DEVIANT MINDS

Prolougue:

My whole body trembled as I sat on the hard tile in the bathroom of the hotel room, but I couldn't gather the strength to move. When I did attempt to stand, I felt the shaking worsen and I realized it wasn't the cold floor that made me this way. I was terrified to face him. After what he'd done who could blame me?

He was still out there, probably pacing back and forth with his hands threaded deeply in his tangled bronze hair. I didn't know how much time had passed, but his pleas for me to come out hadn't subsided. I held my palms tightly over my ears and willed him to leave me alone. The banging on the door was what really frightened me. Every time I saw the shadow of his feet approach the bathroom door, I held my breath. He kept calling my name, begging me to open the door. It was locked, but I knew if he really wanted to get to me he could probably break it down.

And it wouldn't be the only wall he torn down tonight. He betrayed my trust and broke his promise. Nothing would ever be the same for us again. I dropped one hand in between my naked legs and felt for the evidence of his orgasm that I knew would still be there. My fingers swirled through the wetness and I brought them up to my nose. The smell was a mixture of his cum and my own arousal. I licked them clean, like an animal licking its wounds, and wished I had the courage to open the door. He must be frantic on the other side. I didn't care what the circumstances were or how badly I reacted. I felt violated.

My head was swimming with so many conflicting thoughts that it made me dizzy. But despite everything that I felt and feared, the one thing I knew for certain was that I loved him.

~#~

Two months earlier...

The streets of downtown Annapolis were deserted. I was glad because as I walked home from the bar, slightly drunk, I was also singing my new breakup anthem at the top of my lungs. I strutted down the concrete sidewalk clutching my wool coat tightly to keep the warmth from escaping, and singing out with false confidence to keep my emotions from doing the same. I imagined I was as strong and independent as Carrie Bradshaw, looking hot in a slinky dress and stiletto heels; not needing a man to feel complete. Annapolis was a far cry from New York City but it's where I was born and raised and I knew no other home.

"We are never, ever, getting back together! You go talk to your friends, talk to my friends, talk to meeee! No, oh, we are never, ever, getting back together!"

An ally cat hissed as I walked by, but I didn't let the flea infested feline get me down. I knew the second I stopped singing, and the effects of the gin and tonics wore off, I would break down and sob. I wasn't ready to let that kind of pain overwhelm me just yet. Earlier that night, I finally followed through with ending my two year relationship with my boyfriend, Jasper Hale. This time it was permanent. Just like Swifty, Jasper and I had broken up a few times over the last year, knowing that our relationship was no longer working. But every time we'd give up trying to move on and end up back together. Well, no more. I was clear and firm with him when I said I was done. And it seemed like he accepted my decision as maturely as could be expected.

When I finally reached my apartment, I continued my singing in my head so as not to wake the neighbors. I lived in an old apartment building built in the 1930's. It wasn't without its charm, but sometimes I really missed modern conveniences like dishwashers and elevators. As I climbed the three flights of stairs to my apartment, I was relieved that I wasn't wearing Manolo Blonick's like my soul sister, Carrie Bradshaw, would have been. I did have heels on but I knew my limits. Anything more than a two inch wedge and I'd end up on my ass.

Inside my home I was greeted by darkness and quiet. The only sound was a low hum coming from the baseboard heater and the yellow glow of the street lamp that shown through the living room window. I kicked off my heels and stumbled blindly through the apartment to my bedroom. I flicked on the light switch and subsequently stubbed my toe on a heavy cardboard box on the floor. And then the tears began to flow; all the self confidence building on my walk home had been for naught.

My tears of remorse fell into the box of Jasper's stuff that I'd packed up before going to meet him at the bar. At the time, I thought it would be easier to rid my apartment of all his belongings before I broke my own heart into a million pieces. But seeing it there on the floor, I wanted nothing more than to look at each item again, hold them in my hands, and mourn the loss of our relationship. So that is what I did. I sat on the floor and slowly unpacked the entire box. Photos, baseball cards, socks and t-shirts he'd left behind, an extra phone charger, and a bottle of his contact lens solution. That was all two years together had amounted to.

I didn't blame Jasper at all for our failed relationship. I knew it was me that had changed; that it was me who was fucked up in the head. He was the sweetest, most kind, loyal boyfriend a woman could ask for. He was attractive and had a good job. He loved me. And despite being perfect on paper, I just couldn't make myself be happy with him. The worst part was I knew why, though I couldn't bring myself to tell him the truth that night. If I had told Jasper he couldn't excite me sexually, I know he'd take it as a personal failure. There was nothing wrong with Jasper's equipment or how he used it. It was me. And I was too ashamed to tell him the real problem.

You see, Jasper only "made love" in the bedroom, and over the past year or so my urges and sexual desires have evolved. I wanted to FUCK. I can't explain how or why it happened, but I began fantasizing about the most abhorrent actions. Jasper liked to do this thing where he'd cup my face in his hand and look deep into my eyes as he made love to me. I thought it was sweet and special when we first got together, but after my sexual appetite began to change I found his usual moves corny and dull. Every time he cupped my cheek I just wanted to bat his hand away and tie him to the bed frame so he couldn't do it again.

I fantasized about tying him up a lot, hitting him until he begged me to stop, and humiliating him in various sexual scenarios. Obviously, I couldn't tell him this. It was a sick obsession that I didn't understand and hoped would go away, but over the past few months I've become more and more desperate to actually do those things. Lately, I've avoided having sex with Jasper at all, opting to take care of my needs with my own hand so I could let my imagination run wild without fear of him finding out what's going on inside my head.

I've thought about therapy. I've considered hiding my feeling forever and just pretending everything is fine. I've even thought about going to a sex club and cheating on him. Finally, I decided that without being honest with Jasper, none of these solutions were fair to him. And I was just so sickened by my own desires that I couldn't be honest with him.

I packed up his box once again, putting aside one picture of us from two Christmases ago when we looked truly happy. Jasper was holding mistletoe over my head and I was blushing and holding my cheek away from his face. I remember it was my father who took the picture and I didn't want to kiss my boyfriend in front of him. I sighed as I closed the box, hopefully for the last time, and pushed it against the wall.

The alcohol was no longer helping with the pain, so I decided to get in my most comfortable pajamas and get into bed, where I intended to stay for the rest of my life. I figured I might as well eat chocolate and peanut butter to my heart's content, turn off my phone indefinitely, and give up on the idea of ever finding a man who could love the kind of sexual deviant I have become. I was prepared to give up, let go of the last bit of hope I held on to that there was someone out there who could want the same things as me. And that's the state I was in as I fell asleep that night.

I was alone, as I expected to be for the foreseeable future. Possibly forever.

~#~

In the morning, I remembered all that had transpired the night before and I groaned loudly, letting my head fall back against the pillow. I knew I had made the right decision to end my relationship with Jasper. I was no good for him, but knowing I was doing the right thing for both of us didn't make it hurt any less. I wallowed in bed for another hour and then finally got up to use the bathroom. I might not be able to confine myself to the bed for all eternity, but it didn't mean I couldn't hoard myself away in the apartment.

I had nowhere to be and no one waiting for me. It made me feel even more depressed. Eventually, my mother would try to contact me, but considering the fact that I lived in Maryland and she in Arizona, there wasn't much she could do to help me. And I knew better than to ever rely on Renee for help in any capacity. Most of my problems I blamed on her in the first place.

The coffee maker called to me, so I shuffled my socked feet into the kitchen and brewed a whole pot. I needed the caffeine if I was going to get any work done, and I knew even if I wanted to hide in the apartment forever there was still the matter of making money. I'd never been so happy to paint for a living, though I fully anticipated my next dozen or so works to be considered the Bella Swan Blue Period.

While the coffee percolated, my eyes were drawn to my laptop. It was just sitting on the kitchen table where I'd left it the day before. I'd embargoed myself from the cell phone, but my bossy subconscious had mentioned nothing about Facebook. I logged on and quickly deleted Jasper from my Friends list. There would likely be hell to pay later for that dick move from him and his sister, Rosalie, but I didn't care. Rose usually took my side in any situation regardless of whether she thought I was right or wrong because that's what friends do. Except when it came to her brother; the twin thing always trumped our sisterly bond. Still, they both needed to realize I was serious about the breakup this time. And there's nothing more serious than the act of Un-friending your ex.

I sat back down with a giant mug of coffee with extra cream and extra sugar to peruse the Facebook posts at a very leisurely pace. I could spend hours in this damn social networking vortex. I had the time, since I was determined never to leave my 900 square foot space ever again. One of my old high school friends had posted a comment about meeting a nice guy in a Facebook Group called Maryland's Men Mingle. I rolled my eyes at the corny alliteration, and I don't know what possessed me to click on the link, but I did. I hoped it wouldn't give my computer a virus because I'd just broken up with my tech support specialist. The look on Jasper's face as I got up to leave the table at the bar the night before flashed in my memory and made my chest physically hurt. I didn't want to think about him so I turned my attention back to the single men online.

The Facebook Group looked like an advertisement for sexy singles who claimed to live in the area and were all dying to meet me. The photos were obviously airbrushed and the men featured were too beautiful to be real. It might have been my new rebound status, or the high level of caffeine in my blood system, but I decided to scroll through the member pictures. There had to be over a hundred members, and as I was scanning the photos none of them really appealed to me. I didn't know what I expected to find. I highly doubted any of these guys were even real people.

I was just trolling for hotties; I had no desire to go on a blind date with one of these beautiful men or anyone else for that matter. My heart had just been irreparably damaged by a self inflicted wound the night before, and even if I did feel ready to move on, I still had the little problem of being a sexual deviant. No one, not even a hot piece of man-meat on a dating website, would be into the kinds of things I fantasized about.

And then I saw something that made me stop scrolling and gasp. The man in the profile photo was incredibly beautiful. His green eyed gaze was smoldering, his messy hair made it look like he'd just had sex in a windstorm, and his smile was panty dropping. His profile said Edward Cullen, Annapolis, MD. The photo had to be an airbrush job but I clicked to view his stats anyway. He was local and his profile wasn't set to private. So I decided to read it all.

"Edward Cullen," I read aloud realizing it was the first time I'd spoken aloud since returning home the night before. His profile said he was twenty three, single (obviously), 6'0", green eyes, brown hair. He loves playing the piano, watching action movies, and meeting new people. Uh huh, sure. And he describes himself as a gentlemen in the streets but a freak in the sheets...

I spit my coffee all over the kitchen table, luckily sparing the technology in front of me. His profile really said that? I read it again and couldn't help the giggles that escaped my lips. It felt good to laugh. I liked his arrogant plagiarism so much I clicked the Friend Request without even thinking. Then I shut the laptop and reached for my coffee mug again with shaky hands. I might have had enough caffeine for one day.

The rest of the afternoon I focused on my art. The graphic designer I worked for had recently sent me a few assignments I needed to complete by the end of the month, so I tackled that first. They were mostly print advertisements that would end up in magazines. Selling art for advertising is not as fulfilling as selling a painting to a gallery or a collector, but each project takes significantly less time and often pays more.

After a few tedious hours, I sat back to look at what I'd done and knew I wasn't putting in my best effort. The large canvas that takes up one wall of the living room kept calling to me. It's a human form abstract piece I've been working on for months. I wanted nothing more than to pick up my brush and let my subconscious take over for a while. I was still brooding over the previous night with Jasper and I felt well within my right to mourn the relationship for a few more days at least. I've always used painting as an escape, even as a child. There's no better therapy for me than to paint what I'm feeling. And as far back as I can remember I've needed that outlet.

I stripped off every stitch of clothes because lately I've felt much more inspired when I painted in the buff. I'd tried to explain to Jasper that it was the paintings subject matter. A nude abstract needed the model of my own flesh, but really it was just another strange idiosyncrasy about myself that I couldn't explain. It just felt more natural, like I was truly connecting with the painting when absolutely nothing came between me and the canvas.

I'd been working on my painting for at least an hour when I heard a knock at the door. Considering I had not ordered any food, I was tempted to ignore the uninvited guest until I heard a familiar voice calling my name.

"Bella! Open up!" the demanding voice called out.

I knew there was no way around this confrontation, so I gently placed my paintbrush down and redressed before I walked over to the door. Discreetly, I pressed my eye to the peephole to make sure Rosalie was alone. I could handle Jasper's sister, but if he was out in the hallway too I was going to flip out. Luckily for Rose she came alone. I unbolted the deadlock and opened the door.

Rosalie Hale wasted no time forcing the door open and entering my apartment. Once inside, she whirled around and put her hands on her hips in a manner I recognized as her best attempt at intimidation. At 5'10" and in heels Rose always got people's full attention. Her golden blonde locks curled naturally around her shoulders and her hazel eyes were bright with fury. She was dressed in a sophisticated sheath dress with a wide belt. She'd probably come straight from work.

"So you really did it this time?" she asked.

"If you are referring to my breaking up with your brother, then yes," I answer flatly. "Please don't give me a hard time about it, Ro. My heart is broken here, so I don't need you telling me what a huge mistake I've made."

She stared me down for a long time but I didn't blink or look away. We read each other's facial expressions and I could see the hurt and disappointment in her eyes. I hoped she was seeing the genuine pain in mine. Finally, Rosalie sighed in surrender and glanced away from my face where tears had quietly been forming in the corners of my eyes.

"What are you painting here, Bella? It looks like a torture scene."

I discreetly wiped my eyes clear and followed her over to the canvas I'd just been working on. "It's not torture. It's an abstract of female empowerment."

Rose lifted one eyebrow at me and I could tell she was straining not to add an eye roll. Her brain worked differently than mine; good at crunching numbers and analyzing market reports for her job in finance. Her appreciation for art was minimal and she knew I didn't like it when she criticized any painting, but particularly my work. She typically missed the majesty of whatever painting I showed her at the gallery downtown where my work was usually showcased.

Looking at what I was currently creating, I had to admit she had a point this time. The deep reds and blues I was using made a dramatic impact on the eye. The woman I was painting stood with legs spread on a rumpled bed, one arm high above her head and bent at the elbow. Her face was still undefined and I liked it that way, the brushstrokes were jagged and severe. The piece didn't give the impression of a torture scene, but I could see how Rose found it haunting.

"It looks like she should be holding something," Rose commented pointing to the top of the canvas where the naked woman's hand extended up with an open palm.

"Eventually I plan to put an object in that hand but haven't decided what it should be yet."

"A machete seems fitting."

"Fuck you, junior financial analyst," I replied with sarcasm to hide my hurt feelings. I really hated when she mocked my work. Rose had no way of knowing how this piece was closer to me than any other. It's not a client request or advertising promo. It was personal, and a raw representation of my current emotional state. Of course I'd never admit that to her or anyone else that will ever see it.

"I was thinking more like a nineteenth century revolver, a title-less book, or something that makes her seem strong and powerful."

"Like Lady Liberty's torch?" she teased.

"I hate you," I said with a grin. Then I sighed sadly. "Come on, I'll make you dinner."

Rosalie stayed with me for hours and we talked about a wide variety of topics, one being Jasper. I knew the moment she showed up at the door that I would have to explain myself. Rose is such an advocate for her brother that I knew she wouldn't let his heart be broken without a fight. Surprisingly though, she went easy on me. Over a meal of chicken and rice, I explained that while I still loved Jasper, we just weren't compatible and I didn't want to waste any more of either of our lives fighting the inevitable. As a sensible businesswoman, Rose could understand cutting one's losses. She told me she couldn't take sides and just hoped that someday we could all be in the same room again. While the thought of being friends with Jasper seemed impossible at the time, I told her that I hoped for that too.

Later that night, when I was alone again, the depressing consequences of my decision were hard to ignore. I had a small apartment but it was amazing how cold and lonely it still felt when the darkness of night enveloped the building and I had no way to escape the blackness I felt inside myself. Talking things out with Rosalie had helped me expel some of the pain, but I hadn't told her the truth about what was happening to me, so our conversation didn't soothe any of my fears.

It was after midnight when I finished cleaning the kitchen and properly put away my painting supplies. I dragged my feet down the short hall to my bedroom to find the laptop on the unmade bed. With still little intention of ever leaving my apartment again, it didn't matter how late it was. I stripped down to bra and underwear and climbed into bed with the computer.

I checked my email, but there was nothing to get excited about there. As per my routine, I logged into Facebook next. It surprised me to see the Sexy Single, Edward Cullen, had accepted my friend request. I was on his profile again, ogling his photos when a chat window opened.

Of course it was him.

Edward Cullen: Hi, I'm Edward! Would you like to chat?

I rolled my eyes. I was officially so pathetic that I was contemplating flirting with a man who used the internet to find women he could fuck and forget. Edward Cullen was probably a fake name chosen by a bald middle aged man who acquired his swoon worthy profile picture by way of a Google Image search.

Shrugging my shoulders I decided to indulge my curiosity. If he turned out to be a certifiable creep I'd block his ass and never give the Maryland's Men Mingle Facebook Group another thought.

Bella Swan: Sure, why the hell not? Just don't try to seduce me...

Edward Cullen: Why not? Are you unseducable?

Bella Swan: Pretty much, yeah.

Edward Cullen: Don't you like sex?

Bella Swan: Ha! I can't remember... I guess you could say I'm hard to please in bed.

Edward Cullen: Sounds like an interesting challenge, Bella. BTW I think you're beautiful.

Bella Swan: Pft. I really don't know why I'm talking to you.

Edward Cullen: You sent me a friend request, remember? You found me in MMM?

Bella Swan: Yes, I did. What are you doing in a group like that?

Edward Cullen: What were you doing LOOKING in a group like that?

Bella Swan: Are you dodging my question?

Edward Cullen: LOL. It's a great way to meet local single people. Are you single, Bella?

Now that's a good question. Am I single? Single implies a person is available and open to a new relationship. What do you call someone incapable of having a meaningful relationship with another human being, because her sexual appetite is so humiliatingly dark that she can't ever imagine satisfying it? I'm on the rebound, technically, but unable to look forward to the start of a new relationship because no nice, decent guy could ever indulge my sexual fantasies. I was destined to wind up like the Incredible Hulk, roaming the planet alone.

Bella Swan: Single... I guess you could say that. I just dumped the man I loved.

Edward Cullen: ? What happened?

Rose had asked me the same question. What happened with Jasper? I could never, ever, admit my shameful desires even to my best friend. Edward Cullen, on the other hand, was just a face on the computer screen. Probably a fake, airbrushed face at best. The truth was I had no one to talk to about my sexual disabilities, but this guy seemed to want to talk about sex. And I needed an outlet.

Bella Swan: Our sex life was shit. He hasn't given me an O in months.

Edward Cullen: You haven't come in months?

Bella Swan: I didn't say that. HE hasn't been able to make me come in months.

Edward Cullen: OIC. So who's been making you come?

Bella Swan: Me *blush*

Edward Cullen: Don't blush Beautiful Bella. So your BF wasn't good in bed, huh?

Bella Swan: He wasn't the problem. It was me.

Edward Cullen: How do you mean?

Bella Swan: I stopped responding to his moves. Bored by them. I wanted more... excitement, maybe? More spice?

Edward Cullen: So you've got a kinky side, huh? NICE

Bella Swan: I couldn't admit the things I wanted to do to him. He would never go for it.

Edward Cullen: You never even asked him?

Bella Swan: Jokingly I mentioned blindfolding him and he looked at me, appalled. I never brought it up again.

Edward Cullen: What else would you have done? If he'd been into it. What do you fantasize about?

Bella Swan: Too frightening to mention.

Edward Cullen: I love kinky sex, Bella. I won't be appalled by what you say, promise.

Bella Swan: When I'd be alone, touching myself, sometimes I imagined hitting him. Tying him up. Watching him lie there naked, struggling but unable to move. It's the only thing that gets me off now.

Edward Cullen: That's really hot, Bella.

Bella Swan: Riiiight

Edward Cullen: You don't think there are men out there that would let you do those things to them? Trust me, there's lots. And I'm one of them.

Bella Swan: So, like the kind of guy you meet online in the middle of the night?

Edward Cullen: Those are the best kinds. ;-) Don't you like my picture? I thought maybe it was why you chose me out of all those other MMM guys.

Bella Swan: Yes, I liked it. A lot. But seems too good to be real.

Edward Cullen: I promise that's really me. And you know what else? I'd let you do ALL that stuff you mentioned to me. I'm getting hard just thinking about it.

Bella Swan: Both of those things are hard for me to believe.

Edward Cullen: I can prove it. I'll send you a picture of me right now in any pose you pick, something that can't be Photoshopped. Or we could video chat?

Bella Swan: No! No! Send me a picture. Shirtless... with a pencil behind your ear.

Edward Cullen: You got it. BRB

I waited for five agonizing minutes, all the while nearly closing my laptop a dozen times. I felt like my behavior was crazy and reckless, but that seemed to be the appeal, because I was turned on more just by Edward's words than anything Jasper has said or done to me in six months. There was still no logical reason why a man like Edward would need to find dates on a cheesy website. He could just open his front door and women would climb over each other trying to get inside. And then I thought what if maybe he did share some of my dark sexual urges? That could certainly explain why finding the right type of woman would be difficult.

Finally, Edward replied and sent me a picture file. I opened it hesitantly, my eyes squinting to blur the image and then slowly allowing myself to really see him. It was the same man. Breathlessly beautiful with tousled bronze hair and a crooked smile. A pencil was tucked behind one ear and he was indeed without a shirt. His chest was muscular and glorious. What really convinced me was the blindfold her held in one hand and the handcuffs in the other.

Bella Swan: You own those kinds of... toys?

Edward Cullen: I sure do. Lots of them. So does that mean you believe this is me?

Bella Swan: I guess I do. Yeah.

Edward Cullen: Excellent. I think we should meet, Bella.

Bella Swan: No way. I don't know anything about you. Are you even really from Maryland?

Edward Cullen: *sigh* Everything on my profile is true. I'm 23, from Annapolis. I have a job and make decent money. I like going to the Inner Harbour in summertime. I play tennis but I'm not very good. I love kinky sex and want to make you scream my name. Is that enough?

Bella Swan: Nope, not yet. Why ME?

Edward Cullen: I told you. You sound like a fun challenge.

Bella Swan: And then what? You make me O and what? Challenge complete? I'm not interested in a one night stand.

Edward Cullen: I'm not going to take advantage of you, Bella! From what you've told me you want to be the one in control, right? I want to let YOU take advantage of ME. Sexually...

Bella Swan: Why do you want that?

Edward Cullen: I like to explore kinky sex. I like having a Domme control me. Spank me. Tease me. You have to admit you like the sound of that...

Damn him. It was like he could see into my dark, twisted soul. If my panties weren't wet from this conversation alone I would have ended it right there. He was so forward, but angelic beauty or not, I wasn't a fool. Except that I kind of was in that moment because I agreed.

Bella Swan: Fine! But we're meeting in a very public, well lit place! During the day! And I'm bringing my pepper spray.

Edward Cullen: Tsk Tsk. I don't think your sexual desires are your problem, Bella. I think trust is. But bring your pepper spray and a bodyguard for all I care. You'll see there's nothing to fear from me or your sexual needs.

Bella Swan: You're kind of arrogant, you know that? Where are we meeting?

Edward Cullen: Confident. I am confident, Bella. How about thy Hyatt hotel?

Bella Swan: No!

Edward Cullen: The restaurant in the lobby of the hotel... not a private room. Yet. You have such a dirty mind. We should meet first before we fuck, don't you think? You know... get to know each other better.

Bella Swan: Oh. Okay. Sorry, I'm nervous.

Edward Cullen: You don't need to be nervous. How about Monday, 6 o'clock?

Bella Swan: Okay.

Edward Cullen: Good. If you need to get in touch with me my number is 410-555-0513

Bella Swan: Thanks.

Edward Cullen: See you in two days, Beautiful Bella.

Bella Swan: My bodyguard and I will see you then. ;-)

I closed the laptop and tossed it to the end of my bed. I knew I was insane for agreeing to meet someone I met online thirty minutes ago, but I told myself that I would be safe in a public place and I didn't have to do anything I didn't want to do. My high school friend had used Maryland's Men Mingle and raved about what a great date she had with the guy she met there. Edward and I both knew what we would be getting out of this experience. It was about sexual experimentation, plain and simple.

As much as my conscience tried to tell me that meeting a stranger from the Internet was a no-no, I couldn't fight off the excitement that was growing deep inside my belly from the anticipation of it. My palms were sweating and despite the late hour I was keyed up to the point where sleep was impossible. The temptation of finally being able to do all the things I've fantasized about for so long was too much to resist. And to do so with a man as attractive as Edward? I had two days to think it over and change my mind if I somehow came to my senses before Monday. Something in my gut told me I wasn't going to back out, though. I was too intrigued by the possibilities Edward was offering; an opportunity I simply couldn't pass up.