"Kittens," Wilson shouted in the quiet of his luxury car. "Insane, delusional dogooder. Kittens are going to fix House. Kittens!" Banging his hand on the steering wheel for emphasis, he caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror and was irrationally ashamed of his flushed skin and solitary rant.
"Insanity i is /i contagious," he muttered as he turned neatly into the strip mall that housed the nearest pet supply store.
"And that's the grand tour, Dr. Raffenbraun," the vet tech cheerfully announced.
"You don't have too many animals here, I'm surprised," Belle mused, crouching down to play with the small puppy who was earnestly trying to wriggle out of the kennel to get to her.
"We just had a great adoption drive last week and placed over fifty percent of our animals."
"Well, what's this little guy's story?" she asked, smiling as she managed to scratch the puppy's ears, sending him into paroxysms of joy.
"Just came in a few days ago - horrible abuse case. All of his siblings and his mother died within hours of getting here. He's a lucky fellow," the tech said, shaking her head at the memory.
Belle's generous mouth softened in sorrow. "That's awful. He's all alone," she whispered.
"You'll want to get used to heartbreak here," she said with resigned pragmatism, starting to walk away.
"Not with this one," Belle said determinedly, standing abruptly. "What do I need to do to adopt him?"
"Oh, Dr. Raffenbraun, I know this is your first time heading up a Humane Society, but you'll end up arrested as a hoarder if you bring home every stray you fall in love with here."
"I promise I won't," Belle chuckled. "Anyway, he's actually going to be a gift for a... friend. Do we have any carriers around here?"
"New kitten?" the check-out clerk smiled flirtatiously.
"Two actually," Wilson said with a smile. "Have I forgotten anything?"
The clerk took a long look at the generous assortment of supplies that included kitten food, litter, a litter box, carriers, collars, bells, scratch tree, catnip and just about every toy they had in the cat section. "I think you might be okay," she said with a laugh.
"I guess, well, I erred on the side of caution," Wilson said with a sheepish grin.
"Yep, the only thing you don't have is a how-to book," she smiled, picking up a copy of i Cats for Dummies /i from the display rack.
Wilson took it from her and looked at it consideringly. Placing it back down deliberately, he ducked his head and smiled. "I've always learned better from personal instruction rather than books."
Grinning widely, she nodded. "I'm off in 15 minutes."
"I'll be waiting in the parking lot," Wilson said, handing her his credit card. "Do you like Italian?"
"Insanity is contagious," Cuddy muttered to herself she approached House's place, holding a plastic container in one hand and lab results in another. "I should be committed." Approaching the door, she could faintly hear a piano which broke off abruptly as she knocked. After a few minutes went by, she tapped her foot impatiently & knocked again. "I know you're in there, House. Open up." She heard a shouted "go away" through the door and sighed. "I've got your lab results," she yelled in a sing-song voice. "And the power to add clinic hours to your schedule."
"Miserable bitch," House snarled, opening the door. He grabbed the papers from her & tried to slam the door in her face. Quickly, she blocked it with the makeshift coffin, and took advantage of his surprise to force her way inside.
"Don't you want to bury your beloved pet in the back yard or something?" she asked with an acid tone.
"He did mean something to me, you know," House said in a quiet voice grabbing the container from her.
Cuddy felt a pang of guilt, but still narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "I'm sorry you lost your pet, House, but that doesn't even begin to excuse your gross misuse of lab resources. I tried to stop the tests, but was too late. The costs will be coming out of your pay."
"You're turning into a mean, bitter woman you know," House grouched. "When was the last time you got laid?"
Cuddy arched an eyebrow. "None of your business and I certainly didn't have to pay for it."
"I imagine not," House drawled, deliberately looking her up and down, then settling his gaze on her breasts. "I bet you could even charge for it."
"You wouldn't be able to afford me," Cuddy snorted, then crossed the room to the coffee table, gesturing at the whiskey. "You having a wake?" Spying his glass on top of the piano she grabbed it & poured a generous finger before taking a long drink.
"That's my glass," House whined.
"You shouldn't drink alone," she shrugged and sat down. "And I figured you wouldn't get me a glass, but you'll get yourself another one."
Glaring, House grabbed the bottle & swigged from it.
"Classy."
House belched, then grinned proudly as Cuddy rolled her eyes. She was amazed anew at just how the bitter, angry man could so closely resemble a young boy in unguarded moments. That, combined with his brilliant mind, quick wit, stunning blue eyes, and gravelly voice formed a dangerous, nearly irresistable package. Cuddy was careful to keep her walls up around him, knowing how easily she could fall for him.
"So did you look at this?" House waved the lab results and sat down and began looking through them.
"No, House, I can't say I was particularly concerned or interested." He ignored her, now engrossed in the results. Cuddy allowed herself a small sigh of relief. She'd be worried by his odder than usual behavior earlier, and was happy to see that he seemed as fine as he ever was.
"Definitely cancer," he finally said, throwing the tests to the table.
Cuddy nodded, then stood up, smoothing her suit. "Again, great use of hospital resources. I'll see you in the clinic tomorrow."
"I might take a bereavement day."
Cuddy snorted. "I'm afraid our leave policy doesn't cover rats. Ten o'clock, in the clinic. Don't make me hunt you down."
"Ooooh, but think how much fun we could have," House said with a lascivious wink. "I'll be the naughty doctor and you'll be the stern administrator who needs to discipline me."
Cuddy rolled her eyes. "House, we play that game every day. It's hardly exciting anymore."
"Not at all?" House murmured, crowding her near the door.
Cuddy tried to ignore the sudden hitch in her breathing and put her hand firmly on the door. "Well, maybe just a little," she offered with a small smile, then quickly made her exit.
Fully aware that what she was about to do was both irresponsible and inappropriate, Belle stealthily approached her neighbor's door. Glad the pup had fallen asleep, she carefully set down the dog carrier. Frowning at the jaunty bow tied to the handle, she wondered again if she'd gone insane. Well, she'd keep an eye on the situation. Worst case scenario, the puppy would just return to the Humane Society for adoption.
Steeling her nerves, she looked around to make sure no one was watching, then ran away as fast as she could. Feeling like a delinquent 20 years younger than she was, she couldn't help laughing as she quietly closed the door behind her.
"Grand Central Station," House muttered, not looking up from the journal he was reading. "Let yourself in," he shouted, expecting Wilson and uninterested in opening the door to anyone else.
A long silence followed his shout, and he found himself staring at the door. About to shrug it off, he suddenly heard a high-pitched yelp and found himself walking to the door, his curiosity getting the better of him. Opening the door, he stared at the pet carrier in shock. Looking suspiciously up and down his street, he expected Cameron to jump up from behind a car at any moment. When no one appeared, he gingerly picked it up and brought it inside.
Crouching on the floor, he peered into the barred door, his surprise & curiosity increasing as he saw the small, wriggling puppy, the small bag of dog food, and a couple toys. Cursing Cameron's name loudly, he felt a sharp pang of guilt when the puppy whimpered and cowered away from the door.
"Sorry, fella, it's not your fault," House said softly, opening the cage door and offering his hand for sniffing. The puppy immediately forgot his fear, and ran forward, enthusiastically licking House's hand before running out and skidding to an ungraceful stop on the carpet. House gently lifted one of his oversized paws and whistled. "You're going to be big." The pup immediately rolled over, offering his stomach & surprised a small laugh from House, who spent long minutes gently petting him.
Finally removing his hand, he stood and began looking around for his phone. The puppy followed him, cheerfully tripping over House's feet as he tried to jump up against his legs. Finding the phone, House scooped the puppy up into his lap as he sat down to call Cameron.
"Did you steal drugs from another patient?" he growled as soon as she answered.
"Wh-what are you talking about?" she asked tentatively, aiming for suprise but instead sounding guiltier than hell.
"A puppy? Have you lost your mind?"
"A puppy?" Cameron repeated, all guilt leaving her voice, replaced by honest shock.
Acknowledging the abrupt change, House stared at the pup, honestly puzzled. "Okay, so you're not responsible for this, but you're obviously guilty of something. What?"
"Nothing," Cameron insisted unconvincingly, wincing at what a miserable liar she was.
"I'll find out tomorrow," he said with an annoyed sigh and hung up on her. "So where did you come from?" The puppy was clearly a mutt, but an attractive one: short brown hair, a black muzzle and black-tipped ears. He had a labrador's floppy, silky ears, but the mournful eyes of a hound. His long tail whipped back and forth at a frantic pace as he struggled to jump up and lick House's face.
Picking up the phone again, House hit speed dial for Wilson, quickly becoming annoyed when his friend didn't answer. "What am I going to do with you?" he asked, gently scratching behind his ears. The pup gave a strong yelp, then wriggled ecstatically when a successful lunge allowed him to briefly lick House's chin.
"Well, we'll figure it out tomorrow," House said. "I need to get to bed." Holding the puppy, he headed towards the cage, then abruptly switched direction, softly cursing himself for a sentimental fool. "You piss on my bed and I'll beat you with my cane," he warned as he headed down the hall.
Driving away from Beth's apartment, Wilson found himself whistling cheerfully. Guilt-free encounters were a significant silver lining to his recent divorce. Even hearing a plaintive meow from the back seat couldn't wreck his good mood. He'd bring the kittens to House, they'd have a good laugh at Cameron's expense, then drop them off at the Humane Society.
Thrilled and surprised to find a spot directly in front of House's townhouse, Wilson frowned at the dark windows. More often than not, House seemed to be awake no matter what time Wilson dropped by. Not wanting to wake his friend if he was actually sleeping, he unlocked and opened the door quietly, carefully setting down the carrier and bags of supplies.
Only turning on one soft light near the piano, he rummaged in the bag for the litter box and hastily set it up, then carried a water bowl to the kitchen and filled it up. Deciding that was all he needed to do for the night, he let the kittens out of the carrier and showed them the litter box.
He kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the couch, pulling down the warm throw blanket. Despite being exhausted, he couldn't help watch the kittens' playful antics with affectionate amusement. They really were adorable. Just as he was about to drift off, he was woken by insistent mewling. Both kittens were sitting on the floor staring up at him demandingly. With a sigh, Wilson reached down and scooped them up. "I'm only allowing this because I don't want you to wake up House," Wilson said sternly, then chuckled at their skeptical expressions. The cats curled up happily on his chest, and he finally fell asleep to their rhythmic purrs.
Belle kept glancing over at her new neighbor's house with curiosity. He certainly went to bed early, the house was already dark.
She wondered again what she'd gotten herself, and the puppy, into. She hadn't been watching when he opened the door and took in the carrier, afraid that if he spotted her he would suspect her. She had spent a few hours inside, unpacking, and while she was nowhere near done she had managed to uncover her wineglasses, and now poured herself a nice glass of pinot grigio. Pushing a few boxes out of the way, she collapsed into her recliner. The only light was from the fixture over the dining room table and she sat back, looking out the bay window onto the street.
Belle stretched and was just thinking of getting to bed herself when she saw a sensible Volvo pull up outside. It was parked right in front of her neighbor's house. She sat bolt upright when she saw a handsome dark-haired man get out of the car, with a pet carrier and a huge bag of supplies. What the…?
She stood up and walked to the window, watching all the while. The man stood outside for a moment looking up at her neighbor's house, and then took out a key and let himself in. Who's this? Belle asked herself. A friend? A pet-sitter? Did that snarling monster already have another pet besides the rat? She shook her head and couldn't believe it. She craned to get a better look at him, he seemed terribly attractive but in this light it was hard to see details. The handsome man had already disappeared inside the house.
Belle drank off the last of her wine and decided that she was done for the evening. She had to get a good night's sleep for what would be her last full day off before starting at the Princeton Humane Society. Unpacking was a big job that would simply have to continue in the evenings after her job really got underway, but she was determined to do as much as she could the next day.
She crept upstairs, fumbling a bit for the unfamiliar light switches in the dark. Finally she got to her bedroom, which had been the first place she'd done serious unpacking. Her king-size bed was all made up, and the only full drawer in her bureau had her sleep clothes in it. She pulled it out and started to reach for her old flannel sleep shirt when she noticed the filmy cream satin number just under it. She pulled that out instead.
It had been ages since she wore this to bed. Or for anything else, really, she thought to herself. There were occasional men in her life, but none that kept her interested, that engaged her brain and body on the same level. Her mother had always told her she was too smart, too confident to "catch a man." She in turn told her mother that if she had to act stupid and insecure to win a man, then she'd just skip the whole thing, thanks. Belle laughed a little to herself to think of it, and fingered the light satin, the lace over the deep décolleté, and decided the heck with it. She undressed down to her panties and tossed the creamy confection on the bed. Stepping into the master bath she brushed her teeth and her lovely hair, then she came out and slipped into the gorgeous satin number. She took an appreciative look at herself in the mirror, taking a few deep breaths to watch the effect of her heaving cleavage.
"I wonder if there's any chance that guy was my neighbor's roommate, and if he might stop by some morning to borrow a cup of sugar," she grinned. She slipped into bed and put out the light, and was soon asleep after her long moving day.
In the middle of the night, House heard a strange noise and raised himself on his elbows. The puppy, whom he was already thinking of as Maurice, was still curled up at the foot of the bed. When House sat up, the puppy looked up too.
"Did you hear something, little Mo?" he said sleepily. Then he heard it again, a distinct BONK noise from the living room. House muttered under his breath and swung his legs out of bed. Mo, excited, jumped off the bed and gave a single bark. The noises in the other room stopped, then started up again after a moment's pause.
House grabbed his cane from the foot of the bed but held it like a baseball bat as he quietly limped to the door. He put his ear to the door for a moment. Mo stood at the ready at his feet. He eased the door open, and Mo, thinking it was time for a walk, shot out the door and down the hallway. The original noises stopped and Mo gave a surprised bark. Then House heard a strange squeaking or mewing sound.
MEWING sound? thought House, what the hell…? He continued to walk slowly down the hall, still holding the cane over his shoulder, ready to bash in the head of any intruders, mewing or otherwise. As he drew closer to the living room, he heard scuffling and snuffling noises. Then he heard what was distinctly a human footstep. He raised the cane higher, preparing to turn the corner.
Suddenly a figure appeared in the hallway and House started to swing with the cane when he heard a familiar voice say, "House!" House reached out to flip on the light switch and there stood Wilson, in stocking feet.
"House, what is this dog doing here!" Wilson nearly shouted. Mo was sniffing around Wilson's ankles.
"You break into my house and wake me up and demand to know about MY dog?" House groused.
"Your dog?" Wilson was incredulous. "Since when do you have a…"
"What is THAT?" House cut him off. He was still staring at Wilson's feet, where a small kitten was now romping right next to Mo, jumping on Wilson's toes. It was a gray tabby and seemed quite bold and fearless around the dog.
"Well," said Wilson, glancing down at his own feet, where he spotted the kitten playing, "that's a kitten, House. You see, when cats are first born, they're actually quite small, and…"
"I KNOW IT'S A KITTEN!" exclaimed House. "What is it doing in my home?"
"Apparently, playing with the dog I didn't know you had. This little guy's sister is around here somewhere…"
"TWO kittens? What possessed you to break into my home with two kittens?" House gesticulated with his cane and nearly dislodged a picture hanging on the wall.
"One, I didn't break into your house, I used a key," Wilson ticked off on his fingers, "Two, Cameron's the one who supplied the kittens, not me. She dumped them on me when she decided that your having a pet rat somehow signaled a level of humanity that she had not yet plumbed. Three," Wilson grinned, "did you realize how much women dig men with pets?"
House raised an eyebrow at his friend. "Used the kittens for nefarious purposes, eh? Poor things. And I should have known Cameron would have been behind this. She sounded guilty about something when I called."
"Why were you calling Cameron?"
"Because I was sure it was her who left the dog on my doorstep!"
"So that's where it came from."
House nodded and continued past Wilson towards the kitchen. If he was awake, he might as well get a snack. Mo traipsed after him with the kitten on his tail. House noted that a small calico kitten was licking its paws daintily on the blanket Wilson had clearly been sleeping under.
"Want anything?" House asked with his head in the fridge.
"I'll just get a water," Wilson answered, grabbing a glass and taking it to the sink.
"Help yourself," House muttered, coming up with a plate of leftovers and a can of soda. He set these on the counter and looked down at the kitten playing with the heat register on the floor. He paused, then brought out a jug of milk. He poured some on a saucer and set it down for the kitten.
"Oh, Beth says cats this age can be lactose intolerant, so you might want to watch their milk intake," Wilson noted, as the calico wandered into the kitchen and ran over to join her brother at the dish.
"Beth?" House said in a mocking tone.
"I tell you, I had no idea how much I could work the pet angle before now," Wilson grinned.
"Why don't you keep the damn kittens?"
"How about I swap you the kittens for the puppy? You can take a puppy for walks, show him off easier than kittens."
"Oh you dog," grinned House. He made his way over to the couch and sat to watch Mo playing with the edge of the blanket.
"That's me," Wilson sat back on the other end of the couch. "So. Where do you think the dog came from, really? I can personally vouch that the only pets Cameron procured for you are Pip and Loony."
"You already named them?" House asked.
"What are you calling the dog, House?"
"Mo," House muttered. Wilson nodded, satisfied. "At any rate," House continued, "I guess tomorrow I'll ask the new neighbor if she saw anything. She must have been home with the moving van most of the day."
"New neighbor, eh?" Wilson asked.
"Yep. Ought to keep her away from you, it's safe money she'd give your 'Beth' a run for her money."
"Nice-looking?" Wilson asked.
"With an ass that won't quit," noted House.
"Maybe in the morning," Wilson said, leaning back, "I'll go ask her if she saw anything."
Cuddy didn't know if House would show up the next morning, and she certainly didn't think he'd be on time. Her shock was huge, therefore, when she saw him on his way into the clinic at 9:45. The shock came with a little thrill of delight when she saw that he was wearing the leather jacket today.
"Dr. House!" she called as she came out of her office toward the clinic doors, on a path to intercept him. He paused to wait for her. What the…?
"Dr. Cuddy," House said with a smile.
"Are you feeling all right?" Cuddy asked.
"I might be…unless of course you want to take my temperature," House leaned into her a little with brows raised.
"Dr. House!"
"DOCTOR Cuddy, I'm sure you can see that I'm on my way to clinic hours," House said in a mock-sweet voice. His eyes slipped down to the pleasing view her caramel-colored blouse afforded. "You wouldn't want me to miss any of my time, would you? Because if you need me for a private consultation, I'm sure I can leave this parade of the walking mouth-breathers behind for a few minutes."
Cuddy rolled her eyes. "I just thought I was seeing things, House. You're here early."
"Yeah," House said as he pushed his way through the clinic doors, "the damn dog woke me up." He walked in and spoke to the nurse at the desk, taking a file from her.
Cuddy stood and stared. "The dog?"
Cameron was dreading seeing House. The team wasn't expecting him until noon, after his office hours. They didn't have an active patient, as the one Foreman had tried to bring in the previous afternoon had decided to go to another hospital when her case got bumped away from House's team. Cuddy had hand-delivered the rat's test results to House and the ducklings weren't expecting to have to deal with that "case" anymore either.
Did Wilson already take him the kittens? And what was this about a puppy? Would House think she was behind them both? And who on earth gave him a puppy? That would surely be too much work for House. But what if he liked the puppy better than the kittens? What if he decided to just give them away? What if he…
"Good morning, brain trust," said House as he walked in the door.
Foreman and Chase exchanged a look. House sounded…cheery.
"Good…morning, um," Cameron started.
"Cameron, you're on eraser-clapping duty."
"I just wanted to…"
"I'm serious. These things are filthy. Just smear the markers around. Please clean them." House set down his briefcase on the table. He gave her a look, and she jumped up to go clean them out.
House looked at Foreman and Chase once Cameron was gone. "Did either of you know anything about the kittens?" he demanded.
"Kittens?" said Foreman.
"They're quite small cats," noted Chase.
"Really!" House gasped in a pretend-shocked tone. "I was certain they were a new type of fungus! No, I said the kittens, specifically the ones Cameron hoodwinked Wilson into bringing to my house."
"Is this some sort of follow-up on the rat thing?" Foreman asked.
"Cameron brought you kittens?" asked Chase. "As what, a snack?"
"You'd have to ask her," House said. "Now, however, you can research low-cost spay and neuter programs for me."
Chase looked blank.
"Go on," House nodded, "at least I didn't make you clean the erasers."
Wilson had woken that morning early, along with House, when Mo started barking like crazy. They barely got him out back in time, but at least he didn't mess in the house. He made a point of showing House where all Pip and Loony's supplies were, noting that House seemed in a better mood than Wilson had seen him in for months. House seemed especially pleased with the fancy automatic litter box that Wilson had procured for the kittens.
In fact he was in such a good mood that he went to work early, saying he was going to try to leave early to get back to let Mo out mid-afternoon. Wilson knew his schedule was clear until afternoon and no one had paged him overnight, so he decided to hang out at House's for a little while. Julie had taken the house in the divorce, and Wilson's bachelor pad was small and had a very inadequate television compared to House's place.
When Dr. Phil came on Wilson stretched and got up. He ought to head back to his place to shower and change. He snapped off the TV and let himself out, after stopping to pet the kittens and puppy goodbye. As he walked out to his Volvo he glanced over at the next-door neighbor's place. He saw movement through the big bay window and remembered House's description. Grinning to himself, he figured it couldn't hurt to ask if she had seen anything. The puppy was quite a mystery, after all.
Wilson walked over to the front door and rang the bell. Inside, Belle was shocked. She had slept late and was just making coffee. Who could be at the door? Weren't most people at work by now? It was nearly 11 a.m. Oh man, she thought as she walked to the door, I hope it's not the Jehovah's Witnesses already.
Belle realized too late that she was still wearing her lacy satin number from the night before. She pulled the door open a few inches and peered out.
"Hello, I'm James Wilson, a friend of Greg House," said the drop-dead gorgeous man at her front door. This was the dark-haired stranger she'd seen the night before! Up close, he was even better. The deep pools of his dark brown eyes made her feel a little weak.
"Who?" she said. NICE, Belle, she thought, way to turn on the charm! "Who?" Duh!
"Of course he didn't introduce himself. It really is highly likely he was raised by wolves. Gimp wolves. Greg House is your neighbor," Wilson went on, "surly fellow, motorcycle, pronounced limp?" He craned his neck a little, unable to see much of this woman House had spoken so highly of. How could he verify she had an ass that wouldn't quit if he couldn't see it?
"Yes, him I remember. And I suppose the gimp-wolves angle does explain why he didn't introduce himself." She smiled warmly and opened the door a little wider, allowing Wilson a glimpse of legs and the curve of her breast taut against the clinging satin. The view was excellent.
"I'm sorry, he didn't get your name either, Ms…?" Wilson put on his most charming smile.
"Dr. Belle Raffenbraun," Belle said, putting a hand out, which Wilson shook eagerly.
"Doctor?" he asked. "I'm in oncology myself, may I ask what your specialty is?"
"Oh," she laughed a little, and her laugh was like the soft chime of a delicate silver bell, "a little bit of everything. Actually I'm a veterinarian."
"A vet, really?" Wilson's eyes lit up, and Belle nearly gasped. She suddenly remembered the view she was giving this handsome doctor and flushed a little bit.
"Yes, I came here to head up Princeton's Humane Society."
"You might be able to help Greg out then," Wilson noted, stepping a little closer to the front door. God, she had a mole on her left breast, just above the lace. He felt like he could watch it move with her breathing all day. "He's recently come into some unexpected pets. Actually," Wilson refocused, "I wanted to ask if you saw anything unusual yesterday. Someone dropped a puppy off on Greg's porch and apparently just ran away. You wouldn't have seen a kid around, maybe it was some kind of practical joke?"
Belle was glad she was already a little flushed so that James couldn't see her new blush. "No," she said, in a remarkably normal-sounding voice. She was sure something would give her away, though. "I'm afraid I was pretty focused on unpacking yesterday, I didn't notice anything on the porch next door." Did that sound plausible? Did her voice quiver? She was afraid she was going to burst out laughing and give away the whole thing.
Wilson nodded in an understanding way. "That makes sense," he said. "Well, thanks anyway. I guess it's possible that you might see him show up with a spare pet or three at that society of yours. Greg House," he noted knowingly, "is not exactly what you'd call a pet person."
"He said yesterday his rat had just died!"
"Oh, he mentioned that, did he?" Wilson smiled. "That was a bit of an accidental adoption. Plus at least rats stay in cages."
Belle nodded. She wondered how the poor dog was doing. She smiled at her neighbor's lovely friend, and said, "Well, rats do make fine pets also. But I'll be happy to help if your friend needs to relocate an animal, or if he has any questions."
Wilson nodded too, and then reached into his pocket. "Thanks again," he said, and then handed her his business card. "Look, I'm sorry if Greg was rotten to you yesterday. He's like that to everyone. But you're new to town and deserve something a little more welcoming. I'd love to show you around a little."
Belle accepted the card and her violet eyes sparkled. "That's downright neighborly of you," she said in a husky tone, "and you're not even my neighbor." She hoped she sounded cool and sexy, in her own head she was nervously trying to remember where her own business cards were. In a fit of sudden inspiration, she said, "Dr. Wilson, may I borrow a pen?"
Wilson had plenty, and pulled one out of a jacket pocket. He handed it to her and was surprised and excited when she took it and then grabbed his hand. "My cards aren't handy," she gave him a sly glance, "but here's my number." She wrote it on his palm, feeling seventeen and giddy and ridiculous.
"Thank you," Wilson said slowly, accepting his hand and his pen. He felt like he was in high school. It was impossible in his line of work, but he never wanted to wash his hand again.
Belle smiled in what she hoped was a coquettish manner, and shut the door gently. Wilson stepped down from her front porch, his mind happily drifting. He hadn't been able to verify her "ass that wouldn't quit," but overall the encounter had been satisfying nonetheless.
Belle sighed and slumped against the door as he walked away. She was deliriously happy as she clutched his card, until it dawned on her: she had written down her old Wisconsin number. She didn't even have her new one memorized yet.
"DAMMIT!" she yelled as she heard his Volvo take off down the block.