It's Whoreticulture Friday! Issue 6

Whoreticulture: The industry and science of whores and whore-related topics. Whoreticulturists work and conduct research in the disciplines of OB-GYNery, Brazilian waxers and shavers, adultery, personal hygiene mavens and easy women. The word is composite, from two words, whore, from Greek meaning "harlot" or "dear", and the word culture. Like NPR's Science Friday, Whoreticulture Friday exists to educate and spark discussion on the science of Whorology. Whoreticulture Friday is not for children. Or squeamish people. Or Mother-In-Laws.

Today's topic: Breaking (New Moon) Mom
WARNING: Potential spoilers below. Read at your own risk!

I looked across the low ripples in the water, black in the darkness, looking for him.

He wasn't hard to find. He stood, his back to me, waist deep in the midnight water. The pallid light of the moon turned his skin a perfect white, like the sand, like the moon itself, and made his wet hair as black as the ocean. I stared at the smooth lines of his back, his shoulders, his arms, his neck, the flawless shape of him...

"Holy shit! I'm in the ocean with Edward!" I said, surprised, even though I was writing it.

"AAAH! YOU Again!" Edward used his perfectly sculpted hands to try and cover himself. "How do you keep getting in this story?!? Where is Bella?"

"She's sitting on the bathroom floor, freaking out, and I think she's going to shave her legs again. You know, Edward, I'm an old pro at this. Do you want to do a test run? Just to be sure you don't kill Bella, of course..." I winked at him.

"You are actually rather frightening, and I don't scare easily," Edward said, as he backed away. "And your body is...different...from Bella's. Not as appealing. But there is a confidence there that is intriguing. Perhaps I SHOULD be sure I can control myself with her..." Edward stopped, contemplating.

HA! He was more of a man than he gave himself credit for. Now was my chance. I had to act quickly, before the Cougar venom I slipped in his post-wedding deer kill faded away.

"Ooops!" I gave myself a small cut opening the condom wrapper. (Hey, I don't care how cute Renesmee is, I am DONE carrying ANYONE's spawn, even if he is a superhot sensitive Cullen.) Edward looked suddenly ravenous. He moved toward me, and his breath came rougher now. I dropped my towel to tend to my cut, exposing myself to him. His Michelangelo-like body came to a screeching halt. The clouds re-formed and the angels stopped singing.

"No. Absolutely not. No I don't think so." Edward averted his eyes, started whistling a tune from WWI and looked up at the moon, glowing silver across the rippling water from his abrupt stop. He looked a little sick, actually. Was he okay?

"Edward? Edward are you out there?" Bella called from the house. "Who is out there with you?"

"It's a Cougar, love, nothing to be alarmed about," Edward called. "Less dangerous than werewolves, really." He then whispered to me, "Listen, I think you should go. Do you need the boat?"

"Did you say a Cougar?" Bella called. "Because the whole house is full of them. They're making margaritas and just put The Notebook in the DVD player. Something about being a part of your Team? What should I do with them?"

"Er, let them enjoy their drinks, love, I'll be in in a minute!" He turned to look at me, winced, and then immediately looked at the moon again. "How exactly did all of you get here from Rio?"

"We're peri-menopausal, Edward. The erratic hot flashes make the water a refreshing necessity, and the irrational rages make us capable of things we couldn't do as stable, rational 30-year-olds. The pack is here, Edward. I'm sorry, but I am a part of your world now. I can't live with you, because you are a fictitious character, and I am technically still stalking The Edge, but I can't live without you. But I can't admit to my friends that I love you, because you are, after all, in a YA novel and 17 years younger than me in human form. Thank goodness we have that 'Oh I was actually born in 1901' loophole or I'd be picking out my prison bitch with Mary Kay Letourneau!" I laughed.

Edward sighed a glorious sigh that sounded like my kids leaving for Grandma's and "here's your Cold Stone Gotta Have It" and the bean grinder at Starbucks all wrapped up in one. Oh, if only he could play "Where The Streets Have No Name" on guitar!

"How do I rid myself of you?" he asked, still naked and waist deep in water. I found myself thinking about how his skin would never pucker. And he wouldn't have that George Costanza problem in the water, either.

"Let's do one of your famous compromises - kiss me and I'll leave, I promise."

"And you'll take the Cougar Pack with you?"

"Done. Now get over here, you undead bastard, and kiss me!"

Edward moved toward me, miraculous in his erudite, sensitive vampire glory. He was a Quarter Pounder with Cheese, lettuce wraps at P.F. Changs, cupcakes from Maggie Moos. His sweet breath washed cool and delicious over my face, like a Mega Mocha MooLatte from DQ. This was it...come to Momma....

"JULIE! Are you coming to bed or not!?!" Grr. This was not Edward.

"Damn it, CH, I told you never to bother me when I'm blogging! You ruined the moment anyway. Go stick your head in the freezer for a few minutes and you might get lucky."

Foiled again. But I'll always have Eclipse...