The man let’s out a grumbly ’House’ when you ask what his name is. You laugh and roll your eyes, remembering now why you don’t bother with names, or ages, or anything personal with your clients for that matter.

He rolls his eyes too, at your laugh this time instead of one of your snippy comments.

“If you want to play house, you just need to ask,” you bat your lashes and look up at him from his mattress.

“That’s my name,” he admits.

You don’t say anything, it’s not your business to. You’ll do your job like any person and move on. “House” pushes you back and fiddles with the straps of your lingerie. He hesitates, usually they don’t, but he does. __

You wake up in bed, not in your bed, but in House’s. Breaking two rules in one evening is a big no-no so you shift to get the hell out of this apartment. House glances up at you and back to his book.

Reading glasses are perched on the end of his nose and the title of his book is Natural Medicine. At least doctors pay well.