Disclaimer: I don't like dogs, Windows laptops or Twilight. Oddly enough, I own two out of the three things I don't like. Guess which one I don't own?


It was nights like these that I had to wonder what drove humans to these clubs. Hollywood was even less appealing during the night than it was during the day. The sunshine and numerous celebrity impersonators were mere annoyances compared to the hordes of young adults, swimming in clouds of perfume, alcohol and pheromones, on the prowl. However, it made for the most opportune feeding grounds; the alcohol and need for physical contact made it easier to lure a naive young lady away, with promises of love. Buy a couple of expensive drinks, flash a wad of large-denomination bills and keys to an expensive car and you were in. It didn't matter the city, or the country for that matter.

Women were so predictable.

The night was half over; it was already 11:30 and I had seen few, if any prospects. Even if I was prowling the clubs like a creep, looking for women to feast upon, I wasn't one to say no to a quick roll in the hay before I made my move. And as such, I liked my women young, supple and pretty.

Too bad there's nothing but a bunch of "butter faces" in the crowd to -hold on."

As clichéd as it sounds, it was like something out of a movie. The DJ, just another one of those southern California hipsters that fancied himself an artist, was slowing the mix down as the crowd parted—and the best prospect I had seen all night stepped in.

She was about 5'6" give or take a couple of inches, standing there surveying the scene. Her dress, if it could be called that, was a mid-thigh, tight black shift-dress, belted at the middle and paired with the stilettos that brought her to her current stature.

She settled herself down onto the barstool, effortlessly arranging herself to present to the most appealing picture. As she crossed her legs, the music picked up as did activity in the club, although the lust level did spike. I caught several guys giving her the once over, and I snorted to myself. They had no chance, unless they were into necrophilia, because I had found my meal for the night.

And damn, that girl did appeal. Legs for days, skin made of ivory and shoulder length mahogany curls; she was the anti-California girl for sure. Lavender and freesia wafted across the bar, along with the natural sugary-sweetness of her venom, cutting through the sweat and alcohol in the air.

Wait, what?

I sniffed the air cautiously, and it hit me again. The sweetness only associated with venom; it set my teeth on edge. No dinner for me tonight. But still, she was damn good looking, and maybe I could make a new acquaintance in a town where my kind was non-existent.

I crossed the club slowly, eyeing the beauty and planning my strategy. I skirted the edge of the dance floor of the main room, headed toward the bar.


"Hey, you're cu-hic-cuteeee." I flinched and pulled out of the grasp of the girl, but her nails snagged on my sleeve. I looked down at the offending hand; the nails were bright pink and adorned with crystals and a rather elaborate Hello Kitty design that looked nearly impossible to function with, before following the arm up to its owner.

She was drunk, that much was obvious. She reeked of tequila and pot, her eyes blurred and bloodshot. Had she not been wasted out of her mind, she may have been marginally appealing. Blonde-haired and blue eyed, bright red lipstick and heavy eye make-up; a bit too done up, but still cute.

"Let's dance!" She slurred and before I could protest, she turned and pressed against me, tugging on my hand and pressing it against her hip. She ground against me without rhythm, giggling. Lust flared up as she pressed against my body and I stood still, holding my breath to fend off her unappealing scent, but unwilling to move as I was unsure what her next move would be.

It was a few minutes before a small girl appeared through the mass of writhing bodies and caught onto the blonde's hand, scowling.

"Dammit, Jessica! We can't take you anywhere!" Her friend fairly snarled, looking up and catching my eye. Her own eyes widened slightly and fear coursed through her as she dragged her friend away, throwing glances over her shoulder.

"Bye, gorgeousssh!" Jessica slurred as her friend pulled her away, still giggling.

I smirked, knowing she was confused and unsure whether my eyes were actually a dark red color, if I was wearing contacts, or if it was the drugs and alcohol along with the flashing lights wreaking havoc on her mind.

Shaking my head, I smoothed the front of my shirt and sauntered over to the bar, leaning against the open stretch of bar to her left next to the beauty, who was studiously ignoring the admirers around her.

"Can I buy you a drink?" I asked, dropping my voice a couple of octaves into a sensual near-purr, knowing full well her answer. I gently upped the lust in the air, whispering very nearly into her ear.

"No, thank you." She replied, not turning around. I smirked; if this was the game she wanted to play, I was willing to play it right back.

"No, really, I insist, let me buy you a drink." I persisted, placing a hand on her arm. She spun around on her barstool, anger flaring in her golden eyes.

Golden? What the FUCK?

We both drew away immediately, a hiss escaping her lips.

"What the fuck are you?" I snarled, stepping back.

"Same thing as you, jackass!" She snapped in response, leaping to her feet and tensing.

"Not with eyes like those." I said, ready to fend off an attack at any moment. The beauty smirked humorlessly and her eyes sparkled with mirth.

"Ah, another uncultured human-eater." She tossed her hair, and it hit me. The scent to her held just the tiniest tang of bitterness that generally didn't cling to humans. "You know, not all of us" she stressed the word, "eat innocents."

She held out her hand, all tenseness gone from her frame. "I'm Bella Swan-Cullen."

Oh, fuck me.

I flinched at recognition of the name; many years ago I had tried and failed at living with the illustrious Cullen clan, one of two known "vegetarian" clans in the world.

"Jasper Hale." I replied lowly, shaking her hand, and she cocked her head and smirked.

"Jasper? Oh, the stories I've heard." Bella threw her head back and laughed; unlike the bell-like tone of her voice the laugh was a rich, throaty sound that sent shivers up and down my spine. We both fell into silence.

"Well," I said after a few seconds. "This isn't awkward at all."

Her lip curled in response.

I knew right then that I would be in for one hell of a night.


Well, this is the first Twilight fanfiction I've written in a long while. In case you didn't guess, this is AU, and our sexy vampire creeping the nights is none other than Jasper Hale. Yum. In any case, this is going to be a two-shot, and here's part one of part two. Story idea and title are taken from The White Tie Affair song "Allow me to introduce myself…Mr. Right."

I'm not a fan of the Twilight series, but I have read the books and as such I enjoy taking the characters and manipulating them to fit my own ideas.

Also, for some reason or another, line breaks aren't showing up in the story…sorry!

Part two should be up by Saturday night or so! Be on the lookout for it. Constructive criticism is welcome, flames will be used to toast my marshmallows, kthxbai :D.