Entry for the Straight thru the Heart Contest

Title: Flushed

Summary: As she stood waiting, she realized not a single person had entered or exited that door in the past four minutes. In an instant, she made her decision: after all, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do…

Pairing: E/B

Rating: M

Word count: 4,179

Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.

There were eleven women standing in line in front of me. In six minutes, the movie would start, and the thought of sitting through two hours of a lame-ass action flick would be even worse if I had to hold in my pee that long.

I glanced at the door of the men's bathroom.

No line.

Not a single person had entered or exited in the past four minutes.

Why do we even have gender segregation in bathrooms anyway? What's the harm in men and women using the same frigging toilets?

What, in fact, would it hurt …If I just snuck out of this ridiculously long line and entered the empty men's room, peed, and left? Who would care?

Counting the heads in front of me, I saw that there were still eleven women in line. This was taking forever.

Really, wouldn't it be the ultimate feminist thing to do? Stand up against gender segregated bathrooms that severely disadvantaged women. We had to pee more often and took longer doing it. I mean, the bathrooms were probably equal in size, which made it was all very unfair.

It took less than a minute to convince myself that not only was it the natural thing to do, but using the men's bathroom, was, in fact, going to be epically important in the struggle for equality.

Or something.

Mind: made up.

I stepped out of the line and quickly made my way towards the men's room, forcing myself not to look back at the people that must, no doubt, be staring at me right now for disregarding all the basic rules regarding public peeing; the archaic ones that society set forward as the law.

Ages ago.

This was a feminist revolution, dammit.

One deep breath, a quick what-the-fuck-ever-I-can-do-this muttered to myself, and I pushed the door open to find myself in undiscovered territory that was, looks-wise, entirely uninteresting.

Tiles, stalls, bright lights, a mirror, and sinks.

Oh! And a row of urinals.

Well, whatever.

I quickly locked myself into one of the stalls to do what I came here to do. Ahhhh, sweet relief. This was really one of the best ideas I've had today. Certainly better than the moment I agreed to go with Angela and Ben along with Ben's coworker, the accountant, on a double slash blind date to a fucking action movie. I don't even like action movies. And I definitely do not like whatshisname, with his twenty-nine-year-old face full of zits, and his corduroy pants. Don't forget the gelled up hair and his two chins and his hand hanging from mine like a limp noodle when he introduced himself. The spit that flew out of his mouth when he said his name made me want to hurl.

I am a horrible person for being so appalled that I didn't even remember what his name was, just that it was accompanied by that very unwelcome spit shower.

But I suppose I should get out there and get through it, and then confront Angela for making me agree to a double date with a potato. Tonight would most likely go down in history as a really bad date. It's not like I haven't had those before. My dating experiences would read like a novel if that novel were called Tinder, Bars, and Blind Dates: A History of Disasters.

I flushed and opened the stall door with an elbow, stepping out while simultaneously trying to fasten the damn button on my pants.

A sound of shuffling feet made my head spin towards the urinals, as I came to the horrifying conclusion that they were no longer unoccupied.

A tall man with a lion's mane of hair was using one of them, although he didn't seem to notice me, and I could – thankfully – only see his back. I could still take a few steps to the left and sneak out unseen. I should probably make work of buttoning up my jeans; I thought and looked down while taking a step back.

"Oh! Fudge! Crap, crap, crap!" I exclaimed as my heel roughly hit the metal corner of the stall. Clearly I should've paid more attention to where I was going. Why were these stall frames made of metal anyway?

That sh- stuff hurts!

The man, no doubt startled by the sound of a woman's voice in his bathroom, instinctively turned around, eyes wide, mouth open, as, simultaneously, my eyes took him in completely and both of us realized that his hand was, in fact, still holding his…penis.

Thankfully no longer peeing, but still very prominently on display.

I mean, sure, my hands were in the general area of my crotch, too, but at least I was semi-clothed.

Remembering that I was actually raised properly and I was being outrageously rude just staring at his dick, I snapped my head up to look him in the eyes, where I found an expression of pure horror and embarrassment that surely echoed mine, except that he looked rather hot in spite of it.

Was he as frozen as I was – was that why he still hadn't put his…thing… away?

What the hell?

I glanced back down.

Still a penis in his hand.

I jerked up my eyes.

Still the same horrified expression on his face as his eyes bounced from my face to my cleavage to my hand with its fingers on my button fly.


I guess this is why men and women don't share bathrooms.

How do I fix this?

"Uhm. Hi. That's some…umm…juicy looking di—um... I'm just…gonna…yeah." I shuffled in the general direction of the exit, eyes still flicking up and down between his face and his dick. Mortification aside, some part of me realized that both – his face and his dick – were extraordinarily beautiful. Chiseled jaw and sculpted cock. Bright green eyes and – oh, my God was it bobbing?

Quickly glancing back at his face I saw that the lion-haired man was now biting his lip, obviously trying not to burst out laughing. Understandable – I mean, what the heck did I just say? Really? A snort escaped my mouth and I quickly brought a hand up to cover my lips, as if that would make the unattractive snort go away.

The lion-haired man was still holding his dick, I noticed, as I chanced a quick look down. It was still bobbing as he was shaking with silent laughter, but it was also … bigger.


Oh God.

He was aroused?

How the heck did this experience, quite possibly the most embarrassing moment of all time, arouse him?


I did think he was beautiful.

And so was his cock.

And it was getting prettier by the second.

Now … truth be told, I hadn't seen a lot of cocks in my twenty-one years, so let it be known I was not a cock connoisseur or a dick dignitary, or for that matter even proficient in penis… but his one was perfect to my eyes.

I subconsciously licked my lips and looked back at his face, because surely, staring at a stranger's cock for too long would be considered rude, even if he did have it out for all (well, me) to see. And even if he was still holding it.

Possibly stroking it, I thought, as I saw some movement in his right arm.

His eyes were locked on mine, teeth biting his bottom lip. He wasn't laughing anymore, just staring, intensely, at me.

I took a step forward – considering I was fully clothed aside from my unbuttoned jeans, and he was showing off his goods, I figured it was fair if I showed some initiative. I wasn't sure why I was taking the initiative, but I was powerless to stop my feet from moving forward. It seemed there wasn't a power on earth that could make me move away from the gorgeous specimen of man-and-manhood in front of me.

He responded by smirking slightly and again moving his hand.


Definitely stroking.

Two more steps and we were face-to-face, close enough to touch.

Looking at his face I wanted to take the time to wonder how such a perfectly sculpted human being could exist – such symmetry, such incredible green eyes, such a strong jawline – but I stored the image away for later, focusing on other priorities instead.

My mouth opened of its own accord though no sound came from within. His free hand came up to touch my face, a thumb sliding across my bottom lip, and my tongue darted out to touch it.

Abruptly, his hand moved from my lip to the back of my neck, and my head was thrust forward almost aggressively as his fingers tucked themselves into my hair. Lips were smashed together hard, almost painfully, and I found myself stepping forward so I could press my entire body against his as my mouth opened, granting him access, tongues dueling, battling, and my hand found its way into his lion's mane. We were both rough, rougher than I'd ever been, teeth clashing, fingertips bruising skin, tongues matching as if it was a competition.

He finally, finally, removed his hand from his exposed cock, and immediately placed it on my ass; with a sharp tug my abdomen was smashed into his, as close as we could get with our clothes on. Well, mine were mostly on, anyway.

I could feel his erection against my stomach – he was so much taller than me that it was nowhere near any erogenous zones, and yet, I was so incredibly aroused I couldn't help but moan into his mouth.

I was flying high, on instinct alone, deliberately refusing all attempts of my brain to stop and think about what I was doing, and I allowed my left hand to leave his back and make its way to the erection pressing against me.

His mouth left mine, pressing kisses along my neck, teeth leaving small marks and I gave his cock a tug with every bite mark I felt, loud moans involuntarily escaping me. A hand slid up my shirt, feeling its way to my breast, squeezing gently, finding my nipple.

"I need you," he whispered in my ear – the first words he'd spoken. I knew, and I realized how unfathomable it was that I needed him, too.

"Yesss," I hissed, my fingers exploring his hair and his erection, both hands pulling, stroking, and feeling.

Without warning, I was pushed backward, back into the stall I had walked out of a minute ago. He closed the door behind us quickly as he pushed me against the wall with one hand, his other finding my open fly.

I helped him slide my jeans down so I could stand a little wider, but it was constricting, limiting my moves and I quickly kicked them down and off my one leg – the most efficient way for me to be able to move the way I wanted to.

Jeans hanging off one ankle was surely not the most erotic sight, I thought, but the intensity of his green eyes flying over my body made me feel like such details didn't matter. Surely, if the fact that we were making out in a public bathroom weren't a turn-off, pieces of clothing would be unimportant.

I looked down – his cock was still showing off, now incredibly hard and so much bigger than it had been earlier and now with a glistening drop of pre-cum glistening at the tip.

Our eyes met again, both of us somehow conveying the same silent 'yes' to each other, and simultaneously my hand grabbed his cock as his hand ripped my panties off. His fingers found their way back fast, cupping me as I stroked him, and I was going insane with want for this complete stranger.

He must have felt the same, magically producing a condom from his pocket and putting it on in record speed.

Another silent conversation passed between our eyes – his saying 'do you want this' and mine probably saying something like 'are you kidding me? NOW!'

I was never one for subtlety.

I was lifted off the floor by his hands, fingers cupping my butt and cock sliding against my clit as he searched for the right spot, the right angle, and wasting no time as he found it and thrust deep inside, filling me. There was nothing gentle about his movements, but then, there was nothing about this that I wanted to be gentle. I cried out, loudly; one of his hands found my mouth to silence me and I bit down because what else could I do to restrain myself while being fucked so thoroughly?

My legs wrapped around his waist, bringing him even deeper into me, as we groaned together with every thrust, far too loud for any public place. My forehead rested on his shoulder – I couldn't focus on anything that had to do with my head – as his mouth found my neck, kissing, licking, sucking, biting the most sensitive of spots. It was as if he knew that my neck was my Achilles heel, and I cried out, orgasm forming – me, the girl who could only ever come in missionary, was going to come harder than ever before, from being fucked ruthlessly against a bathroom wall.

Grunts and thrusts and moans succeeded each other effortlessly; trying to keep quiet had been long since forgotten.

He drove his cock deeper inside and groaned the most delicious sound, speed increasing as well as the volume of his incoherent sounds, both of us coming as skin slapped together, harder, louder, deeper.

Circumstance and environment, forgotten.

"Oh, god, yes, YES, YESSSS," I screamed, in lieu of a name, but not dwelling on the fact that I didn't know his.

"Fuck, yes, oh fuck, fuck, shit, oh fuuuuck," he groaned, sticking to profanities, as we both climbed, reached our peaks, and shattered with a final thrust. As I dug my fingernails into his back, his teeth biting down on my neck, both of us hurting each other in the most delicious way possible as we slowly came down to earth.

Eyes shut.



And then, the sobering realization that you've just had sex with a total stranger, in a public bathroom, while your date is waiting for you to go see a movie that probably started ten minutes ago.


I forced my eyes to open, looking into his gorgeous greens as if that would help me find an answer to what the fuck just happened.

But a tiny droplet of sweat finding its way down from his brow distracted me from my mission and reduced me to the obvious and simple: admiring how beautiful this man was. All I could do now was press my lips against his as I slowly untangled my legs from his body and tried to regain my composure.

He kissed me back, less feverishly than before; tenderly, as if it were love instead of lust. His fingers were in my hair again, but there was no aggressive tugging and pulling, just caressing, bringing me closer with gentleness. As the heat wound down, he peppered soft kisses on my lips, the corner of my mouth, my cheeks, and the side of my head. Somehow, the sweetness of it all made me feel at home, and the next second I was back on earth and feeling insane, like it was all too overwhelming, too much too soon, and what the fuck had I done anyway.

Was I crazy?

And I desperately needed distance, soon.

"Thank you," I whispered. Most likely the lamest yet best thing I could come up with right now, as I buttoned my jeans – now panty-less, as they lay on the floor ripped to shreds.

He looked lost, somehow, trying to find words perhaps, when previously he'd only uttered profanities and heat-of-the-moment-nothings.

Was he perhaps as entranced as I was? As confused by what just went down? Was he thinking I was a total slut for fucking someone I had never even talked to? Or could he tell that this was not my usual M.O.? Did he feel this magical, irresistible pull, too? Or – oh God – maybe he was the slut that made a habit out of fucking complete strangers and I was just one of many.

Too many questions, too many doubts plaguing me, society's standards yelling at me that I was a wanton whore, and suddenly I tensed, frightened, insecure.

I had to get out of there.

I chanced one more look at my lion's mane guy, kissed him firmly on the lips, and ran out of the bathroom, not looking back, buttoning my jeans as I took my strides away from the Greek god who had just made me feel the most incredible things.

"Where were you?" Angela whispered as I took my seat in the dark theater. Immediately, the next row of people hissed at her for talking, even though the movie had only started a few minutes ago and nothing interesting was happening.

"Um. Bathroom. Long line. You know." I mumbled, looking the other way.

My tardiness had an unexpected upside – the theater was so crowded that the only spot left was next to Angela. This meant I did not have to sit next to my nameless date. I was okay with that and plopped down, thinking about my anonymous fuck.

What the hell just happened?

I had waited seven months to have sex with my high school boyfriend – three years later, he was still the only person I'd ever had sex with – and now I just had sex with a complete stranger… in a public bathroom? What was it about him that made me feel as if angels were singing and nudging me saying 'good one, dear, nice choice!'

But God, it wasn't even just about the sex, as heavenly as that was; it was the eyes, the brightness, and sparkle as he looked at me. The hands as he caressed my back and laced his long fingers through my hair; his lips as they touched mine in my goodbye, soft and caring instead of merely fueled by lust.

Hallelujah, the back of my mind sang to me.

In front of me, some movie star was shooting bullets into the bad guy's head.

Hallelujah, the bright green eyes sang to me.

Blood exploded on screen as the bad guy fell back dramatically, toppling over the edge of the skyscraper's roof.

Hallelujah, what the heck are you still doing here, Bella? My mind screamed at me. Did you seriously just leave the hottest man alive in the bathroom after letting him fuck your brains out? Are you seriously on a semi-date with whatshisname the lame-ass loser when you could, at the very least, be trying to find out who Mister Lion's Mane is? Are you crazy right now?

Good point, I thought, as I glanced at the screen – the hero was furiously fighting a dozen bad guys, who were all generously waiting their turn to fight said hero instead of just jumping him at the same time – what was I doing here anyway?

I grabbed Angela's arm, gave it a quick squeeze, and as she faced me, I mouthed 'later, sorry'. I stood up and walked towards the exit hunched over awkwardly, trying not to ruin anyone's movie experience despite the fact that said movie was more than stupid.

Finding the black door in the darkened movie theater, I pushed it open and found myself in the brightly lit lobby, a few people flitting about.

Not a lion-maned man in sight.

This was stupid. Did I think my hallelujah moment was going to make him appear in front of me with a frickin' halo?

Did I think angels were going to lead me to my anonymous stranger?


So stupid.

I shook my head, closing my eyes as I tried to determine what to do: go back and watch the rest of the stupid movie or just walk home?

Home it is, I thought, looking at the multi-colored carpet as I speed walked my way across the lobby. I passed the concessions stand and while the rough sex had made me hungry, I wasn't in the mood for popcorn, so I walked on without looking.

"Hey!" Someone at the concessions stand yelled. I turned around to see my beautiful stranger making his way to me from behind the popcorn machine. He was wearing a shirt with the movie theater's logo on it, which I hadn't noticed earlier; I had obviously been distracted by other parts of him.

I stood motionless, as I waited nervously for him to reach me. I'd walked out of the movie hoping to find him, but now I had absolutely no clue what to say, and I nervously twirled my hair around my finger as I watched him.

Hallelujah, what a beautiful creature.

"You work here?" I asked as if that wasn't both obvious and extraordinarily unimportant.

"Yeah. You watching a movie?" He smiled a beautiful magazine-cover smile at me.

"Um. I walked out. Stupid movie, bad company," which wasn't at all the "I wanted to find you, you gorgeous demi-God" that was really on the tip of my tongue. But he seemed to like my answer anyway as his smile grew bigger.

"Wanna watch a better one with me?" His eyes twinkled as he held out his hand, and I didn't think twice about placing my own in it.

"Definitely. No, wait. One condition."

"Well, you can't backtrack after a 'definitely' like that, but sure," he winked.

"I want to know your name by the end of the movie."

He just laughed at me. "How about now?" He stood up straighter, shaking my hand with the same hand that had previously been holding his absolutely admirable appendage. "I'm Edward Cullen. And you are?"

"Bella Swan," I replied, suddenly feeling shy. "Nice to finally meet you, too."

"Do tell me how you two met, Isabella?"

I was sitting on a pristine beige couch, sipping tea from a flowery cup, wearing my Sunday best. My white blouse had been ironed, my navy skirt was brand new, my shoes were sleek yet modest, and my pantyhose were, miraculously enough, holding up without any holes and ladders in them. Edward's mother was sitting in front of me, looking far more put-together than I did despite all my effort, and her question was innocent enough, but it almost made me choke on my tea as I remembered our first meeting.

"Um. We met at the movie theater, Mrs. Cullen. I went to see a movie, he was working that night, and the rest is history."

Hey, I wasn't lying.

Mrs. Cullen huffed a little, and I was glad Edward had prepped me: his mother hated his job, saying that it wasn't necessary to do something quite as common. She was rich and stuffy and everything about her screamed Old Money. However, Edward had wanted to work while finishing his studies and had gone against his mother's wishes. I knew the huffing was mostly her annoyance about his job and where he spent most of his time. That old, art-deco theater where we'd met had been in his father's family for decades, and he loved the place. Seemed Edward had inherited not only the building but also his dad's passion for movies; another reason his mother was so against it.

That, or she was just really displeased with the fact that her son was now dating a commoner, and couldn't find it in her to be polite about it.

"And my son informed me that you are moving in together, is that correct?"

"Yes, ma'am," I nodded as Edward walked back into the room.

"Is that not a tad… overzealous? Too soon?" Mrs. Cullen asked, clearly not approving of our decision.

"Mother!" Ah, thank you, Edward, for saving me from the rest of this conversation. "We've talked about this. It's been four months; we just hadn't had a chance to let you meet Bella yet. And it's our decision."

Mrs. Cullen simply nodded. "I will go and get you some more tea. Excuse me." She stood up and stiffly walked off towards the kitchen.

I exhaled a shaky breath. I was so incredibly uncomfortable with all of this. The money, the beige couch, the cleanliness, the Old Money culture, the fact that I wasn't wearing my trusty jeans, the disapproving mom…

"Hey," Edward whispered in my ear. "Wanna sneak off to the bathroom?"

His mind was clearly in the same gutter as mine was, remembering the way we started, and how I made the best decision ever by walking into the men's room that day.

My loud snort was undoubtedly heard in the kitchen. His mind was clearly in the same gutter as mine was, remembering the way we started, and how I made the best decision ever by walking into the men's room.

Revolutionary feminism, indeed.

Edward chuckled and kissed my cheek. "Are you alright, Bella? You look a little flushed…"

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