Chapter Three

"Oh no," Elizabeth bemoaned, slowly stepping away from the locked emergency exit. "This is so not good."

"Wow, did you think of that all on your own?" Ridiculing her, Jason continued, "maybe that was the perfect costume for you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he pointed out with a smirk, "if the tail fits…"

"Who the hell asked you," she snapped, turning around to face him, eyes blazing. "Furthermore, couldn't you have warned me a little bit sooner about the door? It wasn't as if I was purposely trying to avoid detection or to move covertly. If you would have just said something sooner, this would not be happening."

"Sorry, Shorty," his words lacked sincerity, "but I wasn't paying much attention. I know this concept might be hard for you to grasp, but let's give it a shot anyway. Sometimes people have things on their mind that don't revolve around you. I was lost in thought and didn't hear you approach."

"Aren't you supposed to be a bodyguard," the pixy sized brunette taunted him, "and aren't bodyguards always supposed to be aware of what's going on around them? You better hope Brenda doesn't hear about this, because she just might decide to fire your inept ass."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you," Jason questioned her, "to have your foolhardy actions cause me to lose my job?"

"How was I supposed to know that the door locks automatically from the inside?"

"It's a fire escape. How didn't you know that?"

"Do I look like I hang out in burning buildings," she returned acerbically. "You already know that I'm not a fireman, so tell me, Mr. Morgan, what in my life would make me privy to the inner workings of fire escapes?"

"Under any other circumstances," the guard stated confidently, "I would presume common sense, but I think we both know that you're lacking in that area." She scoffed at his comment, turned her back on him, and paced across the wide roof so that they were standing on opposite sides. "Take for instance your outfit," he cited the skimpy costume as an example. "Why would you ever go outside on a cold night wearing so little without a coat?"

"I have my reasons," Elizabeth retorted, positioning her hands on her angled hips to strike an aggressive stance, "but, frankly, they're none of your concern."

"We're going to be stuck up her for a while," he stated dejectedly, "perhaps even all night, so why don't you just humor me."

She watched him for a long moment, sizing him up, before responding. "Fine, you really want to know?"

"I think this is becoming slightly redundant, Webber, but, yes, call it curiosity."

"Well, in that case, let's hope it kills not only cats but rats as well." Her spiteful comment only earned her a frustrated grimace from the annoyed man standing across from her. With a roll of her sparkling blue eyes, she confessed, "I came up here without a coat on, because I was so angry with you, I didn't even think about it."

"Angry with me?"

"What are you, a mocking bird," she challenged, immediately curtailing his question. "Yes, I was angry with you. Every time I see you, you make me so mad I see red, and, by the time I got finished talking in circles with Lucy, I just needed some fresh air. The whole ballroom was suffocating me, and I couldn't breathe. I was starting to break out into a sweat…."

"So, you're saying that I make you all hot and bothered," Jason goaded her, holding his hand up in front of his face to hide his smirk. Her reaction didn't disappoint. With a stomp of her stiletto heeled foot, an infuriated toss of her rich, chocolate waves, and a loud, perturbed groan from her plump, sinfully red mouth, she marched from one corner of the rooftop terrace to the other to confront him.

"Listen up, Butch, and listen up well," Elizabeth ordered Jason while pointing a scarlet nail into his defined, tuxedo clad chest. "If you and I were the last two people on earth and human kind depended upon us procreating, I'd rather kill you with my own two, bare hands than ever have sex with you. At least that way I might get off a little bit."

He tilted his head to observe her closely. "Is that a challenge?"

"Ex…excuse me?"

"Is. That. A. Challenge," Jason carefully enunciated each of his words, in the process, stepping closer to her so that their chests were almost pressed together and she was forced to look up at him to meet his eye. "Don't get me wrong," he clarified, "you're absolutely the last woman I would ever want as the mother of my children, but you just insulted my bedroom skills, and, I don't know about you, but, when someone does that to me, I take it as a challenge to prove them wrong." Quirking an eyebrow at her, he added, "besides, it would help to warm you up."

"I'm fine," the petite woman dismissed his concerns and willed the goosebumps and chills assaulting her underdressed body away. "Though your offer was such a gallant one, let me assure you that we will never sleep together. I'd rather they have to thaw me out with an ice pick and a blow dryer than ever let you touch me."

"Good," he returned insolently, "because, even if I could will away the memories of our past encounters and block out the sound of your grating voice, it would still be quite the chore for you to succeed in arousing me."

She appraised him slowly, running her gaze up and down his strong, lithe body, letting him know in that one glance that she didn't believe a word he said. "Well," she relented, grinning widely, "if you say so, but, just in case you're still suffering from a case of curiosity, I've never had any complaints before."

It took Jason several seconds to regain his composure, and, once he had, he stepped away from the alluring seductress before him and took a very deep, purifying breath. "You should take my jacket," he insisted, already taking it off before she could object. "Technically, you are my date, and, if Brenda found out I let you freeze to death out here, despite us being trapped on the roof being your fault, she'd never let me live it down."

"I don't need your jacket," Elizabeth refused his offer, tossing the garment aside as if its presence alone offended her, "and I sure as hell don't need your pity."

"I don't pity you, Midge," the tall, self-assured guard reassured her. "Pardon me if I'm actually capable of simply, human compassion."

"You would have to have a heart first before you could ever empathize with someone, let alone me, a woman you detest."

"You know what, fine," he relented, picking up his coat and spreading it across his legs after he took a seat on the concrete floor, his back leaning against the terraced railing of the roof. "If this is how you want to play this, I'm game, but would you just get drunk already," he motioned towards the bottle of tequila she was still holding in her hand. "At least that way, once you're properly soused, you won't feel the cold or be able to bother me by running that annoying mouth of yours."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you," she volleyed back, moving to sit on the opposite side of the roof and raising her voice so he could still hear her. "You'd like me to get good and drunk so that you could take advantage of me."

"Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart."

"It's not flattery, dumb ass, when you were just trying to proposition me five minutes ago."

"I wasn't trying to proposition you," Jason argued, feeling his frustration growing by the minute. "I was just…"

"You were what?"

"Defending my honor," he returned boldly, shooting dangers at her when she simply rolled her eyes at his comment. "Fuck this," he swore, grabbing the bottle of vodka at his feet and opening it quickly. "If you're not going to get drunk, I, at least, will."

"And I bet your manners only improve with large amounts of liquor," Elizabeth retorted scathingly. It was obvious by her tone that she meant the exact opposite of what she said. "So, goodie, I can't wait to see what you're like as a drunk asshole, Morgan, compared to just your normal infuriating self."

Several minutes passed, Jason was steadily, every sixty seconds, taking a drink of his vodka, and Elizabeth, whose lips, by that point, were starting to turn a scary shade of blue, had even relented and taken a small sip of her tequila, cringing in the process. It was obvious that she didn't like the taste of alcohol and that she wasn't used to drinking hard liquor. At the rate they were going, Jason realized, she really would let herself die of hypothermia before ever letting him help her.

"Here," he demanded, tossing his coat to her and ignoring her earlier protests, "put that on, or I'll come over there and put it on you myself."

The young beauty admitted silent defeat and, without delay, slipped the large jacket around her shivering body, curling her legs up underneath its extra material and trying to warm herself as much as possible. "Thank you." Her voice was soft, subdued, and almost indiscernible, but he could still detect her sincerity.

"You're welcome." After another few minutes had passed and he still noticed the chills running rampant through her petite frame, he spoke again, but, instead of the usual harsh words he had for her, he spoke in a gentle, caring tone. "You know, and I'm not trying to pull anything or seduce you, and this is not pity making me suggest this, but you're going to need more than just my jacket to keep warm, especially if we're going to be up here for a while."

"What are you suggesting?"

"Body heat," Jason answered. "We're going to have to sit close together." Without a word, he watched her as she stood up and quickly made her way across the rooftop, hesitantly sitting down beside him. Once she was situated, he edged his own body closer to hers, tentatively wrapping a strong, reliable arm around her quaking shoulders. "Is this alright," he asked, needing to make sure that she felt secure and at ease. "I'm not making you feel uncomfortable am I?"

"No," Elizabeth immediately reassured him, "this is fine; I'm fine."

"Okay then." With her silent acceptance and non-verbal encouragement, he tightened his grasp around her body, pulling her in to gently rest against his chest, both of his arms winding their way around her diminutive form. Before he knew it, her head was lulling on his shoulder, her shivers had abated, and they had both settled into a relaxed quiet.

The party was in full swing, the champagne was flowing, and the dance floor was filled to capacity with smiling faces, happy couples, and flirting beaus. It was everything Brenda had hoped her party would be, but, despite its success, the ball was the last thing on her mind. Instead, she was focused upon the set up she had organized for her best friend, and, wondering how triumphant her handy work was, she was in search of her coconspirator. Although it took her several minutes to find Emily, the bright red hair that went with her costume served as a beacon to attract her attention.

"There you are," the enthusiastic brunette sighed dramatically, putting her arm through her new, younger friend's. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Why, is something wrong? Did they figure out the truth?"

"Oh, no," Brenda dismissed her concerns lightheartedly, "as far as I know, everything is running smoothly, but that's the problem. I don't know anything. Have you seen either of them around here this evening?"

"Now that you mention it," Emily realized, becoming thoughtful, "I haven't. I saw Elizabeth come in with Lucy, but, soon afterwards, she disappeared. What about Jason?"

"He was here early with me, but the second I turned my back, he was gone. I just assumed he went out to wait on the balcony where he was told his date would meet him."

"That was a nice touch by the way," the taller woman complimented her older friend. "I always find balconies to have a romantic air about them. In fact," she gushed, "everything about this evening is perfect. I don't know if you're psychic or if you just have an uncanny ability to dress other people, but I love my costume."

"You seemed like an I Love Lucy kind of girl," Brenda smiled. "From what you've told me about Elizabeth, I could see the two of you getting into some Lucy and Ethel like trouble."

"We don't get into trouble; trouble finds us."

"I bet," the model quipped, winking. "Anyway, back to our lovebirds. What do you think is going on right now?"

"Well, if I know Elizabeth, and I do," Emily answered, "my guess is that she took him to some quiet, secluded corner…."

"So they could make out," the short brunette suggested hopefully, interrupting her accomplice.

"Yeah, not exactly," the younger woman laughed. "Liz isn't exactly the type to get physical on the first date."

"But," Brenda pointed out, "Jason is. He would go along with the whole privacy idea, but talking would only keep him occupied for so long. He'd need something else to keep him…stimulated. If he was persuasive enough, do you think that Elizabeth could be swayed into making out behind a potted plant?"

"Stranger things have happened?"

"So," the older woman realized, "we just need to search for them in concealed places."

"But we have to be completely silent," Emily added, "because, if they catch us, it'll ruin everything."

"You're the one in heals," the costumed Cleopatra pointed out. "I have bedroom slippers on; I'll be as quiet as a mouse."

"Well then, I'll just take off my shoes," the auburn haired woman suggested. "There, problem solved."

Just as they went to move off together, Brenda holding up her dress and Emily dangling her heels from her fingers, both moving as if they were creeping through a haunted mansion, a third person joined their group, slipping in behind them to watch the retreating, conspiring partners closely. "And what exactly are the two of you up to," Lucy asked, "and why the hell wasn't I included?"

"We're going to find Elizabeth and Jason," Emily answered, "as for why we didn't ask you to come along…."

"We have to be covert," the older woman supplied as an answer, "and let's face it, you are anything but."

"I can be stealth," the energetic cosmetics mogul argued, becoming defensive when Brenda simply raised one of her finely sculpted eyebrows in silent disagreement. "Okay," she reasoned, "so I got us caught when we snuck into Jabot and tried to do some secret investigating on their Christmas ad campaign last year. It could have happened to anyone."

"You left your cell phone on, and it rang," the model retorted. "And don't overlook all those times we've had to change hotels when we were traveling for work, because you got kicked out for being too loud and disturbing your neighbors."

"People are just too sensitive to noise."

"And what about the time you almost got us killed by Dobermans, because you refused to shut up when we were trying to tee-pee the Quartermaines' property a couple of years ago."

"Alright, alright," Lucy surrendered, "so maybe I'm not the most surreptitious person in the world, but, first of all, you have to admit that that old goat deserved everything he got, toilet paper, egged windows, soaped and saran wrapped car and all, and, secondly, no matter how overt I am, you need me."

"We only need you if we want to get caught," the petite brunette taunted, earning herself a glare from the taller woman.

"No, you see, that's where you're wrong. If you want to find them, you need me to tell you where they went."

"Are you saying that Elizabeth and Jason left the party together," Emily asked, starting to get excited.

"In a manner of speaking."

"Spit it out," Brenda ordered. "What do you know?"

"I know that their meeting did not go as you both hoped it would."

"Better or worse," the youngest of the three schemers queried, holding her breath.

"Much, much worse," the businesswoman answered sadly. "Elizabeth was a little too incensed to be comprehendible, but I remember some of her more choice words to describe Jason. Let's see there was nauseating, odious, and insufferable to name a few, and, when we parted company, she was planning ways to kill him while still inflicting as much torture as possible."

"He was probably a royal ass," Brenda huffed, narrowing her eyes in annoyance. "Why the next time I see him, he'll be begging for another chance to meet her and to make this right."

"Well, the night's not over yet," Lucy pointed out, "and seeing as how I saw them both disappear through the same door and neither of them have returned yet, perhaps those sparks of anger turned combustible."

"And they what," the auburn haired woman shrieked, "murdered each other in cold blood?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of making each others blood boil," the makeup expert teased, "if you know what I mean."

"Would you quit hinting around the issue and just tell us where they are?"

"I'm getting there, Brenda dear, don't rush me." Pausing for effect, the older woman nodded for the younger two girls to move in closer to her. "About an hour ago, Jason headed to the bar, grabbed a bottle of booze, and then hightailed it onto the roof by way of the fire exit."

"What about Elizabeth," Emily prompted.

"She, after talking to me, took a similar route, procuring for herself another bottle of liquor and, unwittingly, joining Mr. Morgan on the roof. Either they've chosen to stay up there by themselves or they accidentally got themselves locked on the roof, but, no matter how it happened, you still got what you wanted. Jason and Elizabeth will have plenty of time to get to know one another and get over whatever little spat they had earlier on the balcony as long as no one," Lucy looked pointed at her two friends, "lets them out."

"I don't know about you," the diminutive brunette smiled coquettishly, "but, suddenly, I'm in the mood to dance. Put your shoes back on Bowen," she ordered playfully, "we have some celebrating to do."

"Jason," Elizabeth whispered, waiting for him to respond before she asked her question. The simple nod of his head told her he was listening. "Do you think anyone's still here?" It was much later that evening, hours had passed, and, though she was still cold, the crisp night air was tolerable wrapped up in her companion's embrace. "I mean, do you think there's anybody still down there who might figure out we're missing?"

"Well, it's only about one o'clock, and, knowing how these people love to take advantage of each others generosity, I'm sure there are still quite a few people down there drinking the night and Brenda's money away."

Surprised, she lifted her head from his shoulder to peer into his eyes. "How did you know what time it was? No wait," she stopped him from answering, "it's something they taught you when you were in boy scouts, right, how to tell the time by the position of the moon in the sky?"

"First of all, I was never a boy scout, secondly, you can tell the time by the position of the sun during the day, not by the moon at night, and finally, it's called a watch, Webber," he told her, flashing the silver accessory so that she could see it and chuckling softly. "You might want to try one sometime."

"I don't like tight things around my wrists."

"So then I take it handcuffs are out," Jason quipped making her roll her eyes before she laid her head back down upon his chest. Somewhere along the way, his inappropriate, sexual comments had become par for the course, and they no longer made her feel uncomfortable or embarrassed.

"Tell me, Butch," she returned, enjoying their banter though she would never admit it, "do you always flirt this much with women you can't stand?"

"Of course, don't you remember the old school yard adage? Boys are only mean to the girls they like."

"Lucky me," Elizabeth pouted, unable to keep her eyes from drooping shut. After several minutes of silence though, he gently shook her in his arms and made her open them again.

"Hey, none of that," the bodyguard told her gently. "What did I say about you sleeping?"

"That I'm not allowed."

"Right, so why don't you take another drink of that tequila of yours. I know you hate it, but, besides me, it's the only thing we have to keep you warm tonight." After she had followed his instructions and grimaced her way through taking a small sip of the offending alcohol, he took the bottle back from her. "I must say you confuse me slightly."

"Just me or all women," the blue eyed brunette teased.

Ignoring her, Jason pressed. "If you don't like to drink, why bring up an entire bottle of tequila with you?"

"It was impulse," she replied. "I was angry, I didn't want to be here, and I just wanted to forget everything about this whole rotten day. Getting drunk seemed like the answer. May I ask you a question now?"

"Go right ahead."

"How do you know so much about the effects of alcohol? Have we been shit-faced one too many times before, Morgan; is that how you know about its warming capabilities?"

"No," he responded with a chuckle, "it was something they taught us in bodyguard school."

Startled, Elizabeth sat up again to look at him. "Did you just make a joke?"

Shrugging, he hedged her inquiry. "Maybe."

"Let me give you a piece of advice," she offered. "Don't do it again."

Still laughing softly, Jason ribbed her, "you're too uptight, Midge."

"Why do you do that," she wondered, eyeing him carefully.

"What?"

"Make fun of me because I'm short," she answered.

"I'm not making fun of you, well, not really," the security expert assured her. "You're short. It's not something that's wrong with you, and me calling you either Midget or Shorty is just an innocent nickname."

"You know, it's not so bad being short," Elizabeth continued as if she hadn't heard his explanation and still felt the need to defend her height. "Sure, I'll never be able to slam dunk and I'll always need a step stool to reach the top shelf in a cupboard or to change a light bulb, but things could be worse, and, besides, that's why the invented heels. Plus," she added, suddenly finding herself on a roll, "there are definite advantages to being vertically challenged."

"Such as?"

"Well, for one," the spirited pixie pointed out, "it comes in handy when you're trying to make your way through a crowd. I can sneak underneath everyone else's raised arms or hunch down and elbow my way through and they don't see me. Trust me, it's helped me make my way to the front of a long line many of times, and I'm always my friends' favorite person to take shopping when the department stores hold their big sales."

"Is that all you've got, Webber?"

"No," she argued with him, "it's also beneficial because I never have to bend over to walk through a doorway, I fit quite nicely into sports cars, and it makes me really good at limbo."

"All admirable qualities," Jason teased, nudging her shoulder with his own in a friendly manner.

"But, by far," her voice dropped to barely a whisper as she pressed on, "the best thing about being short is how perfectly I fit in a man's arms." Looking up, their gazes locked together, sapphire colliding into icy cerulean. "There is no feeling in the world quite like the sensation of being held securely in a man's arms, the way you feel safe and protected, cherished and loved, beautiful and desired all at the same time. It's almost erotic."

"Like this," he wondered, tightening his grip around her small body and lowering his face so that their warm breaths could mingle together.

"Yeah," Elizabeth nervously exhaled. Without pause and without questioning what she was doing or thinking, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth down the last few centimeters so their lips could meet. The reaction in her body was instant and blinding in its intensity. She wanted him, right there, right then, consequences be damned, she wanted him. It didn't matter that just hours before they had screaming at each other in anger, it didn't matter that they were practically strangers, it didn't matter that having sex with Jason Morgan on the roof of the Port Charles hotel would be dangerous and foolish; all that mattered was that when he kissed her she felt alive and on fire, like her blood had slowly been simmering all night and had finally erupted into a raging boil. And with that in mind, she set out to let him seduce her.

When his sharp teeth nipped at her bottom lip, begging her mouth to open to his, she sighed in pleasure, immediately granting him access to the warm recesses of her mouth. When his tongue slipped between her plump, kiss swollen lips, she gasped in ecstasy, raking her nails through the short, roguish, blonde strands of hair at the nape of his neck and joined him with her own tongue in a lustful battle for control. When his fingers slipped down to the find the zipper of her costume, releasing it so slowly she ached for him to merely rip the offending garment off her aroused body, she found herself arching into his touch and completely letting go, giving in to his every whim, desire, and need. When his mouth closed over one of her painfully stimulated nipples, his lips kissing the sensitive areola, his teeth scraping over the swollen apex, his tongue laving and suckling it until the point her petite form was taken over by uncontrollable tremors of desire, she submitted to his silent entreaties and laid back onto the ground with only his tuxedo jacket to protect her vulnerable skin against the cool, rough concrete of the rooftop. When the last vestige of his clothing was removed and he stood in front of her in all his fine, masculine glory, fully aroused and throbbing with desire, she released her inhibitions and restraint and cried out in a blatant, unrepentant moan of need, begging him with whimpers and bucking hips to make love to her. When he entered her for the first time, her constricted, saturated inner walls stretching to accommodate his wanted intrusion into her body, she met him thrust for thrust in both intensity and wanton desire, ensuring that their naked forms moved in flawless harmony, and, when they reached their climax together, their souls cascading down a waterfall of bliss, rapture, and splendor together as one, she knew that no one had ever worshiped or savored, pleasured or enjoyed her body as Jason Morgan had and no one ever would.