CHAPTER 7

The Pimp and the Schoolgirl

Georgetown University is the oldest Catholic university in America, founded in 1789 by Archbishop John Carroll. As America's first Catholic bishop and a strong supporter of the American Revolution, Carroll firmly believed that a Catholic institution could make a major contribution to the political, cultural, and educational life of the fledgling nation. In 1789, he acquired the deed to a plot of land overlooking the Potomac River outside the village of George-Town for the "Academy at George-Town." The school was, in the emerging tradition of American religious tolerance, to be open to "every class of citizens" and students of "every religious profession." Carroll saw Georgetown as an academically rigorous Catholic academy with a diverse student body.

I had chosen Georgetown because it was in the middle of Washington D.C. and I was considering obtaining my English degree and then entering law school. Georgetown also provided access to the Congressional Library and other literary institutions which would be of interest to me in my free time. More than anything, I chose it because in high school we went to Washington D.C. on a field trip and I spent all of my free time in Georgetown which I found quaint and bohemian. I was actually looking forward to moving into a Gewirz apartment on campus so I could be in Georgetown itself.

I loved the campus, it was a mixture of old and new. Obviously, the law school and international studies took up a large portion of the campus. I imagined myself going to law school and then working in Washington D.C. It was an exciting image.

I had already taken a full year of college credits in high school so I was starting my sophomore year academically. I had Analytical Writing, English Literature, Political Science, Shakespeare and Geography. At least I was done with my math and most of my science requirements. It was a heavy load for a first semester, but I thought I could handle it. I had spent many a night alone in high school reading Shakespeare and English literature, so I was hoping this would give me a leg up.

My teachers came on strong, as if we were all imbeciles and doomed to flunk. I was expecting this. One even gave us the, "Look to your left, look to your right. Two of you will be gone before you graduate," speech. I stood in line for two hours to buy my textbooks and almost broke my back getting them to the car. The cost of my texts alone were $343.49, an amount that, before my windfall would have been mindbending!

When I got home, I made myself a sandwich and collapsed. I had three classes on Tuesday and Thursday and two on Monday and Wednesday. Luckily, I didn't have to be to any class before 9:00 a.m. so it gave me time to get through the beltway traffic as long as I left by 8:00 a.m. Otherwise, I wouldn't make it.

Greg arrived and immediately asked, "What's for dinner?"

"Whatever you go out and get us."

He was genuinely shocked. "You didn't cook?"

"Started school, remember?"

"Undergrad is a cakewalk, wait until you get into grad school."

"I can make you a sandwich if you don't want to go out."

"Sounds good."

He followed me into the kitchen and grabbed a beer out of the frig. As he reached around my waist to pull out the drawer with the bottle opener, I turned around. We ended up facing each other and less than two inches from his body. I could smell him; he was musky and masculine. His body heat poured off of him. I must have turned red because he laughed and teased, "Maggie, you've got to stop throwing yourself at me."

"Dream on. If I wanted to rut with the pigs I'd pick one with more to offer than a scowl each morning and one who had a little more bacon he could bring home."

"Mean, mean...you are mean girl."

"Yeah and you need a shower."

His face and lips were so close, I felt every breath coming from his mouth. Grinning like a schoolboy, he wouldn't let me go. I finally grabbed his arm, lifted it up, and walked to the frig to get the mayonnaise. His blue eyes followed every step as if I was committing a crime. I spread the mayonnais and then handed him the sandwich which he took to the table to eat.

Our days passed in similar fashion for most of September and October. I was now glad to have the alone time during his 36 hour rotations since it meant that I didn't have to wipe his nose and butt; I could just study. I was pulling a B in Geography and A's in the rest of my classes. It was hard for me to believe that I was only managing a B in a silly Geography class. Despite dating Charles a couple of times, he finally stopped calling. It was apparent that he wanted someone who was more complacent. It was just my nature, but I couldn't help challenging his opinions or his facts and that drove him nuts. He wasn't as thick skinned as Greg.

"We have a Halloween party to go to. I'm going to go get my costume tomorrow, want to go with me to pick one out?" Greg asked.

"Is that the royal "we" or am I invited?"

"You're coming too. Do you want to go get your costume tomorrow with me?"

"You're pretty sure I'll go." He gave me a silly look to provoke me. It was no use fighting him. "Ok, I'll go with you."

On the way to Buffalo Breath Costume Shop, we agreed that we could pick each other's costume out within limits. Greg didn't want to go as a woman and I didn't want to go as a Playboy Bunny, one of Greg's first suggestions.

I found three costumes for Greg to try on. They were Dracula, an American Indian (which was bascially two leather flaps, one in front, one in back and a feather headdress) and the other was a pimp. It ended up that he looked the funniest in the pimp outfit and he seemed to enjoy getting into character, yelling from the dressing room that he thought it would be fun to collect hos' at the party.

I wasn't surprised to find that he had chosen the sexy school girl, sexy candy-stripper or the sexy dominatrix. I chose the school girl since I was a student and it fit the best. The outfit has a very short plaid skirt, white blouse with an academy insignia and white stockings with white garters. He was happy with our choices and claimed that I was the hottest student he ever saw.

"You can be one of my hos' and maybe I can make some money off of you."

"As long as you split it with me."

"Hell no B!tch...it's all mine. I think I'll have to take you over my knee and give the school girl a good paddling. Yeah, I think you've been naughty and you have to stay after class and polish my apple."

"Boy, you really have this pimp talk down don't you?"

"Shut up ho."

We dressed up and laughed like hell at each other as we drove to the party which was being held in a large warehouse that used to house a cigar factory. There must have been 2,000 people in costume drinking, dancing and enjoying themselves. The costumes were hilarious and some were outright amazing. I kept getting grabbed or pinched all night, but I think Greg was doing some of it. I would turn around to see who had pinched my butt and there would be no one except Greg standing off to my side. He always acted as if he had done nothing, but I just had a feeling.

I was getting drunk on Cape Codders and since I had never been drunk it was an interesting journey. Greg was tipsy but not drunk. He saw me swerve a little as I walked around. Chuckling, he put his arm around my shoulders to steady me.

"You better slow down or you're going to regret this for several days. I suggest you switch to coke for awhile. I'm not going to clean you up or hold your hair back when you drive the porcelain bus."

Grabbing his wide pimp lapels, I pursed my lips and whined, "Greggy, dance with me, come on, dance with me."

We were standing with a group of his friends including a brunette he had been hitting up all night. His friends all began to tease him, "Go on Greggy, dance with the girl, dance with her you stud muffin."

Greg grabbed me around the waist and took me out to the dance floor. Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get It On" was playing. The music slid through my body in delicious rhythms, making my hips sway and grind to the music. I grabbed Greg around the neck and rubbed my body back and forth against his. This continued for a minute until he grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back, away from him. I turned around and backed into him, continuing my bump and grind against his trousers. I loved the feel of his body and, with all the booze inside me, I was ready to jump him on the dance floor.

Sensing that I was getting carried away, he pulled me close and spoke directly into my ear so that no one else could hear, "Maggie, don't do that, it's hard on me. Just dance like you normally do. I don't want anyone to get the impression that I'm being inappropriate with you."

I turned to look into his eyes, stopped dancing, frowned and barked, "Oh dear, wouldn't want to ruin the Great Dr. House's reputation." I pushed him away and walked quickly off the dance floor. The booze was making me very dizzy;the room was hot and stuffy so I made my way outside to get some air. There was a group of guys standing and talking by the front door. One of them looked up at me and gave me spicy grin.

"Hey school girl, come and give us a few lessons."

I would have normally ignored those comments, but I was feeling very randy. "Which one of you guys knows how to give a bad girl a good paddling?" The fact that those words even came out of my mouth just shows how drunk I was.

They all sauntered up to me and volunteered. I looked at each of them and pointed to a guy in the twenties-styled gangster outfit. "You look the least likely to have a sexually transmitted disease." With that, I reached out to grab him but a man's hand yank my wrist and pulled me away from the pack.

"Hey, dude, she wants me, not you." the gangster yelled out.

"Yeah? And I want a threesome with Nicole Kidman and Kelly McGillis, but it ain't going to happen, shithead. Come on Maggie, I'll give you a paddling." Greg started dragging me away from the guys.

I pulled my wrist and tried to get away. "You aren't my Dad or my Mom or my boyfriend. I'm single, white and friggin' rich! I can do what I want."

"That would usually be true if it weren't for the fact that I'm taller, less drunk and have bigger balls than you."

"Oh come on, Gregor, let me go...please, please, I want to play."

"Play or get involved in a gang bang? You're really in over your head, Maggie May. Time to go home." When I wouldn't go with him, in one fell swoop he picked me up and threw me over his shoulders.

I waved to the pack from over his shoulder. "Good night boys."

He put me in his car and strapped me in. "Maggie, you are an easy drunk. We're going to have to put a limit on your alcohol consumption."

"We? Now who's being a mother? I was perfectly fine! I can take care of myself. You are a spoil sport, Gregory House. How am I ever going to get laid if you keep interfering with my fun?"

"I'm not here to interfere with your fun, but you better think before you pull down your knickers for every guy within a ten mile radius."

"What's good for the goose is good for the gander. Thinking doesn't seem to interfere with you screwing anything within a ten mile radius."

"Yeah, but I'm a guy and I can get away with a lot more than you in the 'screw anything you want' department.'"

"Go screw yourself!" I sneered.

"I'm pretty good in that department too." He smiled at me and I finally had to laugh.

Once home, I stumbled into the house and watched as Greg started taking off his pimp clothes. He was down to his boxers when he finally realized I was staring at him.

"What is your problem?"

"I was just thinking of the time when I walked in on you and Elizabeth Franklin screwing in the garage. You didn't hear me so I watched for a few minutes. I wasn't sure what you were doing at first. And then I heard her say, "I don't think it goes in there." I left after that."

"I remember that! It wasn't one of my finer moments of lovemaking, but I eventually got the deed done." He was standing in his boxers laughing. "Go to bed Maggie May."

I walked to my bedroom, took all of my clothes off and crawled into my nice high-count Egyptian Cotton sheets. They felt silky and sensual against my body. I laid back and thought of Greg and all those years of wanting and dreaming of him. I wanted to touch him, was desperate to be near him, so I quickly decided to go crawl in bed and snuggle up to him. Getting up in the dark, I started towards the door but stubbed my big toe on the bed leg. Jerking my foot up, I fell back, hitting my head on the dresser as I screamed out in pain,"Damn it! Damn!" A warm trickle of my own blood slid down my face. When I tried to stand up, I was wobbly, but I finally managed to get to my feet.

"What is going on?" Greg threw open the door and flipped on the dim overhead light. I'd never seen anyone go from anger to shock to a look of perplexity so fast.

I stood there in the nude, blood running down my face. I looked at him, rubbed my head, pouted and said in a little girl voice, "Owww, it hurts."

At first he acted like he was going to run away,taking a few steps towards the door, but then he stopped and turned back around. Walking over to me, he stated calmly,"You better let me look at it, you might need stitches." After grabbing a couple of tissues, he tilted my head towards him and parted my hair to look at the cut. He sighed. "I think it will stop on it's own." Greg stuck the tissue on the wound to soak up the blood.

I took a step towards him, my nude body aching for him.

He closed his eyes and whispered, "Maggie May, no."

I slipped my arms up around his neck and pulled him down to give him a kiss. At first he wouldn't respond, but then his lips parted and he kissed me back, his breath warm and sweet. Wrapping his arms around me, we fell, tangled together onto the bed where he continued to give me deep, open mouth kisses. His tongue was dancing inside with mine as his hands touched and caressed me everywhere. All I wanted at that moment in time was him to be inside of me. Judging from the erection poking my thigh, he seemed to want the same thing. Both of us were breathing heaviy, our bodies glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. Greg hooked his right arm under my knee and picked it up as he pulled down his shorts with the other hand. He paused and for a moment I thought he might stop. But then he quickly entered me wtih a moan so deep, I thought he might be hurt. As he moved forcibly inside of me, I felt tearing and a burning pain. To avoid crying out, I concentrated on the feel of his chest against mine, the hair floating against my breasts and his mouth kissing my neck and then the erotic sensation of his mouth sucking my nipples. It didn't take that long before he finished, grunting as he did. Greg slowly pulled out of me.

The room was quiet and then he said in a voice that was sad, almost in agony, dripping in guilt and tinged with anger, "So, is this what you wanted?"

I said nothing.

Then he looked down at my body and saw the bright red blood between my thighs. Jumping up, the look on his face was abject horror. "Christ, you were a virgin? A virgin? Fuck! Why didn't you tell me? "

I leaned up on my elbows and with the truth of a drunk, I said sincerely, "Because I wanted you to do it. I've always wanted you to be my first. I wanted it to be someone I trust and you're the only one I trust. Is that so hard to understand?"

He shook his head in dismay, grabbed his boxers and, as he opened and slammed the door behind him, I heard him curse. I looked at my bed. It looked like someone had been murdered in it. There was blood from my head and blood from my hymen. I was too tipsy to care, I crawled into bed and went to sleep.

The next morning I woke up in a painful haze, not remembering anything until I saw the bedsheets. I changed the sheets and took them downstairs to the basement to soak in some stain remover. Afterwards, I had to take some aspirin for my throbbing headache.

The door to Greg's room was shut. I wanted desperately to make this right between us, but I wasn't sure how. I took a shower and washed my hair. After dressing, Iwent into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee for Greg and tea for myself. I poured a cup and went down the hall, knocking on his bedroom door, but he wouldn't answer.

"Greg, I brought some coffee, can we talk please?" There was no answer. I opened the door a little and looked inside. There was no one there and the bed hadn't been slept in. I wondered where he went.

He didn't come home Sunday night. I went to school on Monday and when I arrived home I could tell he had been there but had left again. I was going nuts, blaming myself for what I had done to him. Tuesday night came and went, but he didn't come home. I sat down and wrote him a note.

Dear Greg,

I truly am sorry for what happened. I was naive and didn't realize how you would feel about it. I thought that you would treat having sex with me like you did with all the others. I'm sorry, but I wanted my first time to be with you because you are the only one in the world that makes me feel safe.

I made an error in judgment and I wish I could do it over, but I can't. I only hope that some day you can forgive me.

Love Always,

Maggie May

P.S. There's stew frozen in the freezer, just microwave it for a few minutes.

Stuffing the letter in an envelope, I wrote his name on it and left it on the kitchen table before packing some bags. I grabbed as much as I could stuff in the bags and trunk, then took off towards Washington D.C. Finding a suite at the Monticello Inn in Georgetown, I checked in for the week. The suite was lovely with a bedroom, living room a little kitchenette. I dropped my bags, walked over and fell onto the bed. The tears came fast and furious. I felt as torn up as the day Greg left for college. When I woke on Wednesday I had huge bags under my eyes.

When the phone rang at 8:00 pm on Wednesday my stomach turned; I knew it was probably Greg. "Hello?"

"Is this your plan to insure that you inherit my portion of the great House fortune? If my Mom finds out that I've lost you somewhere in Washington D.C. there goes my claim to the family estate."

"Your claim is safe, I'm not lost or misplaced. I've already called your mother to let her know I moved out. I told her that I was having a hard time with the commute getting into the city and decided to move closer." I paused and then asked quietly, "Where did you go?"

All I heard for a few beats was his soft breathing; my heart skipped a beat. His voice was soft and sullen, "I spent the night with Joanne and then I switched rotations with one of the other residents to give us a little breather. We need to talk about what happened. I read your letter."

"I don't know if we should;I saw the look you gave me and how angry you were."

"What? Was I supposed to feel elated and proud of what I did?"

"But you wouldn't have done it if I hadn't thrown myself at you – literally."

"I won't argue with that," he sighed. There was a painful hesitation. "What room are you in?"

"Why?" I wasn't sure what he would do.

"I want to make sure you're safe."

"I'm safe."

"Maggie May, we should talk in person. Either you come home or I'll come to see you."

"Room 422."

"I'll be there in an hour. Bye."

I heard the knock on the door and, looking through the peep hole. He was standing in the hall rubbing his forehead, waiting for me to open the door. I did. He brushed right by me and went into the living room area of the suite. I closed the door. Greg grabbed a Coke out of the refrigerator and then walked around the suite, checking it out.

He finally turned to face me. "I don't even know where to start."

I laughed at him. "Let me give it a try. You've always thought of me as a little sister, that is until you saw that I had developed breasts. Then it was hard to think of me as a little kid. But you didn't know what that made me. You vacillate between thinking, she's too young, she's like a sister, and God, I want to nail her. So when I walk up naked, press my body against you and pull you in for a kiss you blame yourself when I lose my virginity to you. God you are so egocentric!"

"Not too many girls have asked for the Greg House deflowering service. So excuse me if I don't know what to think."

"Would it have been better for me to give it up to some pimply faced high school jock who wanted to make me another notch on his belt?"

"That would have been normal. It shouldn't have been me; we have too much to lose between us. We have a friendship that goes back a long way."

I decided to be honest since he had always been honest with me. "That brings us to our arrangements. I can't live in that house right now. I spend every night wanting to feel your hands on my body, feel your lips on mine, feel you in me. It's hard to get to sleep when your whole body physically aches for someone." I looked at him and could tell that he hadn't wanted to hear this. For once Greg House didn't want to know the unvarnished truth.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know. You're only 18. I didn't think that women could feel like that."

"What? You don't think we think of sex? I think of sex all the time. I think of sex with you all the time. That's why I can't go back to the house. I need to concentrate on school and I can't do that when I'm picking up your underwear, finding condom wrappers in the trash and cleaning your whiskers out of the washbasin in the morning."

"My God, you are obsessed."

"Don't go strutting like a peacock; I just need to get away from you, concentrate on my studies and this will go away. That way I can get back to thinking of you as just Greg House, my old friend. I think if I start dating someone it will probably go a long way to getting us back to normal."

"I'm going to miss you."

"You're going to miss having a maid around."

"No Maggie May, I'm going to miss you. I enjoy driving down the street and knowing that you're inside the house, even if you do drive me insane sometimes."

"Greg, you know that what I'm saying makes sense."

"Yeah, I'm afraid that it does."

CHAPTER 8

MOVING ON AND OTHER CHORES

I moved out of the house and was lucky to find a small studio that was empty because the resident had flunked out of Georgetown. I liked it so much that I took a lease until the end of the spring semester. I had decided not to rent a dorm room.

I went home for Thanksgiving and spent it with John and Blythe. Greg didn't come, he told the Houses he was scheduled for a rotation that weekend. I was pretty sure he had purposefully switched with someone who wanted it off. John and Blythe didn't talk about it but I knew they were sad that he hadn't come. I invited them back to Washington D.C. to see my new studio and to spend some time with me. They said that they would make plans for spring or summer when it was warmer. They wanted to know if I was coming home for Christmas and the semester break and when I told them yes, I saw a visible look of relief.

I spent Christmas with them and we had a good time. We even went down to Ensenada in Baja Mexico to eat, drink and shop. I purchased a genuine fake Gucci handbag for $25.00 and Blythe bought the genuine fake Coach bag for $30.00. I bought John his own genuine fake Rolex watch for $20.00. We were all pleased with our purchases and I was happy knowing that the Houses were doing well and were healthy.

I spent my semester break going out with friends, playing music and bowling with John and Blythe at the base bowling alley. When we talked about Greg, Blythe would light up. I told them about his patients and his crazy schedule. They nodded to acknowledge that it was a crazy schedule, but I could see they were proud of him.

I warned them that I would not be coming home for the summer, that I was going to try and get either an internship or a regular job. They said they understood and were just grateful for any time we had together. I cried when I left. I loved them both so much and I hated leaving them alone although they spent a lot of their time traveling and enjoying their new RV.

The spring semester was incredibly hard. I was taking two writing courses, two literature courses and a logic class which meant a lot of writing and reading. I hardly had time to come up for air. My IBM Selectric typewriter had already gone through two ribbons and four correcting tapes.

Life was humming along until I received a phone call one Saturday night.

"Hello?"

"Maggie May, it's Greg."

"Oh, hi. How are you?" I hadn't heard from Greg in three months. I hadn't even had time to think about him except on those occasional Saturday nights when I was alone in my studio.

"I'm in town, I thought we could masticate together. That is if you are in to masticating."

"What time?"

"I could swing by in an hour to pick you up. Would that work?"

"Sure."

He came into the studio and looked around. "It's a little cramped. Don't you get claustrophobia?"

"It's just me here. I find it works just fine. You've lost weight."

"No one is cooking for me. You've lost some yourself."

"Yeah, I have a heavy load this semester and grabbing a bite to eat becomes a chore."

"Shall we go?" he extended his hand towards the door.

It was freezing out with a lot of sleet and ice forming on the sidewalks and streets. I found out he was down in D.C. for a two day seminar and ginned up the courage to call me that afternoon. It didn't take long for us to fall back into our easy way of talking, as if nothing had happened between us. I hadn't laughed so hard in months. I told him about his parents and that they would be out to visit when it was warmer. He winced and I scowled at him.

"So are you having a tryst with anyone?" he asked.

"There's a guy in my logic class that is smart, funny and a wise ass. He comes and sits with me in the student union, but he hasn't asked me out yet. I think he will soon."

"Hmm."

"And you? Dating anyone special? Or still rutting?"

"Still spreading my seed to start that superior race."

We had a good time, but on the way back to my studio Greg's car started to slip and slide every time we had to stop for a light or stop sign.

"Greg, you can't drive home on this, you'll kill yourself. You can stay at my studio until the morning and go home then."

"I don't think that is a good idea considering our history."

"Don't worry, I promise not to jump you this time. I'll contain my ardor."

"It's not you I'm worried about."

We rode the rest of the way in silence. He pulled up to the curb, stopping the car but not turning off the engine. I reached over and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Don't be a stranger, I still love you and your company."

"Yeah, I hear that all the time."

We both chuckled and then I got out and went inside. Pulling out my books, I started studying to get my mind off of what he said in the car. It worked, as I got more and more into the chapters of Charles Dickens, I forgot about the great Greg House.

I didn't see him for the rest of the semester. I started dating Steve Liewer, the guy in my logic class. He reminded me of a tamer, not quite as acerbic, Greg House. He treated me well, especially in bed. I learned how to make love with Steve. He was patient and he was good. We would sometimes spend all weekend in my studio alternating between studying and screwing. Frankly, it was a lot of fun.

In May I renewed my lease for another six months and started looking for a job. I found one as an aid to Ronald Reagan's Secretary of the Department of Health and Human Services. I was a glorified gopher and receptionist, but I learned a lot that summer and I got to meet President Reagan and Vice President Bush.

In June I called and left messages on Greg's answering machine telling him that I wanted to take him out for his birthday, but he never called me back. My birthday was in July and the Houses came to D.C. for it. I called Greg and was surprised when he actually picked up the phone. I told him it was my birthday coming up and that his parents would be in town.

"We're all having dinner on Saturday night, that includes you. No excuses."

"But I have to-"

"Switch with someone! This isn't an option. Do you understand? Because if you don't then I'm going to come up there and install your parents in your house. I'll tell them that you wanted them to stay with you and that you were more than happy to give up your bed for their comfort. Get the drift?"

"I'll be there."

I picked up the Houses and drove them to my studio to see it. Blythe thought it was cute and approved. John was worried about the neighborhood, but I explained that D.C. was a bizarre town. You could drive two blocks in a good neighborhood, one block in a bad one and then be back in a good neighborhood. It wasn't like most towns where there was a "wrong side of the track."

They liked Steve. Blythe said, "He reminds me of Greg, but with a little more tact."

We went to a Chinese restaurant for dinner. Blythe, John, Steve and I waited almost half am hour for Greg. I could tell John was furious. Military men hate it when someone is late, it's like a personal insult. When he didn't come, we ordered our meal. Just as I handed the waitress the menu back I saw him walk in. My chest felt tight and I swallowed hard. There was no other word to describe him but, "beautiful." His long legs glided through the tables in dark slacks that were tailored perfectly to give him the graceful, sexy stride of a panther. He had on a short sleeved shirt opened into a V at the top. It was in a shade of blue that made his eyes pools of crystal blue. I could see just a little hair on his chest and when he smiled at me I had to look at the table or I was sure I would give myself away. I thought about Steve sitting next to me and it calmed me to know he was there.

Greg came to the table, kissed his mom, nodded to his dad, scrutinized Steve and gave me a kiss half way between my ear and my neck. It wasn't intimate, but it wasn't one you would normally get from just a friend. I could tell that Steve had taken note of it. I hadn't told Steve much about Greg except that I had been his next door neighbor, his parents had practically adopted me, and that we were good friends.

"Maggie May, you're 19! Congratulations. Sorry about being late but I had a patient come in with Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, without the spots. It took us awhile to figure out what was wrong. I thought we were going to lose her."

"Greg, this is Steve Liewer." I grabbed Steve's hand and squeezed it.

"Your boyfriend?"

"Yes." Steve answered right away.

"What do you do for a living?" Greg asked.

"I'm just finishing grad school, so I start my new at the job at the U.N. in New York next week."

"I thought you said you were her boyfriend? How are you going to keep the relationship going from New York?" Greg had asked the question that I kept asking myself.

"New York is only a three hour train ride from D.C. I don't see a problem."

Greg said nothing, but nodded to indicate that he understood. His parents had a million questions for their son and he answered them one by one. The meal turned from a celebration of my birthday into a fact finding mission about Greg House. I didn't mind, they rarely got to see him.

They all gave me gifts except Greg. " I have your gift, but it was too big to bring in here. I'll give it to you later."

After dinner, Steve said, "Hey Pamplana's is next door. They always have a nice easy band and great drinks. Why don't we go next door for a round of drinks?"

The Houses said, "The night is still young and we're on California time so why not?"

Greg said nothing but followed us to the bar. It was a sleek looking place with a well lit dance floor, a band and nice linen clad tables. There was one empty table left close to the dance floor-close enough to see the band, but far enough away that we could talk. The band started the set with a Rhumba and I smiled.

"What's the joke?" Steve asked.

"I actually know that this is a Rhumba." I said.

"How did you know that?" Steve was curious.

"Greg, you remember how you told me your parents made you take ballroom dancing when you were twelve at the Officer's Club? Well, guess what they did to me when I was thirteen?"

"Dance lessons at the Officer's Club?" he asked and I nodded my head a vigorous yes. We all laughed.

"Well, we thought it was good for you two to know and it was great exercise." Blythe argued.

Greg and I laughed. "Yes and great humiliation for a teenager," Greg said.

Two songs later and two margaritas under my belt, a Tango was played. Greg looked across the table and asked, "Do you remember how to Tango?"

"Argentine or American?"

"Oh, don't insult me, Argentine of course." He stood up and held out the right hand for my left and he put his left hand behind his back and escorted me to the dance floor. We turned and faced each other, looked in each other's eyes and he started the basic step, to the side, back , to the side and then the sweeping steps towards me as I stepped backwards. I was staring into his eyes as is expected in the Tango. He held my pelvic bone against his right hip as we glided back again. I could feel the moisture start to dampen my top and his sweat through his blue shirt. The smell of his cologne and his perspiration mixing together was intoxicating. Just as we finished the walk back, he took me in his arms and guided me through the 'Ochos' both back and forward. He twirled me and then pulled me into the basic position before bending over me. I rubbed my leg up his. His lips came close to mine.

It was also one of those dances that takes up the entire dance floor if done right. No one else dared join us. He walked and twirled me three times and then dipped me over his arm with his face just inches from my breasts. He pulled me up slowly, smothering me tight against his chest for about five seconds. Pinning my arm with his behind my back, he started again, walking towards me as I walked backwards. It was as if we were one person, Greg looking down into my eyes and me looking up into his. When we ended on a deep dip, my right hip and pelvis pinned against his right leg and my left leg pointed down to the floor, everyone in the club clapped. Greg bowed and then held out his hand to me as if everyone should clap for me. I blushed.

Greg was paged soon after that and had to respond to an emergency. He left to get back to Baltimore. Steve and I took the Houses back to their hotel and then went to my studio. Steve hardly spoke to me on the way home. When we made love, I closed my eyes and saw Greg. Steve was rougher than usual, as if he were just a little bit angry.

Blythe asked me later that week, "What's going on between you and Greg?"

"Nothing! We haven't even seen each other for months except for dinner a few months ago." I could see she wasn't convinced. I threw my arms up. "Look, there's nothing going on."

"That wasn't a Tango, that was, well, excuse my French, lovemaking."

I was embarrassed.

"Maggie, I love my son, but at every turn he'll break your heart, be careful. Stick with Steve." Blythe had an uncanny knack of knowing when you weren't being truthful. I was pretty sure Greg had inherited his ability to observe and put things together from his Mom. He got his stubbornness and fearlessness from his Dad.