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Thanks muchly to all you lovely folks who leave me such nice comments every time. It's what encourages me to keep writing!

--

It hadn't started well.

He picked her up in a cab, more than twenty minutes late. In that time, Alice had veered between extremes: convinced herself that she'd been stood up, made excuses for him because he was a doctor, cursed him to eternal damnation and found herself almost in tears. It wasn't a good way to begin things.

In the cab, it didn't improve. His former charm seemed to have vanished. He was wearing a dark blue shirt, black pants, charcoal grey blazer and a red and blue striped tie. None of it worked. The easy, seemingly effortless stylishness she's admired at the hospital had disappeared. He answered her questions with single words, stared out the window away from her and generally seemed completely disinterested in being there.

Alice was on the verge of asking the cab to turn around, take her home again, when she noticed something. It wasn't necessarily an attractive something, but it explained a lot.

A couple of beads of sweat on his temple.

Alice's work meant she was good at reading other people's state of mind through body language and other non-verbal cues. If a politician was lying or uncomfortable with her questions, Alice knew. And with Greg House, it was suddenly as clear as the nose on his face.

He was nervous!

Now that was something Alice didn't expect. But it gave her the courage to give things one last chance. If it didn't work, she could always call a cab from the restaurant and chalk it all up to yet another dating disaster. It'd be a story to share with her friends at their next dinner party, if nothing else: The date that never was. Forget not ordering dessert – we didn't even get to the restaurant!

His hand was resting on the seat between them and Alice reached over and covered it with hers. "I have a confession to make," she said, putting a low, slightly shy tone into her voice.

He turned to look at her and Alice was reminded of how good looking he was and how cute he was when he smiled. She wished with all her heart for this date to go well. If for no other reason than to give her poor, shattered self confidence a little boost. Alice used to be good at this, good at charming men. Now she just seemed to issue sarcastic quips and/or knee them in the groin. She needed to break the pattern.

"I'm not very good at dates," Alice continued. "And I haven't been on one in a long time. The last one was . . . well, the words 'unmitigated disaster' would not be overstating things. So, I guess, I hope you know what you're doing, because I haven't got a clue."

If Alice had read him right, this was a man who was used to being in control and who enjoyed having power over others. Alice hoped that by admitting her own nervousness, she'd give him permission to take the upper hand, to get back into the metaphorical driver's seat where he belonged. When he smiled she knew it had worked.

"Unmitigated disaster?" he asked. "Well, the only way is up."

His words became prophetic and the date improved dramatically from there. He was a bit full of himself, but then Alice had given him permission to do that, so she couldn't really complain. They laughed, shared likes and dislikes and very shallow descriptions of their lives – it seemed both of them were reluctant to reveal too much too soon, which was fine by her.

By the time dessert rolled around, Alice was having such a great time she didn't want the night to end. He hadn't exactly made any moves on her, but their legs had pressed together under the table, and she'd touched his arm a few times as they laughed and he hadn't pulled away. She wasn't sure if she wanted to sleep with him, but she definitely wanted to keep talking to him.

"So, want to come back to my place for coffee?" she asked, trying a flirty look, batting her eyelashes a little.

"Have you got something in your eye?"

Alice blushed and rubbed her eye uselessly. "Yeah. It's fine now."

"Coffee, coffee?" he asked. "Or coffee jello?"

Alice didn't miss the smirk. "I told you I don't do jello."

"You said you don't do jello unless you've been on a date first. Doesn't this qualify?"

Alice had no idea how to answer that. Instead she changed the subject. Sort of.

"I have a hot tub."

His look in response was surprised, aroused and just a little bit cautious.

"It's a good one," Alice continued. "A proper cedar tub, nice and deep. You can sit up straight and the water comes up to your shoulders and the jets are right on your spine. It's very relaxing. And if it's clear you can see the stars." Alice had no idea when she'd signed up to be a hot tub salesperson.

"Can we have coffee in the hot tub?"

"I guess so."

"Can we have jello in the hot tub?"

"I don't have—" Too late she caught the tease. "Oh. Well, we can have chocolate, or popsicles, or orange poppyseed cake, or cheese."

"Cheese in a hot tub?"

"I was just going through all the dessert things I've got at home that you might like."

"I think you've got plenty of things that I might like."

Alice bit her bottom lip. They'd been flirting pretty much since the main course arrived, but that was the first really suggestive thing he'd said. It made her feel better, because it meant her hot tub invitation was welcome, but it also twisted a knot of nerves in her belly. Did she want this? Her brain was telling her all the reasons it was a bad idea to invite a stranger into her home and get naked; other parts of her anatomy had already started a low throb in anticipation. She had a choice: take him home and see what he could do, or spend another night with her well-used rabbit. The rabbit was the safe bet: guaranteed orgasm and no awkward farewell afterwards, he just slipped back into his little blue satin bag. But a real live penis attached to a man who'd spent several years studying anatomy? There had to be decent odds on that.

"Shall we get the check?" she said.

--

House walked in to Alice's home and took a good look around. He hadn't noticed that much when he'd come to pick her up – he'd been too wrapped up in being annoyed with himself for being nervous. What kind of guy got to almost fifty years old and was still as nervous as a teenager on a date? He'd actually had a wardrobe crisis! He'd been so irritated with himself, his clothes and the world at large. But then Alice had talked him out of it. He had been superficially aware of it at the time, that she'd read him accurately and coaxed him out of his mood – that had almost irritated him too, but he'd decided to let it pass. Why shouldn't he enjoy a night out without analysing it to death?

Except that wasn't how his brain worked. But for a brief moment, he made it shut up.

Alice's house was enormous. Spread out over one level, with huge gardens all around, it had to have at least three too many bedrooms for its single occupant. He knew there was no way she could afford it on a journalist's salary, no matter how many awards she'd won. (Of course, he'd Googled her and probably now knew more about her career than she did.) That could only mean that the cheating ex-husband she'd briefly mentioned over dinner had haemorrhaged a significant amount of money in their divorce. Good for her.

In the living room, House spied an Xbox connected to a massive plasma screen. His fingers literally itched to play it, and he could suddenly imagine himself living here, reclining on the comfortable-looking, but no doubt hideously expensive sofa, playing video games while Alice brought him cold beers and massaged his feet with one hand while typing out Pulitzer-prize-winning articles with the other. Because he wasn't completely selfish.

Yes, House's image of perfect domesticity was very specific indeed.

Alice returned from a long corridor she'd disappeared into a few minutes earlier, holding black men's swim trunks in her hand.

"These should fit you. I kept a few of Stuart's things in case they came in handy." She pursed her lips and shrugged. "And also to annoy him. He searched for this for days."

"The Xbox too?" House asked.

Alice looked kind of sheepish. "No, that's mine."

House chuckled, both at her story and with relief at the swim trunks she'd offered. He'd anticipated they would be going naked and had actually been feeling a little shy about that, how to undress in front of her, how to prepare her for the damage to his leg.

"You can change in here," Alice instructed. "I'm going into the bedroom. Once you're ready, just open that glass door there," she gestured to a panel of French doors across the room, "and it's right outside. You'll just have to pull the cover back."

House quickly undressed and pulled on the swimsuit. Thankfully it was fairly long and covered at least half the scar on his thigh.

Once in the hot tub, he leaned back and relaxed. The wooden spa had a ledge seat about half-way up, all the way around, so she'd been right, he could sit properly, like he was in a chair, and the water came up to his armpits. It was simple, but so much better than some of those fibreglass models that were moulded and shaped to make you lie in impossible positions.

It really was blissful, sitting comfortably in hot, swirling water, jets gently pounding against his back. He felt the stress of the day slip from him and decided that even after just a couple of minutes his leg was aching less. He wondered vaguely if those therapists he'd scoffed at, the ones who had suggested hydrotherapy to help manage his pain, might just have had a decent idea.

He opened his eyes briefly when he heard Alice making her way outside. She was carrying a tray with two mugs of coffee with sugar and cream. House smiled. He had absolutely no desire for a cup of coffee.

They really needed to work on their coffee metaphors.

He also noticed her fuchsia-coloured bikini. Her body was perhaps not quite swimsuit-model material, if only because of her almost blindingly pale skin, but for a woman approaching forty she looked good. Her breasts weren't as firm as they'd looked with a bra on, but they were at least a C-cup and gravity worked on everyone. Thankfully there was no hair where he didn't want to see hair, and she had great legs – long, lean and shapely. She'd tied her auburn curls up in a ponytail which gave her a young, carefree look.

All in all, House could not be unhappy that she was about to join him.

He closed his eyes again, giving her a little bit of privacy as she stepped into the tub. He felt the tide surge against him as she lowered herself into the water.

House couldn't help thinking that all of this was very pleasant until he was startled by her lips on his. He opened his eyes in shock, finding her right in front of him, her body not touching his, but with one hand on the side of the tub near his shoulder to steady herself. She was kissing him tentatively, her lips pressing against his and then pulling away, waiting for his response. He'd been taken by surprise, but he wasn't confused about what to do next. He dragged a hand out of the water and pressed it against the bare nape of her neck, pulling her to him so he could kiss her again, more deeply. The rest of her body floated over to him, and he felt her breasts brush against his chest, one of her legs landing lightly between his knees.

It was slightly unreal, her body made a little weightless by the water. Unless he pressed her to him, she floated, their skin just brushing. House felt like he was kissing a mermaid, and it was incredibly erotic.

Then she pulled back, pushed away from him and sat back on the other side of the tub.

"Just thought I'd get that out of the way," she said.

The night was cool and a fog of steam surrounded them. The tub wasn't that large, but there was now enough distance between them for the mist to slightly obscure her features.

"Good idea," House said, surprised to find himself slightly breathless.

"I brought coffee."

"I noticed."

"And cake. And chocolate."

"Really? You know, when I said I wanted coffee . . ."

"Yes?"

"I really meant jello."

She laughed. "I know what you meant."

House left it at that for a moment, enjoying the sensations assaulting him. He had been hopeful of getting laid tonight, but then he was a man and pretty much hoped for that every day. Now he was sitting in a swirling pool of hot water, a beautiful woman across from him, and she'd just indicated that he, indeed, had every chance of getting his rocks off fairly shortly. Life was good. If only she'd brought out a nice single malt instead of the coffee.

He was starting to feel drowsy from the wine at dinner and the warmth of the water. Perhaps it was good that there wasn't any whiskey on hand. But before he got too sleepy . . .

"So, your ex was wealthy?"

"Loaded. He's a stockbroker."

"Nice choice. As a divorcee, I mean."

"Yes, I thought so. And it was very convenient of him to go shag a twenty-four-year-old bimbo, making me the wronged party."

House heard the flippant tone that he could tell was used to cover a great deal of resentment and hurt. He made a mental note to tread carefully on that subject.

"Why don't you come over here?" he asked.

Their eyes locked and for a moment, House felt a connection, something warm unfurling inside his chest. Something warm was unfurling a little lower down as well, and House decided to concentrate on that instead, it being a much simpler beast to understand.

She swam over to him, the couple of feet separating them easily traversed in a single arm stroke. She placed herself sideways in his lap, resting her weight on his left thigh.

"This okay?" she asked.

In answer he let one arm wrap around her waist and pull her closer, until the side of her right breast was pressed against his chest.

"What happened to your leg?"

House had no desire to go into the whole story. "Blood clot damaged my thigh muscle." It was his stand-by answer and would satisfy a non-medical audience.

"Ouch."

"Yeah."

"Kiss me."

House shrugged. "Okay."

The kiss started tentatively, but both of them were obviously ready for more. Alice sighed against his mouth, parting her lips slightly and he took that as invitation. He let his tongue explore her mouth leisurely – just because they were ready for more didn't mean it had to happen immediately. With half a thought House also wondered at what point they'd have to get out – he didn't think it would be logistically possible to actually do it in the water, and besides, his wallet and the condom inside it was back in the living room, in his pants pocket.

Unless she'd brought one out from the house. Without pulling away from the kiss, he opened one eye and scanned the tray sitting next to the tub. He couldn't see anything that looked like one. Besides, that would have been pretty bold. Bringing out a tray with coffee and contraceptives.

Coffee and contraceptives, he liked that phrase. The words played in his head until he realised that Alice had pulled away and shifted position, throwing one leg over to straddle him. House forgot his word play and focused on the woman in front of him, inching forward on the seat to allow her to kneel astride him. The water gave her buoyancy and made her breasts look like apples he very much wanted to go bobbing for.

"You know, I think you underestimate your appeal as a jello wrestler," he said, bending a head to kiss the top of one breast.

"Will you shut up about jello wrestling?"

He looked up at her, her face pink and shiny with steam and perspiration. He kissed her neck, the soft skin under her ear, and realised that must be a good spot for her when he felt her fingers scrabble against his back, pulling herself close to him.

They both sighed as their bodies made contact under the water, the lycra of their bathing suits the only barriers between his hardness and her softness. She groaned as she rubbed up against him.

"Oh God, I forgot how good a real one feels," Alice said quietly.

"Why thank you."

"Shit. Did I say that out loud?" Alice's face, already pink from the heat of the water, deepened with a blush.

"Afraid so."

"Oh. Well. Sorry."

"No, feel free to continue to compare me favourably to artificial love toys, it's great for my ego."

"Like your ego needs a boost."

"Oh I might come across as all confident, macho and sexy, but really I'm a quivering mass of insecurities on the inside."

Alice stopped rubbing against him and leaned in to kiss his cheek and then his ear. "I know," she whispered.

House swallowed. He'd been joking. Hadn't he? But before he could ask any questions, he felt Alice's hand snaking down between their bodies.

"Mind if I . . . ?" she asked raising her eyebrows. Under the water, she took him in her hand and repositioned him, adjusting herself so he was pressed just right, making the friction that much more pleasurable for both of them.

"Not at all," House answered, his voice strangled. If they were going to get out of the tub, pretty soon might be a good idea . . .

But for now, House was lost in enjoying the moment. Because of the buoying effect of the water, he could move against Alice without hurting his leg too much. She was pulling him closer to her with every thrust, and her pebble-hard nipples jutted against his chest, a reminder of some exploring he still really wanted to do. But just as he thought about how much he'd like to drag his lips over the pale skin of her breast, he was suddenly swallowing water.

He was drowning.