Wellington 1: Thomas, the Asshole

Mild Nudity, FYI

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The sounds of the water rushing through the jets of my hot tub were incredibly relaxing. More water poured down the makeshift waterfall that was the side of the Jacuzzi which was made of a giant rock that towered over me, complete with a fake palm tree. I pictured myself in a place that was entirely tropical, where I could lay on the beach all day, have hot tanned men rub suntan lotion on me while fanning me, bringing me bottomless margaritas, and feeding me grapes. Instead, I live in Sunset Valley, Minnesota, which is probably the most boring and uneventful town in the universe.

Laying my head back against the side of the faux rocks that made up the rim of the tub, I think about what I want to do for the rest of the day. I look over at the sauna set I have on the other side of the pool room, happy that I can afford such luxurious things. I live in this mansion with my husband, Thomas Wellington. He's kind of an asshole most of the time, but it's nothing I can't put up with. Truth be told, I don't really care that much. We've been growing apart for a while now, and when I think about it more, I don't know if we ever loved each other for real. We were both from privileged families, so it was expected that we would marry within our social status. Neither of us minded the way things were, even though we constantly bored each other most times when we tried to converse. We usually hang out in different parts of the house. Right now, I don't know where Thomas is, and I don't particularly give a shit.

When the tips of my fingers start to look like raisins, I pry myself out of the hot tub and shut it off, toweling off and deciding I need to work on my figure. I enjoy my hourglass shape, and I work out at least four times a week. It's important to me that I look perfect all the time. As I walk out of the pool room, I see a figure in a green sweater sitting in the small reading nook tucked into a little crevice of our mansion. It's Thomas, reading a book. I snicker at his choice of seating location because it's one of the smallest rooms in our mansion and I equate the size of the room to the size of what's in his pants, or lack thereof, I should say. I do think Thomas is somewhat attractive, but I've had better, and someone like me deserves someone way hotter than Thomas, who's just a typical pretentious average looking guy who thinks he's so intelligent. I have no doubts that once we do meet up again, he's going to shove knowledge down my throat like he always does to make him feel better about himself.

I continue ignoring Thomas, not caring to acknowledge him in the slightest. I head downstairs to the open concept gym that we have on the first floor. My equipment of choice today is the treadmill. I picked the one with the most settings, just so I have them all for my use, should I ever need them. During my workout, I see Thomas through the window, standing in the garden, or what's left of the garden, cursing and having a fit. I realize it looks like he's just standing there, but I know him well enough to know he doesn't give two shits about doing the gardening himself. He just goes out there to bitch about how bad of a job the gardeners do. He's fired countless staff members because he thinks they're incompetent, but it's mainly because he's impatient, and not very tolerant. If the gardener doesn't keep on top of the care of the plants, Thomas gets mad and fires them. When he does go out in  the garden, he usually curses under his breath, and then comes storming in about how shitty the garden is and how we need to make our curb appeal look better, even though we have no intentions of selling this house at all.

Working out made me hungry, so I prepared some dinner. What? Just because I have a personal chef come in sometimes, it doesn't mean I don't know how to cook. Thomas must have smelled the food so he came in and joined me. Too bad I wasn't quite done with my meal, so that I was forced to talk to him.

"Really, Sierra? Macaroni and cheese? I didn't even know we had such crap in our house."

"You grabbed a bowl. What does that say about you?"

Thomas glared at me, and picked up his spoon as a silent way of changing the subject.

"Jesus, Sierra, that's so unladylike, you could have waited for me to sit down before wolfing down your food like a farm animal. You're going to have to live on the treadmill if you keep at it."

"Waiting for you is like waiting for paint to dry. If I had waited for you, the macaroni would have spoiled already."

"Did you know the gardener fucked up the garden again? There's one tomato plant that's survived, the rest of it is an atrocity."

"If you know so much about gardening, why don't you just become the gardener?"

Thomas was silent as he finally started to eat his dinner. He wasn't silent for long of course, as I suspected, he started blabbing gibberish about the book he had been reading when I saw him sitting in the library nook earlier today.

"I do not garden because that is what a gardener is for. I just wish we had a good gardener. We have the money for it, clearly. Anyway, I was reading The Player's Journey, and it's very good, it's about a man who has many mistresses, and how he-"

"Oh, so it's a book written about your life."

"Shut up, Sierra. You know nothing about my life, it's not like you ever talk to me."

"I'm talking to you now, and I could say the same for you. When's the last time we had an actual conversation, rather than just hurl insults over dinner?"

When Thomas didn't answer me, I got up from the table and pushed my chair in, going to clear my plate. I needed a shower after my treadmill workout, and I certainly wasn't about to sit here any longer with Thomas.

"You're going to take my eye candy away from me so soon?"

I ignored Thomas' sarcastic remark and headed towards the bathroom, even though I was secretly flattered that he still thought I was eye candy.

Once inside, I let the bath water warm up while I got myself ready. It wasn't until I sat down that I felt the weight of the day lift off my shoulders. I thought about what Thomas had said, how I didn't talk to him anymore, and I guessed that was somewhat true. We had grown apart, and I knew that, I think both of us knew that, but it was only now that I wondered if Thomas cared or was hurt by it in any way. We hadn't slept with each other in a while, both of us finding ways to satisfy ourselves that didn't include the other. When I was done with my shower, I wrapped myself in a towel and headed upstairs to the bedroom. I was exhausted. I opened the door to an empty bed, as usual. Thomas usually opted to sleep in the guest room rather than our master bedroom. I enjoyed it for the most part since I had the whole thing to myself. I slipped a nightgown on and laid down on the 1,800 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. I loved how the bed felt, even if I wasn't using it for inappropriate activities.

I had been asleep for probably about thirty minutes when I heard the bedroom door open and some shuffling around that sounded like bare feet on carpet.

"Sierra, are you still awake?"

I heard Thomas' annoying voice, wondering why the hell he was here. He always had some other woman to fulfill his sexual desires, but I couldn't think of any other reason for him to step foot in our bedroom again after so long.

"Yeah, why?"

"Want to fuck?"

I sat up, knowing that I wasn't going to decline his offer, but wanting him to work for it after all the times he'd so purposefully chose not to have sex with me.

"Maybe."

Thomas rolled his stupid pink eyes at me, placing one hand on his hip and the other on the side of his neck. I let my eyes wander down his body. He did have a nice body, now if only his face was more exciting.

"Look, Sierra, I don't have time for your bullshit. You want to do this or not?"

I got up off the bed, and slapped him. He glared at me, which turned me on a little bit. He looked so uninteresting, but when he was angry, he was actually more attractive. I gripped the back of his hair and planted my lips onto his, shoving my tongue roughly into his mouth. He kissed me back just as hard, and put his hand under my nightgown, pushing two of his fingers inside me. I moved my hips on him, and as much as I hated him, I missed him touching me, and showing me any affection whatsoever. No matter how much of an asshole he was, he was still my husband. Thomas moved his kisses down to my neck, slamming my hands against the wall, roughly, but not in a mean way.

I was in the middle of feeling really good from what Thomas' fingers were doing to me when he suddenly withdrew them and ripped off my nightgown, throwing it on the floor.

"Asshole, that was expensive!"

"Shut up, you have like a million other nightgowns."

I can't deny that what he said wasn't true. After telling me to shut up, Thomas pulled his pants down and lifted my left leg up so he could get easier access to me. I looked down and was surprised to see how excited he was. I guess he wasn't lying when he said I was his eye candy. I grabbed fistfuls of the hair on top of his head and continued to kiss him as he began to thrust into me powerfully, his other hand massaging my hip and eventually my butt. He pressed me against him, pushing himself in even further.

I had forgotten how good he did feel during the times we managed to put aside our hate for each other and come together as husband and wife. After we both climaxed, I expected nothing less from him when he pulled out of me, picked up his pants and walked out of the room. Asshole.