Saturday, February 4, 2012

Figure Eight Teaser

“I’ll just wear one of my old red dresses, Alice. Save this for someone with a darker skin tone. It’s a good design but not right for me.”

“What will Edward wear?” Alice asked.

“We’ll put him in a pair of black pants, white shirt, red tie and a vest,” Rose answered. “And cuff the sleeves. Show off those sexy forearms of his.”

“Rose! You’re getting married,” Alice admonished.

“So? It’s not like I stop looking. Besides, there’s something so attractive when a  man has muscular forearms. Nummy,” Rose said dreamily. “Emmett’s arms are too big. Now, if I could transplant Edward’s arms on Emmett’s body, that would be my dream man. Are his biceps to die for?”

“Rose, you’re weird,” I laughed. “And yes, his biceps are strong and perfect. Just like him.”

“I’m so glad that you two fucked and made up,” Rose said dryly.

“Rosalie Lillian Hale!” I barked.

“What? You were miserable until you got back from Napa,” Rose shrugged. “I bet you spent the rest of the weekend and the first part of Monday going at it like porn stars. ‘Harder, Edward! Fuck me, you dirty Brit!’”

“Rose, I cannot believe you,” I said as I got off the podium to remove the orange monstrosity from my body. “We did not ‘fuck,’ we made love. There’s a difference.” I closed the curtain to remove the dress.

“What’s that?” Alice asked. She giggled quietly.

“Fucking is all about getting your orgasm. Making love is deeper. Reconnecting with your lover. Feeling them. Loving them. It’s like two souls intertwining together,” I said wistfully. I pulled on my jeans and sweater, smiling at each time Edward and I had made love. We were so connected. He knew my every want and need, physically. Just like I knew what he wanted and needed. He was an incredibly unselfish lover whose touch sent my skin aflame.

Fuck, girlie. We’re getting a little damp down here. Stop daydreaming about your boy unless you’re going to do something about it.

What? I’m standing in a dressing room.

You can ask Rose and Alice to join you…

Really? I mean, really?

Are you being serious or sarcastic, Swan?

Totally sarcastic.


“Bella, you are such a romantic,” Alice giggled as I exited the dressing room. I tossed the orange pile of fabric into her hands and sat down next to rose. “Two souls intertwining together?”
“Fuck off, wench,” I snorted.

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