The Notorious Bella Swan
A Collaboration Piece By toxicbluecrayon and AmandaCullen84
Prologue: I Was Never The Girl Next Door
January 22, 1953
The gusty winter wind whistled and moaned through the cracks of the weathered window pane; rattling it rhythmically as I finished lacing up the patented black leather dominatrix boot that I just slipped onto my left leg. I yanked the crisp white laces in effort to tighten the boot's grip against my calf and thigh. The strings were nice and taunt; satisfying me enough to finish tying the boot and start clasping the eyelets of my black leather corset. The boning of the corset pushing my full and already pert breasts upward.
Once each eyelet was coupled, I focused my attention on my face and hair. The Chicago wind that blew me into Whitlock's Celebrity Photos and Lobby Cards Incorporated also disarrayed my carefully sculpted hair. I ran my fingers through my bangs then tried to fluff up my chocolate brown curls, which turned out to be a abysmal idea. The hair just frizzed even more. Groaning, I reached for my wooden hair brush; the same one I used three days ago to 'beat' Rosalie's ass as a nearby camera rolled, and began running its nimble teeth through my tangled hair. As I worked the brush through my tresses, I stared at my reflection in the vanity mirror in front of me. I have changed a great deal over the past two years; the plump apple cheeks that once made me look babyish and cherubic hollowed down, giving me a healthy profile that was more womanly. My face now was in proportion with my supple rosebud lips and wide, catlike eyes.
I certainly looked nothing like the young girl that came stumbling into the Little Italy district a year ago; wearing a hand me down black church dress provided by Catholic Social Services and a pair of scuffed up saddle shoes that was one size too small. My coin purse, once holding just enough for a one week stint at the Allerton Hotel and some canned soup, now held enough money for me to live comfortably. I could not only afford to pay for my small loft apartment and my text books for lit class, but I could also afford to take a taxi and an occasional stop at the Arden counter at Marshall Fields' every so often.
My life was a total one-eighty from the timid, small town girl I used to be a year ago. I traded in the pressed cream colored apron for skimpy lingerie. I traded in my weekly routines of prayer circle for scenes and photo shoots. I traded my, what many would call, a respectable and noble life as a dirt poor Suzy homemaker for a lucrative life in the world of pin-up modeling.
Perhaps it's not righteous for me to pose scantily clothed (or in some rare cases, not clothed at all), but I didn't see myself as a whore or trashy. When I get asked what I think God would say if he were to see me doing these things, I always point out that Eve was placed in the Garden of Eden nude. Sure, that usually brought up further arguments, but, to me, it made sense. Why would God be contradictory when the first aspects of his creation were placed on this earth without a stitch of clothing? It was when they sinned, they put on clothes. Besides, I was making people happy; giving them an innocent sense of pleasure in their complicated lives. I would like to think, to hope, that giving someone else a hint of happiness would somehow make my impurities less aberrant.
I absent mindedly continued to brush my locks until a delicate, cool hand rested on top of my own; stopping the brush in mid track. I turned to see Alice Whitlock smiling down at me.
"Now, Bella. You are going to brush that lovely hair until it falls right out of your scalp!" She released a small chuckle as she pulled the brush out of my limp grip. I laughed slightly along with her, ignoring how the boning of the corset dug into my ribcage as I did so.
Alice Whitlock was the photo shop's co-owner alongside her husband of five years, Jasper Whitlock. Alice was also involved in her husband's 'private side business' as one of the lead photographers . Alice had the perfect attitude for this line of work: quirky, bold, and full of spirit You had to have that cockiness and creativity to partake in the things that we do for a living.
Alice winked at me before collapsing gracefully to her knees. She gently grabbed my left calf and began re-lacing the raveling shoelace that came untied somehow during my photo shoot prepping. She smiled as she happily retied the shoelace as she began the run-through of the photo shoot that I would be doing today.
"Now, Bella...Jasper asked me to prep you for this shoot...it's going to be a little different from our normal shoots..."
I bit my lip, my mind consumed with newly acquired worry. What did she mean by 'different'? Different as in how? Was there going to be a role reversal? Was Rosalie, my normal shoot partner, going to lead instead of me? Was there some new, weird contraption that I was expected to use? My heart began to flutter hard in my chest. "W-what exactly, Alice..."
She cut me off as she swiftly, and a little roughly, tied my boot. "Normally, this is a closed off set, right? Well, we have a client that happens to be a friend of ours. He is a very respectable attorney; covering only high profile cases. Very normal guy, but has a lot of pressures from his profession, you see? His name being connected to various murder and mob cases; always in the papers...I'm sure the press would report him taking a piss if they could: time, date, left hand or right..."
I groaned at the detail. Seriously, Alice.
"Um...Alice, you are rambling...what's this guy's name? What does he like?"
Alice popped the tube off my cherry red lipstick and motioned with her lips for me to pucker up. I did as instructed; allowing her to brush the creamy residue across my lips. She sighed and began to answer my questions as she worked on defining my cupid bow on my upper lip.
"His name Cullen. Edward Cullen. He's twenty-six...three years your senior. Went to Dartmouth and Harvard Law. Was in the air force a year until he was injured in combat. Likes homemade Italian, swing dancing, long walks on the beach, "
Then, with deliberated lethargy, she grinned wickedly at me, leaning in as if she had some big secret to share. Her warm, hazel eyes lit up as her thin brows arched upward, resembling archer's bow. With a hint of excitement, she murmured.
"Oh, and he loves to see a pretty lady in control...preferably with a riding crop..."
A/N: This is just a short prologue to see if it peaks anyone's interest. Basically, this is a story that is loosely based on the Notorious Bettie Page story. Both Amanda and I are working on other E/B stories on this site too. Feel free to check out our profiles for more stories!
Also, reviews and feedback are always welcome! Tell us what you think! :-)