So, new story! Very different from Shades of Green, in both writing style and character wise. I'm thinking it will be completely EPOV but I haven't decided yet.
Edward in Charge
Ever since I was little, I'd always wanted to move to America – to California, specific. Live the American dream. Canada, you could say, is very similar to America. But there's no Hollywood in Canada, no Las Vegas, no Malibu Beach.
As I board the plane, I think over how I came to be on this trip and the past couple of months that have lead up to me following my dreams. I dropped out of university – much to Carlisle's dismay. He wanted -- and probably still wants -- me to become a doctor. He's an award winning neurologist, who's loved by everyone. Well, mostly everyone. I went through the first few years of university. First premed then med before I realized it's not for me. University isn't for me and doctoring isn't for me. My parents lost their shit on me, telling me how I'd wasted years of my life and tons of their money but I couldn't find myself to care.
I lounged around my parents' home for a few months in Toronto, trying to think of a way to get out of this place, to finally move to California and pursue my dream of creating music. All the ideas I had were shot down. My parents… well, my father, refused to pay for school and allow me to go on a student visa. He'd also blocked me from getting my trust fund. He'd completely fucked me over.
They were getting antsy to have the house to themselves again and I was getting even antsier to get the fuck out of Canada. One day I was looking online and found Au Pair Canada, an agency that placed young Canadians into houses in other countries to take care of children for one year.
I had laughed with my buddy James but he dared me to apply – seriously. I figured I'd never get hired; I didn't have much experience with children, obviously a requirement in an Au Pair position. It was easy enough to get past it though -- I fudged the information, claiming to have lived in with my Aunt Jane and Uncle Alec and taken care of their daughter Heidi for a year. They easily agreed to lie for me. I think they thought I'd never go through with it or maybe I wouldn't get hired.
The requirements and application process were kind of fucked up and strict.
Be between the ages of 18-26 – Twenty-three and pretty fucking good looking, if I say so myself.
Speak English proficiently – English, French, Spanish, Latin…
Have previous childcare experience – One year of being a live in nanny for Heidi. A lie that they can have fun trying to disprove.
Have a current passport – I've traveled all over the world.
Have a valid driver's license – Since sixteen.
Be a non-smoker and sign a non-smoking agreement – Fuck smoking, I don't want my mouth to taste like a fucking ashtray.
Have no criminal background – Done. I was stealthy, anything that I did that was illegal: I got away with.
Have finished secondary school – Finished a hell of a lot more than that.
Be committed to stay one full year in the United States – A full year? Try my full fucking life.
Never have participated in a United States Au Pair program – This one was almost funny.
Complete the training provided by the agency – Easily done.
The application process was a whole fucking lot more through. First, I had to fill out a long ass form, send eight smiling passport-sized photos and a bunch of photos with me and not only my family but my Aunt Jane's. Then there were the diplomas, physician's reports, criminal record, drivers' license, passport and references. I also had to write a "Dear Host Family" letter, talking about my hobbies and work experience and why I wanted to be an Au Pair.
Dear Host Family,
I dropped out of university and have spent the last year partying all night and sleeping in my parents' pool house all day. My hobbies are playing piano, jerking off and drinking. I'd like to be an Au Pair so I can move to America and fuck hot chicks all around California. Please pick me.
Yeah, I didn't think it'd be such a good fucking idea either. I'd had to write letters like this before, to get into med school. You just write what you think they want to fucking hear. I wrote all about how I love kids and how taking care of them is important to me. I wrote about playing the piano and how I'd taught Heidi how to play.
I went for an interview, through the training and was given a list of host families. I immediately eliminated any that weren't in California but there was still a huge list to pick from. I finally picked a family in Malibu Beach. They were apparently looking for a male au pair and I wondered if the father had Roman eyes. The dad in question was a baseball player and the mom was his "manager" which I took to mean was an excuse to travel with him.
One charming phone interview with the mom later, I was selected. The Dwyer family consisted of Phil, the father and pitcher for the Dodgers. Renee, the mother and Phil's manager. Isabella, who was apparently not Phil's and was a teenager so I didn't have to worry as much about her. I figure she's maybe fourteen, fifteen and at most I'll have to drive her to school. Philip is a five year old boy who loves baseball and trains. And Lily, who was only one and the one I was slightly concerned about but how fucking hard could it be?
All the legalities were taken care of, my J-1 Visa was issued and I just had to get a license when I got settled in. My parents flipped, calling me crazy. It was like a three hour long conversation, argument, whatever. In the end my mom made me promise to call all the time and Carlisle just shook his head in disappointment.
So this is how I'm sitting on a plane, waiting for it to land in Los Angeles. It's the middle of the day and fucking gorgeous out. Even in March. It was still freezing and ridiculous in Canada. I'm wearing jeans and a hoodie but I think it might be a little warm so I take off the hoodie and toss it into my carry-on. When I'm done reminiscing I get comfortable in my first class seat and fall asleep for a few minutes but I'm anxious so I can't fall into a deep sleep and the guy next to me keeps hitting my leg with his. I wish I'd asked Carlisle to give me a Xanax, Valium, something but that would require talking to him and I'm not doing that right now.
The plane lands and takes forever for them to let us get off. I'm all the way in the back so it takes even longer. I'm a little nervous because I always get nervous when meeting new people. When I was little I was shy, I guess it's left over from that. I meet people, girls and shit in bars and I'm fine. I even go home with them and we have sex and that's great, I'm not shy then but this is different. This is the family I'll be living with and can hopefully convince to keep me here, somehow, someway, forever.
I have to charm them, be great with the kids and make the teenager think I'm the coolest thing ever. All my friends' little sisters think I'm hot and shit. They giggle when they're around me and turn red and won't look me in my face. They have crushes and it's cute. Maybe this girl will have a crush and beg her parents to never let me leave.
I've been here two seconds and I already don't want to leave. Even the stale, plane air somehow smells better. Like the beach. I think this must be in my head because the doors are all sealed shut but it's amazing. In my head, California smells amazing.
When I finally get off the plane and walk through the terminal, I'm expecting to see a bunch of people waiting but then I remember that this was an international flight and after September 11, there's probably not a whole lot of that. I ask and I'm told there's an area for people who are waiting for international flight but I have to get my bags first. I groan but do as I'm told.
As I wait for the bagging carousel to go around a third time, I curse myself for not using more distinct baggage. This is taking for-fucking-ever. I finally find my bags and see a bathroom on the way. I really have to piss so I stop and do so. Afterward, I wash my hands and glance and myself in the mirror. Not bad. I run my hand through my hair, trying to make it look a little less like sex hair but there's no use. The shirt I'm wearing isn't bad, plain black t-shirt and the jeans aren't too wrinkled. I'm glad I took off the hoodie but it's a little chilly in the airport. I shrug it off and walk out, finally finding the waiting area.
Lots of fights just came in so it's hard to find the person with the sign with my name. I don't know if it'll be the dad or the mom or a driver. What I don't expect is what I actually see.
There's a brunette girl with a sign resting against her legs that says CULLEN in big, red letters. It's decorated with glitter and pictures of baseball. But the brunette is what catches me eye. She's busy, texting, and isn't paying attention. She's tiny and hot and wearing what I can only guess her school uniform. At least, I hope it's her school uniform or she goes around dressed like every man's wet dream. The skirt is short but I can tell she has it rolled up at the waist to make it shorter. It's black, red and white plaid and she has a black polo shirt on. It's tight. Really tight. I'm a few feet away and I can see how the coldness of the airport is affecting her and her nipples. Her long, long hair is even in low pigtails. Perfect to hold onto while she has her lips around my… I have to back the fuck up and stop thinking like this because I feel that part that I want her lips around start to harden and that's the last thing I need right now.
This girl is hot. I think I've said this but she's so hot that I think it needs to be repeated. And apparently has something to do with the family I'm taking care of. I briefly think that this girl is trouble or will be trouble and I should run back to Canada but my cock is against that idea and I'm a man so I always think with that part of my anatomy.
I decide to stop staring like a pervert and I walk the few feet over to her and clear my throat.
She looks up, her face is surprised and she looks sort of nervous, shy before saying, "Can I help you?"
Her voice is quiet. Sweet. Not annoying like a lot of hot girls.
"I think you can. You're holding a sign with my last name on it," I give her my signature grin and tap the sign with my foot. She looks alarmed for a second.
"You? You're the new nanny?" she's shocked and I wonder if no one told her that my first name is Edward and that she should be expecting a male.
"Au pair. My name is Edward," I correct, offended.
"Manny," she says, as if she can't help herself, before giggling. At me. For being an au pair.
"Who are you, exactly?" I ask the question that's bugging me. Is she a neighbor doing a favor? Was she hired to do this? This is Los Angeles, was it for some coke money? I could picture her snorting lines up her perfect little nose. Off my hip. Maybe off my cock. Would that work? Could we make it work? I'm not into drugs but if she is, I'll let her do whatever she wants on me.
She immediately stops giggling and her cheeks redden, "Isabella Swan. My mom asked me to pick you up, she had some… thing to go to with the kids."
She's quiet and avoiding my eyes and starts texting someone. I stand there, kind of not sure what to do. I already sort hate her for the many comment but she's so insanely hot. I'm not sure if I want to smack her face or her ass. Wait, Isabella? Her mom? The teenage daughter? I'll be living with sweet little hot girl?
Run, Edward. Run as fast as you can.
I'm checking here out again and she notices and flushes a deeper shade of pink. She sort of shoves the sign at me before turning on her heel and walking away. I struggle to carry my bags and the sign, glaring at the back of her head when I'm not checking out her ass and the way her hips are swaying. I know she's doing this on purpose because girls don't walk like this normally. I have girl friends, friends that are girls, who tell me that girls do this on purpose. Walk in front of a guy and do their best models walk to get his attention on their ass. And this girl, this Isabella, is walking like she's on Project fucking Runway.
We finally make it outside of the airport and I stop, breathing in the California air. I was right: it's wonderful. I grin a big grin and I don't care of I look like a loser. This place is amazing, I already love it, never want to leave it. Isabella has stopped a few feet ahead of me and her face is still pink but she's kind of smiling at me. I smile back before walking past her, walking too close so I brush into her "by accident" but I guess I'm closer than I realize and she stumbles a bit and has a hard time finding her footing. I grab her arm to study her because I didn't want to actually push her over.
"Whoa, there. Maybe you shouldn't wear such high heels if you can't walk in them," I smirk at her but inwardly hope she wears them all the time. They make her smooth legs look so long.
Isabella looks shocked and I notice she has prettiest brown eyes that I want to see looking up at me while she's on her knees sucking my dick but instead of trying to make this happen, I give her a mock shocked look back, "You're welcome, by the way."
"I'm welcome… I'm welcome? You shoved me!"
I hold my hands up in surrender, still wearing the smirk that makes the girls melt.
"Lead the way. I don't know what your car looks like, eh?"
"Eh? How… Canadian," she smirks like she made some great pun. Calling me Canadian? Wow, what an insult, considering I am Canadian. This girl needs to learn and I'd like to teach her. She seems so sweet and I kind of like that she tried to insult me, though.
Isabella leads the way to the parking lot where a very expensive looking Audi is parked crookedly. I put my suitcases in the trunk while she climbs into the driver's seat and already know this girl is probably an awful driver. This parking job – she's parked in like three spaces, somehow. I roll my eyes and get into the passenger side. She starts the car and music starts blaring. Kings of Leon, I can live with this.
She pulls out of the parking lot and by the time we make it onto the highway; I'm gripping the oh-shit handle like my life depends on it. Maybe it does. She's a mad woman on the road.
"Why do you look so nervous?" she stops singing True Love Way to ask me, having the gall to look surprised. Has no one ever pointed out her awful, scary driving abilities?
"Who the fuck gave you a license?" I ask, seriously. At least now I know that the exam won't be hard, I'll pass it in a heartbeat.
"The State of California," she says, frowning a little. I'm sure I've insulted her and I feel a little bad but if I'm nice, she'll be nice and I'm pretty sure I won't be able to help myself from touching her smooth looking thigh. I almost want to ask her if she waxes.
"So… uh, Isabella. You're eighteen?" I ask and I'm hoping she is eighteen. I'm no lawyer but I think I'll have a better chance of not getting my ass kicked by her father if I fuck her and she's eighteen.
"Seventeen," she tells me with a little blush. I think she knows what I'm thinking. Knows that I wish I was driving so I could try to coax her into some road head.
"Oh, that's… awesome." No, it's not. "So are your brother and sister good kids?"
"Um, well... Philip is the a little on the… evil side, he likes to play jokes and pranks, you know? Lily doesn't talk even though she's almost two," she looks serious but I hope she's joking. Her tone tells me she's not and I wonder what I've gotten myself into.
Dear God, can I just be Isabella's Au Pair? I bet there's a lot I can teach her. She looks so sweet and innocent and you know someone's going to defile the girl one day, why shouldn't it be me? Thanks, Edward Cullen
The rest of the ride is spent in relative quiet. Isabella controls the music but I don't mind, we have similar tastes. I like her. She's hot and shy and has a nice singing voice. I could imagine myself playing piano and her singing along, soft and sweet.
When we finally arrive at the house, she parks in the huge circular driveway and gets out of the car. She pretty much runs up the drive and into the house without a word and I want to kill her for leaving me to fend for myself but her cheeks were so bright pink.
I get my luggage out of the back and when I look up, there are two people standing in the doorway. Phil and Renee, I guess.
"Hey there, Edward!" Phil calls. He walks over and helps me with my suitcases, which I thank him for. He's young, too young to be Isabella's father. His wife comes over, a peaceful smile on her face and I realize Isabella must be her child. She looks young but older than Phil though you can tell she's had some work done. She looks like Isabella, their faces are similar.
"Hello, Mr. Dwyer, Mrs. Dryer," I smile politely and shake his hand and go to shake Renee's but she pulls me into her arms, hugging me tightly. I don't know how to respond so I sort of… pat her back until she lets me go.
"We're family, Edward. No handshakes, only hugs," she says and she's completely serene and I wonder if she's high. I smile again but it's awkward this time.
"And please, Phil and Renee. Alright, let's take this party inside so you can meet the kids," Phil pats my shoulder. Before we go inside, I stare at the house in wonder. It's fucking huge, beautiful with all this plant-life in front of it. Trees, flowers and shit. Finally I snap out of it and the three of us trudge inside with my bags, stopping when we reach the huge foyer. Phil tells me that the housekeeper will take my bags to my room and I feel a little awkward. How much hired help does this family have?
Two little kids come barreling down the hallway. They both are blonde and tan and look exactly like their father. They don't look anything like Renee but the girl has Isabella's nose which is weird but maybe it skipped a generation. Phillip is holding a baseball over Lily's head; she's crying and trying to get it.
I decide to try to show off for the parents, show them they made a good choice. I kneel down next to them, "Hey guys, I'm Edward."
"I know, I know!" Philip sounds excited and this is good, maybe he'll do what I say. I feel Renee and Phil watching me, probably waiting to see the wonder that is Au Pair Edward. They're in for a big surprise but I don't think it's a good one.
"Why don't you share the ball with your sister, she'll give it back later," I try to coax him gently.
His face is contemplative and for almost a few minutes he looks between the ball in his hand to his little sister. I'm about to try again when he nods and says, "Okaaaayyyy!" Then he drops the ball on Lily's head. Well, guess he is the devil, I think as Lily cries harder.
Maybe this is going to be harder than I thought.
Lily turns to me, her huge eyes so sad and holds her stubby little arms out to me. I can't help but want to pick her up and make her feel better and I'm aware that I'm still being watched by the parents so I go head and lift her in my arms. She immediately puts her thumb in her mouth and lays her head on my shoulder. I look at Renee and she's grinning at me, her hands clasped together under her chin. I smile back because I did something right.
The devil-child runs off, shouting about playing baseball and Phil looks terrified for a second then takes off after him, leaving us alone. I wonder where Isabella is and glance around the foyer like it holds the answer.
"So Edward, let me give you a tour!" Renee's enthusiastic voice startles me and I nod. What am I supposed to do with this kid? Renee starts walking down the hallway and I guess maybe I'm supposed to carry her around which sucks because she's kind of heavy for a one year old.
I follow Renee into the kitchen and she shows me where everything is kept – the food, the plates, the glasses, the silverware. She also shows me the special organic food that Philip and Lily must eat. She stresses this at least twelve times and I wonder if the previous nanny defied her. The tour proceeds to the living room then the dining room. There's nothing remarkable, just a giant television. I'm not really impressed until we reach the indoor pool.
"Holy shit," I mumble. Renee gives me a disapproving look but I shrug because I can't help it. It's fucking amazing. Part of me is hoping Isabella will walk down right now in just one of those tiny bikinis but she doesn't and I'm disappointed.
We walk downstairs and Lily falls asleep with her head on my shoulder, she's still sucking her thumb and looks really cute. It's good, I think, that I'm starting to think she's cute. Maybe if I form an attachment, it'll make me a better Au Pair.
"This is the gym," Renee holds out her arm like Vanna White. I hold back laughter at the thought. I look around and holy shit, it's nice in here. There's everything you could imagine in a professional gym, let alone a home gym. I guess working out is important to a professional baseball player.
The rest of the "basement" consists of an indoor batting cage, which is where Phil and Philip are. Renee explained that Philip has to be watched very closely near the bats and that he's recently learned to turn the machine on so I should always be very careful. I'm excited because this means I get to play with it, too. There's a small movie theatre with just about ten seats but a screen as large as one in an actual theatre.
"Phil gets sent movies before they're released in theatres," Renee explains. I guess it makes sense.
"Isabella spends a ton of time down here. We think it's important to provide fun stuff for the kids to do at home so they don't go wild out on the streets," she tells me as we start up the stairs. I would love to see Isabella go wild on the streets. Or wild in my sheets.
Lily is still asleep and the dead weight of her body has made my arm fell asleep but it's nothing I can't handle. We bypass the first floor and go to the second.
"That's Phil and my room… Lily's room… the playroom… Philip's room," she points to each room. Then we backtrack back down the hallway to Lily's room and she opens the door to a room that's actually cute. It's all light pink and bright white and ballerina themed. The bedding looks nice and soft and I'm careful as I lay Lily in it, not wanting to wake the little girl up.
"Uh, is there a monitor?" I ask as I look around stupidly. I have no idea what I'm looking for though.
"Oh, yes!" Renee grabs a white walkie-talkie and hands it to me. I look it over before shrugging and latching it to my belt loop. "Oh, no!" she cries, shaking her head and I instantly wonder what I've done wrong. Before I know it, her hands are at the edge of my jeans and I hold my hands up, wondering what the fuck she's doing.
"Uhhh," I'm speechless. But I quickly realize she's taking the monitor, not going for what's beneath the belt.
"You don't start until Monday, Edward!"
"Oh, awesome!" I tell her enthuastically which she laughs at. I walk out of the room and she follows, shutting the door. There are other rooms and I wonder if it's Isabella's. I'd like to know where to sneak in to watch her sleep.
"Those other rooms aren't really important," Renee interrupts my thought process, "guest room, Phil's office, my art room…"
She loses me when I realize these rooms are neither Isabella's or mine.
"This is Philip's room," she tells me, leading me into the room she had pointed out earlier. It's decorated tastefully but it's boyish and all about baseball, "Isabella decorated both the kids' rooms."
Oh, did she? What else does Isabella do, Renee? Tell me, please.
"She did a great job," I tell her instead.
"She also decorated your room and her own!" Renee brags. I wonder where the fuck these rooms are and how long it'll take me to get inside Isabella's but I don't ask, allowing Renee to lead. Finally, we reach the door at the end of the hall and it opens up to a third floor.
An attic? I have to live in a fucking attic? What if there are cobwebs and spiders and shit? I follow anyway. The stairs are nice, carpeted. They don't seem like they're leading up to a creepy attic but you never know.
When we reach the top of the stairs, it's obvious which room is which. There are only two doors. One with a giant 'B' painted on it and one blank. I wonder if I can pretend to get lost later, wander into the wrong room. There's also loud music blasting and I can hear her singing. I want to go in there and sing with her and maybe get her to strip to the music.
"And here's your room!" Renee announces and I'm expecting something girly but I'm pleasantly surprised. It's done in golds and whites and blacks and simple, just how I like it. The bed is huge and I can't wait to shower and sleep in it. The room is more like a suite – a little living room, the huge bathroom and the bedroom itself. It's amazing. I wonder if Isabella has a room like this. I wonder if her bed looks as comfortable as mine and if I can test the difference between the two. I decide to spend the rest of the night in here. I'll jerk off then shower then jerk off a few more times until I fall asleep.
"So that's the whole house, why don't you come downstairs and we'll go over everything?"
There goes that plan.
Later, much later, I'm settled in. It's Thursday and my duties don't really start until Monday. This is so I have time to observe and see what their regular schedule is. I lie in bed and decide that first thing on the list is getting Philip some manners. Or to bribe him to stop being an ass to his little sister.
My official schedule was going to be working all day and night when Phil and Renee were away and off when they were home. Included in my duties were making sure Isabella got off to school and home on time and to make sure she didn't throw any parties. Isabella and Philip go to the same private school. What I'm told is it goes "from pre-k to 12th grade" but Philip has to be taken to school separately, Isabella refuses to show up with her five year old brother.
I'm lying in bed, reviewing the day. I jerked off three times but my thoughts keep returning to Isabella. I tried to sleep for a long time but even with the time difference, I can't. I finally get out of bed and go to get a drink. The house is mostly quiet, dark. I try to be quiet and feel around so I don't bang into things but I don't know where stuff is and I stub my toe a few times. I finally make it into the kitchen and notice a soft light. The freezer is open; someone's standing in front of it.
It's Isabella, wearing a pair of hot pink sleep shorts with white polka dots and a tight, tight white tank top. The shorts are so short that her ass is hanging out and I can't help but stare. Can't help but want smack it, bite it, put my cock between the cheeks. I feel myself growing hard and bite my lip to refrain from groaning but I guess I'm too late because Isabella turns suddenly. She has a pint of ice cream in one hand and a spoon in the other and nipples that can cut through glass, I guess from standing in front of the freezer.
Isabella's wide eyes roam up and down my body and even in the darkness of the room; I can see her face darken when she sees the erection that's obvious through my boxers. She takes the ice cream filled spoon in her hand and licks it in a seductive manner. Way too seductive. Her eyes haven't left the bulge in my boxers. I feel myself hardening further under her gaze. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I turn and leave the room, without my drink and without saying a word.
Maybe she's not so innocent.
And if not, I am completely, totally, one-hundred percent fucked.
Please let me know what you think!