A/N: Well, thanks so much everyone for your reviews! I was a little overwhelmed by the response to be honest...Feel free to do it again. :)


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House was honestly starting to wonder if he'd completely lost his ability to read people and this short, chubby girl was about to stab him and steal his wallet. Because if she was, this would be exactly the right kind of alleyway to chose to do it in.

"Are you sure there's a bar down here?" he said, trying not to sound nervous.

Jen let out a little giggle. She was definitely nervous. She'd just walked out of the bar with a stranger and had given a small wave to her sister on the way out. Sarah had grinned broadly and given her two thumbs up. Jen was already thinking that maybe she could lie tomorrow and say she'd had sex, just to get her sister off her back for a while.

"Yep, definitely. It's just around the bend. Watch out for that rice," she said, pointing to a pile of cooked rice that had missed the dumpster. Or just fallen out of it – the whiff of decaying shrimp and old restaurant rubbish was overwhelming.

House stepped carefully and shook his head. Sliding over in a pile of Chinese left-overs was not his idea of fun. Neither was exploring the revolting back alleyways of Princeton after midnight on a Friday night.

Just as House's legendarily short patience was about to snap, he spied a lime-green neon sign to one side of the alley.

"Here we go." Jen reached for the door and held it open for him.

House stepped inside and after taking a look around, he had to admit he was impressed. It was dark and dingy and just the right side of dirty. A jazz trio was on a small stage in the near corner, in the middle of an earnest improvisation. There were a couple of rows of seats turned to the stage and behind them some tables. A well-stocked, if small, bar was crowded into the far back of the room.

"Cool," House said. "Wanna drink?"

One of the patrons sitting in a chair near the stage turned to them with an evil eye.

"Shhhh!"

Jen took House's arm and headed them to a table at the far end of the room near the bar. Once they were seated she leant in close to whisper to him.

"It's a great bar, but they're pretty serious about the music. You're allowed to talk at the tables, but near the stage they insist on you being quiet. It's a bit pretentious, but then I also think it's kind of cool that they respect the musicians so much."

House snorted derisively. Music was precious, yes, but not in that way.

"It's my turn to get drinks," Jen offered. "What do you want?"

"No, I'll go." House started to rise. He wanted whisky, but he wanted a decent single-malt. If he asked her to get it, she'd buy some awful, cheap blend.

"It's okay. Whisky right?"

"Yeah, but…"

She looked directly at him for the first time that night. Their eyes met and held for just a moment too long.

"Trust me," she said.

House sat back down, trying to analyse the feeling that had shot through him at her look. He watched as she moved over to the bar. The woman worked with toddlers. She must have a million-and-one trained looks to wheedle kids into doing her bidding, and of course some of them had to work on adults too.

Mystery solved, House turned back to the music. It was an excruciatingly long impro and he wasn't sad when they hit a final chord.

Jen returned from the bar, smiling again, but not quite meeting his eyes in the way she had been for most of the night.

"Talisker okay?"

"More than okay. Thanks." House raised the glass and inhaled the smoky fragrance before taking a sip. So she'd been worth trusting on that decision at least. He gave her another warm smile and again enjoyed the blush that rose to her cheeks. He decided that it might just be worth seeing if he could make the night finish up in bed with her.

"So what do you do?" Jen asked.

"I'm a doctor."

"Really?" She pushed up her sleeve. "I've got this mole on my arm…"

House gave her his best withering, disdainful look and Jen visibly shrank from him.

"Ah, it was meant to be a joke," she said. "I don't really have…" Jen wished that the ground could swallow her up right there. She didn't know him, of course, so it was entirely possible just to stand up and walk out. She'd never have to see him again and be reminded of this…

House gave her a small grin. He knew she'd meant it as a joke, but couldn't help teasing her back.

"Funny," he said.

"Well, obviously not." Jen said. House could pick up a trace of frustration in her voice, she was angry with herself for the misstep.

"Let me look," he said, putting a hand on her exposed wrist and pulling it closer to him.

"No, I don't actually have…oh!"

Jen started trying to pull her arm back from him. She stopped with a gasp as House lightly ran a finger down the inside of her arm, stroking from her inner elbow to her wrist. He traced the blue veins on her wrist for a moment, with an intense look of concentration.

"Looks fine to me," he said, looking back up at her, a teasing note in his voice. He watched as her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and felt her pulse jumping beneath his fingertips.

House couldn't help an intense sense of satisfaction that just a second ago he'd had her cowering from him in embarrassment and now she was melting under his fingertips. Oh, you are lots of fun to play with, he thought. It reminded him of the early days of his friendship with Wilson, before Wilson had learned to predict House's ploys, before his responses had become dulled by cynicism.

The thought pulled him up. Just like Wilson? Well, wasn't that the whole point of tonight's little exercise? Wilson had found a female House. Had he actually found a female Wilson?

House was shaken from his thoughts by the realisation that Jen had met his eyes again. Once more he was pulled into their warm honey-brown depths, wondering which course in early childhood education taught this particular look, one that made him want to own up to anything, everything. Yes, miss, I did draw on the wall with the red crayon. I've been a very naughty boy.

He watched as her tongue darted out again over her lower lip. Without thinking further he leant in, raising one hand to her jaw, pressing his lips lightly against hers. He pulled back just slightly and watched as her eyes fluttered closed. Leaning in again, he caught her bottom lip between his, pulling gently. He couldn't miss the soft sigh that she breathed into his mouth or the unexpected arousal he felt in response. He ran the tip of his tongue over her lip, just had she had done seconds earlier, then pulled her closer, intending to explore her mouth.

Jen's brain had closed down when started stroking her arm. It was just as if someone in a shop had flipped a sign, back in five minutes. Gone. And then he'd started kissing her, and oh God but it was good.

But then a very loud, gremlin voice in her head piped up. It reminded her that she was overweight, that men didn't pick up girls like her in bars, that she didn't kiss strangers. That – not including Timmy Watson in grade school – she'd only kissed three men in her entire life. Well, four now.

As she felt his tongue moving into her mouth, Jen pulled her head back and put a hand up to his chest, pushing him away. She saw the confusion in his eyes and looked away.

"Sorry. That was really nice." She could hear the breathiness in her own voice.

"Yeah, I thought so," he said, still looking at her, puzzled.

"It's just that…" she looked at him and decided to risk the truth. "I'm not a very good kisser."

What?

"Well, for what it's worth, I thought you were doing okay."

Jen let out a little laugh. "Thanks. It's just…well…my last boyfriend didn't like, ah, tongue kissing, so I haven't really had any practice.

"Recently," she added, thinking the truth - in the last thirteen years – was far too pathetic to admit.

House frowned at her, wondering how anyone could not like kissing. It was something he particularly enjoyed and despite the Pretty Woman myths, plenty of hookers let him kiss them. It was one of the things he missed most about not being in a regular relationship.

He put both hands to her face, pulling her back closer to him again. He bent his head to bring his eyes in line with hers.

"Lucky for you, I happen to be an excellent kisser. Won medals in high school and everything."

Jen laughed nervously.

"It's like dancing. As long as the guy can lead, all you have to do is follow."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

He leant against her again and Jen discovered he was right. Somewhere in the back of her mind – the tiniest corner that wasn't totally occupied by his lips and tongue and taste and the rough stubble scraping her chin – Jen took out the mental voodoo doll of her ex-boyfriend, Matt, she kept for just this reason. She stabbed a large, imaginary, pearl-headed pin right into the doll's chest. That's for never kissing me properly.

Neither of them noticed as a new group of musicians took the stage, a guitarist and a vocalist, who began a gentle love song.

Eventually the need for a few deep breaths cause House to pull away, sitting back and taking one hand from her face to collect his drink and take a long sip.

He looked back at Jen and she hadn't moved, her eyes still closed, lips parted, her mouth red, wet and swollen. He'd tangled his hand in her hair, unable to pull it loose from the knot at her nape, and messy tendrils now hung around her face. She looked so sexy he became uncomfortably aware of his own response to her and shifted a bit in the chair.

Whatever happened tonight, whether he managed the legendary one-night stand or not, House realised that at least he could feel a sense of community pride. He was doing his best to make sure that every woman had at least one knee-melting kiss in their life. He had a feeling he'd just delivered that to Jen. He took another swallow of his drink and then with a smile and shrug leant back into her.

Someone's gotta do it…

Jen couldn't remember the last time she'd felt like this. Hell, she couldn't remember if she'd ever felt like this. He mind was fuzzy, contracted to sensations only.

She could feel his smooth hands cupping her cheeks, one of them moving to roam over her ear and through her hair. She wished she'd followed her sister's advice and let her hair out, so she could feel his fingers running through it. His other hand moved lower, stroking her neck, just inside the neckline of her cardigan and along her collarbone. After a moment it moved lower and cupped her breast, fingertips searching for a nipple through the knit fabric.

It wasn't until she felt more than heard him groan into her mouth as he pinched her pert nipple between his long fingers that some sense began to return.

The facts came slowly. She was in a bar. A public place. Sure it was dark, but people could see. And from the sounds of things, he was obviously turned on. (A little voice in her yelled out yey! you did that! but she shushed it.) He'd want to have sex. That was what people did these days, according to Sarah. Okay, so the kissing had turned out relatively well. But Jen was so out of practice with sex there was no way she felt comfortable enough just to jump right in. With a perfect stranger.

Reluctantly, she pulled away, straightening her top and glancing around to see if anyone was watching. No one was.

House sat back when Jen pulled away, grateful that she had. He was so close to pulling her under the table and pushing that skirt up… No, he stopped himself, best not let that train of thought go any further. He swallowed the remains of his drink.

Jen picked up her wine and drank it all in one go. She grabbed her purse and turned to him.

"I've had a great time Greg," she said, nervously.

House couldn't help smiling at her nerves, such a contrast to her wanton mouth and flushed face.

"I think I'd better go now."

"O-k-ay," House said hesitating, wondering how to delay her, whether to ask for her phone number, and how on earth he could walk out of there with the raging hard-on in his jeans.

Jen saw the confusion on his face and realised there was nothing she could do about it. She wasn't about to turn around and say I'm leaving because I really want to have sex with you and it scares the crap out of me.

"Bye," she squeaked, turning and almost running from the bar.

House could do nothing but watch as the door closed behind her.

"Wait, Cinders, I think you dropped a slipper," he muttered sarcastically after her.