Shepherd's Pie

“I just don’t get it.” Cameron admitted, looking over the case files. Her stack was smaller
than either Chase's or Foreman’s but still substantial. “The appeal just eludes me.”

“Wha’ appeal?” Chase asked around the pencil clenched in his teeth. Foreman had
gone to bring them all lunch, and House was off, trapped in his mandatory clinic duty so
it was merely the two of them reviewing the files of the previous month. Cameron tapped
the one in front of her gently.

“This situation. The one with Harvey and the . . .” she paused, unable to bring herself to
say it. Chase dryly filled in the blank as he took the pencil out of his mouth.

“The dominatrix. It’s just a title, it won’t BITE you. And what’s not to get? Clearly Annette
and Harvey have a grand relationship that works for them, end of story.”

“She STRANGLES him! That’s not a relationship, that’s abuse!” she protested. Chase
shot her a slightly irritated look and leaned back in his chair, arms folded on his chest.

“God, you’re as provincial as House. Honestly, what the two of them have is nobody’s
business and not a factor in Harvey’s health. Annette is happy in taking her submissive
to the edge of his desires, and HE trusts her completely. Tell me YOU wouldn’t like to
have that sort of intimate connection with another soul just once in your life, right?”

Cameron looked at Chase, her cheeks pink but her gaze steady. “I didn’t say I didn’t
want that sense of . . . intimacy, I said I didn’t GET it. All love is supposed to be about
give and take. What I don’t understand is how any individual with a healthy self-esteem
would willingly follow commands or put themselves at risk like that.”

“There’s risk, and then there’s RISK,” Chase countered thoughtfully. “And let’s face it,
we follow commands every day. Do this test, follow up on that procedure—
one way or another, we’re ALL House’s bitches.”

Cameron smirked unwillingly, her eyes dancing, and Chase grinned himself.

“That’s not the same—“ she protested. He gave a shrug and looked back at the file in
front of him, making a quick notation in a margin.

“It is, just without the pleasurable positive re-enforcers. We do it because we’re paid to.
In a REAL power play relationship, the payoff’s a lot more personal, even if it isn’t

Cameron stared at his bent, blonde head, and her eyes narrowed. She spoke up again, quietly. “You certainly seem to know a lot about it.”

At that Chase glanced up, and through his veiled glance she caught a flash of
vulnerability. He gave a crooked smirk to hide it, and tossed his hair back.

“Enough to know not to let House use it against me. So I’ve dabbled a bit—no law
against it, and frankly, after half the things we’ve seen on the job, who’s to say what’s
normal anymore?”

Another pause stretched out, and Cameron leaned forward. Chase frowned a little as
she softly asked,

“Do you . . . like it?”

“What kind of question is that? I wouldn’t do things I don’t like—at least not in my free
time. Yeah, I like it. Why?”

“Just—curious,” she admitted with a flush, her glance dropping. Chase blinked a little,
and a suspicion flared in his mind. He shook his head.

“Allison, no—I can refer you to a couple of interesting books on the subject, some
articles, but I’m NOT going to get into a long, drawn-out discussion of my proclivities,
all right?”

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” she persisted softly, eyes bright. Chase pursed his
mouth, not quite sure how to answer the question. He reluctantly shook his head.

“I’m not uncomfortable, I just don’t think it’s an appropriate setting—and I have to
question your motives, you know?  Is this professional interest, or are you looking to walk
on the wild side yourself and need a safe person for a test run?”

She bit her lip. In that little gesture, Chase felt a hot surge of astonishment run through
him. Well, well—a new surprise every day, he thought with inner amusement. Cameron
tried to stutter an answer, but Chase saved her the trouble by crossing his hands on the
table and squaring his shoulders. “Ah. I see.”

“No, it’s not like THAT. But I have to admit . . . the concept has this weird . . . attraction,”
She blurted. “And I firmly believe a person should be . . . open-minded about . . .


“Chase—“ she chided, her cheeks pink now, “Look, forget I even said anything. I just
assumed that you’d be easier to ask than a . . . stranger.”

“You’re bloody well NOT going to ask a stranger about this stuff!” he erupted, then
glanced around quickly, regaining his composure. Leaning forward, he locked gazes
with her and frowned severely. “Jesus, Allison, that’s asking for the worst sort of
encounter! A fluffy little newbie like you? Christ, you’d be in cuffs and a gag before you
could even cross a party room. No, no, no—you want info, you come to ME,

She dimpled at him for a moment. “I’m a big girl, Robert.”

“Not THAT big. Not by a long shot, my lamb.” The term slipped out gently, and before Cameron could say anything more, Foreman sauntered in, loaded down with three trays.
She turned to look at him, blinking. Chase busied himself with another file.

“O-kay, we’re coming to the end of the amazing Doctor Foreman tray balancing act,
ladies and gentlemen. Come collect your lunches and fork over your money.”

The rest of the afternoon passed, and despite a few quick glances at each other, neither Cameron nor Chase said anything more.

***   ***   ***

Friday Night

Chase was still mulling over the odd conversation in his mind as he walked out to the
garage a few evenings later, and for a while he entertained thoughts of shocking prim
little Doctor Cameron with the depths of his own experience. Certainly she had no true
concept of what it took to be in a trust-oriented relationship, and it would be a mean-
spirited little thrill to shake her up a bit. He hadn’t forgotten her little speech about the
dangers of sex—as if she had any idea of what a REAL danger was, he chuckled to
himself. No, Allison Cameron might fancy herself a well-adjusted individual, but Chase suspected her vanilla streak could be--spiced up a bit.

He sighed. It had been a long time since Margot, and in all honesty, he missed it. The
delicate sense of ritual, the control—the litany of lust. Chase knew he’d learned a lot
about himself in that intense year, certainly enough to know that anyone else he might
want to love would have to understand his needs. But hospital hours and a lack of


His musings cut short, Chase glanced over a few rows and saw Cameron waving at him.
He stared back at her and she pointed to her car.

“It’s not starting.”

“I’m a doctor, not a mechanic,” he responded instinctively; nevertheless he strode over,
hands deep in his jacket pockets. She already had the hood up and was glaring
helplessly into the depths.

“Differential diagnosis?” he rumbled in imitation of House. Cameron winced at him.

“Not a fuel problem—tank’s full.”

“Does it turn over?” Chase inquired. Cameron shook her head; he shrugged. “There you go—electrical. Look at the battery.”

A moment’s study turned up a lead wire, completely frayed through. Cameron smacked
the bumper in frustration, but Chase already had a cell phone out and was talking
calmly to Triple A. He hung up and shot her a look. “On the way.”

“Thank you,” she pinkened, suddenly shy. For a while they stood leaning against the
car, and Cameron took a moment to study her companion surreptitiously.

Robert Chase had classic aristocratic lines; if he was a racehorse, Cameron thought,
he’d be a fine-blooded Arabian. He wore self-confidence like a tailored suit, and yet still
had dimples when he smiled. Not that he did that often lately—he’d kept himself pretty
tightly under wraps after the Vogler fiasco. But still, there were times when she wished
he’d just—smile.

He cleared his throat. “I’d be happy to give you a lift home, once the tow’s here.”

“Thank you, that would be nice,” she murmured. He tossed his bangs back and sighed. Cameron turned to face him, and saw he was watching her as well; for a moment she
could see the amusement in his eyes.

“Unless you don’t trust me—“ he added in an undertone. Cameron’s mouth curved in a
faint smile.

“I trust you. Mostly.”

“Thanks a lot—“ his complaint was interrupted by the low rumble of the tow truck pulling
into the parking lot. Cameron sighed.

“Must have radioed one out on the road.”

“Most likely, yeah.”

Half an hour later, after Cameron’s Fiat had been efficiently towed away, she let herself
be helped into his Range Rover. She leaned back in the seat and stretched a little,
fighting a yawn. He climbed in the driver’s side and started the vehicle up. The low swell
of classical music flared up, something soothing, with lots of violins. They drove in
silence for a while, each lost in thought. Finally Cameron stirred and shot a glance at
him. He gave a little knowing nod.

“And here come the questions.”

“That predictable, huh?”

“No, that logical. The hospital’s not a safe place for personal conversations—too many
people watching and making erroneous assumptions about the topic,” he drawled, out,
his accent slightly thicker. “It stands to reason that you’d take the chance to ask in a
more private setting. I know I would.”

“Yes, well when the opportunity falls in your lap—it seems a waste not to . . . take it.”
Cameron murmured cautiously. Chase gave another nod.

“So—ask away.”

“Um . . . okay. When did you first . . .?”

“Back during my residency with Trenton Gen. My bank had this big investor’s party and I
met a woman there I hit it off with. Later, I found out she liked playing with flames.”

“Flames?” Cameron winced, and Chase gave a sigh.

“Candles mostly. Dripping wax. Sometimes she liked to have something flammable
sprayed on her and lit—if you smother it quickly it’s fairly safe, but very dramatic.”

Cameron swallowed hard. “And you went along with this?”

Chase turned to look at her for a moment, considering the question, as if he’d never
thought about it before.

“Not at first. Like anything dangerous you go into it bit by bit. A few drops of wax the first
time. A few more another time. Escalation as you gain confidence. The key to it was how
she responded, Allison. This cool, confident woman had a serious job, lots of
respectability and power. But once I had her under me, waiting for those first little molten splashes . . . well, it was pretty arousing,” he confessed in a low voice.

Cameron shifted her thighs a little, feeling heat of her own now.  Chase drove on.

“And that’s how you found out you liked to be kinky?”

He laughed.

“No, that’s how I found out that I liked controlling people. Being a doctor gives me plenty
 of opportunities to do that, and I’ve always been keen on being in charge. But that only covered the professional side of my life, you know? Off the clock I’m as clumsy and
inept as the next terminal dater.”

That made her smile in commiseration, and she relaxed a little. The long ribbon of
highway stretched on and Cameron pointed to the next exit. “Here. So you dated HER,
and it was . . . good?”

“Yes.” No hesitation in his reply. “It was. She was pretty patient with me, but eventually
the bank transferred her to Boston and we broke up. During that time though, I’d gone
to a few . . . parties with her. Interesting affairs, not quite what you’d imagine.”

That floored her a moment, and Cameron blinked a little, trying to picture the cool and sophisticated Robert Chase in the midst of a crowd decked in leather and studs. The
image brought a nervous little giggle out of her slender throat and a moment later he
joined in, aware of her thoughts.

“Whips and dips? Wine and cheese served by girls in dog collars? A few times, but not
the norm. Most of the parties were private affairs where real players didn’t have to flaunt
their preferences. And the conversations were fascinating. I’m convinced that the
average IQ of the attendees had to be in the high one thirties—“ Chase murmured, lost
in memory for a moment. Cameron nodded, cocking her head a little.

“So you learned to . . . control people.”

“No, I learned to play at give and take in the mind game department. For example, when
 I was gaming with a girl, I gave her a very simple order in the beginning—say, call me
 at twelve o’clock noon each day for a week.”

“Sounds simple,” Cameron commented, “And . . . not very sexy.”

“Maybe. But when I added that she had to call me at noon and touch herself while she
did it—“ Chase purred, grinning a bit. Cameron’s eyes widened and she fought not to
make a squeaking sound as he continued, “—Then all of a sudden it became a bit more,
eh? Like Harvey and Annette, it was a matter of trust. I kept her aroused and under
control, and she willingly followed my directives. If the relationship developed into
something more, wonderful. And if not, then at least we both had had a lovely time as
far as it went.”

Silence again for a while, and then Cameron took a deep breath.

“Chase—if I---“

He shook his head, long bangs swaying. “Allison. Think very carefully about what you’re
going to propose.”

“How did you--?” she turned, her cheeks pink but her eyes very bright. He shrugged, a
small grin crossing his face.

“Because it’s a natural progression. You think that I’d be a safe way to dabble in this
without any sort of serious commitment. And for the most part you’d be right. On the
surface it’s a pretty simple deal. It’s the underside that isn’t. Ah, here we are, right?”

He pulled up to a brownstone townhouse and parked, but neither he nor Cameron got
out immediately. She put her hands on the dashboard and squared her slender
shoulders, not speaking for a moment.

“It’s not always enough to read about things. To understand some of them, you have to
be willing to go a little bit further,” she intoned. “And this is going to bother me until I

“I appreciate that.” Chase assured her, looking out over the steering wheel and fighting
the tremble of anticipation deep in his stomach. Cameron turned her head to look at him,
her expression calm and serious.

“I want to do this. Will you . . . guide me?”

Chase studied her a long moment, taking in the delicacy of her features: the girlish
pucker of her mouth, her wide eyes, her baby fine hair.

“All right. But I need you to sleep on it over the weekend first, because the rules might
not be up to your liking. There are only two, really, but they’re both inflexible.”

“Okay, what are they?” she asked eagerly. A corner of Chase’s mouth went up. Very
gently he reached over and took her hand, turning it palm up.

“First rule: My word is law. When I call you Allison, whatever else I say, command or
request, you DO. No questions asked, no balking or hesitation. That’s a very hard rule
for some women, especially for one like you, in a position of authority in your own right.”

As he spoke, he stroked his thumb across her palm, the gesture amazingly sensual and soothing. Cameron watched it, feeling a surge of arousal beginning within her.

“—But—“ she began to protest, and cut herself off, realizing the truth of Chase’s words.
She nodded slowly. “I . . . see what you mean. Okay, that WILL be tough. What’s the
other rule?”

“Perfect honesty between us. When I ask you what you’re feeling, you MUST tell me. No
 lies, no deceptions. I need to know that if you’re unhappy or upset you’ll tell me. That if
 you need to stop, you’ll feel free to let me know. Likewise, if I think things aren’t going
well between us, I can call an end to it too. Understand?”

She nodded, a little dazed from the caress of his thumb over her palm. Chase laughed
softly at her expression and stopped, letting go of her fingers.

“There—now when you use that hand tonight, be it for making tea or washing yourself,
you’ll remember how I touched you. Will you need a ride in Monday, or will you take a

“A c-cab.”

“Good. Let me know your decision as soon as you get in then, so I can plan
accordingly.” He climbed out and came around to her side of the car, opening the door
for her in a courtly gesture that seemed second nature to his aristocratic bearing.
Cameron got out, staring at him. He gave her a careless smile.

“Night, then—“

He watched her slowly mount the steps, feeling a warm glow deep within, and for the
first time in a long time, Robert Chase sighed happily.

***   ***   ***

Monday Morning

House was late, and Cameron looked up as Chase strode into the office, carelessly
hanging his cashmere coat on the rack in the corner. Foreman gave a nonchalant wave
and rose, checking his watch.

“Just about to get the lattes—the usual?”

“YOU’RE enthusiastic. This wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that the dolly
behind the counter is utterly gorgeous would it?” Chase cheekily inquired. Foreman
grinned, white teeth flashing.

“Not a bit. Or the fact that she hangs on my every word and undercharges me—no,
none of those are factors in this at all.”

“Right. Just as long as we’re honest about our motives here.”

“So—two caramel mocha grandes and a chai tea?” Foreman rubbed his hands together. Chase nodded.

“Take your time . . . improve your chances.”

Cameron nodded, her mouth twisted in a slightly disapproving smile as she watched
Foreman leave. As his footsteps echoed down the hall, She turned to look at Chase,
who was flipping through the first file case.

“I’m ready.”

He glanced at her briefly and shook his head. “No you’re not.”

“I am. Really. I’ve thought about it, and I’d like to try this for a week—“

“I don’t doubt what you want to do, Allison. I said you’re not ready. When you’re ready,
you come and stand before me, eyes down, hand out with your palm up. THEN, I know
you’re ready,” he snapped, his words hard and deep. She flushed at his tone, and her
body moved before she even realized it. Her hand flew up, pale palm facing the ceiling.

Chase smiled. “Better. Did I anger you?”

“You . . . startled me.” She admitted. He turned his attention from the file and brushed
his bangs out of his eyes. Very deliberately, he stroked his thumb over her palm once

“Good. Now here’s how it will happen. You report to me, first thing every morning,
Allison. I’ll tell you one thing to do that day. If you can handle it, you do it, and proudly because I told you to. If you cannot, we’ll stop.”

“But—“ she bit her apprehensive words off at the stern look on his face. Chase waited a moment and nodded.

“You remembered. My word is law. Today is the first day, and you’ve started out with far
too much confidence; that’s going to change right at this minute. I want you to go to the
ladies, take off your stockings and panties, then bring them to me.”

Cameron’s eyes widened and she glanced around quickly. Chase stroked her palm
again with his thumb, his gaze steady and intense.

“Tell me how that makes you feel.”

“Nervous! I can’t walk around this clinic with no underwear on!” she hissed back in a
quick whisper. “I just can’t!”

“Then you’re not ready to give me control, are you?”

“Chase--!” she bit her lip and he shook his head.

“Master Robert. And you are Allison my lamb. But it’s pretty clear you’re not ready for
this yet. Pity really—“ he mock-sighed, “Normally you’re so . . . plucky about taking new experiences on.”

Instantly a mulish expression crossed her lovely face; Cameron yanked her hand free of
his and stalked off, out of the office. Chase didn’t watch her go, but circled the table
instead, taking a few deep breaths and trying not to grin.

Plucky. How she hated that word. How it fit Allison Cameron to a T. The girl/woman
personified it, and under THAT, Chase knew real passion lurked, raising its head once
in a while. He sat down and pulled another file towards himself, listening carefully, and moments later was rewarded as he heard the tap of high heels returning.

Allison strode over to him, cheeks red, eyes narrowed. Chase lazily glanced up at her.
“Yes?” he drawled.

“I . . . did it.”


“Really.” She snapped nervously. Chase glanced at her hands; she lifted her palm up.
He stroked it gently, the caress much sweeter this time.

“Good girl. Now give them to me.”

Cameron hesitated only a second; both she and Chase could hear the thump of
House’s cane-assisted offbeat stride heading down the hall and getting louder. She
fished in her lab coat pocket and swiftly handed over a small bundle. Chase took it, and
closed his eyes, savoring the feel.

“Still warm—how lovely. Now, for the rest of the day, take time to enjoy your bare skin
for a while. Nobody knows about it but the two of us, Allison. Think how thrilling it is to
have a naughty secret that even House doesn’t know, eh?”

She tried to think of something to say, but at that moment, House pushed open the
glass door and limped in. Smoothly, Chase stuck the little bundle into the inner pocket
of his lab coat and cleared his throat.

“Only Larry and Moe in this morning? No, wait, I bet Foreman is trying to make a Coffee
Mate this fine AM.” House grumbled, glancing around. Cameron shifted away from him
and sat down, gingerly, while Chase carefully avoided her eyes.

***   ***   ***

By the time Monday ended, Cameron was a quivering mass of nerves. She’d been quiet
and demure all during working hours, carefully avoiding breezes, table edges and
anything else that might snag her skirt. Chase had barely spoken to her all day, and
House was completely unreasonable, by turns snide and condescending. The only
saving grace was that she’d actually felt—sexy—about not having underwear on. Her
skirt was lined with silk, and the brush of it against her ass and thighs had been
wonderfully sensual. Between the chill of autumn and the heat of the hospital it had
been interesting but now she wanted to find Chase and collect her clothing.

She caught up to him in the elevator, following him in. One other passenger was there,
and left on the next floor. Once he was gone, Cameron glanced nervously at Chase,
who shook his head.


“You don’t even know—“

“Yes, I do. And no, you’re not getting them back. I’ll return all your intimates at the end
of the week, Allison my lamb, but for the next five days it’s my right to collect them.
Tomorrow you’ll wear another pair that I’ll have you remove. The prettier the better.”

Cameron fumed for a moment, but Chase broke into her sulk by adding, “You’ve done exceptionally well for an innocent. Very smooth and seductive, you know.”

His words cheered her, and she watched him step out into the garage, wondering what
she was going to wear on Tuesday.

***   ***   ***

Tuesday Morning

Delicate pink lace. Robert Chase fought down the desire that spiked through his
stomach as he gently eased them down Cameron’s lean thighs. They slid down with a
whisper, and she stepped out of them quickly; when he looked up, her complexion was
bright red, but her eyes defiant.

“Tsk, tsk, who EVER would have thought our dear little immunologist would have such suggestive underthings?” he huskily told her, keeping his commentary light; as if such situations didn’t effect him at all. Carefully he tucked the tiny panties in one pocket and reached into another one of his lab coat, withdrawing a little plastic bottle. It had no
label, and looked like the sort of thing used for samples, or for traveling. He handed to Cameron with grave courtesy.

“And this is—?“ she asked, barely looking at it. It was hard to breathe when he stood so
close, and even though they were in the clinic, exam room nine--Notorious Nine, but
there was still a chance someone might come in—

“This is the second step, Allison my lamb. This morning, you will discreetly retire to the
ladies’ and lightly rub this on the insides of both your lovely thighs. Nowhere else—not
your elbows or hands or knees—but on the beautifully muscled satin of your inner
thighs. Got that?” Chase looked his watch, as much to buy time as to check it while
Cameron swallowed visibly and held the bottle as if it were a dose of acid.

“If you’re worried, don’t be—it’s non-allergenic and not a bad fragrance, or so I’ve been
told.” He teased. She opened it and sniffed; blinking she stared at him, eyes huge with surprise.

“Your aftershave—“ she weakly murmured. He nodded, again; casually, as if this was a
matter of course for the situation.

“Yes. So for the rest of the day you’ll be bare under your skirt except for my scent.”

For a moment he looked at her; Cameron saw the twinkle in his baby blues even though
he was trying hard to look stern. A sudden rush of giggles threatened to overwhelm her,
giddy, excited giggles—she fought them down, nodding at Chase.

“Good,” he commented. “Now, I’ve got a case to follow up—see you for the nine o’clock diagnosis session.”

He carefully slipped out of Notorious Nine (so named for the ongoing heating and
cooling problems the last exam room always seemed prone to) leaving Cameron to
glance again at the little bottle in her fingers.

She drew in a slow breath. Moving to the door, she leaned back against it to keep it
closed, and slowly hiked her skirt up. She’d had to resort to thigh-highs now that panty
hose were out of the question; carefully Cameron rolled them down to her knees.

God. She was really going through with it, she though deliriously as she flipped the lid
open on the bottle and lightly squeezed it. A cool blob of white hit the center of her
palm, and the spiced musk fragrance she always associated with Chase filled her nose. Slowly, she spread the lotion on both her hands, and curled over.

Slow strokes, the tingly chill all the more sensual as she rubbed. Cameron made a little chuffing sigh as her fingers glided up the insides of her legs. The lotion felt amazingly
smooth, and the tickle of it suddenly aroused her. She shivered as she quickly pulled
each stocking back up.

With wobbly steps she headed out the door, trying not to think about the sudden flush
of heat under her skirt.

***   ***   ***

“Not epilepsy, what else could cause spontaneous seizures? THINK people!” House
chided, glancing from one face to another. Cameron tried to, but it was damned difficult
at the moment. Her mind kept losing focus even as she fought to regain it. Chase was
very good, not looking at her unless he had to, and even then his expression was his
usual professional mask. If only she wasn’t acutely aware that her panties were in his
pocket . . . and that he periodically slipped his hand into it.

“Allergic reaction, a poisoning of some kind?” She murmured, obediently. House nodded,
then looked at Foreman. He shrugged.

“Psychotropic drug, sure. What would the man have access to?”

The case droned on around her, and when House finally dismissed them to follow up on
the case history and the blood work from the lab, Cameron felt a sense of relief.  She
strode down the hall, determined to ignore the sweet silkiness under her skirt as she
walked in tandem with the other two and tried to behave normally.

Then Chase caught her eye and she felt the blush roll over her face. He didn’t flaunt his moment of recognition, but smoothly distracted Foreman and let Cameron recover.
When he caught up with her again, his tone was low, and full of concerned amusement.

“Doing all right then?”

“I’m fine. Maybe a little off-pace, but nothing I can’t handle,” Cameron responded firmly,
not looking at him. Chase shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his lab coat and
fought a grin, clearing his throat as he came up with a semi-serious expression.

“Oh yes, I often think about how you can handle it,” he commented lightly. Cameron
ducked her head as the heat rose along her throat and images of naughty fondling
flashed in her mind. Chase turned away, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
Seeing it, Cameron fought the urge to punch one of them. Instead, she thoughtfully considered his last remark.

“That’s not part of this, is it? I never do get to touch you myself, do I?” Her forthright
question made Chase sober up a bit and he shook his head, long bangs swinging.

“No. Not unless we renegotiate our boundaries. At the moment only I have the privilege
to touch, and even that is limited to non-invasive sorts of things. So while I may look, and discreetly fondle to a point, I certainly haven’t the right to anything more.”

“Ah.” Cameron wasn’t sure why she felt a little . . . disappointed at that. Chase cleared
his throat.

“Oh believe me, there’s still a lot within those limitations that can be very powerful,
Allison my lamb. I did think of you this morning, anointing your thighs with my scent and
that was very . . . . satisfying.” His tone was soft and for once, very serious. She drew in
a breath, surprised, aroused—and pleased. She kept her gaze down as he passed,
wondering what Wednesday would bring.

***   ***   ***

Wednesday Morning

It was becoming easier now. Cameron loved the sound of Chase’s breathing when he
slipped his fingers around the cords at each of her hips, slowly lowering the filmy white
panties with the little gold stars on them. Delicately Cameron stepped out of them; glad
she was wearing the stockings that matched them under her skirt. She kept perfectly
still as he slid warm fingers down the front of her thighs and rose to his feet again.

“What a lovely surprise,” he murmured gently, his face slightly pink. Cameron felt an
impulse to stroke his bangs away from his eyes, but held back as he tucked her lingerie
into his lab coat pocket again. “Thanks to you I’m quite likely to be VERY distracted
today and absolutely no good on my date tonight.”

She shot him a quick, pained look as the arrow of his words pierced the moment. He
kept his gaze on her, his eyes a flinty blue. “Thighs apart, please.”

Cameron paused, but then Chase’s expression shifted into something softer, and a
dimple deepened on his cheek. She numbly widened her stance as he fished out
another little bottle from his other pocket. Carefully he opened it and squeezed some
cream out on his fingertips.

“Lift your skirt, my lamb,” he coaxed softly. Cameron swayed a little, trying not to show
her shock. Chase stepped forward, keeping his eyes on hers while slipping his hand
gently along the inside of one of her thighs. The smooth glide of his touch sent quick
shivers through her delicate frame. “Seems we both went for the one upsmanship this time—Trust me, while I’m choking down overpriced and overcooked Duck l’Orange with
my aunt and uncle this evening, I’ll be distracting myself by remembering exactly how
enticing your inner thighs are, Allison. And later tonight when I’m alone with nothing but
your panties . . .”

She wriggled. She couldn’t help it; Chase’s low words and naughty imagery seared
through her and left her wanting to gasp even as his fingers brushed the hypersensitive
skin and left heat behind each stroke. Cameron tossed her head back, trying to fight her
blush; her arousal. Chase brushed his smooth cheek against hers; anyone barging in
would have thought they were dancing.

“You’re a complete natural at this, you know. So beautiful and so obedient. I envy the
man who gets the chance to take you to the limits of pleasure.” He pulled back and
spoke briskly, his hand sliding away from her thigh. “And now for your little task today. I
need you to sit for three minutes on House’s desk.”

Cameron swallowed, trying to sort out what Chase had just said; the compliment sent
little spikes of pleasure through her stomach. And something about House—

“House?” she blinked a little.

“Yes. At some point today you are going to sit on his desk. Straddle a corner, hike
yourself onto it, however you like. But, you WILL do it, won’t you?”

Without waiting to see her nod, he slipped out of Notorious Nine. Leaving her tingling.

Outside the room, Chase leaned on the wall a moment and caught his breath, all too
aware of how . . . rampant he was. Ruefully he made his way to the men’s room,
reflecting on the irony of his situation. He stepped into an empty stall and unbuckled his slacks, his erection surging forth with impatience over the waistband of his briefs.
Closing his eyes, Chase leaned forward, bracing his clean hand on the tile wall as he
gripped himself with the other palm, the remains of the lotion slick against his heated

A few strokes and he sighed, letting blissful pleasure focus between his hips. He
remembered the feel of Allison’s thighs, imagined caressing them with his tongue,
savoring the scent of her aroused body . . .

It didn’t take long, and moments later as Chase thrust himself through his slick fist,
semen pulsing out to splash into the bowl below, he silently gasped her name,
wondering if she’d ever know how many times he’d done this before. How many times
he’d HAD to do this in this week alone.

He flushed, wiped his palm with tissue and stepped out after cleaning himself, then
washed his hands at the sink, glancing at his slightly defiant expression in the mirror.
Chase ran a hand through his hair and wished himself luck as he strode out again into
the halls, professional mask firmly back into place. He managed it very well all the way
up until he slipped his hand into his pocket, touching silk there.

She was going to drive him insane, he thought with dark amusement. Chase withdrew
his hand and paced a little harder up the hall, trying not to let anything show on his face,
but it was difficult now to fight a smug expression. Who would have ever suspected that brilliant, shy Allison Cameron had the makings of a world-class submissive within her?
he wondered for the thousandth time. But she did, Chase knew. She followed directions,
she showed initiative and most of all, her body responded even when her personality
balked a little. He’d watched her breasts, her hips and seen the signs clearly.

Allison Cameron was born to serve.

***   ***   ***

Pausing, Cameron considered her direction. Chase—no, Master Robert, she chided
herself mockingly—had told her she had to sit on House’s desk for three minutes. And
to do that there had to be a reason.

The problem was two-fold:  a reason to be there, and a way to keep the man from
noticing her from the waist down, both of which were going to be difficult. House wasn’t
the sort of man who had casual conversations from subordinates; he’d take the
exchange and use it to dig around in her psyche if she stayed too long. Further, she
wasn’t prone to casual actions like sitting on desks.

This would take some figuring.

It came to her in a moment of inspiration, and moments later when House lumbered into
his office his eyebrows went up at the site of Allison Cameron planted on his desk,
digging around in one of her shoes. She looked up at him briefly and went back to

“I’m sorry Ma’am, but this isn’t Pay-Less, and I can guarantee we don’t have anything in
your size here—“ he grumpily told her. She managed a dry smile.

“I’d believe that. I just need to figure out what’s poking my toe.”

“Fine. Lovely. Be a human paperweight if you want. No rush, it’s only the surface I eat
my lunch off of.” House grumbled with no real malice. He lowered himself into his chair
and looked at her, one eyebrow arched. Cameron tried not to notice and went back to
looking into the toes of her empty pump. The weight of House’s stare was a little

“If I didn’t know better—“ he began in a low tone, “I’d think you were doing this
deliberately. There’s a perfectly usable chair across the room, and several others in the
one next door. With all of those at your disposal, why choose my desk?”

Cameron paused a moment, supremely annoyed at his insight. She moved to slip her
shoe on once more, and realized she’d have to either hop off the desk, or bend her leg awkwardly. House saved her from either choice by taking her pump from her and sliding
one strong hand down her calf. He smirked.

“Catering to my Cinderella fetish—“ Carefully he slipped the pump back onto her foot,
moving with a gentleness that surprised her. For a moment he held her ankle and
blinked, then let it go and looked up to the ceiling.

“Ummm . . . . Thanks,” she murmured, sliding off the desk, glad her task was done.
House grunted. She moved away and nearly made it to the glass door dividing his office
from the Diagnostic Office when he cleared his throat.

“Doctor Cameron, tell me--is it laundry day already?” he murmured sweetly. Cameron
froze, then lifted her chin high and marched through the doors, caught between fury
and the giggles as she left him behind.

***   ***   ***

Thursday Morning

Neither Chase nor Cameron could successfully pretend at disinterest any longer; she
fought to hold still as he untied the little red bows on each hip, pulling the tiny scarlet
thong away with unsteady fingers. Leaning closer, Chase lightly brushed his nose
against the silky curls of her mound, sighing. Cameron bit her lip hard to keep from

“Such a pretty, pretty muff . . .” Chase remarked, his voice low and slow. He stayed
squatting for a moment, then rose, pouring the silky thong from one hand to the other.
“Soft as merino lamb fleece.”

“Thank you . . . Master Robert,” Cameron managed without too much of a quaver in her
voice. He tucked the thong away in his pocket as usual, and took Cameron’s hand,
stroking her palm.

“And for the moment, it’s mine. Except for matters of hygiene, you are forbidden to touch yourself again until I tell you that you may.”

Cameron’s eyes widened and her pretty face grew perplexed. Chase held her gaze
firmly, looking stern. He cleared his throat.

“I have the authority, Allison my lamb. No touching, intentional or accidental. You are to
keep your pretty hands away from that darling fluff of yours. Do you understand me?”

A flicker of rebellion gleamed in her eyes; Chase fought a laugh and kept his stare on
her until Cameron slowly nodded. She shifted her thighs a little.

“Now say it back to me please.”

“I won’t . . . touch myself until you say I can,” came her reluctant response. Chase swiftly
slid his hand under her skirt, his fingers cupping her soft mound, stroking softly enough
to tease and firmly enough to arouse. Cameron gave a shocked little sigh of pleasure
and pressed herself up against his palm. He leaned in and spoke, only an inch from her

“At some point today, when you absolutely cannot STAND it anymore, when the tension
is going to drive you to up the wall, come find me and ask me to pet you.” Chase
hoarsely whispered, “Like this.” His fingers gave one last caress through her curls, and
he withdrew it, leaving Cameron shaking up against the exam table.

He smiled, and tossed his head back, his breathing deep. Gently Chase stroked her
cheek with the same hand that had caressed her muff, and left the room. Cameron
gripped the pad of the table behind her, feeling giddy and far too warm. She waited a
moment before going to the sink and splashing water on her face, then took her time
drying her hot complexion with a paper towel.

Intense. This little game with Chase—Master Robert—was far more passionate than
anything she’d ever done before. Cameron knew she wasn’t completely inexperienced in
sex. She’d dated, and made love; God, she’d been MARRIED for crying out loud. She’d
done a little fantasy stuff with Peter before, giggling all the while, but THIS—this oddly
thrilling secret connection had some power she’d never felt before.

Cameron looked at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and her eyes
were a smoky color, with a hint of sparkle to them. She tried to frown at herself, but it
ended up twisting into a slightly bewildered expression, and when she shifted closer,
she felt a pulse of heat between her legs. Quickly she tried to ignore the sensation, and
took a deep breath.

It didn’t help.

***   ***  ***

Doctor Cameron made it through her day trying hard not to let her preoccupation show.
The team managed to figure out the diagnosis in the seizure case, tracing it back to a
buildup of cleaning chemicals in the stockbroker’s hot tub. (“A lovely morality tale for our times,” House had mockingly called it.) She’d done clinic duty, treating runny noses and
a serious case of impetigo, and now, only three hours until the end of the day here on
her break, she was trying to lose herself in a magazine and keep her mind off the heat
building between her thighs.

And it wasn’t getting any easier. As it was, the copy of Cosmo in front of her had ads on
every page playing up sensuality, and far too many articles dealing with sex. Restlessly
she flicked from page to page, trying to focus and finding herself unable to do it. The
memory of Chase’s voice, and soft, blatant touch between her legs kept coming back to
her, making her throb each time. Finally she pushed the magazine aside and took a
long gulp of her tea.

She’d find him and get it over with, Cameron decided. Once she’d done what he asked,
the compulsion would be curbed a bit and she could get back to work. Cheered and a
little aroused by this decision, she rose and headed out, trying to look calm and feeling anything but.

Nearly fifteen minutes later her anxiety had grown a little. Chase wasn’t anywhere
around—at least, not in any of the places she’d expected to find him. He wasn’t in the
clinic, or in any of the labs he usually worked in. He wasn’t in the diagnostic office or up
in any of the better lounges or in the cafeteria. Cameron bit her lip, wondering if she
ought to page him, and felt a sense of amused panic at the thought of him receiving her number, knowing exactly what it was about—

“Doctor Cameron, I heard you were looking for me?” Chase broke into her reverie. He
was leaving the nurse’s station, a file in hand, and his expression looked courteous and
faintly warm. Cameron was speechless for a moment, then shoved her hands into her
lab coat pockets savagely.

“Um, yes. I wanted to talk to you about . . .”

“Abaht--?” he drawled out, well-aware that they were standing in the main hallway. She
shot him a mutinous look through her lashes and he lifted his chin.

“About a certain procedure you prescribed,” she finished in a rush. Chase’s eyes
twinkled at her euphemism and he took her elbow, guiding her towards the elevators.
She stepped in with him aware of two grannies and a boy with a cast in the car as well.
Chase punched the button for the post op floor. He stood next to her, saying nothing,
and the trip up took only a minute. They stepped out into a quiet hall, nearly deserted.

“This way—“ he motioned off towards a hall that led away from the nurse’s station.
Cameron felt a hot shiver run through her, a flare of panic and desire so strong her
knees threatened to give out. Around a corner and near the end of a back hall, Chase
herded her into what appeared to be an unused first aid alcove complete with folding
screen door. It was small and dark.

“There we go, a modicum of privacy . . . “ Chase murmured in a steady voice as he
closed the screen behind them. Cameron blinked a little in the dim light. The tension
solidified in a pulsing throb low in her belly, and her mouth dried out as Chase cocked
his head and looked at her expectantly.

“I . . . “ she began in a squeak, “I . . . um . . .” Trailing off she waited for him to pick up
the thread, to move and touch her. He didn’t. Instead, Chase leaned back against the
sink and crossed his arms, watching her with his fine bright eyes. Cameron waited,

“You . . . . um?” he prompted. Cameron squeezed her eyes shut.

“I want you to touch me.”

There, it was out, a soft little plea between them. The minute spun out as she waited,
quivering now. Chase slowly unfolded his arms and reached out a strong hand, pressing
it on her shoulder in a fraternal pat.

“No problem. There you go.”


The minute the name left her mouth his face smoothed out into cool neutrality and
Cameron realized her error. She shook her head in little frantic jerks, as if trying to erase
her mistake, her long hair flying. “Master Robert, I mean Master Robert!”

God, if he didn’t touch her soon she’d go up in a spontaneous fireball.

He stared at her a moment, then let the corner of his mouth quirk up in a tiny sign of forgiveness. Chase gave a nod and looked her over once more, waiting. Cameron
swallowed and began again.

“Master Robert, I want you to touch me. Please.”

“Ah.” He replied pleasantly. Moving to her left, he smiled at her profile, shifting into
Cameron’s personal space with arrogant ease. She shivered. Carefully he ran a finger
along her temple, caressing it with the lightest of caresses. “Like this, my lamb? A little innocent stroke? A gesture of public affection?”

“N-no.” Belatedly she added, “Sir. I need you to touch me um . . . under my skirt.”

“Oh.” his gaze widened playfully as he considered this. “Need, is it?”

Cameron tried to turn and face him, but Chase dropped his arms around her like a cage
as he gripped the counter, keeping her in profile to him. His breath warmed her ear and
she moaned at the sensual tickle of it, hot and close.

“Yes. I need it,” she admitted, stunned at how easy it was to confess, at how the
anticipation of his hand had her squirming. The throbbing between her thighs intensified
now, demanding satisfaction. Chase moved his face closer, his whisper puffing against
her cheekbone.

“Oh I can tell, Allison my lamb, yes, you DO need it, don’t you? Because I have been a
cruel Master, not letting you give yourself pleasure. I’ve made you ALMOST touch
yourself, made you wear my scent and long shamefully for MY petting, haven’t I? Kept
you half-naked waiting for my next naughty order, and now here you are squirming and
so slick I can almost smell the sweetness of your muff.” He purred into her ear.

Cameron felt lightheaded as all the blood in her body rushed south. Her nipples ached,
and the sound of her accelerating heartbeat rang in her ears.

“Yes . . . need . . .” she croaked, lost in this dreamy shadowed place with Chase, this
heated moment of longing and desire barely kept at bay. She arched her neck, lolling
against his arm. Chase gave a husky laugh.

“Very well. Tell me where to touch you. Exactly where, little lamb?”

“Under my skirt. Between . . . my legs—“ Cameron heard herself plead even as Chase slithered his fingertips along the inside of her knee. Quickly she widened her stance,
wobbling a little on her pumps, her eyes still closed. Chase let his fingertips draw little
circles on the hot satiny skin of her inner thigh, going no higher, no faster.

Cameron whimpered. She turned to glare at Chase, but his face was so close that she
felt his cheek and chin against hers, brushing her nose in the semi-darkness. The heat
of his skin, the microfine scrape of his beard growth, the overwhelmingly masculine
scent of Master Robert Chase burned through her senses. Every cell in her body
screamed at her to kiss him. He laughed softly.

“More de-TAIL, darling. Where do you want my fingers to stroke and slide and pet?”

“Anything!” she hissed, frantic now, reaching for his hand as he kissed her long
eyelashes. Chase shifted, gently bringing his cool hand up and cupping it ever so
sweetly against the soft valley of damp fluff between Cameron’s lean thighs. She rocked against his touch, wanton and hungry for it, clutching his shoulder as the sweet
pressure bloomed hot against his waiting palm. Chase groaned a little himself, a low
hungry sound.

“You ARE a little hot and bothered aren’t you, lamb? Don’t worry, I’m here to make you
feel very, very nice . . . “ he promised.

Cameron gripped his shoulder more tightly, her nails digging into his lab coat, her mouth
open as she rocked herself on his hand, rubbing, grinding with a growing frantic NEED
now, nearly crying out when Chase’s gentle fingers slid along the soft slick petals of her
cleft, stroking with tender precision. He licked her mouth, not kissing her; letting his
tongue warmly lap at the little moans escaping her aroused pout.

“Ohhhhhh—“ she gasped as her body tightened, the searing shiver of glorious,
overwhelming orgasm rushing in big hot spasms through her slender frame. Cameron
threw her head back, riding the pleasure of Chase’s hand stroking between her legs.

He held her as the spasms died away, kissing her forehead and temple, praising her
softly as he slid his palm free of her damp thighs. Cameron buried her face against his shoulder, dazed, unable to understand the powerful feelings whirling through her mind.
Chase sighed, hugging her.

“It’s all right. This is all very intense stuff, Allison, and not all of it is easy to face
afterwards. You’re safe, lamb. With me you’re absolutely safe.”

Cameron raised her head, long hair damp at the temples, big eyes with pupils so dark
they seemed to take over the blue. She searched his face and what she saw seemed to reassure her; she bit her wet lips.

“That was . . .  was better than anything I’ve ever had before,” she slowly intoned, as if
the deliberate pace of her words would carry more weight, “ANYTHING.” Chase blushed
a little at the compliment. She hurried on before he could speak.

“But it’s . . . not fair. To you. Everything has been about me, and for me, and I want to
make YOU happy, give YOU the same kind of . . . I want to pleasure you . . . Master,”
she finished, stunned at her own words, but proud of them just the same. Chase stared
at her for a long, long moment, and slowly, Cameron held out her hand, palm up.

He drew in a deep breath.

“Very well, my lamb.”

***   ***   ***

Friday Morning

Cameron gave a soft sigh as Chase gently undid the little fishnet thong and pulled it
slowly off of her. She was holding her skirt up at waist level, her pretty thigh-high
stockings showcasing her semi-nakedness in the harsh lighting of Notorious Nine.
Instead of pocketing the lingerie, Chase held them out to her; curious, Cameron
accepted them.

“Hide your warm little panties somewhere on House’s desk and then come out to my car
in the garage.” He told her. She began to protest, but Chase took her free hand and
stroked her palm; the gesture soothed her immediately and he spoke again.

“This is the last time we game at the hospital. It’s too distracting and potentially
dangerous, my lamb. So you’ll come home with me for the weekend where I will have
you on your knees doing a great many things to pleasure me.”

“Ohhhh---“ she blinked, enthralled but immediately seeing complications. Chase tossed
his hair out of his eyes as she clutched the thong.

“But I didn’t call in sick . . . or pack . . .”

“We both have a touch of whatever’s going around; I called this morning, so if House
sees you, cough. And as for packing, who said you needed clothes this weekend?” he
leaned closer and whispered against her mouth. “I happen to know that there’s no sight
more beautiful than a newly shorn lamb meekly led by a shepherd.”

And Allison Cameron smiled into his deep, possessive kiss.



House index