Title: Perfect Stranger
Word Count: 3816
Summary: A girl in a bar and the worst pick-up lines you've ever heard. How will this night end?
A/N: I do not own Twilight or any of SM's characters, I just like letting them act out my
"Excuse me, I believe you owe me a drink."
I turn my head and look at the man to my left. "Oh, really? Why is that?"
"Because when I saw you from across the room, I dropped mine. My name is Mike and I was
drinking a rum and Coke."
"Well, Mike, I like a man who can hold his liquor and I definitely don't talk to men who drink rum
and Cokes." I turn back around and take a sip of my dirty martini. What a jerk. Did he really
think that lame-ass line was going to work?
After Mike slinks off, I spin my barstool around so I can scan the room. I'm glad I got here early.
There is a band setting up, which means the bar will be packed soon. My only concern is how
I'm going to keep my seat when I eventually need to go to the restroom. I might actually have to
carry on a conversation with one of these losers just so he'll hold my place at the bar for me.
"Do you believe in love at first sight? Or, should I walk past again?"
I look up and see a cocky bastard with long, blond hair pulled into a ponytail. Gross. This is not
1986 and he is not Bret Michaels. What is with the cheesy pickup lines tonight? Can't a woman
have a drink and enjoy some live music without the scum of the earth bothering her?
"Sure, you can walk past again...as long as you keep walking to whatever rock you crawled out
"Oh, I didn't realize it was Bitches Night Out tonight."
"Hey! That's enough!" Emmett, my favorite bartender yells. "The lady isn't interested, so back
the fuck off!"
"Whatever. I don't want some uptight cougar anyway!" Mr. Ponytail huffs and walks off.
"Cougar? Did that dick just call me a cougar? I'm only 32!"
Emmett laughs, "Don't worry about it, Bella. That guy is just upset because he was turned down
by the most beautiful woman in here."
"Thanks, Em. In a way I'm flattered by the attention but I really just want to be left alone, you
know? I had a shitty day at work and it would be nice to have a few drinks and listen to the
band without being bothered by assholes."
"I hear ya. If you need any help, though, I'm right here," he says as he passes me another
I grab a handful of peanuts and turn back around to watch the band set up. I love live music,
but one of my favorite parts is watching the sexy band members prepare for their show. Men
in tight jeans bending over to plug their instruments into the amps and muscular arms lugging
drum set pieces to the stage...yes, please!
I fan myself a bit and think back on my day to calm myself down. I really did have a shitty day.
The school year is ending and my students have "Senior-itis" big time. Plus, my principal really
wants me to teach summer school, but I just don't want to this year. I want to relax and do
absolutely nothing for a while. I've told Mr. Cope this many times, but that hasn't stopped him
from pressuring me about it every damn day.
"Great legs. What time do they open?"
I nearly spit my drink. Did I really wax for this shit?
I look at Asshole #3 with venom in my eyes. He just hit on the wrong bitch.
"Excuse me? Do I have 'SLUT' written on my forehead? What is wrong with you? Get the hell
away from me before I use my 'great legs' to kick your ass!"
"Whoa, whoa, little lady!" Asshole #3 holds up his hands in front of his chest like it will actually
protect him from my wrath. "I was just making conversation. My name is Tyler. Can I buy you
"I'll tell you what, Tyler. I'm going to visit the lady's room for a minute, " I say as I stand up and
straighten out my short skirt. I step closer to him, right up to his face. "And, when I get back ...if
I see you anywhere near my seat, I will kick your ass. Got it?"
He swallows hard and nods his head. "Y-y-yes, Ma'am. Sorry to bother you, Ma'am." Not only
does he walk away, but he actually leaves the bar. Probably to try his luck somewhere else,
I walk into the bathroom and head straight for the sink. I turn on the faucet and let the water run
over my wrists, immediately cooling me off. Why am I in such a bad mood? I'm not usually this
bitchy. I know I've had a bad day, but that doesn't give me the right to threaten men physically,
even if they deserve it. I'm normally very calm and easy-going. Maybe I should not have come
here tonight...maybe I should go home. Or maybe I should be nice to one of these dill-holes so
I can finally get laid.
I look at myself in the mirror. I still look good. My waist is small, even though my hips are a
bit wider now and with the right bra, my boobs look perky like they did when I was in college. I
normally wear my brown hair up in a twist or ponytail when I am teaching, but tonight it falls in
waves around my shoulders and I think it looks pretty.
I make sure my eye make-up isn't too smudged and I reapply my lip gloss. I can do this. Just
go out there and pick up a hot guy, Bella. Shit. It's been 10 years since I've dated. I don't
know what the hell I'm doing any more but I'm already here, so I should go back to the bar and
have another drink. Even if I don't hook up with anyone, I can still enjoy the band.
After using the facilities and washing my hands, I make my way back to the bar. Thankfully,
my seat is waiting for me, empty, with no losers in sight. The bar is crowded now and the air
is smoky. I haven't had a cigarette since I was 20 years old but I still love how it enhances the
atmosphere of places like this. It's almost like it helps conceal the person you are inside so
you can be someone new for a few hours. The people here don't know me and I'll probably
never see them again. There is great freedom in that revelation and I feel myself relax into my
persona: sexy, confident, daring.
And, now, I want a cigarette.
Instead, I order another dirty martini from Emmett and spin my chair to face the stage.
The lights dim and I automatically feel butterflies in my stomach. It's like this every time I'm at
a concert, whether it's in a big venue or a small bar like the one I'm at tonight. I can feel the
humming of the bass guitar and the beating of the drums rattling in my bones as the band starts
its first song.
I hear the keyboards begin and they are immediately joined by the guitars and lead singer. The
band sounds amazing. The stage is lit up now and I can see that the band looks amazing,
too. Of course, I already knew they were hot from behind, but the front view is quite nice, too.
They are playing a song that is popular on the local radio stations, but they have tweaked it just
enough to make it their own somehow.
These guys are really good. The crowd seems to be enjoying themselves, which, in turn, spurs
the band on.
I find myself swaying my body and clapping my hands to the music, thoroughly enjoying myself.
It's during the second song that I notice the lead guitarist. He's wearing faded jeans and a
Clash t-shirt that has seen better days. Even from my place at the bar, I can see a hole at
the shoulder and one on the front, just to the side of his navel. It's hard to tell the color of his
hair because of the lights. Sometimes it looks brown, sometimes bronze. He may even have
blonde highlights, who knows? What is impossible to miss, though, is that his hair is all over
the place, sticking up in every direction possible. Pair that with his full, pink lips and the man is
Sex on legs. Long legs, in fact.
He is pure rock and roll. I can see the muscles in his arms bulge and twist as he strums his
guitar, and when he sings along to the chorus, he closes his eyes as if he is lost in the music.
I am lost in him. I can't take my eyes off of him. I refuse to try because I do not want to miss
a swivel of his hips, a bob of his Adam's apple, or any other move he makes. I'm trying to
memorize everything about him, because, if I never see him again, I will at least have tonight
permanently etched into my brain.
After the third song, he is able to take a short break while the singer addresses the crowd. Holy
shit. I never knew drinking from a water bottle could look so sexy. A drop of water must have
stayed on his lips when he pulled the bottle away, because he immediately licked away the
moisture. I, on the other hand, immediately begin imagining what it would be like to have him
lick away the moisture that is now between my legs.
Almost like he can hear my thoughts, he looks directly at me. I feel myself blush intensely and I
break our eye contact by taking a much-needed gulp of my martini. When I take a chance and
look back at him, he is still staring at me. He gives me a small smile, more like a smirk, and
then begins playing the opening notes of the next song.
Throughout the rest of the set, we can't seem to keep our eyes off of each other. It is like we
are the only two people in the building and he is playing just for me. There are quite a few
whores, I mean women, who are practically crawling on the stage, trying to get his attention, but
he never notices them. I almost feel sorry for the sluts, but I don't let myself get too confident.
Just because the guitarist and I seem to be having our own private staring contest, doesn't
mean we'll actually hook up. For all I know, he does this at every gig. Maybe singling out one
lady helps him focus on his music, whereas, if he flirted with all of his groupies, he would be too
I really hope he is a one-woman type of guy and that I can be his one woman. At least for
As the last song ends, the house lights come on, although they are still somewhat low. I turn
around and pay for another martini, trying to pull myself out of the haze that guitarist has put me
"Dirty martini, huh? You might as well be drinking ocean water. At least, that's what they taste
like to me."
The set has been over for 5 seconds and already I have another dick trying to hit on me?
I flash my eyes to the right and it's him. Him. The guitarist. Mr. Sex-On-Legs, himself. I
thought he was just another dick. And, now I'm thinking of his dick...and I'm blushing...and still
not talking, just staring at him. I'm a dumbass. Apparently, I'm a mute dumbass, too.
He seems to be amused by the deer-in-the-headlights look I'm sure I'm giving because he
laughs lightly and orders a beer. His beautiful laugh helps me snap out of my catatonic state
and I blink my eyes quickly to focus on him. He is even more gorgeous up close. He has bright, green eyes and his lashes are so long, I'm surprised he doesn't trip over them daily.
I clear my throat. "Oh, um, yeah, it is a pretty salty drink, but what can I say? I like
things 'dirty'." Oh. My. Shit. Kill me now. I was better off not speaking at all.
The guitarist throws his head back and lets out a glorious laugh. His heart-shaped mouth is
open widely and I can see his perfectly straight teeth. His eyes crinkle at the corners and I just
don't know how any one person can be so beautiful. It's not fair.
"So, how'd you like the show? My name is Edward, by the way. Edward Cullen."
"Nice to meet you, Edward. I'm Bella and I thought the show was great. I really liked the songs
you played. You're very talented. Well, you all are, I mean. You know, the band..." There I go
stammering like an idiot again.
"Thanks. I'm glad you liked it. I noticed you from the stage, and by the way you were dancing
in your chair, I thought you were enjoying yourself, but I just wanted to make sure."
I can feel my blush return, so I take another sip of my drink.
"I like that," he says. When I give him a confused look, he answers. "I like the way you blush. I
think I might have seen you blush a few times during the set."
I laugh. "It was dark. How on earth could you see me blush while you were on the stage way
over there?" I point across the room.
"Didn't you notice?" he asks. "I couldn't keep my eyes off of you the entire time." His face is
closer to mine now and I can feel his cool breath blow across my cheek.
Time to be brave, Bella. This is what you came for. He is the one you want. Do it.
I lick my lips and move closer to his face. "I did notice. I noticed because I couldn't stop
watching you either. You had me mesmerized from the start."
He gives me a wide smile and I cross my legs with the hope that I am not leaking on the seat.
We've been talking for only a few minutes and I am already so turned on, I think I might pass
out. That would be such a shame, too. I'm really hoping that I don't pass out until after I get this
man in my bed.
"Bella." Just hearing him say my name makes me clench. "Would you like to go somewhere
more private?" he asks as he lightly touches my collarbone with his middle finger. It feels like
there is a trail of fire where his finger is touching and it burns so fucking good.
My heart is beating like a hummingbird's wings but I manage to squeak out a "Yes". "Good," he
says. "I have to help the guys load up the equipment, but it should only take about 20 minutes.
Will you wait for me?" When he asks this, he is no longer a cocky, wannabe rockstar. He
actually looks vulnerable. I know I can say no, but I don't want to. I have a feeling I'd agree to
anything this man asks of me.
"No, I don't mind waiting. I'm going to go freshen up a bit and then I'll meet you back here at the
He tucks some of my hair behind my left ear and says, "You don't need to do anything for
me. You're already perfect." He leans down to me and briefly touches his lips to mine before
walking over to the stage.
I feel like a pile of goo from that small kiss and my brain cannot fathom what it will feel like to
do more with him. I manage to get my legs to take me into the bathroom, where I quickly spritz
myself with some perfume and brush my hair. My cheeks are still rosy from my constant state
of arousal and I slick on lip balm instead of lip gloss so that my lips are soft, not sticky.
I give myself one last look in the mirror, as well as a little pep talk. "You can't chicken out now,
Bella. You've never picked up a guy at a bar or had a one-night stand but, tonight, you are
going to let loose and have fun. Edward is hot and sexy and he wants you as much as you
want him. No thinking tonight, just feeling."
I step out of the bathroom and I see Edward sitting at the bar, finishing his beer. His face lights
up when he sees me and I can't believe I am causing that to happen.
"I was afraid you changed your mind and left without me," he says, smiling shyly.
I shake my head. "No, I wouldn't do that." I walk up to him, looking in his eyes the entire time,
and I stop only when I can feel the heat radiating from his body. Because he is sitting, I am at
the perfect height to simply lean into him for a kiss. So I do. He immediately kisses me back
and our slow movements quickly turn into a fevered dance, as our tongues begin to explore
one another. I am pulling on his hair and he is groaning in my mouth before we pull apart
Without another word, he grabs my hand and pulls me out of the bar and into the back parking
lot. He is leading me to the only car in the lot, some kind of showy sports car. Figures a rock
guitarist would have a car like this, but I have to admit, it's pretty hot.
When we reach the car, he doesn't open the door for me. Instead, he pushes me up against
the side of the car, not too hard, and attacks my mouth. My head is spinning from the feeling
of his lips on mine, his body against mine, and I can't get close enough to him. I run my fingers
under his shirt, up and over his stomach, feeling every hard muscle along the way to his chest.
He breaks our kiss and quickly pulls his shirt off and throws it on the hood. I begin kissing every
inch of skin I can find, licking the remaining beads of sweat from when he was on stage. He
tastes so good. I can't wait to taste him everywhere.
He pulls me back to his mouth as his hands find my breasts. My nipples are hard for him and
they are aching for his mouth. Forgetting that we are outside a place of business where anyone
can see us, I unbutton and take off my shirt, tossing it right by his. His hand instantly pulls my
right breast out of the bra cup and he squeezes it. As his mouth begins licking and sucking
on that breast, his other hand is working my left breast. He is pulling and twisting, flicking and
biting and I feel like I could come just from foreplay.
"I want to fuck you against my car, Bella. Right here. Right now. Can I? Can I fuck you here
in this parking lot?" he asks as he grabs my ass and hitches my leg around his hip. Reason has
completely left my brain and all I can do is whimper and quickly nod my head.
Thank god I am wearing a skirt. He raises my skirt up around my waist and his hand rubs my
folds over my soaked thong. "Fuck, Bella. You're so wet, baby. I can't wait to get inside you."
I bite my lip and groan at his touch, but have enough of my wits about me to quickly undo his
belt and button-fly. He pulls his jeans and boxers down just far enough to free his cock. Oh my
word, even his cock is perfect. Thick and hard, and thanks to the streetlamp, I can see the tip is
already glistening with precum. He surprises me by picking me up and placing me on the hood
of the car, while wrapping my legs around his waist.
He is kissing me passionately as he moves my thong to the side and slowly pushes into me. I
arch my back and cry out, because it feels so damn good. Edward is kissing down my neck
and over my shoulders and chest as he whispers words of affection, words of passion, words of
worship. I grip onto his back and pull my knees up closer to my chest so that he is as deep as
he can be, while his pelvic bone hits my clit perfectly with every thrust.
I can feel my body burning, starting in my fingertips and my toes and traveling up my arms and
legs, like a flame on a long fuse. When the fire reaches my pussy, my body finally explodes
with pleasure as I scream out Edward's name over and over. He can't hold back any longer
either and soon, he is yelling my name and frantically thrusting his hips, shooting his cum inside
As the euphoria-induced fog slowly leaves my brain and I can see clearly again, I look up at
Edward. He is gazing at me with something other than simple lust in his eyes. He pushes
the sweaty hair away from my face and gently kisses me. "That was amazing, Bella. You are
I smile up at him. "You aren't so bad yourself, you know!"
He laughs and slowly pulls out of me, my body instantly mourning the loss. He tucks himself
back into his pants and then looks at his watch. I've been dreading this part. This is where he
tells me it's been fun, but it's time for us to go our separate ways. I don't want to be without him;
I haven't had enough of him. I don't know if I can ever have enough of him.
He puts his shirt back on, sighs, and says, "Well, Mrs. Cullen. I think it's about time we go home
and relieve the babysitter. What do you think?"
I fix my bra, put my shirt on, and slide off the hood of the car. "I was afraid you were going to
say that, but I know it's getting late. Besides, the kids should already be asleep, so we can
keep playing when we get home." I wink.
My husband, part-time rock star, full-time architect, and love of my life kisses me so hard, it
makes my toes curl. "I love playing with you, my wife, and we will continue this when we get