Intro | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4
| Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9
Moonbeams streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. You
stagger over to the drapes and pull them closed, stumbling over the new shoes
you pried off hours ago. It was 3am, and you’d already finished off one bottle
of wine. You sat alone on the sofa, in complete darkness, reading and
re-reading the numerous messages from Thomas.
{What happened?}
{I’m so sorry. For whatever I did.}
{Please, my love. Talk to me.}
The last one came through hours ago. He must have gone to bed. You
open another bottle of wine, taking a gulp straight from the bottle. No need to
waste a glass on this misery. Turning to head towards the couch, you throw your
head back and let the sweet juice flow. Suddenly the room is spinning as you
trip over your feet and stumble to the floor.
“Shit!” you said as you catch yourself on the arm of the chaise.
You set the wine bottle down on the coffee table to pull yourself onto the
cushions, suddenly feeling hot and messy in this dress. Rolling onto your
stomach, you reach back to undo the zipper, wriggling your way out of the mess
of chiffon.
Exhausted by all the struggling, drinking, crying – you pull a
throw pillow under your head, finally succumbing to the lure of sleep.
Slowing coming back into consciousness, your eyes don’t even open
before you feel the consequences of the night before. You can’t decide which is
worse – the overwhelming nausea, or the throbbing headache. If the sound of your
pulse rushing through your ears would quit for just a second, maybe you could
decide.
{Thwomp thwomp thwomp}
You glance over at the door, reality coming into focus.
{Knock knock knock}
Shit,
that’s the door. Who could that be?
“Go away,” you call out, wincing at the loud noise of your own
voice.
“It’s me…”
Your heart dropped. Thomas. You groan as the memories of the night
before come crashing back into your mind.
Oh God. He
must hate me.
“I brought you a bagel. Can I come in?”
You grab the robe from the back of the chair and head for the
door. Ordinarily, you wouldn’t let him see you like this. You wouldn’t let
anyone see you like this. But he deserved an explanation; you at least owed him
that much. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you undo the
lock. Light pours in from the hallway, causing you to squint up at his face,
his icy blue eyes staring right through you.
“Good morning,” he says tentatively.
“Hi,” you said, attempting to smile. You pull the door open wider,
motioning for him to come in.
He sets the paper bag down on the coffee table, concern written
all over his face. He walks back toward the door where you’re standing. The
truth is, you’re using it for support. Thomas has a knack for making you weak
in the knees, but throw a hangover on top of it and you’re not sure how to walk
anymore. He inches closer, but not wanting to crowd your space, he stops a
couple of feet away. He says nothing, but merely holds out a hand for you to
take when you’re ready.
Tears fill your eyes, burning to escape. You take his hand,
letting him lead you over to the couch. He sits down first, reaching out for
you with both arms now. You sit facing him, knees in the back of the sofa,
collapsing onto his shoulder. He wraps his arms around you, holding you as soft
sobs escape your throat. There’s no use holding back now; he’s seen you at your
absolute worst, and here he is trying to make it better, trying to fix the very
situation you brought upon yourself.
“I’m so sorry, Thomas,” you said when your nerves allowed. The
tightness in your chest was loosening, sobs coming fewer and farther between.
“Shhh, it’s all right. It’s all over now,” he said, kissing the
top of your head. You lift your head to
look him in the eyes.
“I was just awful,” you said, wiping the remaining tears from your
eyes. “I don’t know what came over me. You deserve so much better than being
treated like that, Thomas, truly.” He pulls you back into his embrace, holding
you tighter this time.
“You weren’t awful. Perhaps you were just a little nervous?”
Silently, you nod. You couldn’t bear to look at him, it was just
too embarrassing. You’re a grown woman who has had sex before. Plenty of times.
What was so scary about it now?
“I hope it was nothing I did, my love. If it’s too soon, it’s too
soon. I shouldn’t have rushed things.”
“It was nothing you did,” popping your head up in concern. You
turn to face him, clutching his hand between yours as you spoke. “I just… I
don’t know, I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve always kept a safe distance
between myself and the world; I wasn’t sure I could handle letting you in. But
I do want to try.”
“Then try we shall,” Thomas said with a sigh of relief. After a
brief, tight embrace, Thomas looks at you with a playfully stern look on his
face. “But next time, will you please tell me how you feel? So perhaps you don’t
end up feeling like this again?” he said, gently pressing his forehead to
yours.
“I’d like that.”
“Speaking of not feeling well…” he said, reaching for the paper
bag on the table. “You need some food in you, love.”
He pulls out a cinnamon raisin bagel, lightly toasted, followed by
strawberry cream cheese, low fat. He knows you so well. You watch as he walks
into the kitchen for a plate and knife, admiring this man, this wonderful man,
who cares so much for you. He’s the first man you’ve truly loved and, if you
were lucky, he’d be the last.
“Where do you keep the Advil, darling?”
You start to get up, but he insists you take it easy, at least for
today. You point him in the direction of your bathroom, and he’s back within
minutes. He places the medicine and a bottle of water on the coffee table in
front of you.
“You’re going to want to eat before you take these. Is there
anything else you need?”
You shake your head. “Just my Thomas.”
“I’m all yours, sweetheart,” he said, sitting down beside you on
the couch. He puts an arm around you as you both settle in. You spend the rest
of the day relaxing in each other’s arms, ordering take-out between episodes of
your favorite Netflix shows. By late evening, you’re feeling much better –
nothing a good night’s sleep won’t take care of.
Glancing at his watch, Thomas leans in to kiss your cheek.
“I think I must be going soon,” he said, standing to stretch. He
walks towards the coat closet as an idea pops into your head.
“Why don’t you stay?”
He turns, slowly, his hand lingering on the doorknob. “Are you
sure?”
“It’s so late, you don’t have to go all the way home if you don’t
want to. I want you to feel comfortable here…” you said, trailing off.
“I only want to stay if that’s what you want.”
After taking a moment to think about it, you realize there’s
nothing you want more. Biting your lip in utter excitement, you nod your head
in agreement. “It’s all I could ever want, Thomas.”
He tries to hide the smile spreading across his own face, but it’s
no use. Dropping his hand from the door, he makes his way over to you, taking
his place on the sofa.
“How could I say no to this beautiful face?” he asks, stroking
your cheek. “But I want to make one thing very clear.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m a proper gentleman, and I don’t want you to think you can put
the moves on me. I’m not that kind of boy,” he says with a cheeky grin. You
can’t help but erupt into laughter.
“Of course not, Thomas. I’ll try my best.”
With that, he cradles you in his arms and carries you to the
bedroom. You pick out a comfy set of pajamas as he strips down to his boxer
shorts, and you both climb into bed. You lay down on your side as Thomas slips
into bed beside you, pulling the blanket over you both. Surrounded by the warm
embrace of the man you love, he says goodnight. Within mere minutes, you’re
both fast asleep.
Painfully Thick Imagines 