Chapter 9

Dancing with the Wolves Circling

Kenna Speaks:

We arrived at the hotel and walked into a large ballroom that must have seated 500 guests. We found our table which was somewhat in the back because Greg was only a resident. We were seated with four other couples, one of which was Doug and a brunette. As Greg and I walked up to the table the men stood to welcome me. There was no mistaking the fact that each one of them was undressing me in their minds.

Greg said under his breath, "Let the games begin."

House held a hand up to me. "This is Kenna Palmer. I'll let you each introduce yourselves and your dates."

They each made their introductions and I saw that Doug could hardly look me in the eye. I didn't care; I knew that I was better looking and sexier than his date-naner-naner-naner. Greg went and got in line for drinks. Doug jumped up and followed. When they got back, Greg had a smirk on his face. He handed me my margarita and whispered, "Score one for the 21 year old nymphomaniac. He's crying in his beer, kicking himself for not calling you."

I chuckled. We went out to the reception foyer in order to avoid sitting through the awards program. Greg pointed out several doctors to me, including the ones I would probably have as instructors. I was a little embarrassed because people kept coming up to Greg and asking who I was. Greg bought me my second margarita before I even sat down for dinner. The tequila was going straight to my head causing me to laugh a little too loud and smile a lot more than I should have. By the time we ate dinner, Greg and I were both in good moods. He was very playful.

House Defends Himself

What was I suppose to do? She was 21 and went from being a two-bagger to a goddess. When she metamorphosed she was no dung beetle, she was Venus. To top it off, she wanted sex and she wanted it with me. Do you know how many Hail Marys and Rosaries you'd have to say in a lifetime to get a good looking woman to beg you to pop her cherry? Now that in itself was worth crawling to the cathedral on my knees with a cat-o-nine-tails, but then she keeps coming back- and back- and back. Since I'm a glass half empty kind-a-guy, I just know I'm a deckhand on the Titanic. Still, what a way to go.

I asked Kenna to the "Spring Fling", the Johns Hopkins charity event so she could see how Doogie treats women, a new one every week. After her boo-hoo fest, I figured this naive 21 year old needed a lesson in love. Frankly, I think Doogie got it instead. I also figured I needed to shake things up; these stupid events are so boring. The surprising thing was that, although Kenna was confident and at ease with me, she had trouble connecting with the others at the table. She seemed shy. When she walked down the stairs, I knew I was in trouble. Her ankles are thin and connect to calves that are firm and shapely. My eyes wandered up to those beautiful thighs, those thighs that can wrap around and pull you deep inside. Then, as my eyes were drawn up, I saw her sweet round ass, perfectly framed by the green clinging satin. But it didn't stop there. Her waist wasn't small, but it wasn't thick either. It was framed by a tight jeweled belt. Her décolletage plunged to her waist revealing those perfectly pert C cups with the perfect pink bottle tops and firm cherries, the shapes which were visible through the emerald green halter top. Her face and hair looked lovely too.

We arrived and I sat back, watching the males all turn to look at Kenna. All night long I was asked who she was, how long we had been dating and why she was going out with me. A few asked me about the age difference, mostly women. We had several drinks and I asked her to dance. On the dance floor she looked up. She was trying to tell me something. Her lips were coming up to my ear to whisper, her warm breath was on my neck sending shivers down my spine and electrical sparks to my groin. I just did it...right on the dance floor. I put one hand on her right hip, pulled her in close and then cut off her path to my ear with my lips on hers. She responded by kissing me back and rubbing her pelvis and thigh against me until I was at a half salute. God, for being a novice, this woman had some great moves. I would have taken her right there but she managed to break away from my mouth to say, "Let's get some air."

"That might be easier said than done. I've got a friend who wants to say hi."

"I'll walk in front of you, come on."

We went out to the atrium and walked around, not talking, just holding hands. I started pointing out different people and making up stories about them. "He's here to make a swap, his black brief case for the another black brief case full of drugs. Problem is, he doesn't know that the FBI, that guy over there, is here to nail him. See that woman; she's a high priced hooker. She teaches English as a second language during the day but makes big money at night."

Kenna was giggling and after doing that for several minutes, I escorted her back into the ballroom. I excused myself to go to the bathroom and when I was out in the hall, Doug grabbed my arm and swung me around to face him. The first thing I saw were the glazed, bloodshot eyes and the second was the fist which hit just below the eye socket on my cheekbone. It was good that it hit the bone because it caused him great pain (and me too) so there wasn't a second swing. I went flying back onto the carpet.

"It was you, wasn't it? Wasn't It?"