Friday night
Jen stood staring at herself in the mirror, feeling as if she might just throw up.
She had had to arrange to leave work early because it had taken more than four hours to get ready. After spending ages in Sarah's store the night before choosing a dress, Sarah had then called in favours from all around the mall, getting Jen booked in for hair, make-up, manicure and pedicure for Friday afternoon. And now here she was, waiting for a knock on the door at any minute.
Her hair was up, but in a messy, tousled, just-got-out-of-bed kind of way, with tendrils framing her face. The make-up artist had done an amazing job using a huge number of pots and creams and colours to make it look like Jen had no make-up on at all – that she was just naturally blessed with porcelain skin, smoky eyes and plump dusky-pink lips.
Jen still wasn't sure about the dress. But when other customers in the store joined in with Sarah's pleas for her to buy it, she'd given in. Somewhere between powder blue and electric blue, the dress had a slight shimmer to it and she knew it was corny but the colour had reminded her of his eyes. It had a corset-style bustier top which pushed her breasts into prominence and a long draped skirt. It gave her a classic hour-glass figure, the boning in the top even taming her hated flabby belly. There was no beading or other decoration; the dress was plain, but elegant.
Sarah stared at her in the mirror.
"You know, I can't even describe how gorgeous you look."
Jen smiled weakly at her sister. "I don't know. I think I've gone over the top. He'll get scared off because I'm trying too hard."
Sarah rolled her eyes. "It's black tie! What you're wearing is totally appropriate."
"Oh Sarah…" Jen moaned, turning away from the mirror, clutching at her still-churning stomach. "I don't think I can go. What if…"
"Of course you're going. I did not pull every favour in my book to get you an appointment with Marc to do your hair on a Friday afternoon for you to chicken out now." Sarah lectured. "I was saving that one for myself," she added, more quietly.
"I don't know…" Jen said, still uncertain.
"What?" Sarah demanded, obviously starting to get a little annoyed by Jen's whining.
"Sorry," Jen apologised. "It's just, I know that I'm more into him than he's into me." She tried to sound nonchalant. "I'm a casual sex thing for him."
Sarah sighed. "You guys didn't have sex when he came over on Wednesday night," she pointed out bluntly.
Jen gave her sister a look but Sarah waved it off.
"You and I both know these walls are paper-thin," Sarah said, "so if you had, I would know about it. The point being, guys don't visit for casual sex and then not have sex."
Jen started to reply but the doorbell rang.
Sarah gave Jen a stern look. "You look beautiful." She walked out to answer the door and Jen took one last look in the mirror. She took a deep breath, seeing how that made her breasts swell in the corset, and remembered that he thought she had perfect breasts. And he'd said that just before he'd…
"Jen, your date's here!" Sarah called from the living room with a mischievous tone.
Jen walked out and suddenly had a flashback to prom, half expecting her mother and father to appear from somewhere with a camera. When she saw him, in his tux, her breath caught. Oh. My. God. She remembered that when he first approached her in the bar she hadn't thought he was that attractive. Whether it was just that she knew him better now, or that he scrubbed up really, really well, he suddenly looked like something that had walked off the pages of GQ.
Jen couldn't meet his eyes, scared of what he might see there.
There was a long silence. "Shall we go?" he said finally.
"Yeah, just let me…I forgot…" Jen turned and rushed back into her bedroom almost hyperventilating.
Sarah followed her, took one look at her and rolled her eyes again. "Calm down."
"I can't…" Jen said. Suddenly the idea of walking in somewhere on his arm, as his date, seemed preposterous. No one would ever believe it – believe they could be a couple. They'd think she'd won a contest or something.
"Of course you can. And if you don't get back out there soon he's going to come get you. He just looked at you like you were dinner."
"What?" Jen realised she hadn't seen that. In her effort to hide her emotions from him, she hadn't thought about what he might be thinking.
"He looked at you like you were dinner – dipped in chocolate." Sarah confirmed. "With sprinkles. And a cherry. Look, he's an asshole for not saying how gorgeous you look, but for some reason you seem to like him. So take a deep breath, remember how beautiful you look, go back out there and let him take you out and have fun."
Jen nodded. It wasn't like she really had a choice. And besides, part of her needed at least one more look at Greg in his suit. She knew she could stand to soak-in looking at him for quite a while before she'd get sick of it.
She gave Sarah a brave smile. "You're right. I can do this."
--
Cuddy was intensely anxious about the evening ahead. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but somehow she'd let herself be lowered into playing games with House yet again. And she just bet that somehow she'd lose – yet again.
She'd been over and over the seating plan a million times. There'd been no other option. She couldn't trust him on his own on any of the tables. He needed to be supervised by Wilson at least. But as a board member Wilson, and Amber of course, were on her table with the CEO of the hospital's bank and the fundraiser's special guest, a visiting neurologist from London.
So she'd had to sit the guest on one side of her and the CEO and his wife on the other. Wilson was next to them, then Amber, then House, then Jen next to the visiting doctor. She knew the CEO and his wife and that Wilson and Amber were relatively safe company for them. She didn't know the English doctor and she just hoped that Jen was someone who could not only entertain their guest but act as a buffer between him and House if Amber didn't keep House appropriately occupied. And potentially act as a buffer between House and Amber if Wilson didn't take care of it.
It was a huge bet to make on someone she didn't know. Someone House had chosen.
And now it was after eight and House was nowhere to be seen. The English guest doctor had turned out to be just this side of unpleasant; cold, dull and condescending. Cuddy kept up the charm, but her fingernails were pinching into her palms with effort.
She just happened to glance over to the door as House entered. She watched him as he helped the mysterious Jen with her coat. The scene reminded her that Stacy had once told her that House had impeccable manners when it came to things like that – coats, doors, walking on the right side of the street. The result of an old-fashioned mother who'd drilled her son in old-fashioned gentlemanly ways.
Pity that didn't flow through into some other areas of his life, Cuddy thought.
Jen turned around and House put her hand through his arm as they walked towards the table.
Cuddy leant over to Wilson and whispered between clenched teeth.
"I thought you said she was frumpy?"
Wilson gave her a puzzled look and Cuddy motioned with her head towards the approaching couple.
He turned to look, his eyes going wide as he saw them. "Wow…"
--
She'd managed to be seated without falling over or bumping anything, been introduced to everyone including the sour looking Doctor Milson next to her and taken a long sip of champagne to settle her nerves. All the other women she'd seen were wearing long, formal evening gowns, so Sarah had been correct, her dress was completely appropriate.
So far, so good, Jen told herself.
"Nice to see you again Jen."
"You too James."
She and James Wilson chatted politely across the table about the weather and the evening's entertainment, and his easy conversation helped her relax further.
Putting two-and-two together, she realised that he was probably the "best friend" that Greg had spoken so sadly about on Sunday. She still didn't know what the issue between them was, but she'd bet it was something to do with the tall, willowy, blonde woman sitting next to Greg, and who Greg was completely ignoring. She was beautiful, but something about the set of her mouth made her seem hard and a little cold. Jen wondered what it was that drew her and the warm, friendly Dr Wilson to each other.
She recognised Dr Cuddy from when she'd taken Sarah to the clinic and remembered mistakenly thinking that Greg was her boss. Tonight there was no way she would have made that error. At the table, it was clear that Lisa Cuddy was the leader. The way she directed conversation, watched everyone carefully and still somehow seemed to have an eye for everything else that was going on in the large room clearly showed her to be the one in charge. A quiet sense of authority emanated from her.
Main meals were served and it became impossible to continue talking across the table. Greg leaned into Jen as they started eating, whispering in her ear.
"Did I tell you that you look beautiful tonight?"
She smiled and looked at him from under lowered lashes.
"No, you did not."
"No? Well, it was only because I was lost for words."
"You? Lost for words? I don't believe it." She flirted back.
"True. Cat got my tongue. Or it will. Later. My tongue and your p…"
Jen coughed on her mouthful of chicken, and grabbed a glass of champagne, taking a large gulp to be sure she didn't choke.
She looked around the table. No one seemed to have noticed until she locked eyes with the frowning Dr Cuddy. She instantly felt like a naughty child caught out by the headmistress and could feel the blush stealing up her cheeks.
"I've told you before, you have to chew your food," Greg said in a louder tone, patting her back and making Jen's blush even hotter.
At his comment, Dr Cuddy's expression softened. In fact, Jen was sure she could see sympathy in the woman's eyes. Sympathy, curiosity and…no, it couldn't be…jealousy?
"So, Jen, are you a doctor?" Dr Milson asked.
"No, I…"
Greg reached one arm over the back of her chair and leant across her.
"Actually she is."
"Oh really? What speciality?"
Jen frowned at Greg. She'd deliberately decided to leave her qualifications at home for the night, knowing that her title would just prove confusing in a room full of MDs.
"I'm a PhD," she said, "not an MD."
"Oh." Dr Milson was dismissive. She might have just as well told him she was unemployed.
"Yes a PhD," Greg continued, his voice rising. "While Dr Milson here has made his name with fraudulent studies into brain aneurysms. Go on Dr Milson, tell us all about your latest protocol that only proves you have too many research assistants and not enough ideas."
There was a collective gasp from around the table, and Jen belatedly became aware that despite relaxed appearances, everyone had been subtly keeping one ear out for Greg.
"Ah, Dr House. I wondered when that famous wit of yours might make an appearance," Dr Milson replied, looking down his nose. "I heard that one of your patients finally got up the nerve to shoot you and I was sure that would have put at least a slight dent in your massive ego. I see not."
Jen's mind spun. Shot? That was news to her. And Greg's rudeness was painful, but Dr Milson's response made her want to jump to his defence.
She looked over to Dr Cuddy who had put one hand up to her head, as if her worst fears had come true. The bank CEO whose name she'd forgotten looked frankly amused by the exchange; James looked tired, as if he'd spent too long fighting the inevitable.
She gave James a look and nodded imperceptibly in Greg's direction, then turned to the now evil-looking Dr Milson and smiled brightly.
"So, Dr Milson, is that a hint of a Staffordshire accent I hear?"
He gave her a startled look. "Yes, I grew up in Stoke-on-Trent." He narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. "Most Americans can't pick English accents."
"I spent a year at Oxford and I travelled a lot while I was there. I loved the countryside around there. Particularly the Cotswolds."
His alert, fight pose seemed to relax. "Yes, it's beautiful there. Did you ever go to Cirencester?"
"Well, look at this, we seem to have run out of champagne." Jen heard James' announce. "House, come help me at the bar."
She didn't take her attention from Dr Milson but couldn't miss the warm hand that grabbed her thigh. The fingers crept upwards until they were as high as they could get with the tablecloth still obscuring them. They pushed between her legs as much as her skirt would allow and squeezed.
"Yes, I stayed in a little cottage in Cirencester near the…river," her voice jumped when his fingers pressed into her, but recovered, "during summer."
"Oh. I have a country cottage near there. Well, I say cottage, but it's more of an estate."
"Pompous English git," Greg said under his breath, but not that quietly.
Dr Milson frowned, obviously assuming he had been insulted but without actually having heard what had been said. Jen smiled brightly again and turned briefly to Greg. "Yes Greg, Pommery would be lovely, thank you."
He gave a low chuckle before she felt his hand leave her leg and he rose from the table to follow James.
It felt like hours, but it had probably been only about thirty minutes when Cuddy finally interrupted to let Dr Milson know he was about to be introduced for his guest presentation. Jen couldn't have been more relieved. She loved talking about her time in England, but she disliked the arrogant and condescending attitude from the visiting doctor and she hoped that Greg would want to leave as soon as was polite.
Up on stage, Dr Cuddy made a few introductory remarks and then introduced the special guest. As she listened to the lengthy introduction, Jen realised that with a list of qualifications and achievements that long, perhaps Dr Milson had reason to feel superior.
She sat back and felt Greg's arm snake along the top of her chair and his hand rest lightly on her shoulder. Without thinking about it, she bent her head to brush her cheek against his hand, and he lifted one finger to stroke her in response. She looked up to see James' astonished gaze, but when she met his eyes he seemed embarrassed and quickly looked away.
"Thank you Doctor Cuddy." Through the microphone, Dr Milson's English accent sounded commanding and authoritative. "It's a pleasure to be here to help raise funds for the neurology department at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. As I've just been telling the delightful Mrs House…"
There was a ripple of low laughter and murmurings through the audience and quite a few people twisted around to look at Jen.
Obviously not sure what he'd said to provoke such a reaction, Dr Milson paused with a brief puzzled look, but then continued.
"…as I've just been telling Mrs House, at my home in the countryside we are blessed with a large garden. It was when I was in the garden one day with one of my sons…"
His story continued, explaining at length how he'd been inspired by an ant colony in the garden to reach a new conclusion about blood flow in the brain. Jen was sure that if you were a doctor it was an interesting speech and, despite being a difficult conversation partner, Dr Milson was a good speaker. But she found herself unable to concentrate.
She could still hear the booming title of "Mrs House" echoing in her mind. Why had people laughed? Her first response had been to feel hideously embarrassed when people turned to look at her. But then she realised that the response wasn't about her at all. It was about Greg. For some reason, his work colleagues found the idea that he could be married not only amusing but somehow shocking.
Having turned to face the stage for the speeches, Greg was behind her, so she hadn't seen his face. All she'd been able to do was sit still and freeze on her smile.
"Time to go?" He leant forward and whispered in her ear. It wasn't really a question.
"Can we?" Jen whispered back. "Would it be rude to walk out in the middle of his speech?"
"Do you really care?"
Jen twisted her head around to look at him. His eyes sparkled with mischief.
Jen shrugged. "No."
Greg rose and offered her a hand to help her from her seat. Jen smiled at James and Amber who both frowned back at her.
"Good night," she said quietly.
They got to the back of the room and Greg got their coats from the coat check, helping Jen with hers. Just as they were about to open the large doors to leave, Greg turned around and yelled at the top of his voice.
"She has a PhD, so she's a doctor, not a Mrs, you idiot."
Jen's jaw dropped, Dr Milson froze, and the entire room of hundreds of people fell silent.
Smiling and nodding to himself as if exceptionally pleased with the response, Greg put a hand on her elbow and steered them both out of the room.
--
House kept walking until they were well away from the ballroom doors, standing in the almost deserted lobby area. He was still feeling pleased with his response to the insane Dr Milson. But now he had to face the music. Apologise to Jen for the insult of being mistaken for his wife. And defend what he'd just done, even though he was convinced the arrogant git had deserved it.
He squared his shoulders and turned to Jen who was still looking dumb-struck, her mouth open, eyes glazed.
"You'll catch flies," he said, reaching over to chuck her chin gently closed.
Her eyes focused and looked at him and suddenly she started giggling. Uncontrollably.
"Oh, God, so funny," she gasped, her eyes starting to tear with laughter. Every time she started to get it under control she'd look at him and then start laughing again.
He started to chuckle himself, her laughter infectious.
"It wasn't that funny," he protested.
She bent over, clasping her stomach, still cackling.
"Come here." He lead her over to a low bench seat and helped her sit down.
Tears were streaming down her face as she laughed and laughed; House finally joining her, unable to resist. She looked at him through eyes sparkling with laughter tears.
"You are so naughty."
She giggled again, her laughter set off – by what? He didn't know – but each time she looked at him she lost herself in more gales of laughter that started to look almost painful.
"Oh God, I'm going to pee my pants. Wait here."
She disappeared quickly, running off in the direction of the bathrooms. When she returned she seemed to have brought herself under control and fixed the smears of make-up under her eyes. She still giggled a little when she saw him and sat down next to him again.
House was astonished by her response, so totally the opposite of what he was expecting. And when he watched her walk back towards him he was struck by how beautiful she was, how much he enjoyed watching her laugh. Struck by the elegant Jen who'd easily handled the rude and obnoxious Dr Milson and the giggly little-girl Jen who'd almost peed herself laughing at him.
He looked at her, smiling at her still barely controlled laugher. "You are a strange woman, Dr House." He repeated Milson's insult but used her correct title.
She gave him a puzzled look in response, when he'd expected her to laugh again. Not sure what to do about it he impulsively kissed her, meaning it to be a light peck, but once his lips touched hers his body had other ideas. Obviously, so did hers, because he'd no sooner touched the tip of his tongue to her bottom lip than her mouth opened to him and their tongues slid against each other.
After a long while he reluctantly pulled away, knowing that if he let it continue it would lead them somewhere dangerous – in his mind a stall in the bathrooms where they could be discovered by another hospital employee at any minute. Just the idea of it was desperately exciting.
Taking one look at Jen he knew he could get her to do just about anything at that moment. Her mouth was red, her cheeks flushed and she was breathing heavily. And in that dress…he suddenly and viscerally understood the term "heaving bosom", her breasts amply displayed as she tried to get her breathing under control.
His brain flashed through a number of other possibilities. Cab home, fast. Book a room? They were in a hotel after all.
Jen smiled at him as if she could read his thoughts. "So, what do we do now?"
"Just what I was thinking," he said. "What do you want to do?"
Jen grabbed his wrist and pushed up his shirt cuff to take a look at his watch. "It's still early. Seems a shame to get all dressed up and not make the most of it."
Damn.
She must have read the disappointment on his face. She put one hand on his cheek and sought his eyes.
"It'll build the anticipation," she explained. "Just looking at you in that suit is doing all kinds of things to me. I'd like to have a little more of that before I take it off you."
He couldn't help one side of his mouth tweaking up at her knowledgeable tone.
"Hey, I thought I was the teacher," he said with mock complaint.
"Oh, you definitely are."
She stood and held one hand out to him.
"I think I'd like to see some music. And drink some whisky. How does that sound?"
How did that sound? He shook his head.
"Jesus, Jen. You might just be the perfect woman. I'm gonna have to be careful you don't get me hooked."
