"I want you to take off that dress." he isn't coy. Why should he be? Besides the money he's spending, her and he have been in each others company often enough not to pretend. The others have all flipped on their leisure and even if her company is pleasant he wants the same.
Maybe it is the wine - the sweetness of which is no longer tasted. Now that he is considerably into his cups, it slips down easier than water and he wants more of everything. More wine. More food. More heat. More her.
or
Maybe it is the hour, the moment between too tired and not tired enough has ebbed and flowed like the moon gaze she throws at him as she fills her cup. In the flickering gas lamps the liquid looks black and deadly. "We can drink after. Come here..." he hears the footsteps too but only barely. He is enticed, seduced and nothing else matters but getting her closer. "I want to touch your skin."