Suddenly I See Chapter 2, a house, m.d. fanfic

House arrived at his office around 9:45am on the thirteenth, none too happy. He'd been a real bear the last week and everyone, including Wilson had given him a wide berth. A lack of interesting patients to take his mind off things didn't help. Neither did clinic duty.

Wilson ambled in with an envelope in his hand. "I've been asked to deliver this, House." Getting a withering look, he tossed it on House's desk and turned to go. "I'd suggest you read it" was the last thing Wilson said.

House glanced at the envelope and realized it was hand-written, not typed. Usually requests for consults or speaking engagements were typed. He looked closer. It was Chloe's handwriting. Crisp and precise, the Palmer method to a T.

He sighed and opened it.

Dear Gregory,

Hope all is well with you. Gas up the bike, we're going on a road trip. Pick me up at eight a.m.

Chloe

p.s. Wear sturdy footwear.

He wadded up the note and threw it in the trash. Everyone in the hospital was buzzing about this forty-eight hour crap. He'd arranged to have the week off, figuring that would be enough time for her to get whatever it was out of her system and leave him alone for good.

Cameron had cleaned out his IN box and cleared his calendar. There really was nothing else to do but sit and wait until quitting time. He'd sent the kids to do his clinic hours, so he just kicked back and turned on the TV.

He hadn't told Wilson about Chloe's 'amnesia'. Honestly, how could he? Wilson would never let him forget it. It just lay there, eating his gut. She had been so responsive and… creative. And her hands, my God, her hands! He tried hard not to think about it. But it wouldn't go away. He found himself reliving that morning over and over again. He was even dreaming about it. That hickey had been the coup de grâce. He hadn't intended that, but he had never heard a woman purr that way. He just didn't want her to stop. Dammit! He grabbed his cane and hobbled down to the clinic. He had to have something else to think about, even if it was a cavalcade of idiotic complaints.

By lunchtime he'd seen three yeast infections, two strep throats, a nicely fractured wrist and was thoroughly sick of humanity. He met Wilson in the cafeteria.

"I see by the look on your face that you are eagerly anticipating the fulfillment of Chloe's wager." Wilson had warned Chloe that lying to House might not be such a good idea, but she assured him she knew what she was doing. And he really did find it amusing that she pulled it off. Wilson couldn't imagine what had interfered with House's LieDAR. He bought House lunch, per usual, and they found a table.

"House, if you looked any more miserable, I'd bury you. It can't possibly be as bad as you anticipate!"

"I just want it over with." He glanced up and gazed out the window, seeing two people get on a motorcycle and drive away from the hospital. He looked at Wilson oddly.

"What?"

"Chloe hates motorcycles, yes? She's deathly afraid of them. So why would she want to go on a road trip on a bike?" Wilson wasn't catching on. "That note you gave me this morning. It was from Chloe, telling me to gas up the bike, we were going on a road trip. I am to wear sturdy footwear as she put it." Wilson shrugged, befuddled. "Well, I can definitely make the road trip interesting, if that's what she wants."

House was perking up a bit.

The weatherman had promised a beautiful day and it appeared he might be right this time. There had been a gorgeous, fiery sunset the night before. 'Red skies at night, sailor's delight.' Chloe was carefully packing the wine bottle into her daypack when the knock on the door came. He stood in the doorway, surly as ever. Chloe noted, cheerily, that he had followed her instructions on the footwear. Biker boots will do just fine.

"Good morning! Ready?" He cocked his brow in a 'I guess' response.

She knew he was going to be difficult and was prepared. They went downstairs and she waited until he'd mounted, stowed his cane and steadied the bike before she hopped on. She hated motorcycles, they scared her, but she had her game face on.

"Where are we going?" Asked House in the most bored tone he could manage.

"Tom's River, please, driver."

He couldn't help but shudder as she slowly slid her arms around his waist. The bike roared to life and they were off.

It was a little over an hour's drive and it was beautiful. The closer they came to the ocean, the stronger came the scent of salt air, bracing and refreshing. Every time they rounded a corner, he dipped the bike just a bit too far just to witness her reaction. He knew it scared her, but she never once cried out, just clutched him a little tighter. She was one tough bird. Once they got to Tom's River, she started giving him turn by turn directions until, finally they were at the ocean. She had him turn into a gravel parking lot in front of a building with a huge sign: 'Tom's River Excursions'.

"Deep sea fishing, sailing, what?" He couldn't help but ask.

"Wait for it," was her only reply.

Entering the building, she motioned for him to sit while she continued to the front desk. He watched her talking to the proprietor who looked at him for a moment, smiled and nodded his head. House downed a Vicodin dry.

The two approached House and the proprietor stuck out his hand, "Dr. House, glad you could join us this morning. It promises to be a wonderful day!"

House stood and shook his hand, "For what?"

The man just smiled and replied, "Won't you two come with me, we'll get you started."

House felt like he was being led to the slaughter. His gut tightened and his leg throbbed.

The three piled into a Jeep and they headed to a small field above the water. House finally saw what he was in for. "Are you out of your mind?" He yelled at Chloe.

The proprietor spoke first. "Not to worry, Dr. House, Tom's River Excursions is fully handicapped accessible."

He glared at the man hatefully. All House could see was the expanse of the hang glider's wingspan. There were three of them parked in this field. "Crouch are you trying to kill me, I can't do this and you know it! Humiliate me some other way!"

She smiled up at him. "Oh ye, of little faith." As they rounded the corner of the first hang glider, he could see it was different. First of all the thing was huge, bigger than any he'd seen before and certainly bigger than the one he'd played with some years back.

"Come on, Dr. House, let's get you strapped in."

"Relax, Gregory, I won't drop you." She gave him a few minutes to study the contraption in front of him. It was a tandem hang glider. Two people, usually an instructor and a student shared the thrill of soaring. It had a tricycle-type wheel assembly which would take the shock of landing rather than anyone's legs. He was intrigued, in spite of himself, and allowed himself to be harnessed in. He was caught between wanting to trust her and fly and trying to stay upset with her.

Conflicted is a good word.

Chloe climbed up underneath him and strapped herself in. She was the pilot. That's when House saw the prop plane that was going to pull them both into the air. They adjusted their helmets and the proprietor checked all the straps and harnesses, then patted Chloe's helmet. She gave him the thumbs up sign.

The prop plane pulled forward slowly to take up the slack on the guide wire and they were off. House didn't realize he was holding his breath until the land dropped away from under them and they were suddenly free of the earth. The prop plane pulled them along to a pre-determined altitude. It was then that House saw Chloe hit some sort of lever and the guide wire disconnected, reeling itself back into the plane. They were on their own. She banked off toward the ocean to catch the thermal. Their helmets were wired so they could talk to each other, but he didn't know that until he could hear Chloe's voice. It was like she was in his head again.

"Are you okay up there?"

"Fine, fine," was all he said.

She smiled. The wind caressed them as they soared and banked, dipped and sailed. For awhile, House just closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of weightlessness. They were up there for quite some time before Chloe began her descent.

"Do we have to stop just yet?" He asked.

She angled off and gave him some more time. The sensation of soaring was intoxicating. He felt like a little kid. Finally they returned to earth, House marveling at Chloe's skill at landing. No broken bones. He wasn't about to drop his guard, but maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't be so bad after all.

They disengaged themselves from the rigging and the proprietor brought House's cane back to him, undamaged. House nodded to the man. "I hope you enjoyed yourselves! Please come back anytime." The man shook House's hand again and patted Chloe on the arm. They returned to the parking lot the way they had left.

"Hungry?" Chloe asked.

House looked at his watch, surprised they had been aloft for so long. "Yeah, actually, I'm famished."

They made their way to a park and chose a spot under a gorgeous gnarled oak. Chloe emptied her daypack and set up a rather nice picnic lunch. House found a notch in the tree and balling up his leather jacket, made himself comfortable. They munched quietly on cold fried chicken, cornbread and fresh garden tomatoes. The wine was her favorite Riesling.

"So, Clairvoyant, where'd you learn to hang glide?"

Chloe was lying on her back on the quilt she'd laid down for them, gazing up at the sky through the leaves. So many different shades of green, with the sun sparkling through here and there. She was watching a couple of small birds chasing each other through the branches. A big, ugly shadow appeared above her head and seemed to block out the sun.

"Earth to Callisto, Hellooo?"

She sat up quickly, missing his nose by a matter of millimeters. "Huh? What?"

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"Fine. I was just zoning for a minute. What did you ask?"

"Where'd you learn to hang glide? And what's the agenda for tomorrow? Skydiving? Bungee Jumping?"

She laughed. "You're an idiot. Nothing tomorrow. Wednesday at noon. Oh, and I learned to hang glide right here in Tom's River. I'm a certified instructor, thank you very much."

"Nothing for tomorrow, oh dear, what will I do with myself?" He cried in mock horror.

Still laughing, she started gathering up the picnic things. "Hire a hooker, I hear you can afford them. Come on, numbnuts, time to go home."

"I'll have you know the boys are just fine thank you. Care to take them out for a test run?"

"Sorry, I'm not quite doped up enough." Oh, that didn't come out right! She grit her teeth and turned her head away from him. "I'm sorry Gregory, I didn't mean to make fun of you."

He took a long stride and came very close to her. He reached up and pulled her collar away from her neck and bent down to kiss the place where the dark red patch had been. Tracing her neck with his lips up to her ear, he whispered, "It happened, Chloe. And it was good."

She swallowed hard and clutched his arm to keep herself from falling away. Looking into his eyes, she murmured, "I know. Do you honestly think I could forget something like that?"

He pulled away, eyes wide. "You… you lied to me?" He could smell a lie at fifty paces, No one lied to him and got away with it.

"Yes, yes I did. You called me old, fat and ugly in front of my colleagues, my co-workers, my friends. That was cruel, it hurt and humiliated me. What I did was cruel, it hurt and humiliated you. Now, we're even. Perfectly even."

"I did not!" he whined. On one level he was furious with her for lying to him, but on another, he was… he was… he was what? He was amazed and almost proud that she was able to fool him.

She arched her eyebrow at him. "You most certainly did. And now you're angry and want to try to do it again."

His overwhelming desire was to throw another punch at her, but it suddenly occurred to him that he wanted something else even more. He wanted those hands on his skin again. And he wanted it bad.

"We passed any number of places on the way here, what say we get a room and get re-acquainted?"

"Doesn't count toward the forty-eight hours." Both her eyebrows were raised now, waiting to see his response to that.

"Fine. It's a freebie." He pulled her close and kissed her.

"Whoa there, cowboy, there's kids around." She tried to break away and found it difficult.

"Yeah? How d'ya think they got here?"

She laughed and pushed him away, gathered up the rest of the stuff and headed for the bike.

A few paces ahead of him, she did two things. First, she let him watch her… walk, and secondly, she thanked her lucky stars. Confession is always a tricky thing, it could have gone south in a hurry.

Wilson was right. That was one dangerous game she wouldn't play again.

Wednesday was the annual Princeton Jazz Festival, an all-day event that was hosted by the University and had on its bill several famous acts as well as infamous and even local talent. Chloe's cousin, Martin was one of the organizers of this affair and he had arranged for back stage passes for her and even a little surprise for House.

Tuesday crawled past for House. Try as he might, he couldn't get Chloe to stay overnight Monday. She kept saying she had plans that would take all day and that he would appreciate it later. So he moped around his place all day. He fidgeted, paced, couldn't stay still for more than ten minutes at a time. He must have flipped through the TV channels a hundred times. Even his video games gave him nothing.

Finally, he called Wilson and arranged to meet for drinks after he got off work. They met at one of their favorite watering holes. The place was jam-packed with jazz fans from all over the east coast. House had forgotten about the festival and groused about the tourists.

"Hey, it's good for business," protested Wilson.

"What? I can't hear you above the rabble!" Just as he said this, he spotted Chloe in a back corner booth with several men. She appeared to be having a grand time, laughing and talking, her smile and her green eyes shining. She seemed to be the only female. What the hell?

House left Wilson at the bar and fought through the crowd to get to her table. As he approached the group a very large and menacing man stepped in front of him with his arms crossed. "Can I help you, sir?" the big man asked.

House gazed around the man trying to catch Chloe's eye. She hadn't seen him yet. "No, you can't, I'm with someone else, but the guy at the bar over there is lonely." He motioned in Wilson's direction. When the man peered over at Wilson, House tried to go around him, but found that large doesn't always mean slow.

"Look buddy, this is a private party and you're not on the guest list."

House started raising his voice and finally, Chloe heard him. She smiled and got up. He could see her tapping the table with her fingers and speaking fast, smiling a lot. One of the men at the table spoke to the big man and he stepped aside. House gave him a sideways glance and headed for Chloe.

"What's going on?" asked House. "Who's the muscle?"

Chloe pulled him closer to the table and said to the party, "This is the guy I was telling you about. Greg House, meet my cousin, Martin Amberson. Martin is one of the organizers of tomorrow's Jazz Festival. But House wasn't looking at him. He was staring at the guy in the very corner. The guy the muscle must have been protecting. Chloe rolled her eyes at Martin and said, "…and Greg, I'd like you to meet…"

House shot out his hand and finished the sentence, "…Eric Clapton. This is a real pleasure." Eric rose as far as he could and shook House's hand.

If House had been a fourteen year old girl, he would burst out with something like, "I'm never washing my hand again!" He couldn't believe it.

An extra chair was brought over and everyone made room for the new arrival.

"Dr. House, I hear you're something of a pianist," Eric began, "Martin and Chloe here have been singing your praises. I do hope we get to hear something of you while we're here."

House was embarrassed, but pleased. "Well, I hope they didn't raise expectations too high and please, call me Greg."

Chloe saw Wilson at the bar and whispered to the waiter. After berating House about abandoning his friend, she arranged for Wilson to join them as well. The booth was now too crowded, so the group moved to the upstairs lounge. House and Clapton had hit it off rather quickly and they headed straight for the small stage in the corner. Over the next hour or so, a local bass player and drummer joined them as well as a rather well-known sax man. By midnight the place was jamming and music was pouring out into the streets.

Wilson leaned over and whispered in Chloe's ear, "You do realize we'll never be able to live with him from now on, don't you?"

Chloe laughed heartily. "Who could live with him before?" They both laughed. "This wasn't supposed to happen until tomorrow. Martin had gotten us back stage passes and had arranged for a meet. This is an unexpected treat."

Wilson excused himself soon after and left as he had to be at work early. Around two a.m. the party finally broke up and everyone scattered. Outside on the street, people were milling around heading from bar to bar, having a great time. House was on cloud nine. He grabbed Chloe and actually lifted her off her feet and spun her around then kissed her passionately. "I can't believe it! He told me he and I were supposed to meet tomorrow at the festival, said they were going to pull me out of the audience to play. Chloe, I don't get it, why are you doing this? What is all this about?"

She smiled up at him, then placed her hands on either side of his face and replied, "Life doesn't suck all the time, does it?"

"Life sucks most of the time." He paused, trying to look stern but gave up, kissing her again. "But not tonight. And you're coming home with me… no arguments!"

There weren't any.

Twenty-eight hours to go. He couldn't imagine what she had left in store for him. His mind raced this way and that, but he couldn't for the life of him guess.

The festival was fantastic. Having backstage passes and being able to meet the performers was great fun. House was in heaven with the all-day music. When they weren't backstage, they were lounging on lawn chairs watching from the audience, sipping Coronas. He nattered on and on about this guy's technique or that gal's comprehension of the composer's intent. She finally had to tell him to shut up already so she could hear the music.

Later that night, exhausted and happier than he'd been in years, he just lay back and let Chloe do what he'd decided she did best. Drive him out of his mind. Not only had she taken this past year to lose one hundred four pounds, but she'd become a hang gliding instructor, and taken up scuba diving. She'd shown him several examples of breath control exercises during the night. He started thinking she just liked to watch him lose his self-control. Truth be told, she did.

Chloe had left that morning, early, amongst many protestations. Smiling, she just blew him a kiss and left. You could still smell the smoke in his apartment from the smoldering heat she'd ignited. It's absolutely true: you never know what's behind the curtain.

She'd given him a choice today. Noon to eight or two to midnight. He chose the latter. That seemed to please her and that excited him. What in God's name did she have up her sleeve this time?

She'd also given him strict instructions to wear work clothes (by that she meant clothes he didn't mind getting dirty) and be prepared to change into a 'nice suit' later on. Well, the first part wouldn't be difficult, he'd just dress like he always did. He had a little more trouble with the latter. Unbeknownst to Wilson or anyone else, he really did own his own tux. But she hadn't said tux, she just said 'nice suit'. Okay, the weather was fine, so he went with the linen jacket and trousers with the pale blue shirt with darker blue tie. At least he could put colors together. He wasn't that hopeless.

He'd had time to think about all this once he dragged himself out of bed. The last three days had been a roller coaster ride for him. He couldn't argue that what had happened had been enjoyable. But, how long would something like this last? Even the best vacations had to come to an end. Was she going to want more? Was she going to want to insert herself into his life permanently? He'd battled his way out of tougher romantic situations than this. Usually, all it took was a massive dose of 'the specialty of the House' to send even the most gorgeous creature shrieking for mama. But Chloe wasn't like that. She never made google-y eyes at him or hung on his every word or acted like he was anything more than he was… an ass.

House looked around his apartment. If it weren't for his own memories, you'd never know she'd been there. Not a toothbrush in sight, no lingerie draped over chairs. Nothing. Either she was just precisely what she appeared to be, or she was the most devious creature since, well, since him! No way was a mere woman going to 'out-deviant' him!

Just as he was beginning to think some danger threatened, there was a knock at the door. Startled out of his reverie, he realized is was 1:45p.m. Peeking out the peephole, he saw a scruffy looking kid standing there, shifting from one foot to the other.

House opened the door.

"You House?" The kid said, smacking his chewing gum like he was deliberately trying to remove teeth.

"Who wants to know?"

The kid shifted his weight and said, "Look dude, I was told to pick up some old guy and take him to the theater. If you're House, you're it!"

House imitated the kids' face, "Who gives you your orders… dude?"

Shaking his head he bewailed, "Man, she told me you'd give me trouble." Looking up at the ceiling like he was trying to remember something, he continued, "she said to tell you 'if you like the box, put on your shox', or at least that's what I think she… dude?"

House had lunged back into the apartment to grab his cane and his leather jacket. "So, what are you waitin' for, junior? Let's go!"

Once in the street, the kid mounted a motorcycle and looked at House. "Well, come on, dude, she'll have my 'nads if you're not there on time!"

Blinking twice, House gave the kid his world-famous grimace and politely declined the offer. "Got my own, man, I'll follow you."

Shrugging the kid said, "Whatever, dude". And so they began their lovely journey to a local theater. The advertised play this month was 'The Importance Of Being Earnest' by Oscar Wilde. House liked Wilde, always thought he'd have been an interesting person to have known.

Inside the theater a rather hard-looking woman began screaming at 'the kid'. "David, where in the sixth level of hell have you been, you useless lump of lard?"

David gave as good as he got. "Look, you horse-faced bitch, I went to get that guy Miss Marzhal said for me to go get, so if you don't like it, you two cunts can duke it out!"

Well, wasn't this pleasant thought House. The hard-faced woman walked up to him and looked him up and down over the tops of her glasses. "Takes all kinds, I suppose, you can go with David, and for heaven's sake, don't fall over anything! Insurance doesn't cover YOU at all!" House thought of about sixteen different comebacks, but was interrupted by David.

"Hey, dude, I could use a hand!"

For the next few hours House helped with backstage work, as much as he was able. He found it fun. Although he couldn't do a lot of the heavy lifting, he helped paint and build sets and organize props. He'd never been backstage and was intrigued by all the minutiae of creating a fantasy world. He would have thought it would more involved, but it turned out to be quite simple. One wall serving as two just by turning it around, a formal dining room table instantly became a substantial office desk by throwing a cunningly painted piece of cloth over it. Every once in a while he wondered where Chloe was, but, to be honest, he was enjoying himself too much.

At 6:00p.m. David announced it was time for him to go, but to be back at 8:00p.m. sharp. He showed him the side entrance where he could gain access to a great box seat above the stage. House didn't want to leave and said so.

"Look man, between Miss Marzhal and the bitch-from-hell, cut a guy some slack willya?"

House laughed and shook David's hand. "It's been fun, kid, thanks. By the way, where is 'Miss Marzhal'?"

David backed up, a horrified look on his face. "Man don't even ask!" Before House could respond, David was gone.

House headed back to his apartment grabbing something to eat on the way. Once there he showered, almost thought about shaving, but decided against it, remembering the veiled reference to 'the box' and dressed.

Back at the theater, 'Miss Marzhal' handed David a crisp $100 bill. "Thank you David, you don't know how much pleasure you brought to a lonely soul."

David stared dumbly at the bill. "Man, I mean, Miss Marzhal, I didn't do nuthin, but if you ever want me to do it again, just call me!" Chloe laughed and went into her dressing room.

House returned to the theater and followed David's instructions to the box seats, managing to obtain a glass of champagne in the lobby. Seems he had the place to himself, but the rest of the theater was packed. He made himself comfortable and looked around. Actually, looking for Chloe. He hadn't seen or heard from her all day. Every time he called her cell, he got her voice mail. He found himself sulking.

The house lights went down and a gigantic pipe organ materialized from somewhere beneath the stage. For a half an hour the audience was regaled with some pretty good music, considering it was an organ. Organs always reminded House of roller rinks.

Once the music ended and the audience was softened up, the curtain rose and the play began. All the actors were local people, none of whom he recognized (not that he would have anyway) until Lady Bracknell made her entrance.

"Good afternoon, dear Algernon, I hope you are behaving very well."

House blew champagne out his nose and received several withering looks from the patrons below. Which he returned in kind. It was Chloe, Chloe was playing the part of Lady Bracknell! How had he missed that on the marquee? Suddenly, the play became very interesting, indeed.

After the show, Chloe was in her dressing room, which she shared with several others, removing her make up. She was pleased to note it took quite a bit to make her look like an older woman. 'Vanity, vanity, all is vanity…' she thought to herself. There was a knock at the door. One of the other girls went to answer it and there stood House with a bouquet of roses. Where he managed to steal them, she had no idea, but was touched. The girls tittered and snickered. "Down, ladies, he's just an ill-tempered lap dog."

Victoria, who had played Cecily whispered in Chloe's ear, "I'd like to see that tongue do some lapping!"

Chloe laughed, blushed, and decided it was safest to get him out of there, quickly. Of course, he wasn't in such a hurry. It was always nice to gaze on several females in various stages of undress.

Chloe managed to get House back into the hallway, the girls giggling and waving at him. "The flowers are lovely, thank you." She kissed him lightly, "Wait here, I'll be right out."

He gave her one of his famous pouty faces, "Aw, Mom, do I have to?"

"Well, son, if you want any dessert, you'll do what you're told."

He leered at her and leaned up against the wall. "Okay, okay."

"You know," she said turning back to the dressing room, "your time is almost up and I won't be here next week. Maybe we should be winding this thing down." She couldn't quite look at him.

"Do we have to kill it? Can't we just let it die a natural death?" He replied softly.

Damn, he caught on quick. Chloe turned back to him. She had been worrying about how this was all going to play out. She hadn't expected the sex to continue after that 'sleeping pill' scam. She'd had a moment of weakness in the park and now she wasn't sure how to keep this thing 'friendly'.

"Greg, I like you…"

"Oh God! The I Like You Speech!" He made a horrible face and tried to turn away.

"No, no, listen to me! How many people standing on the face of this earth can honestly say they like you? Just the way you are?"

He looked at her quizzically.

"Not many, I'll wager. Oh, they put up with you, mollify you, even coddle you. But how many of them actually LIKE you?" She was gripping his arms, holding him in one place. "Well, I do like you. Just like you are. Annoyance and aggravation are one thing, hate is something else altogether. I don't want to end up hating you or you hating me. I enjoy your company. I like watching how your mind works, how you maneuver in and around people, keeping just out of their reach." She made a fake 'gross' face and continued, "I even like sex with you, but we both know that 'happily ever after' doesn't apply to us. I've known that about myself for years. Losing you as a lover would be difficult, losing you as a friend would be devastating. Do you understand anything I'm saying?"

Oddly enough, he did understand. He'd been struggling with the same doubts. She was actually okay with the idea of 'some but not all'. The realization struck him hard. "You mean to tell me that if I don't spend the rest of my life with you, you're not going to go all hysterical on me?"

She laughed. "If I had to spend twenty-four hours a day with you, day in and day out, I'd either shoot you or shoot myself. And my guess is that I'd shoot you first!" She smiled up at him coyly, "Small doses of you are great and would be very welcome." The last sentence she said very slowly and pointedly, looking him right in the eye. He got it.

He reached up and removed her hands from his arms, pulling them behind her, growling in her ear "Get dressed you old tart, I want several small doses of you right now!"

They decided to do whatever it was they were going to do at his place, because his bed was bigger. Logistics, nothing more, he assured her, you understand. While she showered to get the rest of the 'greasepaint' off of her, she could hear him making noises of some sort in the bedroom. Rearranging furniture? With his leg? What the hell is he doing? While she was drying her hair, the louder noises ended, but she could still hear him rustling in and around the apartment. He had his timing down well, because as soon as the blow dryer clicked off, the noises stopped. Okay, now she was scared.

'And me without my 9mm.' Chloe poked her head out of the bathroom door and looked around. Nothing appeared terribly out of place. With the oversized towel still wrapped around her, she ventured out into the bedroom. Nothing suspicious, just the cooler in a different corner than usual. Creeping into the living room. Nothing. Finally, she found him in the kitchen, of all places. "What are you doing?"

He turned around with a plate of fresh fruit in his hand, ever so innocently. "Just grabbing a little snack."

"What was all that noise I heard while I was in the shower?"

He was still looking at her like an oversized Gumby. "Just straightening up a bit, the place was a mess."

She squinted at him, "Uh-huh. I'm going to go get ready for bed."

He snarked, "You look ready to me."

She nodded her head knowing he was up to something, but turned and left the room. She hadn't see him grab the chocolate sauce, or the candles, or the ice for that matter. But, of course she didn't. That was earlier. Before he moved the cooler.

"Planning on a long night?" She was smirking now, looking down at the little row of condom packets he had lined up on the bedside table.

He walked up behind her. "Something like that… c'mere." He slid his hands around her waist, pulling off the towel and throwing it… somewhere, making his hands comfortable around her breasts. All he had on was a tee and his boxers, so she knew what he was all about. They did their little dance, him nibbling on the back of her neck, her going a little crazy, until he could strip down himself and get her into the bed.

He had learned quickly just exactly how to drive her nuts and bring her right to the brink. When she thought she was about to pass out from expectation, he did something weird. He stopped. Well, he stopped her. He went right ahead without her. What the fuck?

House had all he could do to keep from laughing at Chloe. That look on her face was priceless. You know the one where she looks like she's just coming up out of anesthesia? Kinda dopey, you know she can't see clearly and you know she can't think clearly. All it takes is a little touch here or a suckle there and off the edge she goes again. But not all the way. Oh no, not yet. He wanted to piss her off first. Trust House, it's just better that way.

He came back to her, stroking and fondling, acting apologetic. "Sorry, babe, guess I just got excited." His mouth found hers and she responded just like he knew she would… hungrily. Arms and legs wrapped around him, like there wasn't enough of her to press against him. When she started rubbing his facial scruff against her neck, he knew he had her where he wanted her. He entered her and started moving slowly. When she started bucking toward him, he stopped her. Made her lie completely still. "Shh… wait for it." She was gasping for air. Then he pulled out altogether. God, what self-control that took. If he didn't already know what was coming next, he would never have been able to manage it.

"What are you doing? Are you mad at me or something?" Chloe's voice had gotten husky, low and desperate with hormonal overload. He knew it wouldn't take much more. She was trembling all over, just like a little cat in heat.

He rolled off her and placed his arm over his face, in his best Sarah Bernhardt imitation. "I've just got to think about all this."

That did it.

"NOW? Now you have to THINK? How can you possibly think at a time like this?" She sat up and swung her legs off the bed. She started to storm away. That was the move he'd been waiting for. He grabbed her around the waist and literally swept her off her feet, forcing her back belly-down on the bed, her knees tucked up nicely under her. With his left hand he grabbed her hands and held them firmly behind her back, his right arm still firmly around her waist. He positioned himself so that his knees kept her legs from moving and leaned forward, his weight against her back. The pain in his leg was just a dull thud. He made sure her face was turned so she could breathe… he didn't want to suffocate her… much.

"Where do you think you're going, my little pretty?" He growled into her ear. "What is it you want, Chloe? Hmmm?"

"I want you off me, you cretin!" She responded, mostly into the pillow.

"No, that's not what you want, is it?" His right hand loosened its grip and his fingers found their way to her wetness. 'This is different' she remembered thinking, he hadn't heard about Madame Katherine's had he? No way!

Those long, strong fingers found her clitoris and played until she was nearly screaming into the sheets. "What do you want, Chloe?" He growled at her again.

She could barely speak, much less form a coherent sentence. "I… I want you inside me… now!"

His fingers suddenly came away from his plaything. "That's only part of what you want, isn't it, Chloe?" Her body bucked under him, trying to create her own friction, but House wouldn't have any of that. He made sure her legs couldn't come together. Her breathing became ragged. "What do you want, Chloe?"

She caved. "I want to cum, I want you to make me cum… Please!" She really was screaming now. Thank God these apartments were built heavily.

He released her arms and slid his hands under her shoulders for better leverage. "That's my girl" he whispered wickedly into her ear, licking her hot cheek for emphasis. House slammed into her waiting, wanting wetness to the hilt. But only twice, well, three times. He pulled out again, hearing her anguish and grabbed for one of the condoms, tearing the packet open with his teeth and applying it with one svelte move. Just as Chloe was about to protest again, he shoved his length into her hard. Some sort of inhuman sounds were coming out of her mouth. Seemed to sound like his name, but he wasn't listening.

He knew she was at her most vulnerable now and that's what he'd been working for. He pulled out again, then positioned himself at the entrance to that gorgeous ass of hers and pushed, opening her not only physically, but emotionally to him. Chloe may not want to be with House or he with her 24/7, but he wanted to make sure he was the only one she wanted to be with in bed.

Whenever.

She'd forgotten how damned good this felt when done by someone who knew how. Son of a bitch! Low, rumbling groans followed one after another from her throat. The staccato rhythm smoothed and they rolled with it until Chloe just couldn't stand anymore. By now her voice was barely audible. "Please let me cum… please!"

House leaned over, peering into her face which was glowing, beautiful, transfixed and transformed. She was in a wonderful place. He wanted to be there with her. "Now, Chloe, cum with me! Now!" Her mouth dropped open and her eyes rolled back in her head.

They both shattered into a million shards of iridescent glass. He held her hard against him until he had emptied himself fully and until her thrashing calmed to a steady tremble. House gently turned her head and twisted himself so that he could kiss her longingly. Their tongues made love just as urgently as their bodies had. Slowly and carefully he pulled out of her and discreetly disposed of the condom. He hated those things. So did she, though she never said it outright.

They collapsed on their sides and lay spooned together, comfortable with one another and in their own skins. Now he knew all.

Chloe had had something planned for Friday, but for the life of her couldn't remember what it was. In fact, the last few hours were pretty hazy. All she knew for sure was that she was lying against someone very warm and it felt good. She drifted back to sleep.

"Hey, lazy butt, don't you have something wild and exciting planned for me today?"

"You used up your last eight hours with that little candle and ice trick, lover boy. Now, go away, I have some fantasies to re-live."

"Not without me you don't!"

"Okay, but this time, I get to tie you down!"

The next couple of hours passed pleasantly.

While Chloe showered, House kept popping in with suggestions. "Rock climbing? Deep sea diving? Spelunking?" She just kept laughing at him. "Where's your purse?" He demanded.

"Have you ever once seen me with a purse?" She retorted.

"Well, you carry that little bag thingie into work with you, isn't that a purse?" Sometimes he was just dense.

"That 'little bag thingie' is my version of a Gladstone bag, numbnuts." She was bent over drying her hair. He gave her a good smack. "Hey, don't get me started again, I'll make you shave!"

He thought about that for about a split second before ducking out of the room.

"What do you want with my purse, anyway?" She asked, trying to round up her clothes from the night before.

"To dig through it and find clues, Watson! Why else would I risk cooties?"

"Oh, oh! Now I remember! Slomming! That's it. There's a slom pit downtown in some basement club. I thought you'd find that interesting. Club opens at six, we'll have to figure out something to do until then."

He almost fell for it.

It was around two-ish before they finally quit acting like a couple of teenagers in heat. "Damn, I'm hungry, go cook me something, woman!"

"Bite me!"

He did.

She threw his phone at him. "Order out!"

Just then Chloe's cell phone rang. She recognized the number and jumped out of the bed. "I've got to get this," was all she said. He could only hear bits and pieces. He followed her, trying to get his ear near enough to hear. She kept pushing him away.

"Yes, we'll be ready."

"Yes, that's fine."

"Perfect! Thank you!"

"Hey, nosey parker! Cancel that pizza delivery and shine your shoes, we're going to the city."

"Where's House?" Wilson practically crashed into the diagnostics war room. Cameron almost dropped her cup of coffee reacting to the near-panicked look on his face.

"Who knows where he is. You were the last one to see him. He could be in Timbuktu for all we know. Have you called Chloe?" Foreman could see there was a problem, but was trying to stay calm. Wilson was as pale as death.

"What's wrong, for God's sake?" Asked Chase.

"Three nurses and a patient have collapsed in the clinic. They're all unconscious and there doesn't seem to be a connection between them except the clinic itself. Cuddy's quarantined the area and we have about 15 conscious patients who are scared out of their minds. Cuddy's the only doctor in there. She won't let anyone else in or out."

"Well, House is going to be of no use," offered Chase, "if we can't find him. But, I think finding him can take a back seat to figuring out what's going on."

Somehow, that seemed to bring some color back to Wilson's face. "Right, I'll get someone to try and track down House, you guys suit up and meet me down in the isolation unit." Wilson headed down the hall.

Foreman sighed, "You realize if this turns out to be nothing, House is going to really pissed."

Cameron screwed up her face. "Why? You'd think he'd like to figure out something like this."

Chase chimed in, "But you forget, this is the last day of the wager payment. Who knows what we'd be pulling him away from." He snickered to himself.

Cameron tossed her head in disgust, "I could care less about his pecker problems. If he's needed here, they'll just have to reschedule!"

Both Foreman and Chase looked at each other, then at her and just laughed. "We'll let you make that phone call."

"Fine with me!" She huffed.

The hospital's Hazardous Materials team had been alerted by Cuddy and swung into action. The clinic was cordoned off and a tunnel of sorts was created to funnel patients from there to the isolation unit downstairs. All air ducting was automatically re-routed to prevent any circulation to other parts of the hospital, just in case whatever it was was airborne. The hospital went to lock-down and all emergencies were diverted to other hospitals. Cuddy had two nurses and a pharmacist with her to care for the unconscious as well as the conscious patients. They had all been exposed to whatever 'it' was.

This was the definition of an internal disaster.

In the isolation unit, there were three more especially trained nurses, two C.N.A.s, a lab tech and a radiology tech standing by. Cuddy stayed in the clinic with the conscious patients while the remaining staff removed the unconscious victims one by one to the isolation unit. There were four rooms specified as negative pressure rooms with two more that could be converted with portable pressure units. Each room was outfitted with four hospital beds and each of the four beds could be isolated from each other by using dividing walls if needed. The four unconscious patients were placed in one room and, at this point, only separated by curtains. The others were brought down in groups, depending on family connection and gender.

Once everyone was gathered in one place, the 'tunnel' was dismantled but the clinic remained sealed. The HazMat Team inside were going over every inch with swabs and electronic 'sniffers'. Cuddy was flitting from one person to another, trying to maintain calm. "We don't really know what's going on just yet. For all we know, we may have had a sudden rash of fainting spells and it will turn out to be nothing. We will start testing immediately and keep you all informed each step of the way."

She wasn't buying it, but so far, it was working.

She gave instruction to the nurses and ancillary personnel to collect blood samples and swab everyone's noses and throats, including herself and the clinic staff. Start with the basics and work up from there. At the same time, the nurses and the ducklings were trying to obtain medical histories on 18 people without breaching confidentiality. Trying to prevent a domino effect, they managed to get each person alone long enough for them to feel comfortable answering all the invasive questions. That way, none of the other patients heard the others' symptoms, if any.

The ducklings interviewed the staff members and Cuddy separately.

Everyone bent to their tasks and hoped this would end up being a big nothing they could laugh about next week.

The stretch limo purred up to the curb and an attentive chauffeur in a crisp gray uniform hopped out and opened the door for his two passengers.

House was stunning as only House can be in his tuxedo and Chloe was a knockout in her black faux leather halter dress. He'd kept insisting she needed stiletto heels, but she demurred and chose the more comfortable and less dangerous open-toed sandals. "These are all I have, they'll have to do. Besides, while there's a lot I might do for you, Gregory, breaking my neck is not in the top ten."

"Tell me again where we're going?" He nuzzled her neck, trying to run his hand up her skirt. The chauffeur had closed the communicating window after informing them of the time it would take to get where they were going. He couldn't remember how many trysts he'd been host to in his two years with this company. Everybody loved doing it in the limo! Well, so did he.

Chloe firmly, but gently, removed House's hands from her body and very politely remarked, "We're going to the city, that's all you need to know." She took some time to rearrange her skirt and press out the wrinkles with her hands.

He was taken aback by her primness all of a sudden. "Hey, what's up, Chuckles?"

She just smiled, "It took me several hours just to figure out how to wear this thing, Gregory, I'll not have you messing me up. Just consider it prolonged torture. You like that, admit it. Enjoy it." She moved away from him to explore all the nooks and crannies in the limo, discovering all the little goodies they held. She'd never been in a limo and really wanted to enjoy it.

House sat back and watched her. She really was uncomfortable, he thought. She wasn't yet at ease with her 'new' body and she definitely wasn't at ease with playing dress up. He filed that away under "Future mayhem: Chloe's insecurities". He did, however, accept the champagne she offered.

"What?" she asked, "you're studying me again. What horrible hidden truths have you discovered this time? What awful secrets are you going to hold over my head for the rest of my life? Hmmm?"

He leaned back against the plush leather and with an evil grin simply stated, "You look beautiful tonight."

She knew that wasn't true, but she also knew he was messing with her head. Again. "Oh my, you do play dirty, don't you?"

So far, they had found two cases of active TB that were being treated by outside physicians. They were far past the point of being contagious. Foreman tested one of the unconscious nurse's blood sugar and found it was over 500. That would account for her passing out. He started an insulin drip as well as a potassium infusion. Within three hours, the nurse recovered enough to tell the team what had happened. She hadn't been feeling well for about a month, but had no idea she was a diabetic until now.

The patient who had collapsed finally awoke on his own to tell Cameron that he saw one of the nurses in the hall faint just at the same time that another nurse was drawing blood from him. He had a phobia of needles, which he hadn't thought to mention. He was embarrassed to admit he struck the nurse and knocked her out before he fainted. A nice contusion just under her left jaw confirmed his story. Cameron had her x-rayed and concluded that other than a concussion, she was fine.

That left the third nurse. No one had any idea what had happened in her case. Cuddy had simply found her lying on the floor of the staff restroom. According to the two unaffected clinic nurses, Sheila (for that was her name) had just returned a few days before from a trip to California to visit her sister. She had complained of mild cold and a headache, but attributed that to jet lag.

Cuddy huddled with the ducklings and Wilson out of earshot of the other patients. "So far, no one is showing any symptoms of anything and all the blood work from the waiting room patients is clean."

Foreman stated grimly, "It's Sheila I'm worried about. She's not waking up, not responding to stimuli and she's developed a fever. I hate to say it, but this could be some sort of encephalopathy or meningitis. With luck, it's confined to her."

Cameron piped in, "But if it's an arbovirus we could have a problem!"

Foreman nodded. "Exactly."

Chase was reading Sheila's file, "Her blood work shows leukocytosis and eosinophilia, but that's so non-specific at this point, it doesn't tell us much."

"Foreman, do an LP on Sheila and check for glucose and red blood cells, as well as any bacteria. Let's get her further isolated, just in case." Foreman and Cameron turned to tend to this chore.

Wilson stroked his chin and said, "We need to find out where in California this sister lives. Maybe Sheila contracted something there and brought it back with her."

"Oh Cripes!" sighed Cuddy. "I'll make some phone calls and let you know. Wilson, will you handle notifying the other patients of the test results so far and try to keep them calm, you're better at that than I am. We're going to have to start feeding people soon. Maybe that'll help as well." Wilson agreed patting Cuddy's arm in a reassuring gesture and turned to go.

Chloe was feeling a little more relaxed. The long drive helped as well as the champagne. House had behaved himself thus far and they were in the middle of a pleasant conversation about nipples.

"Of course they're not useless! Don't be silly!"

"But you have to admit yours are more sensitive than mine."

"I have to admit no such thing. That's patently false."

"Then how come you're flickering at me over there?"

"You've got a jacket to hide yours! Just because I can't see them doesn't mean they're not 'flickering'."

She looked down at herself. He was right. She was 'flickering'. Dammit. She knew she shouldn't have worn this dress. It was crazy wicked. This one did have plunging necklines and thigh-exposing side slits. Whatever had she been thinking? She didn't have much of a cleavage and she certainly didn't have Tina Turner legs. 'I guess I just wanted to see what kind of reaction I'd get. I'd be interesting to see if I could get leered at by someone other than House, who would leer at a housecat if it would get him laid.' She giggled to herself.

"Are you laughing at me again?" He asked, flashing those baby blues at her.

"Yeah, you and the housecat." She responded, but didn't bother to explain.

"I still think you look lovely." He remarked.

"Thank you, that's very kind of you." She replied.

"Kindness has nothing to do with it, I assure you." That made her laugh.

Finally, their destination was in sight. The limo pulled up to the entrance of the Metropolitan Opera House at the Lincoln Center. "Well, Clutter, you've outdone yourself. I had no idea you were an opera buff."

The chauffeur opened the door and House exited first, then assisted Chloe out of the limo. "I'll be back to collect you after the performance. Enjoy your evening, Ma'am, Sir." He tipped his hat and was gone.

"Well, I can't call myself an aficionado, but there are a few operas I do like to hear. Madame Butterfly, La Boheme, and this one." They were peering at the huge banner announcing the showing of Turandot by Puccini. "Such fantastic costumes!" she sighed.

"Not to mention the sets and back drops." House was remembering his little gig at the theater.

"Shall we, Madame?" House made an exaggerated bowing gesture toward the entrance. She held out her hand like some sort of princess and smiled as he kissed her hand and led her into the building.

What a marvelous place! The soaring windows and Swarovski-crystal "exploding star" chandeliers took her breath away. The sweeping staircases were stunning. A whispered "Oh my" was all she could manage. There were so many different sections, she felt as though she could spend a week and not even get to the main auditorium.

But they were running a little late and maneuvered their way to their seats. The conductor made his entrance to wild applause then the music began in earnest. The acoustics were fantastic, they both felt they were floating on a sea of sound.

The curtain rose and Franco Zeffirelli's Production of Turandot was launched.

"You're not going to like this," Foreman began, "LP positive for glucose, blood and it's cloudy. I've sent cultures. I suggest we start her on acyclovir and doxycycline to cover our bases until the cultures come back."

Cuddy hung her head. "Damn! Now we have to keep these folks here until symptoms show up. At least we can open the rest of the hospital. The HazMat team tells me the clinic is clean."

Chase observed that the three people in the same room with Sheila were most likely to show symptoms first, but weren't. Which, all agreed was good news.

"Well, here's some not so good news." Wilson entered the conversation with some paperwork in his hands. "Seems our Miss Sheila's sister owns an orange grove in Bakersfield, California and Sheila went out to help with the spring groundbreaking."

Cameron looked puzzled, "So?"

Cuddy picked up the clue. "Bakersfield, California is located in the southern San Joaquin Valley and during the spring, tilling the soil is a prime source of coccidioidomycosis spores."

Chase jumped up, "I've never seen Valley Fever. Holy cow!" he paused, "She has Valley Fever AND some form of encephalitis or meningitis caused by Valley Fever? Chase was stoked. "We've got to start her on amphotericin B."

Foreman chimed in at this point. "Wait, wait. She just got back from California, right? It's too soon for meningitis from Valley Fever to be kicking in. Maybe she does have both. We need to find out when this headache started, before or after she visited her sister. And we might not have to keep these folks here. If this were some fulminate meningitis, they would have been showing symptoms by now."

"Okay, okay." Cuddy really hated these out-of-control situations. It's the kind of thing House lived and breathed for, not her. "She's still unconscious, so let's try to get a sputum specimen. Suction her or bronch her if you have to. Let's see if she's growing any spores."

Chase practically bolted out of the room, Foreman following close behind.

The hours passed and the isolated patients were made as comfortable as possible and kept informed of what was going on, with them, anyway. Cuddy arranged for a nice dinner for everyone and there were few complaints. The space suits came off, but strict precautions were still being observed with Sheila. The clinic nurses were re-interviewed by Cameron and disclosed that Sheila had, indeed, complained of head and neck pain before leaving for California. No one thought it strange, nursing is hard physical labor, even clinic duty. None of them remembered her complaining of fever or any other symptoms.

"Wait," said Brenda (the nurse who had been cold-cocked by the needle patient), "She had a cold sore. I remember, how pissed off she was. She had a date for dinner about a week before she left for California and she had to cancel because of it. It was a pretty bad one, too."

Cameron joined Foreman and Chase who were working with Sheila. "Sheila had a cold sore, a pretty bad one, before she left for California."

Foreman looked at Sheila's face. "I don't see any sign of it now, let's she if it's inside her mouth."

Chase commented, "My nana-mum used to get those really bad, they'd extend way up into her nose. Made her miserable." They all three looked at each other, concern covering their faces. "Shit."

They obtained the specimens and found an almost healed sore deep inside Sheila's nose which they swabbed as well. Down in the lab they confirmed their suspicions. "Coccidioidomycosis spores in her lungs, Herpes simplex in her nasal passages."

Foreman checked the computer and sighed. "Herpes simplex in her CSF. It's confirmed."

They alerted Cuddy. "Okay, Chase, start the amphotericin B and make sure to add hydrocortisone to it to prevent rigors. Pre-medicate her with acetaminophen and diphenhydramine as well, try to make her as comfortable as we can. Ampho can be a bitch. Stop the doxycycline, but continue the acyclovir."

Wilson and Cuddy began discharging all the other patients, much to everyone's relief. Sheila was moved to a room upstairs, but left under strict isolation precautions.

The crisis was over and as they were able, Cuddy, Wilson and the ducklings were finally able to go home and catch up on some much needed sleep. No one even thought about House anymore.

They were reliving the opera in the limo on the way home. Having both purchased a CD recording of the event, they were playing it, repeating 'Nessum Dorma' more than once. Chloe had her feet in House's lap, and, surprising even to him, he was massaging them quite well. He liked the feel of the silk stockings and kept wondering what type she was wearing. Chloe's head was leaning against the cool glass of the window, remembering the glistening headdress of the 'ice princess'. How it shimmered and sparkled under the lights.

"Well, my pretty Jackalope," she sighed, "Run away! Run away!" she said in her best Python imitation. "Your debt is paid, you may fly away little bird, you owe me nothing more." She smiled to herself.

"It wasn't a jackalope, Clito--, I mean Clifford," he hurriedly tried to recover, "you don't expect me to jump out of the limo just now, do you? I'd mess up a perfectly good tuxedo." He took off his jacket and removed his bow tie. It was irritating.

Chloe pulled her knees up under her chin and broke out laughing, "I was wondering how long it would take for you to finally slip up and call me 'clitoris'." She was laughing joyously, tearfully. "You're just too much fun."

He lunged at her, grabbing her hips and pulling her down onto her back on the seat. At the same time, he ran his hand up her left inner thigh, following the silk he was so curious about. And, in the end, he found out. Her silk pantyhose were crotchless. She had absolutely nothing else on under that dress.

"Oh!" she cried softly.

"Oh, indeed, you little tease! Just when were you going to tell me about this?"

She giggled and brushed her hand across his face. "I figured you'd either find out or… or not." Her eyebrow was arched in something of a challenge.

"So, what would you like me to do about this development?" He asked, nuzzling her neck, his palm exploring what he'd found, which was quite damp by this time.

"Oh, my," she sighed, "just use your imagination. I find I like your imagination, Greg."

He licked and suckled her neck as his arms slid around to her back, undoing the halter. With his teeth, he pulled the halter off, exposing her pale breasts with their little rosebud nipples standing at full attention, waiting… waiting. House spent quite a bit of time attending to them as he watched her face. He enjoyed watching her reactions, it aroused him fiercely. Finally, he moved up to her ear and whispered, "I imagine I'm awfully hungry."

She smiled and responded huskily, "Then, perhaps you should have something sweet… to eat." She reveled in the growl that escaped his lips as he began his descent from ear to neck, from neck to shoulder, from shoulder to breast, from breast to belly and beyond.

Suddenly, he sat up and back, moving slightly away from her. She looked up at him questioningly.

She could barely hear his deep voice as he whispered, "Show me." Her heart stopped for at least a few seconds.

Keeping her eyes locked on his face, she slid her left leg off the leather seat moving her knee away from herself. Watching his breath deepening, she ever so slowly raised her right leg, allowing it to slide upward finally draping her knee and heel across the back of the seat. She lazily placed her left arm over her head, her hand underneath. Her right hand grasped the fabric of her skirt and in an act of the most leisurely exquisite torture, raised it, allowing the fabric to slither up her leg until it was softly bunched up around her waist. For the coup de grâce, she tilted her pelvis upward and watched as he caught his breath, his eyes closing, his face softening with the ecstasy he felt traced across it.

Taking in the sight before him, he unbuttoned the first three buttons of his shirt and his cuffs, rolling up his sleeves, exposing his forearms. Chloe smiled appreciatively. He leaned forward, sliding his hands under her hips, encircling her waist with his fingers. Starting at her right knee, he planted small, warm kisses all the way down her leg until he reached her groin, not quite to her outer lips. He began to suckle softly at first, then harder and harder until he finally heard what he had hoped to hear. That purring sound. Oh God, that purring nearly drove him insane.

Her legs began to quiver when he moved his mouth to her center and began to sup the juices he found there. He was forced to hold her thighs down firmly. That nearly did her in, but he stopped just short of her fall into the abyss. His right hand slid away, finding her swollen pearl with his thumb. With a sudden move he slid his body upward and rumbled into her ear, "Not a sound, Chloe, not a sound." House didn't give a damn if the kid driving could hear them, he knew she liked a level of control exerted over her, and, as he resumed his place, could immediately discern it had worked. With a talent borne of experience, he brought her to orgasm again and again and again. True to his orders, she never made a sound. He smiled. 'Damn, she's good', he thought.

While she was recovering, he sat back up and made himself comfortable in the plush leather seat. She watched as he unbuckled his belt and, unzipping, slid his trousers down just enough. House looked at her, "Come here, Chloe, I want you."

She wanted to crack wise and say something like, "I can see that!" But her vocal chords would not obey her. Instead, she lifted herself up and straddled him, careful to put her weight on her right leg. He took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply and for a long time. She could taste her own musk on his mouth and lifted her hips to glide her wetness across his heavy heat. Her hands explored his chest and shoulders, pulling his shirt open, tracing her fingers through his hair. He seemed to like that as his head lolled back, exposing his neck. She took full advantage of that move, kissing and licking him here and there, trying not to miss a spot. Finally, he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up, guiding her back down, impaling her, filling her fully.

Chloe's hands slammed upward toward the roof of the vehicle and she noticed to her surprise that there were handles up there. She would laugh about it later, but now just grabbed them tight and began to pump her hips, pulling herself almost completely off of him, then sliding back down quickly. She could see this was having the desired affect. House's head had fallen back against the top of the seat again and his eyes were closed. The most beatific look was on his face. She stared at him in awe. He was in a wonderful place and that place was her.

He wrapped his arms around her and started thrusting upwards, meeting her each time. Faster and faster they traveled until he finally buried his face in her soft breasts and cried out as he exploded inside her, slamming deep and holding her hips in place until he was empty. She collapsed atop him as his hands traveled over her body, returning again and again to hold her tight against him. She wrapped her arms around him and rested her feverish head against his neck.

A quiet tap on the window told them they were nearing home. They languidly disentangled themselves and redressed in silence, both of them in deep thought. They snuggled together each just enjoying the warmth of the other.

House hated to admit it, but though he knew he would have sex with other women in this life, and enjoy it, Chloe would be the one he would seek out when he wanted to make love.

He'd had her figured all wrong.

Monday morning, House returned to his office. The ducklings were flush with their success and they noticed he seemed to be walking a little lighter.

"So, what'd I miss? Anything special?" He started unpacking his backpack.

They piled into his office and excitedly filled him in on everything that had happened, quite proud of themselves. "So how is this Sherry person?"

"Sheila," corrected Cameron. "She's much better!" Foreman gave House the run down on her neurological status and Chase filled him in on the success of the Valley Fever treatment. "She'll be here a few more days, but she'll be fine."

"Well, it seems you don't need me much anymore," he pretended to wipe away a tear, "you kids are growing up so fast."

"Cuddy and Wilson spent hours trying to track you down! We just finally gave up."

Cameron couldn't stand it anymore. "Where were you anyway?" Foreman and Chase just rolled their eyes and backed out of the office quietly. House watched them go and gave Cameron a rueful smile. "I was paying off a bet. Period."

Before Cameron could go on, House caught sight of 'her'. Storming down the hall at a fast pace with hell following with her in the form of Wilson. As Cuddy thundered into his office, House jumped up and twirled Cameron around, grabbing her from behind with a mock choke hold. "Don't come any closer! I've got an over-enthusiastic fellow here and I know how to use her!" He shouted. Foreman and Chase snickered and Cameron reacted by stomping House's foot, throwing off his arm.

House squealed like a girl, falling back into his desk chair. "Assault and battery, you are all witnesses!" Placing both palms on his desk, Cuddy leaned over and replied, "Assault doesn't apply when it's directed at an Ass!" House rubbed his foot, trying to look pitiful.

"This hospital was in a crisis situation and you could not be found, I demand to know why!" She was livid. "Where was your pager, where was your cell phone?" She was not going to let this go.

House looked at Wilson and then at Cameron, then focused on Cuddy. "First of all, I was on a vacation of sorts – fully sanctioned by you, I might add. Had I been in Bora Bora, my pager and cell phone would have been useless to you anyway. As it was, I was eating out my new best friend and she made it plain that she did not wish to be disturbed." He paused, tilting his head, "Although a vibrating pager might have come in handy." He shook off that thought, for now. "Anyway, if I understand correctly, the case was solved and the crisis overcome without me, so why all the histrionics? Oh, and by the way, the twins look lovely today."

Wilson responded as only Wilson could, a mixture of shock, awe and 'we have to talk' curiosity passing across his face. Cameron flushed and left the office as quickly as she could.

"I don't give a furry rat's ass about your sex life, you have an obligation to this hospital! I'm going to say this only once. You are to make yourself available at all times! If, for some odd, and I stress odd, reason your pager or cell phone aren't functioning, I want to know where we can locate you. Do you understand me?" Cuddy really meant it this time.

House rose and in doing so, forced Cuddy to back up. "You know, Cuddles, you're right. I apologize. From now on, you'll always know how to reach me."

With his eyebrows raised and an almost-smile on his face, he held out his hand, "Okay?" Everybody knew this was a trap, but what could Cuddy do but accept?

She shook his hand. "Deal." She left the office, throwing him one last look over her shoulder, confusion on her face.