I sat in a cold room, on a hard chair, and I took another sip of the lukewarm sludge they passed off as coffee.

Charlie put me in an interrogation room at his old office, and although I knew he just needed a place to talk to me, it made me feel like a criminal, like he blamed me for everything that happened. That I was somehow guilty.

Charlie was retired FBI. Actually, when he retired, he was the Bureau Chief for the state of Washington, and he still had some pull, lots of loyal friends. So after we spoke, he asked me to meet me at his old office. He put me in this room and promptly disappeared.

I thought back on the phone call, that first call to Charlie... one of the hardest things I ever had to do in my life. He listened quietly at first, but I knew what was happening on the other end of the line. I knew he was stewing, that his pressure was going up, and that his face was turning from red to purple. It was only a matter of time before he blew.

And he did.

He screamed at me for about twenty minutes, and I alternated between screaming back at him and crying. I was a fucking adult for God's sake, and he was treating me like a child. Or a perp. I didn't know which was worse.

Eventually, we got to a place in the conversation where he started to ask questions, and he would pause after I answered. I could tell he was writing everything down. Old habits died hard. Charles Swan was never without a notebook and a pencil.

Once he went into cop-mode, I started to relax a little. The pictures were still out there, but I knew that he would take care of it.

The door opened, and Charlie walked back in, followed by several of his former teammates. They all knew me, so no introductions were needed, but when he asked me to tell the story again, I panicked. I couldn't. I just couldn't tell these men, who were like my family, about my sordid activities. And the pictures... oh my God, they were going to look at that website. They would see the pictures. Of me. Naked. In a variety of sexual acts.

"Bella?" Charlie asked.

I looked up at him, the gray in his hair, the lines on his face, and my mouth started to quiver. He could tell I was about to cry, the tears already pooling in my eyes.

He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed.

"Honey, I know this is hard, but you have to tell them what happened, okay?"

I nodded slowly and turned back to my audience.

I told the entire story, from start to finish, giving them all the information I had. Fortunately, these men were all business, and once I started, I felt less and less uncomfortable.

As soon as I finished, Charlie started barking out orders, and his team, well, his former team, was furiously scribbling on their pads of paper with their pencils.

The first order of business, for everyone in the room, was to get the pictures taken off of the site, and I knew that would be difficult. They were also tasked with finding out everything about the site, who owned it, who ran it, where they got their pictures, and the legalities of what they were doing. Another team was already headed over to the hotel, to question management, to search the suite for cameras. They were considering it a crime scene.

Finally, everyone was gone, even Charlie. It was just me, sitting in that cold room, on that hard chair, remembering every detail from that night. I couldn't help thinking about it.

"Jesus, that was amazing," I gasped, collapsing on my back next to Edward on the big, soft bed. He had fucked me hard, just like he said he was going to do, and I didn't think I'd be able to walk for a week.

"You're amazing," he said softly, brushing a piece of hair from my face. He was so gentle, so sweet. So different from the man pinning me to the bed just a few minutes earlier.

But it was okay. I liked them both.

We both just laid there for a while... breathing, feeling, thinking.

Then, he sat up and held his hand out to me.

"I believe we have a laundry list to attend to, am I right?"

I put my hand in his, quite willingly, and he pulled it to his mouth and pressed his lips against it, kissing me softly.

"Yes, sir, that's right," I said with a wink. "Quite a long list, if I remember correctly." I smiled at him, wondering if he remembered everything we said. Everywhere we said we would fuck.

"Starting with the couch in the living room, I believe." He pulled me up and to my feet. I was kind of shocked that he remembered that, and I followed behind him, until we were standing in front of that big gray couch.

We were both still completely naked, but already comfortable with each other, neither of us shy or nervous. He sat on the couch, right in the middle, and looked up at me.

"Come here," he said, the sweetness once again gone from his voice, now just rough and deep and commanding. He motioned for me to sit on his lap, and I did, straddling him with one knee on either side. His hands were immediately on me, running up my thighs, my hips, up the side of my body, then back down. His touch was soft and light, and his fingertips on my skin gave me chills and heat all at once.

I put my hands on the back of the couch, on either side of his head, and leaned down to kiss him. Right before my lips touched his, he stopped me with a hand in the middle of my chest.

"Ah, ah, ah," he scolded, imitating my previous behavior. I smirked at him and let him take control. I leaned back, sitting upright on his thighs. He grinned at me, but said nothing, leaning up until he was kissing the skin between my breasts.

He brushed his lips back and forth several times, just missing my nipples each time, and it was maddening. I found myself leaning one way or the other, trying to silently encourage him to take me fully in his mouth.

But he wouldn't.

He just teased me. For several agonizing minutes that felt like hours.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.

"Please, baby," I whispered. "Edward, please."

Okay, two things:

1. I am not a law enforcement professional. What little I know about police procedure is from watching an obsessive amount of Law & Order, SVU. So if something is wrong, police-wise, I claim no responsibility. That holds for all future chapters as well, cause there's a lot more cop stuff to come.

2. And a little more seriously, I know it's a little strange to have this very awful thing happen to her, but to have her still thinking about the sex fondly. And to have us reading it, hanging on every dirty word. But bear with me, please. :)

I lied. two more things:

1. You may or may not notice that we don't see them using a condom or talking about birth control at all. It's just clumsy for me to write it, kinda takes the oomph out of my ploff, so we're just gonna assume they are.

2. I LOVE this Charlie. He might be my favorite character in this entire story. We'll see more of him, and their interactions are just so interesting. Gruff but lovable.

I'll post another chapter later this afternoon if all goes well. Can't leave you hanging in the middle of her laundry list escapades!

Thanks again to all of you, for reading, for asking great questions, for being so supportive. Every time I get an email notification from FF, I feel like it's Christmas, or the lottery, or the beach, or a good rainy Saturday morning. And fresh, hot french toast. And McDonald's french fries with extra salt. And pizza with extra cheese and mushrooms. And pictures of RP's tongue. :)

All things "Twilight" belong to Stephanie Meyer. The remainder of the perversion is all mine. :)