"If you had any decency at all you would at least turn around, House." Cameron slipped the buttons out of their holding on her gray tweed vest leaving her in a white cotton shirt. She dared a look up into his still water eyes and watched him calmly waiting for her to undress. Huffing out a little sound of frustration she tried once again, "House. You're not even supposed to be in here since that sexual harassment incident with Dr. Ramses."
House seemed quite unimpressed by her speech and took his usual dry tone, "Firstly, I do have decency. It's buried deep inside of me next to my compassion and it's going to take a little more than a glance at your naked back to get my shovel out." She rolled her eyes figuring a response would be futile at this point, she undid a button on her blouse and then another. House watched with rapt attention examining her with the patience he would display to one of his medical puzzles.

"And secondly?" She prompted, unaware that he was staring so fixedly at the creamy flesh of her collarbone and the shadow playing in the hollow as she reached in her locker for her pink scrubs.

House cleared his throat thinking a reaction like this was proof that his special candy dosage had been sorely lacking, he fumbled into his pocket popping a pill into his mouth and swallowing. "Secondly, if I was sexually harassing you... my dear, you would know it." But would Cameron, he wondered. For all of her marriage, and relationships she seemed so innocent and unaware of her own appeal.

"What?" she replied caustically while drawing her shirt off her petite torso, "you mean the sight of my back isn't enough to drive men wild with sexual impulses?"

For House it seemed as if time stood still, there was only her and her moon glazed skin. So touchable, and so untouchable. A moral dilemma wrapped in complications standing under a bad omen. The desire was real enough for him. Like a tangible thing he could carry in his pocket, no dirty pun intended. His brain wasn't even functioning well enough for his autopilot sarcasm. Her subtle curves all but begging for the knowledge of his hands, his mouth. He took a step forward, quite unwillingly and as soon as he did the scrub shirt was back on. His sanity had returned and she was no longer Allison Cameron, just Cameron. Just one of his ducklings ripe for the medical jargon he could ramble off in his sleep. But still, that ache insisted that she was ripe and that that was not all she was ripe for.

He rolled his eyes at her, "Oh, 'fraid not kiddo." He laid a folder on the bench advising her to read it and left the room as quietly as he entered. Most men he was sure couldn't appreciate the sight of her bare back, the play of birthmark constellations at the base her her spines, the dimples peeking out for the loose pink cotton pants, and the slight tease of the hips flowing up into her tiny waist. No, most men couldn't appreciate Cameron at all.

But he wasn't most men.