Chapter Notes: I was twittering with xtothey about how Edward was always a sex God in all fics, and he always knew exactly what to do. I said, "There should a fic where Edward sucks in bed and hires Bella to teach him how to do it right," and she said, "write it." And so I did. This is just a fun little side project - nothing I'm going to be focusing all my attention on. Once you get ideas in your head, though, you have to write them down right away or they'll bug the hell out of you until you do.

Thanks to my amazing beta, Missy, for getting this back to me within hours of me sending it to her. Thanks to xtothey, of course, for the inspiration, thanks to Hannah for just being my lovah :) and thanks in advance to everybody who reads/reviews. This is just an intro of sorts; later chapters will be longer.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. The end.


"It was great," I said with a crooked grin, winking at Tanya Spelman – my latest sexual conquest – as I leaned against the door frame of my apartment. She walked into the hall and turned around, a smile on her face as she looked up at me.

"Mmm," she replied, still smiling. "Thanks for interesting night."

"My pleasure. I'll see you at the restaurant," I said, giving her a brief wave before she turned around. I watched her retreating form - her hips swayed naturally, causing her strawberry-blond ponytail to sway as well – before turning back into my apartment and shutting the door.

Tanya Spelman was a bartender at a restaurant my best friend, Emmett McCarty, and I owned – E's Bar and Grill. (Emmett and I met in college; I was majoring in Culinary Arts, while he was majoring in Business. It'd worked out perfectly.) We'd engaged in harmless flirting in the past, but the last two weekends we'd hooked up. It was great, but I hoped she didn't expect a relationship from me; that just wasn't my style.

I strolled over to my couch, plopping down and propping my feet on my coffee table, a smug smile on my face. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply through my nose, and relaxed. A few moments later, my phone chirped through the silence of my apartment. I sighed and hoisted myself off the couch begrudgingly, searching for my phone. I spotted it on the kitchen counter and made my way towards it, grabbing a small bottle of POM from the refrigerator first. I opened the bottle and took a swig, then unlocked the keypad, pressing the button to read my new text message...from Tanya. I smirked; she was already wanting more.

Still jackrabbit sex! I thought it was bad because of the alcohol last time, but I guess not. Such a shame – he's so hot!

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. What was she talking about? Who was she talking about? I replied with a simple "?" and sent it, then stood at the kitchen counter, waiting for a reply – it never came.

She couldn't have been talking about me, could she?


"Oh, man," Emmett laughed as he leaned back in his office chair. "Jackrabbit sex? That's rough, dude."

I rolled my eyes at him and snatched my phone out of his hands as he continued to snicker, my eyes reverting back to the offending message still on the screen.

"It may not have been about me, right? She could have been replying to a friend who had bad sex..." I trailed off and slumped down in my chair as Emmett stared at me with a raised eyebrow, shaking his head. How had this happened to me? I'd thought she was having a good time – her noises indicated as much. Were they just an act? And if so, what the hell was the point?

"Why didn't she say anything, then?" I demanded, my anger beginning to boil internally.

"Some 'feelings' complex; I don't know, dude. Why do they do anything they do?" Emmett shrugged, shoving the last bit of toast he'd been eating in his mouth.

"Ugh, and I have to see her tonight. Do you think she'll tell people?" I questioned, wide-eyed.

"Probably, girls talk about that shit all the time - how big the guy's dick was; the size of their balls; if they were any good; if the girl got off."

I groaned, rubbing my face with my hands. And here I'd thought I'd given her one of the best nights of her life. A sudden thought hit me full-force, making the situation potentially ten times worse.

"What if this isn't the first time this has happened?" I asked, sitting upright quickly. "What if everybody I've ever slept with hated it? Emmett, I could be the laughing stock of the female population!"

"Yeah, maybe," Emmett replied, patting his stomach and folding his hands behind his head. "Man, that sucks," he snorted, his shoulders shaking as he laughed silently at my expense.

"You're not helping, Emmett," I snapped. He wouldn't be laughing if this was him. Asshole.

We lapsed into silence, with me sulking in my chair, wondering if it wouldn't be better to off myself right then – I could hear the eulogy:

"Edward Cullen was a bright, handsome young man who led a promising life. Unfortunately, he was shit in bed, so he really won't be missed by the majority of the population. Good riddance, jackrabbit."

My poor mother. I couldn't imagine having a child who was sexually challenged. Is there a group for that? I wondered. There's a group for everything else...

"Alright," Emmett started, snapping me out of my thoughts, "I may have something."

I stared at him expectantly, though I hardly expected anything worthwhile to come out of his mouth. Nothing could help. I'd forever be known as "The Little Edward that Couldn't."

"I have this friend, Deryck – a lawyer, nice lookin' guy, too, I guess – and he had the same problem as you. Well, actually, he had it worse. Girls were putting up flyers in clubs and shit, saying 'do not go home with this guy!'"

"Jesus," I muttered, cringing. I could only hope that shit wasn't happening to me at the restaurant.

"I know," Emmett nodded solemnly. "Anyway, I guess one of Deryck's clients was getting a divorce because he couldn't keep it in his pants, and he let it slip that he'd gone to this sex-therapist-turned-teacher, who had turned him into a self-proclaimed sex God.

"So, Deryck got the name and number of this chick, went to her for a few months, and now girls are like flocking to him. Even I've heard gossip about his skills in the sack, unfortunately," he added, cringing.

I stared blankly at him. "What's your point, Emmett?"

"God, you're dense," he said, exasperated. "My point is that this lady took a sexual pariah and turned him into a pro in the sack. She can help you!"

"Let me get this straight. You're telling me that I should take sex lessons from some random woman?" I deadpanned.

He looked contemplative for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, sex lessons. Sounds about right."

"That's disgusting!" I cried, appalled. "She's probably fucked hundreds, maybe even thousands of people in exchange for money – there's a name for that, by the way; it's called prostitution, which is illegal - and you want me to willingly go to her?!"

"No! No, dude, she doesn't actually have sex with her clients! That's the beauty of it!" he exclaimed, waving his hands around.

"Then how the hell does she—"

"I don't know, Edward, fuck," he huffed. "But she's helped at least two people, and it wouldn't kill you to check it out, just once. According to that text," he said, nodding towards my phone, "you need all the help you can get right now."

My gaze dropped down to my phone as well, and my eyebrows furrowed. I didn't understand this at all, but Emmett seemed sure it would work. I really couldn't be any worse off than I was right now, and as long as my bank account didn't take a massive blow, I couldn't really see the harm.

"I can get you her number right now..." he said, fishing his phone out of his pocket and waving it around, as if that was supposed to be enticing.

I thought about it for a few moments more, then nodded with a sigh. "Fine, get me her number."

Emmett grinned and scrolled through his phone before bringing it up to his ear.

"Deryck, hey! It's Emmett," he greeted. "Listen, I have a favor to ask..."

I tuned out as he told Deryck a summarized version of my sob story, only paying attention when he smacked the table to get my attention. He gestured for me to pick up my phone, then began spewing off numbers.

"206," he started, and I punched it into my phone, "412-6918. Isabella Swan? Got it. Thanks again, man. I'll talk to you soon." He paused for a moment, before, "Yeah, for sure. Alright, bye."

He hung up and shoved his phone into his pocket, then stared at me with raised eyebrows. "Go on, then."

"Right now?" I asked, staring at him anxiously.

"The sooner, the better. Call her."

I rolled my eyes and looked down at my phone, my thumb hovering over the send button for a few seconds before actually pressing it. It rang and rang, then rang some more; after about the fifth ring, I was about to hang up. Right as I began to pull the phone away from my ear, a click sounded through the speaker, followed by a soft, female voice.

"Isabella Swan," she answered. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing was coming out. I was completely dumbfounded. Was I seriously about to do this? "Hello?" she asked.

"I—yeah, hi, sorry. I, um...I need to make an, appointment. With you," I added. "Or at least I think it's you." I swallowed thickly, screwing my eyes shut. Could I sound any more retarded?

"Okay," she replied, chuckling softly. "What's the issue?"

I snorted. How long have you got? I thought, but instead I pursed my lips and exhaled heavily through my nose.


End Notes: Thoughts? Review, please. :) xx