Sorry folks, this is the second time I've posted and the same exact chapter comes up...I think I have it worked out.

Chapter 11

Whipping Post

We weren't supposed to do any more horizontal dancing. But let me tell you, Greg House just had to look into your eyes like he wanted you and it was hard to say no, especially when you knew he'd take you to the promise land. He had that sly smile and those blue, blue eyes and with just one look, I wanted him in me.

I was happy to hear that I had passed my dissertation, but distressed when Greg asked me to move in with him. I wasn't sure what it meant. Did he have feelings or would I just be a convenient piece of ass? More important, did I have feelings for him? I liked Greg, he made me laugh, we had serious discussions, and I enjoyed the sex. But did I love him? I didn't know what love felt like. I had to make a decision and stick with it. If I said no, I had to prepare to move out.

"Are you sure that's what you want?"

"We can try it," he said nonchalantly, but I could tell from the way he was rubbing his lip with his finger that he was nervous.

I know I paused just a little too long because I saw him back pedaling, about ready to say something trite or to make it into a joke, so I jumped in before he could say it. "Fine, let's try it out."

He grinned and pulled me close, "Let's go dancing. Go put on a dress."

It didn't take him asking twice for me to go up and get ready. We went out dancing and when the first slow song came on he grabbed me and we went out on the dance floor. Greg was an incredible dancer, able to make you feel like you were the only couple on the dance floor. He was very confident in his moves, dancing slow with one leg between my leg, pulling me close to him and rubbing up against me.

He kissed me and said, "Congratulations, now you've got med school in front of you. That's going to be fun."

When we got home, I asked him where he had learned to dance and apparently he was forced to take lessons as a teen. He could actually dance the foxtrot, meringue, rhumba, cha-cha, salsa, waltz and tango. I wasn't a great dancer so he began to teach me a few moves and for once the great Greg House was patient. We practiced a few steps that night and then went to bed.

I started to get into my pajamas and he said, "Why wear pajamas? Come on, you don't need those, I'll keep you warm."

I crawled in bed with him and he began to drag his fingers up my legs and draw animals on my belly. I would write words on his back with my finger and he would have to guess them. For some ridiculous reason, this kept us occupied for at least an hour. When we were done, he pinned my arms gently to the mattress and crawled on top of me. It was the slowest that we ever made love and it was incredibly romantic. I fell asleep with my head on his chest and when we woke up the next day I made him breakfast. Leaving for his rotation, I realized that I had a day off with nothing to do so I started to move my stuff into his room and do a little snooping.

I found a wooden box that looked like an old alchemist's box that was carried by doctors a hundred years ago. I found photo albums of Greg as a child and teenager. He was a cute kid and sullen teenager. There were several pictures of him playing various instruments and looking very sober. In the bottom of one box were some of his report cards which gave me a good laugh when I read them. There were numerous comments about how he was bright but that he was lazy and that he had a hard time relating to the other children. There was one teacher who said that Greg played well with others when they did what he told them.

House Speaks

Why does anyone ask another person to share their life? I was bored being on my own. Kenna was like a butterfly coming out of her cocoon. Everything we did together was not only new to her, but she would make it an event. I took her to her first rock concert and she insisted on smoking some marijuana that was being passed around. Because she was so thin, it didn't take much to make her high. I laughed really hard when she ended up on her seat trying to lead cheers for David Bowie (it was the Tin Man Tour.) I have to admit that half the auditorium was cheering with her.

In June she threw me a birthday party and- I don't know how she managed to do it-she got Doug and fifteen other people to actually come to it. Doug apologized about the dance and said that he was happy for the two of us.

Was I in love? That's the 64 million dollar question. I know going home to her was the best part of my day. I can say that for the next six months on the Greg House scale of happiness I was bouncing between an 8.0-9.0. The only thing that was keeping it from being a 10 was that I didn't get along with one of my bosses and I was trying hard to bite my tongue at work. If it hadn't been for Kenna, I would have been out of Johns Hopkins sooner, but she kept me from being my own worst enemy. I don't suffer fools lightly and there are a lot of bumbling idiots in a hospital, and not all of them are patients.

Kenna wasn't perfect. She tended to pick her teeth, didn't like jazz and she would get quiet and shy around people she didn't know. It would drive me nuts because she would clam up and look like an idiot. One time, in late June or early July, we went out with a group of doctors to dinner, their wives and girlfriends. She said maybe two words during the first hour. It was annoying because it didn't look like she was making an effort. I looked at her and told everyone that I was, "...one relationship away from having 30 cats." A few minutes later, when she still hadn't joined in, I said to her loud enough for the whole table to hear me, "What, lost in thought and found yourself in unfamiliar territory?"

She said in a low voice, "Greg, please, you know this type of thing is hard for me."

"Christ, I could have brought a trained Myna Bird and had more companionship." She looked down at her plate and that's when I hit her with, "Come on Kenna, smile, it's the second-best thing you do with your lips."

She slammed her napkin down on the table and walked quickly to the bathroom. There were a lot of dirty looks from the doctors at the table. I thought it was funny but when I saw her little face when she came back, I knew she felt totally humiliated. Slipping my hand over hers but she pulled it away from mine.

I yelled at her, "I'm sorry. I just thought that you might get the hint that sitting there like a lump on the log isn't going to score you point when you do your rotations."

She scooted her chair out, grabbed her purse and took off out the door. I ran after her but she was fast on her feet and I didn't see which way she went. I went back in and gave Doug $50.00 and ran back out, driving around looking but not finding her, so I drove home. She was upstairs in bed. I got undress and crawled in behind her, sure that if I cuddled her and said a few sweet platitudes she would forgive me.

"Get the fuck away from me. I'll be out tomorrow and you can use your charm on someone else."

"Kenna, I'm sorry. I just know how brilliant you are and I wanted to show you off to everyone, but you just sat there like James Brady on Quaaludes. I'm sorry."

Kenna turned over and said, "Yeah and you were so charming, I bet they're all discussing the merits of your personality. I won't be a part of this, I'm not your whipping post. I'll figure out where to go tomorrow, but you can have your miserable little life back."

"I don't want it back. Come on, Kenna, what can I do for you to forgive me?"

"A lobotomy would be a good start."