"Why wouldn't you? You might like it."
"Just not attracted to men, never have been. Actually I don't understand why women are, either. Sorry, Elizabeth."
"So you've never done it with a woman you didn't think was attractive -- just because you could, because it felt good?"
I shrugged. "Well yes, sometimes. But..."
"I mean, especially if it's their mouth or hand that you've got your dick in, what difference does it make if it's a boy or a girl? It wouldn't mean you were gay, Paul, just very horny. And I know how horny you get."
I couldn't think of a quick answer to that, so I said "What about you? Do you do it with girls? After all, if it's their mouth or their hand..."
"No, not yet. But I know I could, and that I'd enjoy it. If I was in the right mood. Or if the right man wanted me to do it."
"Doesn't Brian want you to?"
She sniggered. "Not the right man. Nowhere near."
I was sitting opposite Elizabeth, a director of the record company where I ran the A&R department, in her hotel room at around midnight. This was about ten years ago, when I was 39. I'd been establishing myself back in the music business after a bad few years, getting ready to start my own management agency. She was my boss, but Elizabeth was younger than I was -- 32, I think. That didn't really bother me. She understood the industry; she also had long, wavy red hair, a slim but nicely curved body and a beautiful, angelic face, so we got on just fine.
Something else she understood was that I wanted her - badly. She'd flirted with me at the interview for my job and hadn't stopped since. She was married to some sort of investment banker but only ever spoke about her husband to put him down. She'd left him at home tonight, the night of the biggest music industry awards ceremony of the year. And tonight was supposed to be when it happened -- when I finally got hold of her and made a real pig of myself, just like I'd been telling her I would.
But we weren't alone. Sitting next to Elizabeth on the small sofa was her PA, Lucy. Sitting between us on the floor was Marco, our waiter during the tedious ceremony that we'd sat through downstairs in the hotel's ballroom.
Lucy was somewhere in her early twenties, small and cute with spiky blonde hair. She was wearing what looked to me like a baby doll nightie for a dress and she hadn't stopped giggling for at least an hour. Lucy was a bit nuts even when she was stone cold sober, and now she was totally wired on the combination of free champagne and expensive cocaine that we'd been consuming all night. But as soon as Elizabeth and I started talking about sex, she turned very quiet and started playing close attention.
Marco looked 19 or 20, short and skinny with long jet black hair. He had big brown eyes surrounded by dark make up, and wiggled his backside when he walked. When he spoke -- which was almost never -- it was in a shy whisper and with a ridiculously camp Italian accent. He was a useless waiter, but at the end of the evening Elizabeth still made me give him a huge tip. Then she suddenly grabbed him by the hand and said to Lucy and me "My room, more drinks. Marco -- you can be our barman."
So there we all were, Marco organising a steady flow of booze from his overstretched colleagues in room service, Elizabeth supplying the quality coke and me wondering what was going on. I had no trouble at all dreaming up a supporting role for Lucy in what I wanted to do, but I was starting to worry about exactly why Elizabeth had dragged a gay waiter up here.
"So who would you do it for?" I asked her.
Elizabeth smiled at me. "You mean are you the right man, Paul? Hmm. I don't really know. I suppose you're quite good looking. I might even have let you fuck me tonight. But if you want me with another girl..." She paused and glanced down at Lucy, who looked back up into her eyes "I'll need something in return."