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Threshold Events	By : abra Category: M through R > Monk Views: 8682 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Monk, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Threshold Events
By Abra
Beta: Ann
Disclaimer: The characters and the show belong to USA Network. They were created by Andy Breckman. I don't owe them and I did not write this story for any kind of material gain.
Feedback: Yes, please.
Dedication:
To Ann, who had the patience and enthusiasm to help me write this. Thank you!

Threshold Events

Chapter 1
It had been a while. Quite a while. Years really. She wondered why she was still bothering with the birth control pills. She sighed. The damn pills. And her damn boss. The first time he had set foot in her house he spotted the damn pills, and he had the brilliant idea to comment on them in front of Julie.

She straightened Julie's papers in a pile, making sure that the edges were perfectly aligned, and put the colored pencils back in their box. She turned off the TV, and then put the remote control perfectly parallel to the TV Guide. On her way to the door she touched the desk lamp.
She was in the bathroom, washing her hands when she realized what she had just done. She had begun acting like him. She had done some research about Mr. Monk's condition, and she knew it wasn't contagious. Not contagious, but apparently spending so much time with him, some of his quirks were rubbing off. She could sort of understand most of his habits, but touching the lamps… she couldn't understand that one. She tried to stop the next thought, but could not. Did he ever touch anything else? He had to touch it, sometimes.
Her musing over her own quasi-non existent sex life ended with a smile. He probably only touched that part of himself using a wipe. Or he would ask her for one. The smile froze on her lips. She was too hormonal for her own good. There was no other explanation for the very clear image of her boss's erection.
'Oh, the hell with it all,' she said to herself and went to bed.

~~~~~~~~
It was early in the morning. She had let herself in his apartment, put the groceries on the kitchen counter, then stopped. There was no sign of her boss being awake. For as long as she had known him, he had always been awake and fully clothed by the time she got there. He couldn't be sick. The flu he had a few months ago would probably be enough for the decade. The flu he had bravely ignored when he had come to her rescue.
She knocked softly on his bedroom door. When there was no answer, she opened it a little, just enough to see he was still in bed. He was still asleep. She was about to close the door when he whispered her name. In two steps, she was next to him.
"Yes, Mr. Monk?" she asked quietly.
But he didn't say anything. Her gaze wondered over the covers. She was not surprised to see they had no wrinkles. She was, however shocked to discover a small lump just where the…
She blushed and averted her eyes. She knew she should leave, but she was rooted to the spot. Her heart hammered violently against her ribs when he called her name again. There was something in the husky way he said it, that made her feel like she may burst into flames.
"Natalie," he called again. "Wipe!"
'What?!'
She was so angry… Was that all she was for him? The woman who handed him wipes? She wanted to shake him awake, to see him embarrassed, and, and, and…But she didn't. Instead, she reached in the box on his nightstand and took out a wipe. She snuck her hand under the covers to put the wipe in his hand. She closed her eyes tight and reached further and further down. His hand was right by… right by… oh, God.
Natalie found his hand and put the wipe in it, but she didn't get her hand out. She touched his hip and stopped breathing when he stirred in his sleep. She slid her fingers beneath the elastic band of his pajamas. She caressed the thick, coarse hair on the way to her target. She inhaled deeply as her fingers encircled the base of his semi erect shaft.
She heard his breathing change when she began to stroke him gently and awkwardly. Was he awake? Natalie didn't know if she hoped he was awake or not.
He grew harder and bigger in her hand. His hips began to move, pumping into her fist. She heard a muffled groan just as she felt the warm fluid spill all over her hand.
She took the wipe from his clenched fist and cleaned him as best she could.
Fifteen minutes later Natalie was still trying to get to grips with what she had done. She was still washing the same glass when he came into the kitchen. Whistling.
"Good morning, Natalie"
"Good morning, Mr. Monk," she managed to say in an awkward voice.
He was smiling. Natalie lost herself in his eyes. His eyes; those sad, perceptive, perfect eyes were lit from inside by an all-encompassing smile. She could see that a fire had been kindled inside him. And she was the one who had started it, even if he didn't know it. The hot sensation in the pit of her stomach and the tears that stung her eyes woke her up abruptly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Natalie shook her head trying to clear her mind of the vivid fantasy. She got out of bed and walked with difficulty to the kitchen. Her knees were weak, her stomach seemed to be host to a cloud of fluttering butterflies, and she was very, very wet.
She poured herself a glass of milk and switched on the TV. She zapped through the channels until she found a sobering enough story on CNN. She tried to focus on the tragedy they showed, but her body was still throbbing with the sensations caused by the dream.
Well, that was the last thing she had imagined she would feel when she accepted the job. 20 minutes after accepting to be his assistant, she had imagined she would end up having detailed fantasies about killing him slowly, certainly not about… about…
to be continued...
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Threshold Events