When No Stopped Meaning No

"House, please, stop." Cuddy pushed her employee away from her when she felt his hands dip dangerously close to the buttons of her office pants. It was late. Maybe two in the morning. The clinic had to close its doors later than usual due to an outbreak of chickenpox in the nearby elementary school. After her eleven hour shift, she'd had just about enough of nagging, whining kids and didn't want to now deal with House. "Rachel's nanny has school in the morning."

"She can stay a little longer." He responded and placed his hands on her hips, this time holding her steady where she sat on her wooden desk. The lobby was darkened and the blinds to her office closed. "Come on Cuddles." He let his right hand move across her taught stomach and down towards the crux of her thighs once more. This got the hospital administrator to hitch a breath in her throat and tilt her head forward so she could watch him pull the two circular black plastic closures through the fabric.

In the dim light it was hard to make out the color of his boss's undergarments as he began to push down the fabric surrounding her waist and hips. Red. He knew they were red. He didn't allow her to wear anything else. "House…" Cuddy protested once more and grabbed for the peeling edges of her trousers. "I'm not in the mood." He didn't move his hands from where they held her clothing despite her efforts to pry them off.

"I am." He responded simply. In a heartbeat, he took his left hand and pressed it to the woman's chest with enough force to bend her backwards on top of her desk. As she landed a stack of papers blew off the surface, as if to make space for her.

"House, I'm not kidding." She found herself pressing her hands to his chest; he was now leaning over her in an almost menacing posture. Actually, he was starting to scare her. When had no stopped meaning no?

The man watched the twinge of panic encompass the woman's features. "Neither am I." With the hand still on her pants, he pushed them roughly downward. It was a very awkward angle as she was only horizontal from her backside up. Never the less, within moments he had her exposed; her pants now bunched around her knees, trapping them together.

She was in shock. Even if he hadn't covered her mouth with one of his large hands, she wouldn't have known what to say. His body wasn't pressed completely to hers, yet she felt paralyzed. Was this really happening? His finger parting her was all the confirmation she needed. He was going to rape her, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.