Chapter 50
Fifteen minutes later they walked out of Sephora to find…House gone. They looked everywhere, scanning the crowds, ignoring the looks of pity at Romoly and the looks of interest to both women. House was nowhere to be seen. Romoly had a sudden pain in her stomach, very similar to that churning sensation one has just before they jump off a cliff attached to a bungee cord. Or the sensation one gets when the school bully is marching in your direction, hands fisted at both sides, fire shooting from their eyes as they're looking to beat the living crap out of you. Yeah….it was like that.
"Diana, I think we're in deep trouble," Romoly muttered when the churning subsided a bit…but only a bit.
"Umm…" she slowly said and looked down at the terrified woman in the wheelchair. "What do we do now?"
"There's no WE about this; it's me. I'm the one up shit creek without a paddle. I brought this onto myself; I'M the one who needs to take it like a woman. You better take me home; I might as well get this over with as soon as possible."
HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…
They pulled up to the apartment building but didn't see House's car. Looking around, Diana got out and went around to the back seat to help Romoly out.
When they got inside the apartment building Romoly let herself into the apartment with the key House gave her when she moved in. The apartment was quiet…too quiet.
But it smelled amazing, like someone had been cooking. Or at the very least reheating.
That couldn't be right…unless…
"Are you sure everything's ok?" Diana asked, apprehension written all over her face as she looked down at Romoly.
"Of course it's ok; why wouldn't it be?" The familiar gruff voice interrupted the stillness of the apartment and knocked both women back in shock. House had come from the direction of the kitchen, wearing a tea towel on his shoulder and an apron around his waist. And Romoly thought she'd fallen into a magic porthole, ending up in the Twilight Zone. "Oh and you're just in time for lunch; we're having barbecue ribs, coleslaw, potato salad and cake for dessert." He grinned massively, almost as if he'd been anxiously awaiting their arrival so they could partake in the dinner that he'd "worked so hard" to make. He wiped his hands on the towel and looked at Diana. "And is Diana going to be staying for lunch? Is that ok with her mom?" He gestured toward the phone. "If you need to call her, feel free. We have plenty of food."
Romoly finally fully understood the phrase "struck dumb"; she didn't know what he was doing but it was freaking her out nonetheless. "House, what are you doing?"
He looked completely baffled. "Why do you ask that? What does it look like I'm doing? I made lunch. Come on; you're growing women and the ribs are getting cold."
Romoly slowly turned to Diana with her mouth hanging open; Diana's eyes were wide with fright. She looked at Romoly. "You know what? I forgot I've got…um…I've got…" she searched for an excuse but couldn't come up with one good enough so she said, "…I've got a, um, a THING, I need to take care of. Yeah, that's right." She looked at her naked wrist. "Oh, and would you look at the time! I'm running horribly late. I'll call you later." Throwing a backwards glance of fright at House, Diana vacated the premises as soon as she could move her feet.
"Well, wasn't THAT rude? And after all my hard work…" House tsk-tsked in shock and disapproval. He looked at Romoly. "Well…are you coming?"
She swallowed; she didn't know what was going on but she needed to talk with the only person that could provide the answers to this mystery. First she needed to get away long enough to telephone the correct party. Sitting up straighter Romoly smiled and nodded. "Yeah but shouldn't I wash up and use the toilet before coming to lunch?"
House nodded with certainty. "Of course." Romoly turned the wheelchair toward the hallway leading to the bathroom, with House's voice following behind… "And make sure to use SOAP this time young lady; water alone won't get your hands clean you know."
"Yes Mom!" Romoly shouted as she rolled to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Pulling herself onto the toilet as quickly as she could, she did her business and got back in the chair. Starting the water, she gave a preliminary washing before quickly pulling out her cellphone and dialing.
"Hello?"
"James! Make this quick: what does it mean when House…" and she explained everything that transpired. When she was finished he gasped, almost as if holding in a chuckle. She placed the phone on her shoulder and began scrubbing her hands, just like House told her. "So?"
"It's all a part of his "master plan"; he's switching gender roles. You pulled a male prank; he "cooks" lunch, thereby doing something female in retaliation. He's got a bigger plan in mind; this gender reversal is simply the foreplay, so to speak." BANG, BANG! House was knocking on the bathroom door.
"Aren't you done in there? The potato salad is getting warm! If you wait too long, it'll go bad!"
"Did you get that?" Romoly whispered.
Truthfully Wilson was trying his hardest to hold back his laughter; he couldn't believe…yet he could…what House was doing. It was just all too much… "Yes I did. Let me ask you: do you like rough sex? If this "foreplay" is going to play out how I think it will, the sex or, in your case, the culmination of this "foreplay", is going to be rough. It's only during the "after glow" that feelings are finally settled upon. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Romoly nodded but House knocked again. "What are you doing in there? And why didn't you answer me? Are you doing something you shouldn't in there?"
Finally understanding what was happening, Romoly played along. Raising her voice above the hand washing she said, "I'm OCD when it comes to hand washing. I have three more washings to go. I'll be out there."
She heard House grumble but not say anything as the THA-THUMP footsteps left the door.
"Nice save." Wilson said. This whole thing was just too delicious; he just wished he could be there to witness it. "You'd better go; I don't want to be caught, tried and convicted of treason against Dr. Gregory House. Good luck and keep me informed; I'll help you along the way."
HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…
She was so glad she had Wilson as a source. She knew she was "cheating", or so House would say. But it was survival of the fittest in this world. And if it hadn't been for Wilson, she'd have gone insane because to say it was an interesting lunch would've been an understatement. Romoly actually thought that Rod Serling was narrating through their dinner. THAT'S how weird the entire experience was.
Still…just because she was shocked out of her socks didn't mean she didn't go along with it either. Remember, it was survival of the fittest…
After finishing with the phone call and the bathroom, Romoly rolled out to the living room, where House had set up lunch on the coffee table. She stopped in front of the coffee table and watched him apprehensively but, when he saw her, stood up from the couch and went to her. "Here…let me help you to the couch." At least he'd taken off that stupid apron, she thought, still wondering if House had been abducted by aliens and his body switched.
She looked at him silently as she lifted her arms for him to lift her. He moved closer to her and, leaning down, he placed his hands on her sides, his thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts.
Without her satiny confinement, even through the tank top she felt his touch acutely and shivered involuntarily. He grinned, a sparkle in his eyes, but didn't say anything as his strong arms lifted her and helped her to the couch, fussing over her like…well…like a wife fusses over her husband. "Are you comfortable? What would you like to drink?"
"I'll take some of that moon juice you're sippin'," Romoly said, watching him limp to the kitchen. He came back carrying a beer and a glass of milk. She reached for the milk but House shook his head and handed her the beer.
"Nope…you get the beer. I need the milk for my strength."
Her eyebrow raised; she wanted to hear the logic behind this one. "Oh really? What about me? I'm a growing girl you know."
"You've had a hard day at the mall; you deserve to unwind with a beer and the remote." He "gratefully" handed her the remote. "Have at it." He looked at the meal and threw his hands up. "Oh, I forgot the bread! How can you have ribs without bread? It's just not possible." He shook his head and limped back to the kitchen.
And that was how the rest of the lunch went; House asked her if she had a good time shopping, if she'd gotten any sales. He even sounded excited, wanting to see what she bought.
And Romoly? She played up the gender-switch to the hilt: she stuffed her face; grunted instead of talked; demanded more food; turned the television to a Sylvester Stallone action picture; stuck her hand down the waistband of her miniskirt. Best of all, she had some great belches in there too.
At one point, when she was actually watching the Stallone picture, Romoly was asked by House if she wouldn't mind helping with the dishes. "Isn't that YOUR job?" Romoly asked, her eyes never leaving the lean, mean body of Rambo. "Why don't you do it?"
House stopped in front of the television, towel on his shoulder, and, with hands on hips, sighed. "Because I slave away all day at my job while YOU sit on your lazy can drinking beer and flipping through the television. All you do is sit around being grumpy. I can't take any more of this."
Romoly, knowing he was baiting her, decided to give him what he wanted: she'd get a bit peeved. She sputtered, pretending to get upset. "But I'm recuperating; I can't work right now."
House shook his head; he was going to go in for the kill. "While we're here, since we NEVER talk anymore…" House was overly dramatic and even through in a sniffle there. She had to say, he was very good at this… "…you never pick up any of your clothes…" House began ticking off things on his hand. "…you never lift a finger to help with the cleaning; you ALWAYS leave the toilet seat up. And I want more sex from you. Don't you find me desirable anymore?"
She shook her head. "Not since you've stopped shaving. How am I supposed to kiss someone who feels like a Brillo pad?"
House gasped and, with a huff, flounced out of there, leaving a smiling Romoly. Picking up the cordless on the way out, he went to the kitchen and dialed. The person on the other end answered. "Hello?"
"Mother? I'm coming home. I can't deal with living with this person anymore." He sniffled. "She's simply UNBEARABLE."
"House?" Wilson tried to make himself heard over House's sniffling. "What's going on? And why are you whining?"
