty James extricated himself from Bella's clutches and propped her on the convertible. She held herself up by the doorway, looking vaguely from Edward to James and back like a slow-mo tennis match.

"Cold…" she whined blurrily.

"Sorry Bella, we'll be fast. After you James, as the published poet. Make it a short one, no more than ten lines max. There's no time for an epic."

"Oh I can get the ladies off without an epic, dickhead. OK…

Come for me baby
Come for me now
You know you want it
You know you need it
I want to see you
Lose it as I fuck you
Mindless and hot
As you come for me."

Bella had turned and focussed on James as he said the poem. Edward had to hand it to him - it was a good choice. Short and to the point, and each time he said the word "come" Bella got more flushed, until she took a step towards James as he said the last line.

"Pretty conclusive I'd say." James smirked. "So lets hear your amateur effort."

"I don't claim to be a pro James, but I've got a secret weapon. This isn't a great poem or even a good one, but it's mine and Bella loves me, and that's what really counts.

Oh my sweet girl with tresses dark
Lets take the Volvo and go park
Up a back road deep in the trees
And there I'll gently part your knees
And come inside you as we fuck."

Bella had swivelled as he started the poem, her eyes wide, breathing rapidly. As he continued she shuddered and her mouth opened, tongue running around her lips as she eyed him through her lashes.

"Fuck Edward" she whispered hoarsely, "Fuck me in the Volvo…yes…"

Then she was staggering the short distance and falling into his arms as she grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him fiercely, pressing herself against him.

James was looking stunned, momentarily at a loss so Edward took advantage and sweeping the writhing Bella up in his arms he ran to the Volvo, thrusting her into his still-open door and across the seat then scrambling in after and slamming down the locks. James pounded on the roof but the strong Swedish construction was designed to withstand Scandinavian freeway crashes so he didn't get anywhere.

Edward accelerated out of the car park, leaving James cursing as the ferry bell tolled a departure warning.

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Bella wasn't making their getaway any easier. She kept grabbing for his groin across the center console so that he swerved wildly, fishtailing down the wet black road. It was too risky and after a mile or so he pulled off into a dark side-road and parked, reaching across and kissing her hot mouth as she groped him.

She was so lovely and uninhibited on whatever that bastard had given her, and he'd fired her up even more with the poem. He knew he shouldn't touch her now - she was doubly drugged and not rational at all. But he had to calm her down so he could drive, and he wanted her so damn much as she gripped his hard cock through his jeans that any choice slid away.

He opened the car doors and pulled her into the back seat, shutting the cold night out and putting her hands under his shirt to warm them as he pulled her to straddle his lap. But Bella wasn't feeling the cold now, she was flushed and her hands were roving on his skin and it felt so good that he moaned, one hand twisted in her hair at the base of her neck pulling her against him, the other fondling her breast. Bella's open mouth was locked on his now and her fingers were on his lips and in his mouth as she slid her tongue against his and whimpered into the kiss.

Suddenly he'd been pushed onto his back with his knees raised, jammed against the door, and she was riding his groin, fumbling ineffectually with his shirt and jeans. He slid his hands up under her skirt and stroked the inside of her bare thighs, the softness making him groan helplessly again. Bella put her head back and gasped, bucking her hips as he lifted her up to kneel above him. He hooked his fingers into the crotch of her panties, pushing them aside and sliding two fingers into her, his thumb caressing her clit through the wet fabric.

She fell forward onto all fours, arms and legs straddling him and her head arched back above him, face ecstatic as she pumped her hips onto his fingers in complete abandon, grunting softly with pleasure. His cock was so hard but it was staying in his pants - she was too wasted and he had no condoms in the car. But her face and the sounds she was making and the way she moved on his fingers…he'd never been so turned on in his life and he groaned words from James' poem "Come for me baby, come for me now…..oh Bella, come for me..."

She shuddered and he felt her cunt grip his fingers as the orgasm took her, then she collapsed onto his groin, pressing on his swollen cock and thrusting her ass back against him as she rode it out. It was too much and he gripped her hips and pulled her hard against him, thrusting and rubbing against her in desperation, then crying out as he came.

He held her for some time, rocking her in his arms and murmuring sweet nonsense as he stroked her wild hair.

She was fast asleep when he finally pulled himself away. He found an old blanket in the trunk and tucked it around her on the back seat, kissing her cheek as he got into the front again.

He was bruised and his throat hurt, his grazed hands were painful and his jeans were damp and sticky.

Edward had never felt so good in all his life.

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End Notes:
Well, never tried 'real' erotic poetry before so that was fun. Hope you liked the action and of course the smut. Reviews!
One more chapter after this, to wrap the story up and put it to bed. There could possibly be some make-up smut in store...