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Stacy hadn't expected Lisa to bring a friend. Actually it was uncharacteristic in just about every way, beginning with the fact that Lisa, barely comfortable with her own body, wasn't known for playing well with others. But here they were, pink from the cold and dressed in scarves and mittens, standing on her doorstep.
"I'll... set an extra plate," Stacy says, raises an eyebrow at Lisa, and wheels off to the kitchen, letting Lisa lead Dr. Cameron in and shut the door behind them.
The kid, she thinks, as they eat cheese at the coffee table, reminds her of lots of kids she knew in law school. Like how that pink in her cheeks wasn't really from the cold, that she's really just that bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Stacy imagines her trotting after House like a smitten puppy, murmuring metabolic processes indicated by autoimmune diseases and hoping he'll ask her to explain so she can draw her light out from under her sweet little bushel. Stacy doesn't like her.
Lisa seems to, though, and the two of them are cuddled quite nicely at the end of the couch. "Come join," Lisa says. "I think this is a good idea, paradigmatically."
"I think if you academize this situation I might have to shoot you," Stacy says. She has a little more dip.
This condo's new, and clean, and close to the train, and Stacy bought it when she left her job at the hospital and no one knows about it except for Lisa, and now Dr. Cameron. Lisa, who has the other set of keys, and who plans her board meetings and lectures around Stacy's trips to Jersey. Who can talk to Mark on the phone and keep a straight face -- "no, Stacy's not around" -- while Stacy's got two fingers up inside her.
"What's it been, a month since you've been in town?" Lisa asks, as usual like she's read Stacy's mind.
"Three weeks?" shrugs Stacy, though it's more like four. Dr. Cameron spears a piece of zucchini with a fork and Stacy watches her chew.
Four weeks ago, Stacy'd already had Lisa's clothes off by this point, and instead of dinner they'd spent the night sprawled out before a 21 Jump Street marathon, naked and sharing a medical-grade joint.
"A lot's happened," Lisa says. "Allison, tell her about that patient of House's?" And so Dr. Cameron launches into her tale.
But dinner flies by anyway, in a mess of stories, most about Greg's sociopathic behavior, which the people at Princeton-Plainsboro appear to be kind enough to consider part of his contract. After dinner Stacy corners Lisa in the corridor and plants a hot kiss squarely on her mouth. Lisa grabs Stacy's ass and opens her mouth to let the kiss in.
"Mmm...this is good," says Lisa.
"Shh," says Stacy to Lisa's neck. She's vaguely aware of the bathroom door opening and of Dr. Cameron joining them in the hall.
Lisa reaches out a hand and beckons. "Allison."
And Lisa, steel spine Dr. Lisa Cuddy, spreads her legs and slides Stacy's hand up past the top of her stockings, and before Stacy can exhale all the way, Lisa's kissing the kid and Stacy's fingers have found the slick lips under the scrap of lace at Lisa's crotch.
Someone's hand touches her breast. Teases, really, a participant hand making gentle flicks at Stacy's nipple and she closes her eyes and decides not to care whose parts are whose, even when they move to the bed.
"I love you so much," Lisa murmurs, in bed and close to Stacy's ear.
"Oh, shut up," says Stacy. Allison's down between Stacy's legs, and she's just as diligent and responsible as her starched white blouse suggested, and her breasts are just as perky and creamy as they'd looked under that starched cotton. She hits the sweet spot, flicks at it with her tongue and Stacy moans.
"Still don't want her here?" Lisa asks, and Allison is devoted enough to her task not to look up.
Stacy arches her back. "She can stay," she groans, along a long exhale. Allison's great at what she does, and she's making Stacy crazy with her tongue and her long doctor's fingers. "More," Stacy groans.
"You have to want it," Lisa says, and she snaps her fingers and Allison removes her face from between Stacy's thighs and smiles wetly.
"What is this, now?" Stacy instinctively reaches her own hand down to where Allison has removed her face, but Lisa slaps her away. Stacy whimpers.
Lisa looks at the kid. "She's not a big giant sex toy," Lisa says. "She's...my girl, and I'd like her to be your girl too, but you two gotta get along."
Stacy casts her arms about. "We were getting along just fine!" She turns to the kid. "Weren't we? We were having a good time. I mean, I'm not looking at gold jewelry or anything, but I like having you in bed with us."
Lisa thinks a minute. "That's gotta be good enough," she says. "But Allison?"
The kid perks up. "Yeah?"
"Let me take care of Stacy. Then you and me can have fun, and she can watch if she wants."
For a moment, Allison looks frustrated, but then she smiles. "Got anything to read? Medical journals?"
Stacy, taking this moment to be charitable, says, "you can stay and watch if you want. Just don't break anything."
Allison considers, and shakes her head. "Medical journals?"
"In the file cabinet to the right of my desk," Lisa says. "Have fun." Stacy bites Lisa on the breast, and Lisa giggles, and Allison shuts the door, quietly, on her way out. Her ass, Stacy thinks, looks good as she goes.