Title: She's a Knockout
Characters: Edward and the Knockout
Category: AU/AH- M for language and lemons
Disclaimer: All characters and likenesses belong to The SMeyer. I just like to play with her darlings and make them do things she never would dream of them doing! Enjoy!
A/N: I wrote this for my dear friend and Platonic Life Partner, Skeezon, for her birthday. I thought she'd like that I also donated it to FADV in her honour. Skeezon, you're a knockout!
Goddamn, I need a cigarette. Where are my pants? I think I have cigs in my pants... I'm wearing pants, right?
Yes, pants I have... but no shirt. Why does my head hurt?
I dislodge my head from between the headboard and the mattress. Apparently that is why my head hurts? I rub a hand over my face bringing stinging pins and needles to my cheek and forehead. I rest my head back down to stop the hurt.
Fuck me running...
I stumble out of bed looking for a semi-clean shirt, wondering about the last 12 hours. I know there was a cast party, a welcome to town sort of soiree, and I know there was drinking.
Of that I am sure.
There was also some smoking of things. I lean against the wall for a second to assail the swirling ache inside my head.
After my fifth Guinness though, I lose the memories of last night.
I find a shirt and walk out to the hotel suite's living room. My friend Jasper doesn't look much better. He has his face buried under a throw pillow and he's snuggling his guitar.
The love of his life. Holding her tight.
Lucky bastard knows who he loves no matter how many other loves he has. I've heard him say many times that there is no such thing as the perfect girl, which I tend to agree with him on that point. Whenever I'm shooting in the States, Jasper always crashes with me and enjoys my celebrity benefits with me. He and his beautiful guitar are my constant company and I appreciate him not truly giving a shit about my fame, just enjoying it with me. I know he doesn't care that I'm one of the most eligible bachelors or sexiest men alive because if I act like a prat, he's the first one in line to punch my pretty face. He's got my respect for that.
Exiting the suite with a bit of a stumble, I make my way to an elevator going along the longest the corridor known to man, it was almost as if it kept getting longer as I walked. It takes me a few tries, but I get to the lobby and wander out to the oppressive heat of the city and the blinding sunlight.
I smell salt and moisture, even a sweetness along the air. No breeze.
Locating a newsstand a few treacherous, muggy blocks down from the hotel, I find my sweet pleasure, lighting and sucking at it until the smoke calms my head.
Standing on the side of a building, my back against the warm brick, one foot propped against the wall keeping me somewhat upright, I smoke until I need a second. Reaching into my pocket for my lighter I sway a bit and turn to walk back to my room but as I go I lose my balance slightly, grabbing at the first bit of stability.
"Fuck me!" I yelp as I catch myself.
"You could at least buy me dinner first?" I hear a twangy, sex-laced voice say above me. I straighten up with apologies falling out of my mouth before I have time to censor them properly.
"I am a daft prick," I stare at my hand. "Christ, miss, I'm sorry."
"Do you mind not feeling me up any more until after that dinner?"
I look at my hand and lo-and-behold, I've gotten to second base without realizing. My hand is currently grasping her full breast just below a fucking hot electric blue swallow tattoo.
"Fuck me, I'm so sorry." I pull my hand away from her buxom form wrapped in black and try to look into her eyes, squinting against the bright sun. I see brunette hair and pale skin, but my eyes are watering from the sun and my hangover that I can't quite grasp her image.
"No worries, bay. It was good for me. Was it good for you?" she's looking down at me leaning over blocking the sun now. Her eyes come into focus and they are bright, beautiful, and smiling. She's radiating happy. I realize I'm grinning at her like a moron while my hand that was clutching her is warmer than the rest of me other than my face. My face feels down right on fire.
"Yes, No, I mean... uhhh..." What the hell is wrong with me?
She chuckles to herself as she walks away. I watch the way her hips and legs, swathed in skin tight black, move with fascination.
I wander back to my suite in a daze, but I remember her beautiful curves and dark, warm eyes. I can still feel her under my palm. Soft and supple.
Something is kicking me and I don't like it
"Wake up." .You.
"No, seriously, wake-the-fuck-up, twatmuncher." A redneck drawl drags me from my dream of deep brown eyes and luscious curves all for me. I bring my hand up from the mattress and swat at the intruder.
"Stop trying to feel me up."
My eyes fly open at the familiar words. "What?"
"I said," he makes a broad gesture with his hands like he's signing to me, "Move. Your. Ass. I'm hungry."
Jasper, is standing in front of me, no longer in a loving embrace with his soul-mate. His big slate grey eyes are slightly reddened, but no worse than I've seen before.
"Do I have time to shower or will you die?" I groan without raising my head from my soft, safe pillow.
"Fine. Shower. I'm raiding the mini bar 'til you get out, fucker." Fantastic. Twenty dollar bottle of water.
The heat and steam warm my body and uncurl the tightened muscles that have been clenched through the night. Bits and pieces come through my head, lots of drinks, cast and friends sharing and imbibing. Good food, good friends, but no one of too great importance around. I think I remember a few extras hitting on me and Jasper. I'm pretty sure I let him have them both. I usually don't do that. I'm always up for a round with a hot girl, but I just wasn't into it. Boredom is creeping in on me, but Jasper's never one to shy away from a cute, naive actress. Or two. I'm guessing I just put myself to sleep at that point.
Dried and dressed in fairly clean clothes, Jasper and I make our way down to the street. We've had hotel food entirely too often and now we attempt to fit in and eat where the locals do; it's always better.
We find a pub about a mile away, although it feels more like we've traveled ten because of our tired bodies and the humidity that lies on top of our skin like a blanket. I don't remember seeing what was around me. When I first got to the city, I was taken aback by the Gothic architecture of the main town area and the drive from the airport broke my heart when we passed through an obviously poorer area. Even with all the financial challenges though, the city was beautiful. I remind myself to call my agent to make a donation to their local Big Brothers/ Big Sisters like I do in all my film travels.
We get seats at the bar, order food and I settle for a cafe au lait because if I don't suck in some serious caffeine I might die. Jasper asks for coffee, black. I'm guessing he's also hung-over or he'd be getting a beer.
Drinking in our prescription-strength caffeine, we wait on our food just talking nonsense. We observe the warm life around us in the pub. Jasper especially notes the gorgeous, albeit miniature, black-haired girl at the end of the bar who is giving him the "fuck me" stare as he so charmingly calls it. The girl looks vaguely familiar, but when the food arrives all witty banter subsides and it's every man for himself. I'm shoveling fries in my mouth faster than I can pull my fingers out and actually bite my own finger. Deciding to take a moment so as to not appear like a complete caveman, I wave down the barkeep and order a Coke. The bartender sets a nearly-spilling glass in front of me and wanders off to a group of tittering girls where the mini-hot-girl is at the end of the bar. Some are staring, I'm not caring.
I notice the girl at the end waving, always with the waving. I turn toward Jasper with Coke in hand to avoid encouraging them when someone bumps me and jostles the glass.
"Shitfuck! Why do I have Coke on me? Oh, hey! It's my groper." Familiar chocolate eyes, now crinkling with laughter, peer back at me.
I stare at her, speechless as she licks the cola from her fingers and palms. "Tastes good, babe, but you need a little Sailor."
"Come again?" is all I can muster with my mind still reveling in the sight of her little pink tongue darting out from her cherry red lips.
"That's what she said," I hear her snort.
I crack a smile. She's cute.
"You need to get some Sailor Jerry in that Coke glass, sweet," she drawls as she motions to the bartender then tells him to get me a shot, then hands him a bill from her cleavage. They are sexy and practical. Who knew?
"Sug, lemme know how much better that is next time you stalk me." With a pat to my scruffy cheek, she's gone, off to the other side of the bar to hug the little girl from earlier, while I stare at the spot she just left. Who the hell is she?
"She's a knockout. Cute friend, too. Hot," my idiot friend says around a mouthful of burger. I silently agree with him as I turn back to finish my food. Hot indeed.
"You know I need to find something for my mum." Jasper rolls his eyes. "What? I get her something every time I'm in the States. She expects it." I slap him on the back of the head to emphasize my point.
"Whatever dude, y'all are tight... maybe that's why ya can't hold a chick?"
"Excuse me?" I wheel around with a small crystal figurine in my hand, nearly dropping it. "I do not need to hold a chick... but I could if I wanted to!"
"You, my friend," he takes the statue before I can drop it, "are a classic case of a momma's boy. None of the yardbirds you date are gonna be good enough. Ever. No such thing as the perfect girl, but a boy's momma." He nods his head in a proud fashion.
I put my hand on the display case and lean forward toward my tall, shaggy friend.
I flick in him the forehead then say, "Hello, pot? Yes, this is the kettle ringing. You're black!"
"I am not a momma's boy. No, that's not true… my momma is fuckin' awesome. I'm not ashamed of that. You shouldn't be either. Your mom's a MILF."
I throw my hand up in his face. "Shut up, shut up now. I can kill you with-" I turn back to grab the figurine, but it's not there. "Where'd it go?"
"Your mind? Lost long ago." He turns away from me.
"No dipshit, the little statue that I was going to get for my mum... you just set it down." I look around, but no one is behind the shop counter. Then I hear it. Her.
The Southern voice says from behind me, "Don't you think Sissy would like this one?"
I turn around and there she is, holding my mother's trinket, handing the shopkeeper money.
"Excuse me, Miss? I was planning on purchasing that."
She looks up at me with a slow grin. "That's nice, baby, but my sister's birthday is comin' up. She's gotta complete her collection." Her smile broadens and she continues deepening her accent a bit, "It was sitting on the counter and you were flirting with your boy over there." She points to Jasper who is now leaning against the case eyeing her cute little friend who is indeed giving him the "fuck me" stare.
"I really need to send my mother something and this is exactly what she asked for. Can I buy it off of you?" I say, running out of patience and energy.
"Nope." She points to herself and says, "Not for sale." And with that she turns toward the exit, her girlfriend still eyeing Jasper as she walks behind her.
Stupid, hot girl.
Stupid, thieving, hot girl.
Stupid, thieving, hot girl who stole my present.
I repeat my mantra as I continue to pedal down a narrow street. I started out at the hotel after Jasper said he was going to go find the evil, hot girl's hot, little friend and see about getting back my mum's gift. I growl to myself at the thoughts again. I just started pedaling along the long clean sidewalk, easy to follow, in hopes of finding green within all the concrete. I needed to take a breather before I'm due on set tomorrow. My one day off. One day to relax and I'm wound tighter than a drum.
All the hangers-on and the mooching "friends" and the stupid, thieving, hot girls are really wearing me thin. When I signed on for this movie I thought it would be a one-time deal... three movies later, I'm ready for something else. Thankfully, I have many ready when this wraps. I am litralee counting the days.
Right or left? I look around and I don't see anything familiar. There are houses and business all around me with dirty sidewalks and chipping paint. The prop guy that got me the bike said that all the streets around my hotel were going to round back and forth on each other and that it was totally idiot proof. He said to find the capitol building and the park around it, I should follow Lafayette. I did that.
I think he lied.
Resigning myself to needing directions, I stop at a little shop. I lean the bike against the wall and turn to make my way inside.
"Seriously... did you put a Lo-jack in my bra when you felt me up?" I know that voice.
Turning slowly, my green eyes connect with her deep, soulful, smiling brown.
My brain radiates to high, but no witty comeback falls forth. She looks like she fell out of a Fifties pin-up magazine. Tight bodice pulling her chest into a perfect view, her hair swept back in a dark, auburn ponytail at the back of her head, and dark, red, luscious lips. I'm actually standing in front of her, mouth agape, hand in the air, wrist limp. Wait, no. I straighten my wrist out and drop my hand to my side.
"You alright there?" she asks with a warm smile spreading across her delicate rose-tinted mouth.
"Umm..." Excellent answer. "Lost." Even better, cave-boy.
"Oh, you need directions, hon?" She seems so sweet now... a bit ago I wanted to spork her in the eye.
"As if you care, I'm looking for something." Why doesn't this girl fall all over me? Why does she not seem to care who I am? And an even better query. Why do I like that she is that way?
"Alright then, put your big boy panties on and get there."
"My what? Don't talk about my panties, uuuh, briefs. Boxers!" I correct quickly, realizing I was starting to feel even hotter than what the humidity was causing. Why do I care what this girl thinks?
With a little wiggle of her hips, she moves closer, her breasts nearly against my chest. "What you lookin' for then?" Her dark, perfected eyebrow raises in question or challenge, I'm not sure which.
I blink for a moment, completely dumb-founded by her red, lush lips and delicious, warm scent. "The capitol building?" I croak, the feeling is slowly returning back to my befuddled brain.
"Alright, you wanna be on the other end of Lafayette, sweetness. You wanna gimme a ride?"
"Yes. No. Wait... what?"
She laughs at my stuttering. "I'll ride ya, and show ya where to go. I'm heading back that way anyhow and I don't want to walk." She points down to these incredible, built-for-sex heels that should be digging into my hips.
I swallow at the image now flitting through my mind. "You're gonna ride? Me?"
"Yes. Get on."
I straddle the bike and I'm still not sure what to expect when she props her tight little rear on my handlebars.
Oh... that kind of ride. I'm slightly disappointed I must admit.
"Go on now. Head on that way." She points in the direction and off we go.
"No, not happenin'."
"Oh, please, please. Come. Please."
"Now you're beggin'?" she says with a naughty inflection.
I stop thinking the dirty thoughts that keep popping into my head and say, "Yes. You've reduced me to begging like a dog. Please, let me thank you for helping me."
"You gave me a ride, Sailor, I don't need thanking."
I pull my hands out of my pockets and make a prayer motion under my chin, giving her my best puppy eyes. "I want to thank you properly."
"If I say yes, will you stop stalkin' me?" she says rocking back in her stiletto-ed heels.
"Do you want me to stop stalking you?" I feel a grin spreading across my lips.
She quirks her eyebrow at me. "Not really. But I'll accept your offer of dinner on one condition?"
I think about it for a second; tapping my chin, then wave to her to go on.
"You let me make you breakfast."
I stand, once again, in awe of this bombshell-with-bite. I watch as she saunters ahead of me toward the water and I trail behind her. I watch as her hips wrapped in tight fabric sway and shift. Her round ass is perfectly presented and I have the urge to lean down and nip her on a cheek or both.
We find our way along the newer concrete walk, weaving between the people milling around the pubs and shops. She stops and I realize we've arrived at a restaurant near a pier. I see lights flickering slowly along what must be the water, the sky is darkening fast and the streetlamps haven't come on yet. To me the restaurant doesn't look safe; to her, it's an Earth-bound paradise. As we walk in, she keeps saying the food is to die for and that I'll feel like I've died and been sent to heaven. I have to admit, sitting with her, talking, riding around the town, just being near her has been pretty damned paradisiacal.
Our meal is utterly phenomenal, just as she had raved. She ordered for both of us off the menu, flirting a bit with the waitress which was very hot. She even speaks a bit of French and I can't help but lick my lips at the way the words roll off her tongue.
We drink and eat and talk. It seems like we never run out of things to say, but I can't remember anything we're talking about. It's so fluid and perfect. I just know I love talking to her. I never like talking to the girls I meet on location. I don't have relaxing discussions on dates. I have whore-y girls trying to pry my pants off of me. She hasn't touched my pants once the entire meal, much to my chagrin.
After an incredible dessert of beignets and a semi-sweet chocolate sauce and a lot of lip and finger licking, she asks the waitress to bring two Sailor Jerry and Cokes. Again, she licks her lips and I feel myself do the same. She looks back to me as the waitress goes in search of the shipman and his soda.
"You alright, handsome?" She leans forward on her elbows and I can't help but look at the lack of shirt, her chest perfectly on display for me in the supple bodice.
I lean toward her running my finger along the top of her palm that's sitting on the table top. "Perfect."
"Well that's good to hear, hon." Her smile is genuine and it sparks something inside me, not just lust, something more. Although that's there too.
I lean back a bit in my chair just letting her gorgeous body and everything about her sink in. "Not me, you."
She actually blushes, dipping her head in a shy manner, her thick, shining ponytail swinging a bit with the movement of her head. She just exceeded her hotness.
Without realizing it, I lean forward again and take her hand that's now resting on her thigh. I curl my fingers around hers and just sit, staring between her sparkling eyes and the full lips that are smiling.
We quietly drink another round; I've lost count of how many drinks we've had over the several hours we've sat together in the restaurant. We talk and we laugh, no pressure, just her and I. I feel cloudy though, as we talk, I feel like she'll slip away from me at any moment. I keep my hand entwined with hers the entire time. I just cannot let go of her.
"You wanna get out of here, bay?" she croons as she sets her emptied glass on the table with a clink.
Why does she keep calling me a body of water? Oh, who gives a shit? She can call me whatever she wants!
I stand up as I throw more than enough cash to cover the bill onto the table. Reaching over, I grasp her hand again and pull her behind me as I walk out of the restaurant. The sound of her heels tapping against the floor is in time with my own steady footsteps.
Her palm in mine doesn't feel hot even though the humidity feels like it's only gone up as the sun has gone down. I squeeze her hand as we walk and she stops at the crosswalk before my hotel. She turns her head to look up at me and I feel like she's about to say good-bye. I just can't let that happen. It hurts to think about her walking away from me. I lean over and push my lips softly against hers. She hums as I feel her kiss back.
When she pulls my bottom lip between hers, it's my turn to hum as my hands curve around her back. Our fingers still entwined, pinning her hands behind her back, I lean forward a bit more and she presses into me as her tongue caresses mine.
I can feel her breath on my tongue, the sweet taste of rum and sugar, her scent, so warm mixed with the wet smell of the river beyond us.
She pulls away too soon and asks, "Are we staying out here all night?"
Goddamn, I need a cigarette. Where are my pants? I think I have cigs in my pants... I'm wearing pants, right?
No. No pants. No shirt. No boxers. Odd. I'm usually not a nudist with Jasper staying with me.
Why does my head hurt?
I pull my head up, and the pounding starts between my eyes and then ricochets between my ears and into my stomach.
I lay back down.
What happened last night? What did I-
Bolting up, I look beside me. No girl.
I get up despite the pain in my head and rolling in my stomach and stumble toward the bathroom. No girl.
I throw on the pants that I trip over as I walk hurriedly toward the door of my room and when I'm decent I step into the center room frantically looking back and forth. No girl.
I walk further into the room my heart rate accelerating with each area that she's not in. Looking into the kitchen, to the balcony, even at Jasper curled against his guitar again. No girl.
Was she here? Was she here and she just left? Why would she spend the night with me then leave so early? Walking back into my room, I glance at the clock by the bed. It's after nine. Maybe she got up early and left. Maybe she was embarrassed. I didn't give her my number. Maybe I can find her again. Retrace my steps? My brain is trying to figure out something to explain it. Most girls I've taken home with me end up needing to be pried off with a shoehorn, but this girl is just gone.
Sighing hard, I scrub my face with my hand. Sitting on the edge of the bed I look to where I remember holding her. The images are clear, me holding her against my chest as we fell through the suite making out like teenagers. I remember the feel of her warm, soft skin against mine. How with every layer of clothing I peeled off of her heated skin, I became more and more hers. I can see perfectly in my mind how her vibrant red lips curled against my skin, how she molded to me. I remember the way her grip made me tense up, pulling and tugging me into submission. I have memorized the swell of her round breast as I licked her soft pink skin. I can feel her body under mine as I pushed against her, bringing us both into moans and pants, her crying out again and again as she came undone because of me. How I fit perfectly inside her. How she fit me. So Perfect.
The pillow beside mine is undisturbed, the sheet and quilt not moved on one side of the bed. I don't smell sweetness and rum. I have nothing of her.
With another long sigh, I put on a shirt and make my way down to the lobby then out to the street, squinting at the harsh sun. The brightness of the day is just another sharp knife point into my confused hazy mind. I push my sunglasses onto my face as I wander toward the newsstand to get cigarettes. I don't know how I smoked an entire pack in one day. I only remember smoking two. My girl didn't smoke with me; I don't think I gave them to Jasper.
I stop and ask for a pack, then turn to make my way back to the hotel. I'll go back and ask the concierge to help me find her. Maybe they know her, she seemed like a local.
Unable to get my cigarette lit as I walk, I stop and turn to cover it against the light breeze picking up. The wet river-fed air is cooler today which is a pleasant surprise, but the sun is still stinging my eyes, making them water. I have to lean against the brick to steady myself, but finally, it catches. I take a slow, deep drag filling my lungs then slowly pushing the smoke out, waiting for the sweet calm to wash over me.
Running my hand down my face then back up and into my wild hair, I push off the wall but stumble as I bump someone, my hand shooting out to grab the person I nearly knock down in my stupor. "Fuck me!"
With no hesitation I hear the sultry drawl I've been craving, "You could at least buy me dinner first?"
E/N: Love you Mistress Skeezon :)
This is the song from the title if you'd like to take a listen: www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=0wyBNl-RSNMc
Can't beat a little Social D!