House Call

Timeline: After the end of Season 4.

Place: House's house.

I was there. Finally. Outside the door of house no. 221. My heart was bopping around so weirdly that Michael Jackson had nothing on it. There was a fluttering in my stomach, which was odd, because it was the first time in ten long years that the prospect of sex was... scary, exciting, actually thrilling. When your line of work involves taking off your clothes several times a day, sex becomes a sort of routine -- like washing your hands after a meal.

I first saw him at the strip club where I'd newly started work, a week ago, and instantly knew he was special -- in some inexplicable way. His irresistible blue eyes beckoned me mercilessly, and there was something in his face -- a ghost of a smile perhaps, that bespoke of his attitude towards his misery -- when you've been in my line of work long enough you'll understand that if weren't for misery there wouldn't be any customers at all -- but this customer, I felt, was man enough to mock his miseries -- and I was, ironically, hooked.

I was just beginning to give him a lap dance when he noticed that he had cut his head, and that he couldn't remember the last four hours. He left in a hurry, and I felt an odd sense of disappointment, like a child who has been given a gift-wrapped toy and then had it taken away before she could unwrap it. I decided to make enquiries.

He was a doctor, they told me, those who had been called to his apartment before. His name was House, and he had a bum leg due to which he was in constant, unendurable pain. And then they went on to tell me what he was like in bed. That did it. This was my kinda guy, I decided. And here I was now, wondering if it was all a terrible mistake...

Summoning up all my courage, I raised my hand to knock on the door, but just as I was about to, the door swung open, and there he was, framed in the doorway, all six feet two and a half inches of him -- sending a jolt of electricity through my body, and I was suddenly and forcibly reminded of the magnetic energy this man exuded. He was clad in a gray t-shirt and shorts, and held a glass of bourbon in one hand. His beautiful blue eyes raked through my entire body and the effect was not unlike receiving a licking from a cat -- a cat with a very rough tongue indeed.

My eyes, in turn, romped all over him, wondering what he would look like naked, wanting desperately to have this man all over me, filling me, inside me, yelling my name over and over again in a litany of sheer sexual pleasure.

Not surprisingly, he broke the silence. "You've been standing out here for at least 10 minutes, breathing heavily and shuffling your feet. Either you're trying to sell me some really rotten glazing or....." He broke off in mid-sentence and gave me the once over again. This time, a wrinkle of puzzle formed in between his eyebrows. I wanted to reach out and touch it, to stroke it with the tips of my fingers, to feel it bend and give way under me -- but he was speaking again. "Where do I know you from?"

There. It was finally my turn to speak. Weeks of rehearsing what I would say at this point had drilled in to me what I considered a good opening line "I never really earned that twenty you gave me...." I let my voice trail away and licked my lips seductively. I tried to see myself from his point of view -- a knockout figure, topped by a face generally found on women who don't give in that easily, full, dark red lips, and luminous eyes. I slipped my coat open, and his eyes travelled the length of the opening. Then his brow cleared as it all came back to him -- for I was what I was wearing left no doubt whatsoever about my occupation -- a lace bustier and panties, fishnet stockings and a garter belt -- all black. Nothing else.

He looked back up at my face, and my heart skipped again as I was rewarded with one of those elusive almost-smiles of his. "Come on in..." he said.

He led me down the hall to the bedroom, entered, and went across to the music system to put in a CD. I dropped my coat and stood facing him, so that when he turned back, I had dropped my coat and was standing facing him. His eyes hungrily followed a trail starting at my full, pouting lips, moving down my neck, to my breasts encased in the barely-enough bustier, down to my panties, stockings and high heels. His mouth curved into a smile, a more complete one this time, and I as he dragged his eyes back up to look into mine I could see that he was impressed. For some reason, that made me feel proud. And happy. I smiled back.

As the music began to play, I walked over to him, gently pushed him to a sitting position at the end of the bed, and finally began to live my fantasy of strip-teasing for this man. He locked his intent blue eyes on me, and the heat emanating from them centred on my loins and made my pussy tingle with anticipation.

Moving my hips to the music, I cupped my breasts through the cloth, and ran my hands back and forth across my breasts. My fingers found my nipples, and clasping each one in a thumb and forefinger, I rolled them gently. This caused an involuntary moan to escape me as twin waves of pleasure gently buzzed in between my fingers. As I kept this up, my clit began to throb, and I could feel my pussy getting all hot and bothered.

He was enjoying himself now, as he sat back on the bed, and let his azure eyes rove lazily all over my body.

Kicking my high heels off, I walked over to House and sat on his lap. His arms came around to circle me, and I felt the strength in them as they held me close. Oddly enough, I felt safe there, secure in the warmth of his embrace.

I was brought back to reality by something hard pressing into my ass. "Bonjour, monsieur" I whispered in his ear, and we both smiled at each other like two kids playing in the rain who have discovered a bug under a rock. I clenched my butt around his cock, and was rewarded with a moan of pleasure in a voice that sounded like someone was raking a nail across my clit. It felt undeniably good, so I did it again -- and again, and I was soon slowly and sensuously dry-humping his long, thick cock through our clothes. His voice panting in my ear was pure ecstasy, and his hands found the edge of my bustier, and as he lifted it up from my tummy and over my head, my breasts came free. He tossed the bustier aside and ran his long fingers up and down my torso, stopping at my breasts to pinch my nipples lightly. I have incredibly sensitive nipples that are hard wired to my pussy, and every single touch of his sent warm waves of tingling pleasure flooding through my entire body. I threw back my head and moaned.

Just as I was enjoying the feel of his big, manly hands on my tender breasts, he moved them downward till he reached the sides of my hips, and undid the bows holding up my (by now totally drenched) thong on either side. I ran my hands over his and undid the garter belt. Standing up, (rather reluctantly, I admit) I stepped out of my stockings and thong, and stood facing him. Now it was my turn. Grabbing his t-shirt, I lifted it over his head, and tossed it aside. I ran my hands several times across his chest, savouring the manliness. I lightly kissed his chest hair, and moved my attention to his nipples. Taking each one in my mouth, I gently nibbled and then sucked it. He liked the attention, I could tell. But I was saving most of it for elsewhere...

He was still wearing his shorts, and I remembered being told that he hated having his scar seen. And then my brain stopped thinking, for his mouth had found mine. A jolt of live electricity shot through me as his lips devoured me, and then suddenly everything went black.

He had turned off the lights in the room. And simultaneously turned on those in my head, for when I shut my eyes everything exploded in colour. Slipping my arms around his neck, I snaked out my tongue and met his halfway, and as our tongues danced together I sank into him and savoured the taste of him -- pleasant, bourbon-y and indefinably attractive. Just like the rest of him.

As we kissed, his stubble rubbed against my face, tickling me quite pleasantly. So I took my lips and fingers there next, running them lightly over his prickly stubble, and making little moaning noises. I kissed his chin and his ears, becoming more and more aroused and frenzied as I worked my way down to his neck.

My pussy was sopping wet and my clit was throbbing rather insistently by now, and I wanted badly, very badly, to take him inside me and make him fuck me silly, and the need seemed to be equally urgent on his side. We both began to fumble with his shorts and boxers, and it seemed like ages before I finally got them off and fell back with him onto the bed, in his arms. He rolled onto his back, stretched out his arm, and conjured up a condom from the nightstand drawer. Sliding it on easily, he motioned for me to climb up on him, and so I did. I wanted to tease him a little, so I rubbed my wet and puffy nether lips gently back and forth across the tip of his cock.

But he wasn't in the mood for games. Grabbing hold of my waist with both hands, he yanked me down firmly, and I gasped as the full length of his long, hard cock filled me and suddenly stretched my cunt. It was all the instruction I needed. I rose all the way up until his cock just slipped out, and took it inside me again. The velvety hardness of his cock felt wonderful as it reached in until it touched my very depths, as I felt that it had been made for the express purpose of fucking the living daylights out of me. I looked at him. His eyes were closed, and there was an expression of bliss on his face as his sensual groans echoed in my ear.

I was now riding him with a regular, steady rhythm, when suddenly his thumb found my clit, and began rubbing it. It drove me that much closer to the brink of orgasm, and I desperately began fucking him harder, faster, more furiously, knowing that I would cum in a minute, and wanting him to cum with me. He was moaning loudly now, and as his balls clenched I knew that he was going to cum. His relentless thumb rubbing my clit simultaneously drove me to orgasm, and my toes curled, lights exploded behind my eyes, and all the pleasure centres in my body coalesced into one as I became a shaking, heaving mass of sexual bliss.

Even as I came down from that high I knew that the game had barely begun. And we were now going to move on to my favourite part. What I had in mind for Dr.House was an experience that he wouldn't forget in a lifetime, not even if he lost his memory again. Oh, yeah, it was playtime.

To be continued...