Title: The Art of Seduction

Author: Amira

Disclaimer: Characters of Gilmore Girls do not belong to me, just the plot line below.

Rating: M

Timeline: After the season 1 finale. AU from there.

Summary: Rory needs help. Something she thinks that only Tristan can offer. What was meant to be something simple, sky-rockets into something so much more. A Trory story.

Author's Note: I know that I should be concentrating on 'Leaving Normal' but when you're struck by inspiration … What can I say? The idea has probably been done before, but I think it's a first for the Trory pairing so I thought I'd give it a go. R&R plz.

The Art of Seduction

Chapter 1: The teacher and the pupil

Take me down,
down into the underground

Watch this space
I'm open to falling from grace

¸.•¨) ¸.•¨) ¸.•¨
(¸.´ ¸.•´'

Rory Gilmore stood silently by herself as she surveyed the expansive ballroom before her. She hated feeling so out of place. The room was filled with many socialites. Some dancing, but most chatting away about the latest politics, business or gossip. She grimaced as she sipped at her still full champagne flute, the sour taste stinging her tongue.

Inwardly she cursed her mother yet again. Since her recent renewed relationship with Max Medina, Lorelai had decided the perfect way to celebrate was to take a nice holiday with her man.

A nice holiday without her daughter.

Leaving Rory to reside with her grandparents for most of the summer. Which she suppose would normally be alright if it didn't involve Emily constantly dropping not so subtle hints on attending the many social functions that she and Richard were invited to.

Which explained her current presence in the large ballroom. She had finally caved, relenting on attending a charity function thrown by the DAR. She figured hopefully appeasing Emily for now she'd be given a few moments of peace to herself later on.

Normally, she would journey out to Stars Hallow, spending her days there before returning at night. But given that Lane had been sent to Korea for the summer and Dean had joined his family in a trip to Chicago, she was forced to remain in the confines of Hartford.

A soft sigh escaped her lips. Dean. Ever since they had gotten back together Rory had felt almost every emotion of a relationship. The newness had worn off quickly and they had settled into a comfortable arena. The relationship may have lacked the passionate spark but Rory liked the dependability of it all.

Except recently before Dean's departure, things had been heating up between them. Dean's hands had taken to wandering and she had managed to stop them before anything really happened. She knew that Dean wanted to move forward, but she felt too insecure and inadequate to even consider it.

They had talked about it. Once. Dean had mentioned that he'd slept with his previous girlfriend, Beth. He had assured Rory that he was willing to wait until she was ready. But Rory was self-conscious at being so inexperienced. Sex was the next logical step. And she was ready. At least she thought she was. She wanted Dean to be happy. Happy like he made her. But she was afraid if they were to … make love … she'd disappoint him some how and thus lose him all over again.

She had been to the Hartford library, reading up as much as she could on the subject, but it had failed to mollify her of her inadequacies.

Frowning at the turn her thoughts had taken her, she tentatively brought the glass flute to her lips for another sip when she paused. A tuft of blonde hair caught her eye as the body attached to it surreptitiously made its way through glass doors leading onto an outside balcony.

Tristan.

She was sure it was him. She hadn't seen him since the PJ Harvey incident, being the summer holidays and all. He was the first person she'd seen out of everyone here remotely near her age. She wondered briefly how he was, when an alarming idea skated through her mind. A good idea. A great idea.

What if he …?

Could she …?

Would he …?

As if her feet were out of her control she started making her way across the ballroom, the tails of her black cocktail dress swishing smoothly against her legs. Just as she was about to reach the glass doors, her grandmother appeared out of nowhere, pulling her to the side.

"Rory, there you are, dear." Emily beamed broadly. "Are you having a good time?"

Rory forced a smile. "Yes, Grandma. Actually, I was just about to take a bout of fresh air on the terrace. It's a bit stuffy in here."

"It is, isn't it? That Constance. I told her that it was getting stuffy in here, but obviously the woman is completely incompetent. I better find someone to fix it up." Emily chattered as she moved off, swallowed quickly by the wealthy crowd.

Rory let out a breath of relief as she neared the doors once again before quietly stepping out onto the balcony.

The cool night air over took her at once as her eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden darkness she had plunged herself in. The balcony was empty aside from Tristan's lone figure dressed smartly in a black suit, standing in the corner looking out into the gardens of the venue. Rory walked silently to the railing, standing a few feet away from him.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Rory voiced softly as she looked out into the gardens, her eyes taking in the many fountains and flowers that decorated the shrubbery.

Tristan started. He hadn't heard anyone come out to join him on the balcony. He turned his head briefly to notice that the elusive Rory Gilmore had been the one to give him his sudden unwanted company.

"Rory Gilmore, as I live and breathe. To what do I owe this extreme pleasure?" he voiced sardonically as he smirked bitterly down at her.

She sighed. She should've known that he wasn't going to make this easy. They hadn't parted well.

He raised an eyebrow at her, "Well?"

"I …" She paused, taking a breath to gather herself. "I need your help."

Tristan stared at her stunned for a moment before letting out a large rumbustious laugh.

Rory waited patiently, sipping on her flute of champagne, as his laughter finally started to die down.

Realizing she was serious, sobered up Tristan's humor faster than he would've liked.

He smiled down malevolently at her. "Oh this will be good. What could I possibly do for you? The ever so perfect Miss Rory Gilmore, who coincidentally last I heard, what was it … couldn't stand the sight of me?" He shook his head. "No … that's not right. Loathed me? Hmm, a bit closer but no dice …" He tapped a finger against his chin mockingly as if in deep thought. "Oh! Now I remember! It was hate." His voice became hard. "Hated me."

Rory stood looking back at Tristan aghast. She never thought that she had hurt him so much. That she even had the ability to hurt him. She recalled with extreme clarity the words she had uttered to Dean that fateful last day of school, but she had not meant them. She was just frustrated and annoyed with Tristan's incessant badgering, which had seemed to increase ten-fold after the Paris debacle. Compounded with Dean's unexpected arrival, it had left her breathless, confused and desperate. She would've said anything to get Dean back.

Anything.

She frowned at that thought. She hadn't been able to say she loved Dean again since that day. Had she only said it to get him back? To re-enter, the comfort of having a stable relationship? Shaking her mind of the cobwebs of doubt she had suddenly planted in her head, she focused on the situation at hand.

Tristan was just an unfortunate casualty to her desperation and frustration and now, looking upon Tristan's stiff and cold demeanour, she wished she had the ability to erase her words. To take it back. But she knew nothing could and all she could do was offer her apologies.

"Tristan …" she spoke tentatively, hesitant at his reaction. "I didn't ... I'm sor-"

Tristan spoke, holding up a hand to silence her words. "Save it, Rory. I'm not here to ease your conscience." All of sudden it was as if the fight had drained out of him. He now just looked tired and forlorn. As if he wanted her out of his presence so he could just be alone. "Just … what do you want, Rory?"

Rory bit her lip, desperate to beg for forgiveness, unsure why his opinion even mattered to her. She needed him to know the truth.

"For what it's worth, I didn't mean it. I don't hate you, Tristan," She spoke quietly.

Tristan just stared back passively, waiting expectantly. But she thought she saw a flicker of relief flit across his features. Then again it was most likely wishful thinking on her part.

Rory sighed again and took a large gulp of champagne to ease her nerves. It was now or never.

"I need your help …" Her eyes quickly surveyed the balcony to make sure no-one was in hearing ranging, even though rationally she knew that they were alone, but altogether lowered her voice considerably to a whisper. "… with sex."

His jaw dropped; whatever Tristan was expecting this was most definitely one of the last things on his mind. Dumbfounded he stared at her eyes wide, "What? I'm sorry, could you repeat that? Cause I swear I just stepped into some alternative universe where Rory Gilmore just asked me for help with sex."

Rory could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks as she flushed red, hot with embarrassment. "I … you see … I …" she all but stammered out as if that answered all his questions. Tristan just continued to look at her astounded. This had to be the single most mortifying experience of her life.

Nothing could beat it.

Nothing.

Taking in another large gulp of champagne, she attempted to use actual words that now seem to splatter from her mouth in a rush. "I think … I'm pretty sure that is … Dean wants to have sex. And I've never …" She didn't think it was possible, but her skin flushed to whole new level of red. "What I mean to say is … I don't know how and I need …" She swallowed hard. "I'd like for you to teach me."

Tristan's mind was in a whirlwind as he tried to make sense of his thoughts that had seemed to have scattered all over the place at her words. "I'm sorry? Bagboy can't help you with this?"

Rory wanted to die. She wanted to start digging that hole so she'd be in China by midnight tonight. This was beyond humiliating. "Dean … he has an ex-girlfriend from Chicago. Beth. So ... he has experience. And I … I don't know anything."

Tristan suddenly wanted to laugh; not from her lack of experience but of her naivety, "Trust me when I say that he won't care."

"But I do." She responded quickly.

Tristan silent, looked at her questioningly.

She took a deep breath in attempt to calm herself down. "I want to be able … to … please him. I want it be perfect. And for that I need to know what I'm doing. And I know that you know how to do … stuff … and you know what you … like girls to do to you … You could help me, so I know what to do with Dean."

Unsure if he should be offended or disturbed, Tristan simply asked, "Why me?"

Wow. The jerk really wasn't going to make this easy was he? He was going to make this humiliating as possible. "Well it's no secret … that you had your fair share of girls and they well talk … and they say you're the best."

Tristan struggled to fight off the large egotistical smirk that threatened to streak across his face.

"And you're the only other guy I've ever kissed. I'd feel weird asking anyone else." She corrected herself. "No, there is no one else I could ask."

Tristan couldn't believe this was happening. This had to be some weird dream or something. His perfect, innocent, Mary was asking him to teach her about sex. He ran a hand through his soft blonde hair, frankly a bit put out at the proposition. "I'm not sure what you want, Rory. Do you want me to draw you diagrams? Point out some helpful websites? Lend you some dirty movies? Or is it books that you're after? The Kama Sutra perhaps?"

What had she been thinking? This was Tristan. Of course he was going to make fun. She had been stupid to think otherwise.

"Just forget I asked Tristan," she whispered hurt as she turned to move away back into the ballroom.

Suddenly she felt a large hand snag her wrist, and gently tug at her so that she was standing closer than before to Tristan's body. She could feel the heat radiating from his body into her own. She shivered at the sensation, not daring to look up.

Tristan exhaled quietly before lifting up her chin so that their eyes were in contact with one another's. "I'm sorry. You just kinda caught me off guard. I didn't know what to think."

"And now?" Rory questioned.

Tristan knew this was a bad idea.

A really bad idea.

He wasn't sure if he'd be able to separate his emotions from this. Whatever this was going to be. Rory may have started out as a conquest, but ever since that kiss on the piano, he had started to feel things for her, things he'd never felt for a girl before. So he pursued her harder than he had with anyone before, and all he received were words of hate, shattering any hope that he may have had.

But now apparently they were words with no meaning behind them. And the one time in his life with the one girl he could possibly want more with, she was offering what he only offered to his conquests. Sex, nothing more, nothing less. And in the end she'd go back to Bagboy.

Karma, as they commonly say, is a bitch.

He wanted to tell her that sex wasn't perfect. It never was. Especially your first time. And that you should experience it with someone you care deeply about, like he never did. He wanted to utter those words, let her go back to her fairytale romance. Let her go back, above ground where she had never spoken of this to him. Not bring her down to his own personal hell.

But it wasn't that simple.

And looking down into her blue doe eyes, hesitant and unsure, feeling his heart starting to race, he knew that he'd take her in any way, shape or form he could get.

Even if it were only for a brief moment in time.

He smiled softly at her, ignoring the flitting guilt passing through his gut at the thought of poisoning her of innocence. "Alright. I'll do it."

"You will?" she queried meekly.

He nodded slightly. "Yeah. I will."

Looking over her shoulder, he noticed his father in the ballroom throwing searching glances around the room.

"I have to go." He nodded in the direction of his father. "Before my father throws a fit."

Rory nodded in understanding. "Um, so ... when should we … do this?"

"I'm going to be gone for the week." Rory looked at him in silent question. "Visiting my grandparents. I'll be back next Friday. Come by my place, Saturday afternoon. No one will be there, so we won't be disturbed."

Rory looked a bit discomfited by the idea but thought better of it. He was right. She obviously couldn't bring him back to her grandparents place. They'd ask too many questions. And the Crap Shack in Stars Hallow was completely out of the question. "Okay. That sounds good."

They both stood still, staring at each other in an uncomfortable and awkward silence. Then all of sudden Tristan bent down low and pressed his chapped lips chastely against her soft full red ones. Her scent flooded his nostrils, the brief contact sending shivers of pleasure up and down his spine.

He pulled away just as quickly before walking past Rory to the balcony glass doors.

"Wait."

He stopped, heart thudding, desperately hoping that she hadn't changed her mind and at the same time berating himself for even thinking such a thing.

Rory smiled unsurely at him. "I don't know your address."

Tristan felt the sudden tension release from his body. "It's in the book. Only DuGray in Hartford." He opened the door not before looking back. "I'll be seeing you, Rory."

Rory remained standing on the balcony, one hand loosely clutching onto her now half empty champagne flute. She shivered as a cool breeze washed over her, causing several goosebumps to form on her bare skin. Slowly she brought her free hand to her lips that were still tingling with electricity.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.