His jaw dropped and his eyes grew wide.

"Gay?" he asked, also too loudly. "No!" he shouted, then realized his volume level, looked quickly around, and regrouped. "No," he whispered. "I am not gay! What on earth made you think that?" He looked amused, but also a little hurt. I had to fix this and quick.

"I heard, well, actually," I hesitated. "My... my daughter told me." I admitted. He looked at me thoughtfully for a minute, ran his hand through his hair, and sighed.

"What did she tell you? Exactly."

"Well," I hesitated, but he was waiting, not speaking. "She said that you were gay. Outright." He kept silent, urging me to continue, to complete the story. "That all the girls you had been in plays with had hit on you, but that you had turned them all down." He sighed. "Including my daughter," I said with a smirk and a cocked eyebrow.

He looked down and smiled.

"That's what I thought," he said with a chuckle and looked up. He met my eyes, and continued. "I always turn them down. I'm just not interested in them... in girls."

Now I was confused. He said he wasn't gay, but he just said he wasn't interested in girls. I had no idea what was going on.

"Wait. What?" I asked. He laughed.

"I said, I'm not interested in girls. I like women."

He let that sit for a moment, then he put his hand back on my knee. He looked up at me, his blue-green eyes, wide and intense.

"Women. Like you."

"Fuck," I muttered softly, the realization that I could have him, and that it seemed that he wanted me, settling in.

"Is that an invitation?" he replied coyly, his fingers moving softly on my leg, sliding just inside my thigh, under the edge of my skirt. I sucked in a breath and bit my bottom lip in an effort at self-control, a battle I was quickly losing.

"An invitation?" I breathed. "Absolutely. Yes. Anything." It was a little pathetic and desperate on my part, but I was fairly sure he was on the hook, and I was definitely interested, so I wanted to lock it down, make sure he knew.

"Anything?" he asked, the corner of his smile turning up into a devastating smirk, his hand sliding a little further, fingers fully disappearing under my skirt. My inner thigh was tingling.

"Oh God, yes," I moaned. "Please."

He didn't speak, just held my eyes for a moment, like he was thinking, calculating. I was wondering if begging him would be too demeaning for me, how far I would go, when he suddenly removed his hand and stood up. I panicked for an entire second. Then, he straightened his suit and held out his hand to me.

"Would you like to see my suite?" he asked innocently. I looked at his hand, and then back at his eyes, and I slowly gave him my hand and stood. The implication was clear, and I hoped that my knees wouldn't collapse beneath me.

"Absolutely," I replied back confidently. "Yes."

He gave me a quick grin and a squeeze of his hand, then turned to the bartender and nodded.

"Jake, we good?" he asked, and the bartender nodded back.

"Yes, Sir. Have a good evening," the bartender replied with a smile.

He looked back at me and pulled my hand, urging me to follow him, so I started walking.

The elevator was right around the corner from the bar, so we were there in less than a minute. My heart was pounding, and I was slightly buzzed from the alcohol, but completely in control of all of my faculties. I wanted to remember this.

He hit the button, and we waited, every possible scenario flying through my head. What would he do when we got to his suite? Would we make nervous small talk until one of us made a move? Or would he attack as soon as the door was closed? I desperately hoped for the latter.

Finally, the doors opened and several people filed out. When the elevator was empty, he tugged on my hand gently and motioned for me to go first.

Always the gentleman.

That is, until the doors closed.

Insert evil laugh here. Damn, this was fun to write...

Next up, FLUFF. Man, I love fluff. Especially hot Edward fluff.

All things "Twilight" belong to Stephanie Meyer. The remainder of the perversion is all mine. :)