Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

Threshold Events	By : abra Category: M through R > Monk Views: 8687 -:- 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
- 1
- 2
- 3
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 2
The three weekends following the disturbing dream, Natalie went to singles bars determined to meet a guy, any guy good enough for one night. It never happened. Somehow they all seemed wrong.
It was the fourth Saturday after the weird fantasy and she was sitting across the table from Peter, a guy who was totally her type, and who, in a certain light, looked like Mitch, and all she could think about was where she was going to find Mr. Monk's special toothbrush. She told herself that it was just because he kept reminding her to buy it, but that didn't explain why she did not feel any attraction for the man in front of her when she was aware of her sexual needs almost every minute of the day. All day long she had to fight off the fluttering of her stomach, or the unusually sexual thoughts that popped in her head at very inconvenient times. She could count back this strange behavior from the night of that dream. She kept telling herself that the dream had been the result of her pent up sexuality, and not the cause of the present state. It didn't make much of a difference.
She smiled at Peter, slightly embarrassed to realize that she hadn't listened to what he had been saying. What was distracting her from this very promising third date? It wasn't the noise of the bar, she had worked in one for long enough. Nor Julie's sleep over at her best friend's place. Even Mr. Monk had behaved himself, and not called her once since she left the house. The thought suddenly startled her. In fact he hadn't called her at all that evening. Which was strange. Downright concerning.
"I have to make a phone call. Would you excuse me please?"
On her way to the ladies room she got the phone out of her bag and dialed Mr. Monk's number. She closed the door behind her and caught a glimpse of her face in the bathroom mirror. She looked worried. The longer the phone rang, the more worried she became. Mr. Monk never left the house without her. What if he was hurt? If he had passed out? Or worse...
Natalie hurried back to their table.
"Peter, I'm so sorry, but I have to go."
"What's wrong? Are you feeling ill?"
"No. It's my boss. I think he's in trouble. I have to go."
Peter drove her swiftly to Mr. Monk's apartment. As she got out of the car, Natalie agreed hastily to get together again sometime soon, but she was already frantic to find Mr. Monk as quickly as possible.
She let herself in his flat with her own keys. Her hands were shaking visibly when she opened the door. Everything seemed fine. Perfect, actually. Nothing out of place, nothing to indicate a struggle.
"Mr. Monk?" she called, hardly recognizing her own voice. "Mr. Monk, where are you?" She called again forcing the trembling out of her voice. If he was sick, hearing that she was worried about him would only make it worse.
"Natalie? Is that you?" She heard him answer from the bedroom.
He sounded surprised, otherwise normal.
She saw him flinch when she opened the door and entered his bedroom without hesitation.
"Are you all right?" she asked, already knowing his answer.
"Yes, I'm fine. What are you doing here?"
"Why aren't you answering your phone? I called for half an hour," she exaggerated.
"I unplugged it."
"Why? Who calls you so much that you need to unplug it?!"
"Is there something wrong? Why were you calling me? Did something happened to Julie? To you?"
She could see he was getting worried. He pulled the covers away and started to get out of bed.
"No. Nothing happened. It's just…"
She looked around his room trying clear her thoughts. Her fears seemed so ridiculous now. She tried to understand why she was there, unable to concentrate under his penetrating gaze. She could feel him scanning her for answers.
"You were worried. About me," he said simply.
"Yes. Yes, I was. You call me at least 20 times every day. But you didn't call tonight. I thought something happened to you."
"I thought you were on a date."
"That never stopped you before."
"I'm trying to obey your rules."
This statement sounded so strange coming from him that Natalie couldn't help looking at him. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, his pajamas as perfect as any three-piece suit.
"Okay, so you're fine. I'm gonna get going now."
She turned on her heels, not bearing to look at him anymore.
"Natalie," he said.
She stopped with her hand the door knob.
"Yes, Mr. Monk?"
"Could you make me a cup of cocoa? With eight little marshmallows."
"OK."
She heard the rustling of his sheets before she closed the door. All the way to the kitchen she felt incredibly stupid.
He was the weird one. He was afraid of almost everything. So why was she afraid for him too? He had it pretty much covered.
Natalie opened the fridge while the water was warming up. She shook her head glancing over the color-coded chart. Boxes, labels, lists, wipes... A thousand and one precautions... Did he really believe that he could control life like this?
She took out a bottle of vodka and poured herself a generous measure. She was feeling dizzy, and stupid to be there, and she wanted something to dull the sharp feel of the immediate reality. The alcohol burned its way down her throat. She thought briefly that she was adding vodka to the wine she had drunk at the restaurant and she had left before eating anything, but somehow it didn't worry her.
She took the bag of marshmallows from the cupboard, counted eight, and zipped the bag again knowing that he was only going to throw them away because it had been unsealed.
'Let's see just how perceptive Mr. Monk is!'
She smiled devilishly and took a sip of his cocoa. After giving it some consideration, she licked the entire rim of his cup. It turned out to be a bad idea because it made her think that his lips were going to touch the very spot where her lips and her tongue had been. And that annoying, unwanted, unrelenting dream surfaced again. A wave of heat surged through her body at the mere memory of those illusory sensations. She needed to get laid. The only person she knew who probably needed it as much as her was in the next room, patiently awaiting his cocoa.
The thought came naturally. They had the same problem; maybe they could solve it together. So simple, yet wrong on so many levels. He was her boss, and he had issues, to put it mildly. He was still in love with his wife. But she still loved Mitch. The little devil voice inside her was whispering that she hadn't been with a man for a very long time. It went on implying that she would do him a favor as well. He wasn't even dating. It had to be bad for his health to be sexually inactive for so long.
She told herself she would leave it to chance; if this wasn't meant to be, he'd be already asleep.
She was quite pleased with this rationalization, which was actually clear evidence that she didn't hold her drink very well. She squared her shoulders, and took him his cocoa.
There was no sound coming from the bedroom. The lamp on his nightstand was on, however. She could see the light through the cracked door. For a split second Natalie hoped he was asleep, but she knew that her leaving the door ajar had made it impossible for him to calm down enough to fall asleep.
She handed him the cup wordlessly.
"Thank you, Natalie."
She nodded trying not to think about what she had decided and what might happen next. She looked at him attentively. The sexual arousal was still making a mess of her rational mind, but at the same time she had to admit that he was absolutely adorable. She smiled when he tried to hide the fact that he was counting the marshmallows. It was difficult to reconcile the sharp-eyed, clinically logical detective with some of the man's childlike mannerisms and naïve reactions.
He closed his eyes and smelled the beverage with a delighted expression. She watched, fascinated, as he finished the drink. The warm and grateful smile that accompanied the simple "thank you" almost sobered her up. She felt guilty for using him to quench her own needs, but she had made up her mind.
"Mr. Monk, I don't feel very well and I don’t think I should drive. Could I possibly sleep on your couch?"
She hoped desperately that he wouldn't have one of his Sherlock Holmes moments and figure out that she hadn't driven to his place.
"Of course. But won't Julie be worried? Can her babysitter stay all night?"
"Oh," she blushed. "She's sleeping at a friend of hers. Thank you, Mr. Monk."
She hurried out of his room. What was he going to think about her? She had made sure that she had the house to herself. He must think that she's in the habit of sleeping around. Although that wasn't true, the fact was that she had arranged things so she wouldn’t have to worry about Julie that night. If it hadn’t been for this unreasonable concern for Mr. Monk, she'd be halfway to going to bed with that Peter guy.
She went back into the kitchen, refilled her glass with ice-cold vodka, and took it with her. She was sure that he wouldn't be able to sleep with her in the house, but she could bet that he was not going to leave the bedroom until the morning. He would not risk running into her, possibly naked-ish. She took the glass in the bathroom with her. The alcohol seemed to relax her somewhat, but she knew better than look at herself in the mirror. She made sure she didn't think that she might never be able to look at herself in the mirror again after this night.
Natalie stripped completely, folded her clothes carefully and put them in one of the omnipresent zip lock bags. She stepped into the shower letting the warm water fall over her. She saw Trudy's cosmetics on a shelf, but did not reach for them. Instead, she used his shower gel. She remembered the strange incident of two weeks earlier when she had bought the same product for herself. She had blamed the mistake on his insistence of getting everything to his exact specifications. However, she had used the gel and not bought another one, settling for using her perfume to hide the discreet scent.
The shower cabin was inundated by the masculine fragrance. It smelled like his aftershave, and his cologne, and his clothes when she was taking them to the drycleaners. It smelled like him. And, for the past two weeks, it was the last smell she was sensing before falling asleep.
to be continued...
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Threshold Events