A/N - This is an out-take of chapter seven from "Angel Of Corruption" written by Drowning in Chaos (previously known as 'Ferla V' and 'Life In The Shape Of A Girl). The story has been pulled for major revamping.
This was the first time I wrote anything fictional, so please be gentle with me.
Many thanks to Chaz for encouraging me to write some out-takes, for allowing me to beta AOC and permitting me to have some input regarding its plot and characters.
Thank you to KatKennedy for her Beta skills on this chapter and for giving me my first experience in this fandom as a Beta for her stories.
Stephenie Meyer and Summit own all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.
Monday mornings never held much appeal to me ... that is, up until recently. These days, I find I'm counting down the hours and minutes until Monday morning arrives. Nine o'clock on Monday mornings to be precise. Where I once faced Mondays with a sense of dread, as most students who party hard on the weekends do, I now look forward to them with a giddy expectation. The reason for this change of attitude is all down to a gorgeous male specimen who is expected to arrive any minute, and his name is Edward Cullen.
Edward is my lab partner in my Biotechnology class, and he is, without a doubt, the hottest looking piece of man-meat I have ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. He's tall, good looking, well dressed and has an ass that is begging to be bitten. His perma-stubble and sex hair makes him look like he just rolled out of bed after a weekend of marathon fucking. And the eyes, did I mention Edward's eyes yet?
Fuck. Me. Eyes … even when he is wearing his reading glasses.
I crave the time I get to spend in his presence on Monday mornings and Friday afternoons. Usually I'm a nervous mess in the minutes before Edward strides through the doorway of the science lab. My heart literally gallops in my chest, and my skin tingles with anticipation. I know the moment he appears, I will feel a warm rush circulate through my veins.
Whenever Edward sits next to me, the scent of his cologne is like an aphrodisiac, and it makes me want to straddle his lap and bury my face into his chest ... and then perhaps bury my face elsewhere lower down on his anatomy. Biotech classes are the highlight of my week when I can just gaze at his perfection up close, and fantasize about all of the lascivious things I'd do to him on top of our lab table if the opportunity ever presented itself. Edward "fuck-me-eyes" Cullen is like a drug to me.
There is, however, a problem. Edward seems to be altogether ignorant of the fact that I have been flirting with him for the past six months. I could have my choice of just about any guy on this campus, and I'm never lonely for company. I even have some of my professors wrapped around my little finger. I'm blond, tall, tan and taut. I'm hot, and I know it. Guys frequently compliment me on the way I look in the small hope that I will pay them some attention in return.
Edward though is an enigma. He never comments on the way I look and hardly even looks at me. Initially, most guys I meet can barely raise their eyes to meet my face, seemingly dazzled by my breasts, though I can't say I honestly blame them. I do have a spectacular rack; it was money well spent. Some girls get a car as a twenty-first birthday gift. I wanted bigger boobs instead, and thanks to my mom, who post-divorce became a desperate cougar trying to please the twenty-something cub in her life, we shared a mother-daughter bonding experience in cosmetic surgery.
Last year I was a "barely boobs" B-Cup, who returned at the beginning of this year as a "double dang" DD-Cup, but sadly "my girls" seem to have escaped Edward's notice. I don't take it personally though. Edward, it seems, is politely aloof and utterly oblivious to the vast majority of the female population on campus, who have virtually been throwing themselves at him, since he transferred here. I'm starting to suspect that the reason for his disinterest in women is because he's batting for the other team, if you know what I mean...
Such a shame.
It is five minutes before the lecture is due to start, and I see Edward arrive along with Professor Greenwood. He saunters up to the front of the classroom, and I watch him as he is speaking privately with the professor. While Edward is turned away from me, I take the opportunity to admire his ass, thighs and forearms. I swear to God, I may need to check myself for drool. Today he is wearing tight denim jeans and a green colored shirt, untucked, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
As I see their conversation ending, I look down and quickly release another button at the top of my blouse to expose a bit more cleavage. I know I said I have a feeling that Edward's probably gay; but what the hell ... a girl can still have hope, right? Edward turns and makes his way over to our lab table. As he comes closer, I note that his tousled hair is still slightly damp, and the sexy stubble that he usually sports, is gone.
"Good morning," I say cheerfully, giving him what I hope is a sexy smile as he arrives at our table. He gives me a slight nod of acknowledgement, drops his bag onto the table and seats himself on the stool to the left of me. I'm watching him as he is removing writing pads and text books from the bag, when he suddenly stops and stifles a yawn with the back of his hand.
"Looks like someone didn't get enough sleep. Have a busy weekend, did we?" I ask, arching an eyebrow.
"Yeah, sort of," he mutters, and goes back to take out some pens and his glasses from the bag, before tossing it down to the floor between us.
"So ... what were you doing on the weekend that has you looking so exhausted this morning?"
"I was ... er … working ... helping out a friend of a friend." He looks away from me and then looks down to the writing pad in front of him. I notice he's grinning away to himself like the proverbial cat that ate the canary.
"What sort of work do you do?" I ask, intrigued.
"Um ... I don't think I -" His answer is interrupted by Professor Greenwood calling for students to take their seats so that he can commence the lecture. For the rest of the morning, I'm unable to continue my conversation with Edward as Professor Greenwood spends the two hour session lecturing us on Advances in Biological Wound Dressings.
Ten minutes from the end of the lesson, I feel my iPhone vibrate discretely in my back pocket. I surreptitiously pull out the phone and view the text message using the lab table as a barrier to hide it from the Professor's line of sight. It's a message from my best friend, Jess. Apparently, she's working an afternoon shift today. She's waiting outside the classroom for me and says she wants to take me out to an early lunch before work. She also asks how my date with 'Donkey Dick' Demetri went Saturday night. I smirk and think about typing out a smart-ass reply, when the professor calls my name to answer a question. I'm startled, and the phone slips out of my hand and falls to the ground, thankfully landing on top of Edward's bag instead of crashing onto the floor. I look over at Edward, who just rolls his eyes at me, and then I look up at the professor.
"Well, Miss Curtis?" the professor asks, expectantly.
"Pa- pardon?" I stutter in embarrassment. "Could you please repeat the question?"
"Miss Curtis, is my class taking up too much of your precious personal time? Maybe we should all just sit here and wait for you to finish your texting?" I hear snickering from a couple of sources around the room.
"I'm sorry, Professor," I say, feeling mortified at being made to look like a fool in front of the other students.
"Mr. Cullen, perhaps you would be so kind as to tell me the answer? From what source did the Fibroblast Cells originate that were used in the manufacture of TransCyte?
"They were cultured from donated human neonatal foreskins," Edward answers, in a voice that is sensual and as smooth as silk. He seems to have an uncanny knack at making anything he voices sound sexy, even a topic such as this one. I briefly start fantasizing about how phone sex with Edward would be mind-blowing when the professor starts berating me again.
"Thank you, Mr. Cullen. You are absolutely correct. Miss Curtis, maybe if you spent more time paying attention to the lecture and less time organizing your hectic social life, you would know what the question was, even if you didn't know the answer! Next time you decide to play with your phone during class please leave the room and don't come back! Okay everybody; please remember to read through sections twenty-five to thirty in your textbook before Friday's lecture. You're dismissed!"
I turn just in time to see Edward extending his right arm down toward his bag. I quickly reach down to grab my iPhone before he can pick it up and see Jessica's 'Donkey Dick' text. Suddenly, I find I'm overbalancing off the edge of my seat, and I fall onto Edward. I hear Edward yelp in pain and realize that we have become bizarrely entangled. His sex-hair is hooked up in one of the buttons of my blouse, and his face is mashed against my left breast. As he struggles to free himself, I feel his hand brush against my nipple. I let out an audible moan and Edward suddenly sits back, bolt upright, causing his glasses to fall off and tear out several strands of his hair in the process. Fumbling to put on his glasses and rubbing his scalp, he looks at me appearing equally embarrassed and in pain. I bend forward again, making sure to display some cleavage. I manage to pick up my phone, gracefully this time, and put it back into my pocket.
"You know, Edward, you only have to ask me nicely, and I'll be more than happy to let you motorboat your face between my breasts," I tease playfully, and then look down at my blouse to start unwinding the loose strands of his hair from around my button. I look back up at Edward, smiling, but the look on his face tells me that my little risqué joke has gone right over his head.
Now he's looking at me as if I'm downright insane. He quickly packs his bag and then hurries out of the class.
"Such a shame," I mutter to myself as I pack my own bag.
I walk out of the science lab and find Jess waiting out in the corridor for me. Walking over to her, she greets me in her usual manner.
"How's it going, whore?" She gives me a friendly hug.
"Nice to see you too, skank," I respond with affection. We turn in the direction of the lockers, so I can stow my books away.
"Hey, the guy who just came barreling out of the class like his ass was on fire, the one wearing the dark green shirt and glasses, is that 'The Edward' you are always gushing about?"
"Yeah, that's the one, but as of today I'm giving him up as a lost cause. I just had the guy's face in my tits, and he wasn't even remotely interested. I had my suspicions before, but now I'm definitely convinced he's a pillow biter." At this remark, Jess starts laughing.
"Thank you so much for mocking me in my time of mourning, Jess." I pout, as I shove my books into the locker.
"Come on, hun. Let's go to lunch and you can tell me all about it."
"So how was your date with Demetri on Saturday night?" Jess asks, once we have seated ourselves into one of the booths of the café with our sandwiches and coffee.
"Not bad," I reply. "We went back to his place after the movie, but I didn't stay overnight. He's great in the sack and all, but his limited English makes for less than stellar conversation afterwards."
"Well, I assure you that you'll be absolutely kicking yourself that you blew off Bella's twenty-first party for Donkey Dick when I tell you about what you missed," Jess says in a teasing tone.
"What was so awesome about Bella's party? It was an all-chick-no-dick party wasn't it?" Again Jess bursts into laughter.
"Obviously you haven't checked Facebook and seen the pictures then?"
"I'm pretty sure I told you that I deactivated my Facebook account about a month ago. Remember I told you about how that stupid psycho-bitch Siobhan was cyber-stalking me? It turns out it was all because I slept with that Liam guy she was hung up on. Honestly, I thought I was doing her a favor by warning her about what a lousy lay he turned out to be. She should have been pinning a damn medal on my chest for 'taking one for the team', rather than experiencing that shit for herself. So no, obviously I haven't seen any pictures on Facebook."
"Oh, honey, I am so going to make your day."
Jess is grinning like a Cheshire cat as she reaches into her handbag and pulls out her Blackberry. I watch as she presses some buttons to access Facebook. Jess turns the screen around triumphantly, and I'm suddenly gob-smacked by the image she's showing me.
Oh. My. Fucking. God! I think my jaw dropped down so far that I may have just dislocated it.
There in glorious color is a picture of Edward Cullen wearing nothing but black underwear, and his skin is glistening with what appears to be baby oil.
Kneeling on the floor in front of him is the birthday girl, Bella Swan. Edward's hands are covering hers, as she appears to be in the process of moving his underwear down past his hips. Bella's face is about an inch away from The Holy Land that is Edward's cock, and he is gazing down at her with his fuck-me-eyes stare at full force.
"Keep scrolling, there are tons more pictures," Jess encourages. "Angela Weber posted all the pics on her Facebook page last night."
I scroll through the pictures, and I can't believe what I am seeing. Images of Edward straddling or sitting on the laps of some of my friends; pictures of my friends as they are rubbing baby oil over his body and grabbing his ass. There is one photo where Edward's head is in between Bella's thighs, and she looks surprised but pleased. Looking at the pictures, I am literally turning into a puddle of goo. Edward is the epitome of sex-on-legs. I'd fantasized about what his body might look like naked, but the reality put all my fantasies to shame.
It was the last two pictures, however, that positively floored me. In the first picture, it appeared that Bella's head was at groin level, hidden underneath a small towel that was wrapped around Edward's waist. On second glance, I notice that the black underwear he'd been wearing in the other photos was on the floor, around his ankles.
Surely, he must have had a G-string or something on under there?
The last picture showed Edward from the side with Bella clasped in his arms, her back pressed firmly to the front of his body. The back of the towel that Edward had around him in the previous picture, had dropped away, and it showed that his perfect ass was, in fact, completely bare - No G-string!
What ... The ... Fuck!
I scroll through all the pictures a second time and then reluctantly pass the Blackberry back to Jess. I've been rendered speechless. Edward Cullen's ... A stripper?
"So ... do you still think he's gay?" Jess smirks at me.
"Uh ..." I have no words.
"Do you want to know what else happened? Apparently, after the party ended, he went back to Bella's place, after he finished work."
"What? How do you know that?" I ask.
"Mike, the guy he was working with on Saturday night, rang me yesterday to ask if I wanted to go on a date tomorrow night, and he happened to mention it."
"Why did he go back? Did he forget something?" I ask, hoping against hope that it was for purely innocent reasons. Jess starts laughing at me again, and I am starting to feel a bit sick and tired of being made fun of today. I give Jess the bitch-brow look which sends her the message that I want her to shut the fuck up.
"Oh, Katie, sweetie. I think you know what he went back for. You saw the photos, right?"
Oh great! Jess has gone from laughing at my expense to fucking speaking to me in a condescending manner. If she keeps it up at this rate, I'm going to dump my scalding hot coffee into her lap and walk out of here.
We continue eating in silence for a few minutes when I suddenly have an epiphany as to why Edward would go back to Bella's after the show.
"So are you telling me that not only is Edward a stripper, he's also an Escort for hire?" My stomach churns when I recall Edward looking so exhausted in Biotech class this morning and remember that he gave 'work' as his excuse for being tired.
It's no wonder he goes around looking as though he's been freshly fucked all the time.
Suddenly, it's all starting to make sense to me...well, apart from his shocked reaction to touching my boobs.
"I have no idea if he is or isn't. I only know what Mike told me, and it wasn't much. I'm pretty sure that Mike isn't an Escort. I mean ... Mike asked for my number and called me for a date, not the other way around, right? Because if we end up having sex tomorrow night, and he tells me to pay up afterwards, I think I will have to kick him in the balls," Jess jokes. "Speaking of parties, if you are coming to Tanya's farewell party on Saturday night, I need a ride."
"Um ... yeah, sure, no problem," I reply vaguely, my mind busy elsewhere.
About three things, I was absolutely positive. First, Edward was not gay.
Second, Edward works as a stripper, and there is a strong possibility that he also works as a Male Escort.
And third, tonight I'm going to reactivate my Facebook account and send a friend invite to Angela Weber."
A/N 2 - Discordia = The Roman goddess of discord and strife.
TransCyte™ is an actual product used in the treatment of burn injuries. Google it if you are curious and have a strong stomach.
Go ahead ... make my day and click