Follows Rosalie and Bella after Alice calls warning that Bella will become Rosalie's singer and die from Rosalie's ensuing uncontrollable blood lust.

Story/Chapter summary:

Meanwhile, back at the (Dartmouth) ranch ... or: What happened to Bella and Rosalie after Alice warned them about Bella becoming Rosalie's singer? ch01: Bella and Rosalie are "preparing" to spend Christmas back at Forks. Yeah. "Preparing." Yeah. (LEMONS!)

Setting: Whittemore Hall, Dartmouth College, December 2006, the eve of Christmas Break.

I could not believe the words my seer sister was saying. Me? Lose control? Me? Kill my Bella?

I tolerated her nonsensical words about her nonsensical vision for as long as I could, but when she got to the part where she hinted at kidnapping Bella again or separating us, I couldn't stand it any more. I almost lost my eternal cool.

And I never did that.

"'But Rosalie...'" I snarled into the phone, imitating my little sister's trying-to-be-reasonable-squeaky voice and dismissed her with a curt good night, snapping the phone shut, and looked up to see the damage done.

Bella looked at me with big saucer eyes.

Yes, there was a lot of damage done. Leave it to Alice to call on the eve of the Christmas break, for goodness sake, to spoil the mood for Bella who already had Christmas issues.

What, with Edward spoiling the last Christmas for her by leaving her high and dry?


"Rosalie," Bella said seriously, "what's this about?"

I tried to postpone the inevitable. I waved dismissively, but I couldn't completely mask the annoyance that crept into my voice.

"Bella," I sighed, "it's nothing. Just a ridiculous vision Alice had about you becoming my singer and me killing you, okay? And that will never happen, all right?"

Bella's face became confused as she took this in.

Look. I know this was the weakest explanation and consolation in the world, okay? I realize this. But one thing I promised myself — one thing I promised her — is that I wouldn't lie to her, and I wouldn't withhold things from her, either. Some person tried do that to her already, and I wasn't going to repeat that mistake. Even if I felt it was completely the wrong thing to say. Like now. But we had an agreement, an understanding. If Bella asked a question, then she was ready to hear the answer.

Even if I felt it would hurt her.

Because lying to her? Keeping things from her?

That hurt her so much more.

And I wasn't going to hurt her in that way.

Even if the truth I said hurt her in other ways.

"How could that never happen, Rose, if Alice saw it happening?" Bella asked in a scared little quiet voice, filled with concern.

Not for herself. For me. She was concerned how me killing her would hurt my feelings.

She is such a selfless little dummy in that way.

But the thing about Alice's visions? They were always ooh! so scary and portentious! and never amounted to anything.

Except the ones that did. And when they did, they were so much worse than what any of us could ever had imagined that ...

That you had to treat every one of the with this ponderous gravity that none of them really deserved.

Except the ones that came true.

Why couldn't Alice have visions like "Ooh! You and Bella have a nice time at the movies and then have really sweet sex back at the dorm"?

But no.

"It can't happen," I explained as patiently as I could, "because firstly, you don't become a singer, you either are or you aren't, and secondly, okay, so, let's say you do become my singer. So what?" I demanded this angrily as I tied my hair back. "I've never made a mistake, and you know your blood is more appealing to me than anybody else's I've smelled; it's like you're almost my singer already. And I'm doing just fine now, thank you."

It's true. It's hard, being near Bella. It always is. She smells just so good. And every time I take her, every time I come, I just want to complete the consummation by biting her neck and drinking my fill of her.

Nothing could top an orgasm like that. Nothing.

Except having her, still alive, whimpering her little whimpers of her own pleasure, not pain, and drifting off to sleep ... in my arms.

Top that?

You can't. Because nothing can. No blood, not even hers, could top me holding my lover who loves me for — no: despite! — what I am.

So it's hard resisting my natural inclinations. But Bella's worth it.

And I'm a Hale. And don't you ever forget that. I don't. I look in the mirror every day and tell myself that: 'I am Rosalie Lillian Hale.'

Bella thinks I'm vain for my mirror time. Everybody does. I let them think that. But maybe Bella's starting to see there's more to it than vanity and pride. Well, not more than pride, the right kind of pride, the pride that says I'm better and stronger than my weaknesses. The pride that says I'm above it all, because I refuse to act like everybody else because everybody does it. I'm not like everybody else. I refuse to lower myself to giving into baser instincts.

I rise above.

But my explanation didn't seem to help Bella at all. I thought I hid my angry determination better, but Bella's eyes only got rounder.

"Oh, no!" she gasped.

"What?" I demanded in confusion; I thought my explanation would help allay her fears.

Bella pointed to my head. I raised my eyebrow.

"When you put your hair up in a pony tail like that, it means only one thing ..." Bella whispered fearfully.

I grinned predatorily as I glided toward her. Humans couldn't process many things at once, so I knew that if my explanation didn't help her, well, I'd ... help her in other ways.

"What does it mean, Bella?" I whispered to her face, now towering above her.

"You know exactly what it means, Rosalie Hale," Bella looked up at me, sounding both fierce and scared at the same time. "And it doesn't mean sweet and gentle, it means ferocious and demanding!"

My smile widened: "Ferocious and demanding what?"

Bella was just so shy about using words. She couldn't even say the word fuck at all, nor even sex, for that matter, without blushing furiously. She's such a sweet and innocent girl. A perfect lover for me.

"You know!" Bella blushed furiously.

See what I mean?

Her blush always heated her blood to a deliciously perfect temperature, and also released pheromones that screamed come hither! to me.

Her pull for me was irresistible, in so many ways. I always had to make sure I had hunted recently, but even then, the pull of her blood was incredible.

Good thing I am a Hale.

But her pheromones were giving me a call that I chose not to resist.

I reached down and cradled the back of her head with my hand and wrapped my other arm around her back, pulling her body into mine. Her body fit into mine perfectly, molding and fitting itself to my form. I bent my head down and pressed my lips against hers.

We kissed.

And I held that kiss until I felt her initial resistance melt, until I felt her body against mine go limp. Her body was just so warm, almost hot, so pulsating with life ... and mine is so cold, compared to hers, so dead. I so want her; I so want that life that is her.

I so want that. But I so want her like this: alive, and, by God, I'm going to enjoy every living moment of hers, while that is still possible ... even as this living, breathing being in my arms causes pangs of hunger so painful that it feels like it burns me to hold her.

But hold her I do, I can't but hold her, for her dear life.

I pulled back and smiled into her closed eyes.

"You don't want?" I asked breathily.

"Rosalie," Bella said weakly, eyes still closed, "we have to ..."

I kissed her again, my tongue licked her bottom lip, seeking entrance to her mouth, and she opened herself to me, complying.

My tongue went in, exploring her, tasting the lavender and freesia heavenly perfection and torturous hell that she is.

I didn't need to know from her what she thought we needed to do, for I already knew exactly what we needed to do. And so did she. She just needed a bit of persuasion, is all.

Her arms wrapped around me, holding me as tightly as her frail human form allowed.

I think I had persuaded her.

"You have to sleep," I commanded. "We have a long day of travel tomorrow."

She just needed somebody to look after her. Really. She was always worrying about everybody and every thing else, that she never took care of herself.

Sometimes I felt like a mother hen.

Not that I minded that so much.

"And this is sleeping?" She opened her eyes and asked quizzically.

It wasn't but the ... activity ... would ease her back to sleep.

"After," I said simply.

"After what?" she asked.

I sighed to myself. Sometimes it was very trying, very hard to believe that she wasn't putting on an act. For all that she's been exposed to her life, she was really so innocent about everything.

I liked her that way, and wouldn't change nor corrupt that innocence for anything.

But sometimes it got in the way of things ... just like her night shirt.

I reached down to her collar.

Bella's eyes grew wide. "Rosalie, don't!" she cried.

Too late.

Rip went the shirt and buttons flew everywhere. Her nightshirt hung loosely and opened just off her shoulders.

Bella's face reddened again as she quickly wrapped her arms about herself, keeping her shirt on, trying desperately to preserve her dignity and modesty.

"You know," she said angrily, "you think you'd treat my clothes with more respect, seeing how much money you spend on them!"

Actually, her night clothes weren't expensive, nor even ostentatious.

They were cotton.

Cotton night clothes. How (not) sexy is that?

But Bella absolutely refused anything with any ... well, anything to them. So she wore long sleeved collared white nightshirts and matching pajama bottoms.

Yes, I know! ... but compared to the clothes she used to wear? Ratty sweat pants and hand-me-down Colt beer tees from Charlie? For God's sake?

You make the improvements you can, and you don't push it.

You can't push it. Not with Bella.

Because when I tried to give her a La Perla white lace silk teddy and matching panties? That would be my night clothes. If Bella wore that, I think that she would actually die from the embarrassment. And we can't have that, now, can we?

When we go shopping in the Dartmouth mall, the minute she senses that I try to direct her to Victoria's Secret, she gets all stiff and unmanageable. One time the mall security even asked us if there was a problem.

There was, because she almost died right there when she realized she was making a scene. I have no idea how Alice can direct her without getting this kind of resistance. Knowing Alice, she probably does get that kind of resistance, and ignores it, and pushes Bella, heels dragging, to wherever Alice wants to go.

But Bella's angry outburst was just so cute! It was hard to keep my countenance. But laughing in her face at her little kitten anger over the loss of cheap Macy's pajamas? Definitely a mood spoiler, and the mood needed to be cultivated, not spoilt.

I reached further down and ripped off her 'expensive' white matching pajama bottoms, exposing her floral print cotton panties, but this time I cast the pajama bottoms aside, instead of leaving it on, as I did for her shirt.

Bella squeaked out one of her little surprised shrieks, wonderfully surprisingly high in contrast to her usually calm alto voice.

"Holy crow!" she cried. "What is your problem with my clothes! Can't you just take them off? But no, not 'rip'm Rosalie'!"

"Sure I can 'just take them off,'" I said reasonably.

But what was the fun of that? Ripping off Bella's clothes? I was getting more in the mood.

"I bet you can't!" Bella countered hotly.

"Oh?" I asked quietly ... and dangerously.

Suddenly Bella was scared. "Um..." She tried to backpedal.

But she knew the deal. A wager had been put forward, and it couldn't, now, be taken back.

"My dear lady witnesses," I said to the world in an officiating tone, as Bella whispered an 'oh, God! not this again!'

Yes, this again. This would be the eighteenth time Bella had made the mistake of saying 'I bet' on something, so this was the eighteenth time I invoked the 'lady witnesses,' whoever they were, be they the Muses or Norns or Fates or whomever.

I continued: "Our Bella has put forward a bet, that I cannot have an article of clothing removed from her delicious body without it being torn to shreds."

I smiled wickedly at my Bella, and she shivered fearfully.

"As insurmountable as this sounds," I continued in the same officious tone, "a Hale never backs down from a challenge."

I paused significantly, then: "I accept. The terms: I am to take Bella's panties ... off, undamaged, or Bella is to remove them herself, for me to win. For you to win, my dear, ..."

I looked at scared little Bella, loving her discomfort. "They are to remain on your person, or if I do take them off forcibly ..." which I would never do ... "tearing them, that, too, gives you the victory. And the prize, my dear lady witnesses? The winner gets to have her way with the loser, for the remainder of the night; the loser must do everything the winner demands, immediately and without question."

I smiled again, almost purring with delight.

"Do you accept this wager, or ..." I paused significantly, "are you going to welch, and live with the very humiliating and very long-term consequences of wussing out?"

Bella thought for a second, then her entire countenance changed. She went from a scared little mousy girl to a strong and determined ... little mousy girl.

God, she is just so cute!

She unwrapped her arms from herself, and grasped the side of her panties with her right hand, wrinkling the 'expensive' cotton, and her left splayed over the front of her panties, covering the part of her body very vulnerable to my attacks, as she's discovered in the past. As she'll discover again ... and soon.

"I accept!" she said fiercely. "This is a bet I'm finally going to win, because there's no way these panties are coming off!"

Did I mention how cute she looks when she tries to be fierce?

Her nightshirt managed to slip further down her shoulders during her defensive maneuver, so now it was hanging, precariously, from her arms and her ... front. I looked at the shirt, and Bella squeezed her arms tightly to herself, trying to keep as much covered as possible.

It was a losing battle ... just like the wager she just so foolishly accepted.

"Then let the games begin!" I announced, pleased.

Bella gave me dagger eyes. "I'm so going to enjoy winning. I'm going to ... I'm going to ... to be on top this time! Ha!"

This time I couldn't suppress the snort of laughter escaping from my sealed lips. It looked like any way this bet went I would win. Because if I lost? Bella? On top? That would be a memory to cherish ... if I could stop myself from laughing as she tried to be forceful on top but would stop to check if I'm okay: snarl, snarl, goes gentle little Bella as she grinds into me in what she believes to be a forceful manner, then: 'I'm not hurting you, am I, Rose?'

Yes, I probably would laugh then.

But losing? And I don't lose bets. Ever.

After all, I'm a Hale. This was a point of pride now.

Besides, the way I set up the bet? Her panties had to stay on for the rest of the night, or until she fell asleep. Bella, that little dummy, entered a wager for which the only way she could win is to do exactly what I desired.


Just another reason why I love her so much. She is just so trusting, so naïve ... so innocent.

So Bella.

I stepped back into her closed form, resting my chin on her tensed shoulder.

"Oh, no, I am so going to enjoy winning this bet," I whispered into her ear, "because you're going to help me win it by taking off your panties yourself, that way I won't rip them, even if you do."

"Yeah, right, Rose," Bella whispered back defiantly, but with a hint of concern, "and how are you going to make me do that?"

"Well," I said, "first we practice on me..." and I removed my silk panties.

"Look," I said, pleased, "no tears!"

"Bravo, Rose," Bella responded sarcastically, "but that's not the bet."

"Well, then," I said easily, "now we practice on you..." and I glided up to her stiff form.

I wrapped my arms around her, picking her up easily. She yelped in surprise at this, but didn't struggle as I brought her to the bed and laid her there, gently. I straddled her supine form, pushing her left hand down firmly against her with my ... body, cementing it in place, and then locking her right hand, grasping her panties, there with my legs squeezing (very gently) her straddled form.

"Bella," I asked innocently, "why does a girl wake up from a sound sleep at two in the morning?"

Her forehead clouded in confusion. "I heard your cell phone ring, Rose ..."

"It's on vibrate, sweetie," I said, smiling.

"But you were talking ..." she continued, still confused.

"Too quietly for your sweet sleeping self to notice, my dear," I answered, enjoying this game very much.

"... and you left me ... and I felt that ... and I ..." ... and she couldn't continue. She looked away from me, closing her eyes.

And nor could I. She was just so attached to me — as much as I was attached to her — that it hurt her to feel me gone.

I looked away and swallowed, because I couldn't imagine my existence without her, either.

Or I could, but I didn't wish to, because I only needed to look into my past one hundred years of meaningless, pointless, existence to know what that would be like.

But then I looked back. I have Bella now. For as long as 'now' as I have. And wasting this precious time on regrets?

"I think ..." I said lightly, recalling Bella's beautiful chocolate brown eyes to me, "I think you woke up for an entirely different reason."

She looked at me expectantly.

I took the always full glass of water from the nightstand.

"Are you thirsty, my dear? Would you like some water?" I asked her mischievously.

"Um, ..." Bella said, a tiny bit uncomfortably, "no. Could you, um, actually, excuse me for a human moment?"

"Sure," I said easily. "You take off your panties and leave them right here, and I'll be happy to 'um, actually, excuse' you ..." Here I imitated her endearingly annoying hesitancy ... "for your human moment."

I smiled.

"Because, otherwise, sweetie-dear," I clarified, "get comfortable, because you're staying right here until you do."

"Hey, no fair!" Bella complained, squirming ... or trying to squirm out from under me, but failing to do so, as she was stuck under one thousand pounds of vampire disinclined to move at present.

I sang my response happily, "All's fair in love and war, my dear."

"And which one is this?" she demanded.

"A wager?" I asked surprised, for, after all, wasn't it obvious? "War, of course."

Her brow clouded with indignation.

"Well, fine!" she hissed. "I'll just hold it, then, 'cause, this time, Rosalie, this time, I'm gonna win!"

I pressed my lips together, but they still turned down. Not with displeasure. With pleasure ... I fought my smile so hard that it came out as a quivering frown.

I'm so enjoying this game, mostly because it brings out the fight in my Bella, and I so love to see her fight. Even if there's no way she could possibly win.

Like this time.

Because maybe she could win against someone who didn't fight dirty, but the night wasn't young anymore, and I had to make sure to win ... for her sake. We can't have Bella wasting the night away with her fuming at me or worrying about a silly phone call from my silly seer sister when there's so much else to do.

But this little argument wasn't going anywhere profitably, so I hummed noncommittally in response, and said, "So, while we're waiting for you to capitulate ..." and drew apart her nightshirt. The cloth rubbed against her nipples, causing them to harden.

I looked down, admiring all of my Bella — my beautiful Bella — then looked into her now wide eyes.

"God, Bella," I said in awe, "you are just so beautiful!"

Bella shook her head.

"God, Rose," she replied disbelievingly, "you are just so blind!"

That brought me up short.

"Really?" I demanded. "How so?"

She snorted. "Like: you're the only person who thinks that, that's how."

Well, she was wrong there. A previous person attached to her felt exactly that way, but bringing up Edward would be a mood-killer for me for sure.

So I decided to make a game of this, too.

"That's not what I'm told," I said teasingly.

"Huh?" Bella asked in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Oh," I said nonchalantly, "just that some girl asked if my hot roommate was available for a liaison or if she had a boyfriend already."

Bella drew in a shocked breath.

"Who said that?" she asked in surprise.

"Samantha..." I said.

"Who?" Bella asked.

I blinked. Talk about blind. That word, right there, probably described my Bella better than any other. Seeing in me things that noone else saw? Not seeing the obvious advances from ... well, from everyone back at Forks High School and now at Dartmouth? Good thing I was so used to the admiring and jealous looks from others. They meant nothing ... until, in an alley in a cold winter night in Rochester, they did mean something. So I watched everyone looking at Bella carefully, protecting her from harm, but as opposed to being jealous of my Bella, I was actually proud. I picked the best girl in the world to love, for she is kind and beautiful: everybody sees it.

Except my Bella. My dear, blind Bella.

"You know," I answered patiently, "Samantha." Samantha of the lithe figure and hennaed hair. "Samantha, the girl in the dorm room right next to ours that we see every day going to class ... or, well, you do on sunny days ... Samantha the panther."

"The panther?" Bella asked a bit fearfully.

"Yes," I explained. "The panther. She hunts down fresh, young, bi-curious girls and ... satisfies their curiosity."

"How does she know they are bi-curious?" Bella asked.

It was always so easy to distract Bella. Just throw a nugget her way, and she, like every one of Samantha's conquests, would not rest until her curiosity was satisfied.

That's how, I learnt, she found out about us, our kind: she became curious, and nothing would stop her until she found out everything.

And she did.

"I think," I said in answer, "that Samantha, always on the prowl, thinks any virginal girl is at least a little bit bi-curious, so ..." and I shrugged.

"Well," said Bella, rolling her eyes, "that puts me way out of the running, then."

Technically that's up for debate, now, isn't it? Bella's hymen is still intact. I am very careful in this. We can't have that ripping and blood flow during intercourse, as that would turn a passionate moment tragic in an instant.

And during her periods? I'm sorry, but I just have to clear out. Bella says she understands, but she doesn't. Not really. I love her too much to stay around ... and kill her when I accidently draw a breath of that blood-scented air filling our dorm room during her time.

But I answered simply: "I think Samantha's definition of 'virginal' is 'anyone who hasn't slept with her.' And by 'sleeping' I mean..."

"Jeez, Rose, I know what you mean by 'sleeping,' okay?" Bella blushed. "So you told her that I'm out of the picture for her, right?"

I shrugged.

Bella didn't like my shrug. "Wait," she said, "what did you tell her when she asked about me ... you did tell her I was taken, right?"

"I told her," I answered, "that I would ask you."

I cannot assume possession of my Bella.

Because she isn't my Bella. Unless she chooses to be.

"Well, you asked," Bella said, "so now you can tell her I am taken, thank you very much. I mean, c'mon, Rose, why do even think you have to ask me. Really."

Bella's eyes narrowed at me, scoldingly, and I looked away.

After a moment, she continued. "I'm surprised she didn't ask you."

Who said she didn't? I shrugged again.

Bella gasped. "What did you say?"

I looked back at the girl I love with everything I am beneath me.

"Rose." Bella demanded. "Rose, what did you say?"

I smiled a sad smile and bent down, kissing my love's forehead.

"You are so sweet when you're jealous, do you know that, Bella?" I said.

"What did you tell her?" Bella would not be distracted.

I smiled again, but answered right away: "I told her, in so many words, that she should look elsewhere."

Relief spread across Bella's face, and she drew in a large breath.

"I don't know why you said that," Bella said with regret. "Because ..." here Bella looked down at herself, "because if I know who you're talking about, she's a lot prettier than me. I'm actually surprised you didn't take her up on her offer ... and leave me."

Bella looked away sadly.

Sorry, Bella, dear, but I don't do pity. And I won't allow you to wallow in self-loathing.

"Would you like me to?" I demanded.

"No!" Bella exclaimed, then said apologetically, "it's just that I'm ... and Samantha's ... it's just that ..."

I don't care what it will take, but I shall find a way, somehow, some day, to show Bella her innate goodness and beauty ... and my undying ... my undead, actually, ... immortal love for her, and her, alone.

"Let me tell you something about Samantha, and about every other person in the world, Bella," I said, demanding her full attention. "Samantha will never experience this."

I bent down, cradling Bella's head in my hands, and looked at her.

Then I pressed my stone-cold marble-smooth lips to her soft and yielding and human lips, and I held that kiss, and I held that kiss.

And I held that kiss.

I pulled away and looked down at my lover's enraptured face.

"I don't love Samantha, Bella; I love you. I love only you, and it's you that I love now and for ever and ever."

Bella opened her eyes. Then she smiled warmly.

"My," she said, "somebody's gotten all serious all-of-the-sudden like."

I smiled back, but thought damned straight. My Bella? She was seriously worth fighting for.

"Well," was all I answered.

"But don't think that will get you to win the bet, either," she teased.

"Oh?" I said. "Well, I guess we'll have to win another way."

"How?" Bella asked.

"Well," I answered, "here's something else Samantha will never feel."

I cupped Bella's breast.

She gasped and her body jerked as if shocked.

Because that's what her touch felt to me: an electric shock.

Every single time I touched her skin.

"But they're so tiny!" she complained.

This again. I sighed.

"And I so love touching them!" I answered, ignoring her complaint. You can only explain something so many times before it turns to whining or nagging.

Rosalie Hale does neither.

I was tempted to do more than touch and stroke them with my fingers, but we could save that for after I won the bet, because now Bella squirmed for another reason entirely, so I continued very, very gently stroking her breasts, chest, arms, and stomach.

"Rose," Bella gasped, "that tickles!"

"Does it now?" I asked in a surprised voice, although I wasn't surprised at all. "Well," I continued, "your hands are protecting your virtue and those precious panties of yours, leaving my hands free rein to roam, so that's what they're doing, roaming," I stroked her breasts again, very lightly, Bella squirmed. "Roaming," I said, continuing my stroking of her chest and arms. Bella stopped breathing, pressing her lips together. "Roaming," I said, my fingers just barely touching her stomach now.

I looked at her significantly.

"Rose," Bella squealed, "no!"

"Oh, yes, Bella," I answered, "oh, yes!"

And I brought all my fingers into play, tickling her stomach and sides mercilessly.

Bella screamed out, convulsing in laughter.

I love hearing the sound of Bella laughing, because that is a sound that never came from her before. She never laughed when she was with Edward. She was always so serious, so her unrestrained laughter? The sound of her happiness and joy? It was a sound I treasured. So I tickled her more, making her laugh that beautiful laugh of hers all the more.

And I kept at it, until I got exactly what I wanted.

"No, Rose, no!" Bella squeaked. "I'm gonna ... I'm gonna pee! No, Rose! I'm ..."

I pressed down on her bladder with the palm of my hand.

"Pee," I breathed my command to her.

"Eek!" Bella cried out, and I caught the scent in the air, and I could sense the wetness, just a little bit, spread on her panties and her virtuous, protective hand.

In that instant I stopped tickling her, and lifted her from the bed quickly before she soiled the sheets, rushing her to the bathroom, standing her by the toilet.

"Dirty pool, Rosalie, dirty pool!" Bella complained, scrunched up, holding it in as best she could.

"Panties," pointing to the plastic bucket by the toilet bowl, keeping the victorious smile from my voice. Trying to, that is.

Oh, and why was the plastic bucket there? Bella didn't have accidents ... often.

Because, of course, we don't wager ... often.

She took off her panties and threw them into the bucket angrily, sitting down on the toilet.

"I win," and I smiled.

"Yeah, yeah!" Bella fumed, finishing and flushing. "But if you hadn't cheated, I would've won!"

"But you didn't!" I sang. "Who won, Bella? Say it."

Okay, so I was rubbing it in.

Ask me if I care.

Besides, betting against me? She deserved her comeuppance because it was her own foolish pride — her own damn fault — that got her into this ... she could blame nobody but herself.

"You win, Rosalie," Bella said, washing her hands, her stiff back toward me. "You always win," she added in a petulant whisper.

"That's right," I answered. "And to the victor goes the spoils, so, you, young miss, into the shower." And then I ordered at her hesitation: "Now."

"Hmphf!" she snorted disobediently, but she actually did disrobe and hop into the shower and started it going. She liked the water warm-to-hot. Just like I liked my Bella warm-to-me, then hot ... very hot.

And I took off my teddy and hopped right in after her.

Bella looked back at me in surprise. "Did I get you dirty?" she asked apologetically.

"No, honey," I answered, "but I won the bet, so I'm in charge of getting you squeaky clean. Turn around, I'm going to do your back first."

She turned, and I wet then lathered the washcloth, soaping her backslide

Then I pressed my body into her back. She yelped in surprise.

May I just say that I love her little yelps?

Then I reached around and lathered her frontside as I let the soap on her back soap my front.

The feeling of Bella's body? All slicked with soap? Hmmm!

Well ... it was a very good washing my body, I will say that!

"Now turn around, sweetie, I'm going to do your front." I commanded.

"I thought you already did?" Bella asked.

"... and spread your legs," I added.

"Oh." Bella said, turning her front to face me.

But she couldn't look at me.

"You are such a shy little thing!" I exclaimed.

Bella blushed.

I knelt down in front of my Bella, looking at her shy, quivering lips.

God! She's so beautiful!

I kissed her inner thigh with a sweet, light kiss, and then rubbed the washcloth along one leg, then the other, then washed her vulva with a couple of strokes, then reached behind her and washed her butt and anus, very lightly.

I rinsed out the soap from the washcloth and then squeezed it out, reaching around the shower curtain and throwing the cloth into bucket.

I stood. "All done," I said, "wash your hair, rinse off and come on back out when you're done."

I rinsed myself first and waited for my sweetie. She took longer in the shower. She had to compensate more for her body that she had ... difficulty at times controlling.

My Bella has balance issues. It's endearing at times, frustrating others, ... and very, very ... very dangerous when a fall leads to a cut.

Because it may be possible for Bella to see me as just Rosalie, not 'Rosalie the Vampire' ... but that's what I am, and I never forget that, because if I forget that for one second, that's all the time it would take for Bella to be dead in my arms.

But she doesn't need to know of my vigilance, of course.

I handed her our towel as she stepped out of the shower. Water just ran off me, as I don't have pores, so we shared a towel. I loved the smell of her on the towel, just as she loved smelling me there, too.

A shared towel actually worked very well for both of us.

Bella looked at me cautiously as she wrapped herself in the towel. "That went very differently than how I thought it'd go."

I raised my eyebrow at her.

"I thought," she explained, "you were going to maul me in there."

I sighed. My little Bella has vocabulary issues, too. But I felt I could let go the difference between maul and ravish.

... this time.

"How are you going to do the laundry with you floating in euphoria from my ravishment?" I asked.

Okay, so I couldn't entirely let go of the difference.

"Laundry?" Bella asked.

"Bella," I explained, "we'll be gone for two weeks. Do you want to come back to a dorm smelling of musty washcloth and pee from your panties?"

"Oh," Bella said, blushing. "Right," she added helpfully.

"So," I continued, "gather the laundry, and I'll get you your laundry wear."

"'Laundry wear'?" Bella asked.

I waved her on: "Run along, Bella, no time to waste!"

As she did that, I went to our closet, and selected her laundry wear, a pale green and translucent Farr West Georgette sheer slip. I got a matching white one for myself and put it on.

Bella came into the bedroom, still wrapped in her towel. "I got the lau-... Oh, my God!"

I held out the pale green slip to her, smiling.

"What the hell is that!" she demanded angrily.

"Your laundry wear," I answered factually.

Bella gaped at me with wide, scared eyes.

Chapter End Notes:

[1] Okay, my dears, so I kind of got carried away in the writing of this ... I know, surprise, surprise (rolls eyes) ... and 20,000 words later ... *sigh* Anyway, I've broken this "chapter" into seven chapters, so, yes, there is some Rosalie and Bella goodness coming at you. Um, don't read these chapters at work or during class, okay? 'Cause they are definitely NSFW!

[2] Rosalie explains Bella's beauty, including her perfectly proportioned breasts ('tiny' according to Bella, who, in my opinion, has seen too many Vogue magazines with women on the front covers with big boobs), in my brother's story "My Sister Rosalie" (MSR), ch 55 "Beautiful." And any time he wants to come out with the next chapter is fine with me, hint-hint.

[3] I was going to throw in a dig where Rosalie said, "Well, you breasts are bigger than Alice's" and Bella rolls her eyes says something like "Obviously, but Alice doesn't count," and Rosalie asking if she should tell her sister Alice what Bella just said with Bella squeeing in discomfort and the same time Rosalie hears her cell buzz with a text message from Alice saying "Wotz dis abt my tits?" But it just didn't seem to fit, and I'm right sorry about that.

[4] Of course there's tickling in bb's MSR ch 43 "Tickle! Tickle!" but this is like an entirely different kind of tickling. Really! This here is love-play whereas bb's was ... um, cute in a weird and scary way? Kinda like how he is, actually ... but in a 'good' way. Okay, okay, just kidding about bb.