You sat on the balcony of your Manhattan apartment, a glass
of chilled rosé in your hand. It was a warm summer night, and you had come out
to watch the sun set. Not your usual cup of tea, but you had to do something.
It had been a week since your encounter in his office, and you still couldn’t
get Mr. Thomas W. Hiddleston off your mind.
You take a deep breath, closing your eyes as you sink into
your chaise. A warm breeze blows your chiffon robe open, exposing a delicate
lace bustier. In your opinion, lingerie is too often wasted on a man. They look
at it, and only see something in the way of your naked body. They pull at it,
stretch it out, sometimes tearing it to get at the prizes underneath. Your
lingerie was too expensive to be treated in such a way. You wore it for
yourself – to feel beautiful and sexy.
Tonight, though, the prevailing thought in your mind was how
badly you wanted Thomas to rip it off.
Up in the clouds on the 44th floor, your mind
starts to wander.
How would he do it?
Would he take his time, unwrapping me like a precious gift? Pausing to take in
the sight of my stunning body? Would he be too impatient to even take it off,
pulling my bustier to the side as his mouth waters for my perky breasts?
Maybe he wouldn’t bother with my top at all, taking me right here on your
balcony – kneeling between my legs so he can devour me like a dripping piece
of forbidden fruit.
Your free hand finds its way between your legs. You pull
your panties to the side as another breeze passes through; as the warm air
grazed your damp skin, a chilling sensation passed through your entire body and
you desperately wanted more.
You glanced over at your phone – you could call him. He said you could call him. Practically
begged, poor man. But you couldn’t give him the satisfaction. Not after the way
he treated you – dismissing you from his office like that. You simply wouldn’t
allow it.
Just then, you phone started ringing. Startled as if someone
had seen you in this compromising position, you sit up and tie your robe,
taking a moment to compose yourself before answering.
It was him.
You arrive at your future ex-husband’s lawyer’s office
at 8 the following morning. Thomas had called to let you know a settlement had
finally be reached – all you had to do was sign the papers. You reach the
conference room to see Chris, his lawyer, and Thomas making sure everyone had
their own copies of the paperwork. All eyes were on you ask you walked through
the tall glass door.
“Good morning, Christopher,” you said, taking your seat next
to your lawyer. “Mr. Hiddleston.”
You couldn’t look him in the eye. The past week left
you feeling frazzled, unstable. All the wild thoughts racing through your mind
left you feeling like you couldn’t trust yourself around him. You tightly clasp
your hands together, resting them on the conference table. You were worried
where they might wander if you didn’t keep them both in sight. You take a
breath, arching your back for effect. You wanted Chris to see exactly what he
was losing today – particularly, his two favorite things sitting in your bra.
Finally, things got started. It took an hour and a half for
the lawyers to explain every aspect of the settlement to you and Chris, pausing
for signatures on every page. They had already flagged and highlighted where
you needed to sign, and yet Thomas kept reaching over, pointing out the exact lines that needed your attention. Don’t touch
me. Maybe you were just imagining things, but it was all you could do to
keep yourself from swatting his hand away. It was impossible to concentrate with his skin so close to yours.
The
settlement itself was pretty straightforward – things were rolling along
smoothly until they reached the infidelity clause. You stared at Chris through
the entire discussion, not blinking even once. You knew he saw you, but he
didn’t dare look you in the eye. Not after what he did. He just sat there, like
the coward he was, pouting like a sad little puppy dog. Great actor, indeed.
The
bottom line was you got to keep your dignity and half his money, and he got to
keep the apartment you shared – you didn’t want to spend another minute in it anyway,
thinking about all the places he fucked that girl. The day you found out he was
having an affair, you had come home from spin class and found them in the
shower – the one you use every damn day. They could have at least had the
decency to use the guest bath.
The
fact is, none of it matters anymore. At the end of the day, you’ll be a single
woman again. To top it all off, you’ll be $7 million dollars richer than you were this morning. Not bad for
11 months of marriage. When everything was said and done, he apologized – again
– for hurting you. You couldn’t manage to look at me all morning, and now
you want to apologize?
“I’m not hurt, Christopher. Just disappointed. I should have
known better than to expect anything else from you.” Without so much as a goodbye, you pick up your Chanel handbag and
exit the conference room. You needed to wait for your copies of the settlement
before leaving, so you head to the ladies’ room, stomping your Manolos across
the tiled floor.
You walk through the door, immediately falling into a soft,
cushioned chair in the vanity area. You’d drop dead before you used a public
restroom, but you need a minute to yourself. You take a gulp of air, realizing
just how hard it was to breath in that room. Maybe you were more hurt than you
realized – there was no way a man you aren’t even interested in could elicit
this type of response from you. You’ve simply spent too much energy thinking
about Christopher and that perky little bimbo.
I’m sure his dick will
be very happy with her.
You’re not one to sit and mope, so you try to perk up a bit.
Irritation and exhaustion were no excuse for poor posture. You glance in the
mirror, picking up your compact to touch up your powder. One last deep breath and you’re ready to face
the world again. You slip your compact back into your purse and stand to leave.
Your hand reaches for the door when someone pushes it open
from the other side – it was Thomas.
“This is the ladies room!” Appalled at his behavior, your
mouth hangs open. All he can do is shake his head as he approaches you.
“Oh, shut up,
woman.” He takes you by the waist, pushing you up against the wall. Before you
can protest, his tongue is in your mouth. It’s soft and warm as it explores
your mouth. You want to close your lips – to push him away and berate him for
his behavior.
But suddenly, you’re weak. You couldn’t possibly push him
away; you’re barely holding yourself upright. Instead of closing your lips,
they’re opening wider. Your tongue is suddenly curious about his. They finally meet,
dancing in the waves of your attraction. He pulls back, but you follow, not ready for the moment to
end. He places his hands on each side of your face, gently holding you at bay.
“You didn’t call me.” He says, brooding. That tight, fluttering
feeling in your chest is back.
“I was going to, but I… I wasn’t sure if I should,” You
could hear the words coming out of your mouth, but you weren’t sure who was
saying them. You were lost in the blue of his eyes. You’ve never seen anything
with so many shades of beautiful pigment, each deeper than the last.
“Well, then let me be clear, darling. You will call me.
Tonight.” He finally released your face, sliding his hands up your dress and
around your hips as he kissed you again, slower this time. He sighs, his voice full of frustration as his hands
graze the layer of lace beneath your flowing skirt.
“Of all the days for you to
wear panties,” he says, giving your butt a sharp squeeze. Without another word,
he walks over to the vanity. He wipes the smeared lipstick away from his mouth
and headed towards the door, winking as he exits.
He has, once again, left you stunned. You pull your skirt
back down and straighten your hair. This feeling in the pit of your stomach –
you aren’t sure what it is. You’ve never felt it before. But it only happens
when you’re around this man; this one, incredible man… The minute I’m done being Mrs. Evans, he comes along and makes me wish
I were Mrs. Hiddleston.
Painfully Thick Imagines 