Drabble # 5: The Phone Call
nom de plume

      Drabble #5: The Phone Call

Disclaimer: All characters belong to S. Meyer




Bella looked at her clock. It was 3:13 for Pete’s sake! Who would be calling at this hour—one guess, and you’d be right. She picked up the cell, a frown creasing her brow. She was not in the best of moods at 3:13 AM.


“Hi Bells, you awake?” He winced as the stupid comment slipped from his mouth. He scratched his head in embarrassment. Duh— why did he say that? Oh yeah, because he’s an idiot, that’s why.


“If I’m not, then you must be dreaming.” Is he serious? Why would she be awake—

didn’t he own a clock?


“Where are you right now?” Another no-brainer, but apparently, he had no brain—at least not when Bella Swan was concerned.


“I’m in bed, where else would I be?” Could this conversation be any more ridiculous—obviously not.


“Is there a point to this conversation, Jake, because I would really like to get back to sleep.” He could tell by the tone of her voice that she was getting slightly irritated with him. He’d better lay on the charm.


He was so distracted with her always on his mind. “I can’t sleep, Bells. I just had to hear your voice.”


“Let me get this straight—you can’t sleep, so misery loves company—is that it?”


“I wouldn’t exactly call it misery. I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re dancing around in my brain, and you won’t leave me alone. You know I’m madly in love with you, right?” Ooh, that was smooth. Sometimes he amazed himself.


“At 3:13 AM, I guess anything’s possible.”


“You don’t believe me? Ouch—that stings a bit. It’s true. I’m deeply, madly, crazy in love with you.” If she didn’t already know that, then there was something seriously wrong with that head of hers.


“Well, I believe the crazy part all right. You are crazy, Jake.”


“Don’t you love me anymore? I’m not sensing any tender feelings there, honey.” He knew she was tired, but he wanted to hear those three little words from own sweet lips before he hung up.


“Yes, you know I love you. I just want to go back to sleep! I’m hanging up now, okay?”


“No wait—I gotta know. What are you wearing?”


“None of your beeswax.”


“Oh, c’mon, honey, what’s it gonna hurt? Please—tell me what you’re wearing.”


Bells inhaled, and let the air out slowly. “This is only for you. I’ve got on a light blue tank top with a tiny bow in the front and matching tap pants.”


“What have you got on?”


“Not a stitch—nada—my birthday suit—naked as a newborn babe.” Well, she wanted to know, didn’t she? He didn’t want to lie about it.


Bella had to smile. Nothing he could say would shock her, embarrass her, yeah. But she was on the phone, and even if she blushed, he couldn’t see it, so there! Boy, he was such a character  that’s one of the reasons she loved him so much—and yes—even at 3:13 in the morning. “Do you always wear your birthday suit to bed?” she yawned.


“A guy’s gotta be ready when opportunity knocks?” Ha—what can she say to that little remark?


“And are you expecting opportunity to knock anytime soon?”


“One can only hope . . . Wait—are you offering?” His face lit up with anticipation.


“In your dreams, Jake—only in your dreams. Now hang up the phone and go to sleep! Goodnight Jake.”


“Jeez, that’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one lying here waiting for opportunity to knock. Night, Bells.” Sigh . . .













Darbble # 4 Status Quo
nom de plume

Drabble# 4: Status Quo

Disclaimer: Characters herein are the property of S. Meyer


Jake came whistling into the Clearwaters’house. He was always in a good mood; but these days his mood was even lighter. There were only five more weeks till he and Bella walked down the aisle. He settled on the couch waiting for his sweetie; his long legs stretched out in front of him. 


Bella and Leah arrived a few minutes later laden with school books. Leah went straight to her bedroom.


Jake hopped up from the couch and gave Bella a hello kiss that could melt lead. Breaking the kiss, he launched into a veritable inquisition. “So, how was your day today? Did you get a good grade on that test you were worried about? What did Mr. Eddington say about getting into his advanced English Comp. class? Did you find that book you lost?”


“Holy cow—hold on—at least, let me put my books down.”


Bella placed her tote on a coffee table and walked with Jake into the kitchen to get a drink. As she drank her glass of water, the tote tipped over, spilling its contents.


“Crap! There go all my papers.”


“I’ll get it,” Jake replied.


Bellas’ breath hitched in anxiety. “No, no, that’s okay. I’ll get it. I don’t want you getting my papers all out of order”


Too late—he was faster than she was. He was already on his knees picking up the books and loose papers. Among the assignments was a certificate that caught his eye. “The Body Beautiful”, it read.


“Jake, no—give that to me!”


She tried to snatch it away from his grasp, but she was no match for his quick reflexes. He skimmed the card rapidly. He suddenly grabbed Bella by the arm and walked her out to the back porch—his airy mood had all but vanished.


“What’s this?” he inquired. His voice sounded irritated. He was holding up the card in front of her face. “You made an appointment to have your lip plumped?”


“You weren’t supposed to see that. It’s a present from Alice—a wedding present. I wanted to surprise you.”


“Yeah, well—I’m surprised all right! What are you thinking? This will be permanent. You can’t go changing it back, it doesn’t work that way. If you want plumped lips, I’ll kiss you till your mouth is so swollen, Angelina Jolie will pale in comparison.”


“But, Jake, I’ve always hated how my top lip is so small. It looks deformed. I want my two lips to match. I want to look perfect for our wedding.”


“Jeez, did you ever think to ask my opinion? I love your mouth the way it is. That’s what makes you unique. I don’t want you to change a thing for me.


“Listen to me, my face isn’t perfect either. My nose is big and my eyes are too deep set. Would you want me to get some surgeon to correct that?”


“No—I love the way you look.”


“I rest my case.”


“Look, all I’m saying is, if you want to change something, dye your hair or get new makeup—I don’t care. But please, Bells, don’t change your appearance permanently. You won’t look like my Bella anymore.


“I love you Bells, deformed lips and all. Now come closer and let me kiss those lips of yours again.”



That Saturday, Bells ambled through his front door. Her hair was cropped and spiked, and colored red with a purple stripe running along the side.


Jake stood there with his mouth hanging open. “I love those lips,” Bells said right before she kissed him. Then she stepped back, pulled off the wig, and shook out her long mahogany waves.


Jake let out a sigh of relief. Well, wouldn’t you?












nom de plume
I've been having all these ideas to add to my Drabble collection. Then, when I start typing it, the drabble becomes a whopping one shot. I can't seem to shorten the length. Two of my recent Drabbles are now one shots: Soap Opera and Rooftop Renezvous.
These two one shots are so ridiculous that I laughed my head off while writing them.

The Lady of Spain's Twilight Drabbles #3
nom de plume

Drabble# 3: Tummy Troubles


What goes Down Must Come Up


Disclaimer: All characters are the property of S. Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.


Emmett was engrossed in digging a small hole in the back yard. Rosalie was out shopping with Alice, so now was as good a time as any. Edward ghosted up behind him—man he was fast and sneaky.


“Whatever are you doing, Emmett?” This was not the usual occupation of a fellow vampire.


“Shh!” Emmett looked around, “Are the girls still out shopping?”


“All but Bella and Esme, why?” This was certainly a peculiar conversation. Edward’s curiosity was piqued.


“This is what I’m doing, Bro.” Emmett held up a box containing some expensive brand of perfume.


“You’re putting on Rosalie’s perfume?” Edward was getting concerned, and coincidentally, confused.


“No—get real, Edward. I’m burrying the damn stuff. Rosalie insists on wearing it, and it makes me want to hurl. It’s this sickening vanilla spice somethin’ or other gaggy scent. She walks around here smelling like there’s a cake baking in the oven. It’s just so gross!”


“I know what you mean, Emmett. I’m going to admit that I probably should change Bella very soon. She’s getting increasingly upset that I don’t want to sit down and eat with her. I did it once just to please her, but I had to run to the bathroom to regurgitate it as soon as I ingested the culinary exudate. Bella loves to cook, but I cannot tolerate eating it.The situation is driving a wedge between us. I love her so, and I don’t want this to stand in the way of our happiness.


Edward turned to walk back into the house as Emmett finished burrying the bottle of perfume.



The next afternoon, Bella was busy making Beef Stroganoff. Apparently it was a favorite of Charlie’s. Edward cringed. Please, not Stroganoff!


Bella set the table for two. “Edward, if you love me, you’ll do this little thing for me.I rarely ask a favor of you. Please Edward, please . . . just one plateful.”


“All right, love. You know I can’t deny you anything.”


That was too easy. Bella was beginning to get suspicious. “You have to promise not to use the bathroom afterwards. One of the joys of my life is my cooking. I feel so hurt when you vomit my meal into the toilet after I took the pains to prepare it.”


Edward forced a smile. He wished that Jacob Black had been invited to dinner, then there’d be nothing left in the pot and he could forestall the inevitable.


He sat there politely while his beloved wife ladled the lumpy conglomeration onto his plate. Next came the string beans and the cold borscht.That was the worst—the borscht.


He held back gag after gag as he manfully swallowed the mass of glutenous glop that was trickling down his throat.


Bella sat there encouraging him with a sweet smile on her face, until his last bite disappeared.


Edward sat later at his piano playing a medley of tunes. Emmett snickered in the corner listening to Edward’s stomach protesting the abuse that had been inflicted upon it. The rumblings it made could easily have been a percussion accompaniment to his tunes. They were certainly loud enough.


Bella came downstairs and announced that she was retiring to bed.


Responding to her statement, Edward commented, “I’ll be there soon, love. I need to finish composing this melody first.”


The sound of Bella’s slow steady breathing wafted down to Edward’s ears; a signal that she had fallen asleep.


Suddenly, Edward stood up and raced out to the backyard. Emmett met him just as he finished covering up a freshly dug hole in the ground.


Emmett winked at Edward. “Hey, bro—I won’t tell if you won’t.”










The Lady of Spain's Twilight Drabbles: #2
nom de plume

Drabble # 2 : The French Connection 

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of S. Meyer. I’m just giving them a joy ride.


“For Pete’s sake! Hold still, Bella!”


“What are you trying to do, Jake?”


“I’m trying to kiss you . . . if you’d just hold still for a freakin’ minute. Can you open your mouth for me, at least?”


Jake covered her lips with his own once again.


“Holy cow!” She sputtered as she pulled away from him. “Your tongue was in MY MOUTH!”


“I know!” Jake affirmed her comment.


“Why was your tongue in my mouth?” She looked at him, her chocolate brown eyes boring into his.


“Quil and I were talking about it, and I thought I would give it a try. Hey, don’t give me that look! It’s called French Kissing. Honey, do you think you could cooperate with me here?”


“But you had your tongue in my mouth. I already have a tongue of my own. I don’t need another one.”


“Trust me, okay? Now hold still and open your mouth.”


Bells let out a long sigh.


“Jeez, Bells, you are so stubborn. Don’t push me away, or it’s not gonna work.”


She was not convinced yet. “Why are you doing this? Just tell me why.”


 “I want you to feel as good as I do. You’ll like it, I promise”


“How do you know that?”


“I have good dreams, all right? Now let’s have another go . . .”


Jake pulled her closer and entwined his fingers in her long mahogany hair. He kissed her gently as she opened her mouth a little. Bells instinctively cupped the back of his head. He smoothed his tongue along her bottom lip—that lip that drove him crazy. She opened her mouth wider, and Jake slowly slipped his tongue between her parted lips. His tongue danced playfully with hers.


“Mmn . . .” she moaned, as the dancing continued. And then it became louder . . . “mmn . . .”


He pulled away for a minute. Her warm brown eyes nearly melted him on the spot.  “See . . . I told you so. C’est tres´ bien. Bien mieux, n’est-ce pas? Ce n’est pas assez. Encore beaucoup!”


Bells eagerly joined him again. He murmured, “Prenez votre temps.”


When they finally came up for air, Bells asked, “Why do they call this French Kissing?”


I guess because at first it seems like a foreign tongue. But when you get used to it—

Ooh, la, la! Trop chaud, mon petit!”


“Gosh, Jake, I didn’t know you spoke French.”


“Oui! But only with my tongue,” he smirked.



A/N: I had a hard time deciding on a title—French Kiss, Tongue in Check, Foreign Object, Speaking in Tongues, En Garde! Decisions, decisions.



“C’est tres´ bien. Bien mieux, n’est-ce pas?Ce n’est pas assez. Encore beaucoup! (It’s very good. Much better, isn’t it? It’s not enough. Some more, lots more!”)


“Prenez votre temps.” (Take your time)


“Trop chaud, mon petit!” (Too hot, my little one)








The Lady of Spain's Twilight Drabbles: #1
nom de plume


The Lady of Spain’s Twilight Drabbles

By (who else?) Lady of Spain



The scibblings and dabblings from the insanely fertile mind of the exquisitely crazy Lady of Spain. Sadness, bliss, anger, stupidity, laughter, madness—it’s all right here—random thoughts in no way connected , or coherent in any way shape or form. If at one point in your reading, you think, “This makes no sense.” Then good!



Disclaimer: All characters are the property of S. Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.


Drabble 1: Lip Service 


The three pack buddies were having a philosophical discussion in the Taj Mahal—AKA—Jacob Black’s garage. Jake had his grease-smudged hands under the Rabbit’s hood as usual. He had just disconnected the cable from the negative terminal of the battery. He was getting ready to remove a worn alternator belt.


The question raised by Jake was: “Why do you suppose people kiss?”


Without lifting his head, he reached out his right hand. “Hey Embry, could you hand me the socket wrench that’s over there?”


Embry slid the wrench into his outstretched hand.


Quil was standing on the other side of the Rabbit, hunched over the engine like a mirror image of Jake. “Isn’t it obvious?” He snickered.


“No, it’s not!” Jake insisted. “I really want to know why?  For instance, what is it about kissing that—that’s all you can think about?”


“Among other things,” Quil added, suggestively.


“You know what I mean!


“This one’s too small; can you get me the wrench with the green handle, Embry? It’s in the toolbox under the drill bits”. He exchanged socket wrenches with his friend. “Yeah, I think this’ll do it.” He gave a satisfied grunt as the center bolt of the tensioner pulley slackened the pull on the belt for removal.


Jacob lifted his head slightly and craning his neck, peered over at his packmate with a questioning frown on his face. ”What do you say Embry?”


He always looked to Embry for the important matters. Embry prided himself for thinking with the head affixed to his shoulders.


“Oh, no . . . here it comes,” Quil complained. The Call discourse on the physiology of kissing. Ugh!”


“You want to hear this or not?” his quiet friend responded.




Jake glanced at his engine buddy. “Shut up, Quil. I wanna hear what he has to say. Let’s have it Embry!


“Damn, what is it with this alternator belt? It won’t budge.”


“Wait a minute Jake, there’s a strand of it is still coiled around this other pulley . . . can you see it . . .It’s way under there to your right.”


 “Okay, I got it . . . Go on Embry. Inquiring minds want to know.”


“Well, the surface of your lips have hundreds of tiny nerve endings that are connected to the pleasure centers of the brain. That’s lots more than in your finger tips.”


“Hmmn . . . interesting.”


“To who?” Quil taunted.


“Here Quil, make yourself useful. Put this belt into that box on the toolshelf.  I’m gonna take it back to Fork’s Motor Parts. I just replaced it three months ago; it shouldn’t have worn out that fast. Must’ve been defective.”


“Keep going, Embry, I’m listening.”


“Did you know that your mouth is part of your mucosal system—it’s highly sensitive. If you feel inside of your mouth, you’ll notice that it’s smooth and wet—not like the skin on the outside of your body. It’s in the same system as your reproductive organs.


 “Babies especially explore the world with their mouth. Everything—and I mean everything—goes in their mouth.”


Quil wiggled his eyebrows and gestured to his developed pecs. “Yeah, those lucky little suckers.”


“Can you get your mind out of the gutter for once, Quil. Jeez, there is more to the world than T&A.”


“Like what? Name one thing.”


“Cars, motorbikes, art, laughter, music, football, dancing, horseback riding, pizza.”


 “I said, one, Jake.”


Jake placed the new belt on the pulleys and turned the bolt the opposite direction.  He put down the socket wrench, replaced the battery cable and wiped his hands off on a nearby rag.


The door to the driver’s seat was open, so Jake plunked down on it with his feet stretched out in front of him, facing out into the garage.


Embry was seated on a crate; Jake leaned toward him and asked, “Anything else I need to know about kissing but was afraid to ask?”


“Yeah, so open mouth kissing . . .”


This time Quil pulled up another crate right beside his buddy. Now this topic interested him. His head tilted forward, his ears at attention.


“Now here’s the thing. When a guy gives a girl an open mouthed kiss, he is actually transferring the testosterone in his saliva to her, which in effect gets her aroused and ready for action.”


“Quil’s eyes got big as he gasped, “Really?”


“Yes, really. So you see guys, a kiss actually does have a purpose. It ensures the propagation of the species.”


“But that still doesn’t answer my question,” Jake asserted. “Why do people kiss?”


“Because it makes you feel sooo good!” Embry and Quil yelled it simultaneously, as they each threw a dirty rag in Jake’s direction.



A/N: Now go out and kiss someone, preferably someone you know. A random kiss might get you slapped instead—or maybe not!



Ideas galore
nom de plume

My brain is running at 1000 rpms. I have so many story ideas bouncing around that it's getting harder to focus on one at a time.I have to finish chapter 14 of "Hidden", a one shot for Just a Kiss Contest, and edit another contest entry for The Love Actually Contest.I've got ideas for at least three drabbles, another multi chapter story and a continuation of Caught in the Crossfire. My entry at one contest which shall remain nameless also has about 4 more chapters that I want to add. Woe is me, so many ideas and so little time to write them all down. I need a stenographer!


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