Wicked Ch. 06

A/N: Sorry for the wait. I'm so wicked.

One more chapter.

+

The supermarket was empty which relieved Christine. She wasn't in the mood to deal with hordes of frisky shoppers.

And honestly she loved shopping, and preferred doing it alone. It took her mind off her problems. Here, the only things she had to worry about was what kind of paper towels to buy and if she brought the right coupons.

She stared at bottles of tomato sauce for an eternity, not really seeing the labels and the jars of red, but remembering her wedding day. Michael was nervous. He called her a half hour before the ceremony. His voice was shaky with nerves and her obnoxious bridesmaids joked he was backing out. Christine slipped into another room and asked him what was wrong.

"Nothing," he breathed. "I just can't wait to be married to you."

Michael loved her. She knew he did.

So why, then? Why was another woman's lipstick on his shirt? Why was he distant and distracted? Why did he barely come home?

"Emeril's sauce is to die for."

Christine jumped and looked up. A handsome man with dirty blonde hair and dark blue eyes was smiling at her. Her heart thumped and for a second she smiled back. But there was something malevolent in his eyes, something disingenuous in the curve of his lips, that her own smile faded.

"Thanks for the suggestion." Christine sounded like a nervous child and she was irritated with herself for letting this stranger affect her like that. She cleared her throat, straightened her shoulders, and grabbed a jar of some other brand just to spite him.

He laughed behind her and it sent an unpleasant shudder through her body. "You know, you're very familiar to me."

As she rolled her carriage away, she said, "I don't think I know you."

He followed her. "Hmm. My name is Victor Cole."

"Doesn't sound familiar."

"What's yours?"

He winked at her, sending her heart sputtering. He was really charming, and extraordinarily good-looking. Yeah, there was something a little off about him. He could be a serial killer for all she knew. There was a deliciousness about him, however, that she couldn't resist. Temptation has won over the best of people, after all.

She thought to herself, "If Michael can fuck around, I can flirt with a hot guy in the supermarket." So she smiled and played along.

"Christine. Christine McGuire." She put out a dainty hand.

Very much like the big bad wolf, Victor grinned and took it into his own. "Michael's Christine?"

For the first time since she laid eyes on the guy, a sense of calm came over her. He knew Michael. A little disappointing, since she couldn't very well flirt now, but comforting regardless. "Yes, I'm his wife."

"Wow, so I do know you! Sort of. I've heard a lot about you."

"Really? Are you friends with Michael?"

"My wife works with him," he smiled. "Her name is Vivienne. Says Michael talks about you nonstop. She's told me all about you."

"Oh." Christine felt a little uncomfortable. She'd never heard of this Vivienne, let alone her husband. She forced a smile. "That's nice."

"It's about time we met! Listen, I was thinking of having you two over for dinner sometime soon so we could all properly get to know one another. Just as well I ran into you- women usually plan everything in the relationship. Except when it comes to me and Viv." He gave a little throaty laugh that made Christine think this was some kind of private joke he repeated often. "You free tonight? I know it's late notice but I was planning on cooking up something really special."

There was a strange enthusiastic glow in Victor's blue eyes. It was as if he needed her to say yes, far more than he wanted her to. The entire encounter made Christine feel there was something Victor was in on that she wasn't. She didn't like it.

Still, she heard herself answering with artificial cheer. "We'll be there."

She wanted to know who this Vivienne was. Something whispered in her ear that she was the reason her husband was acting bizarrely. Maybe it was her lipstick that marred Michael's collar.

It was time to get answers, even if they'd end up shattering her in the process.

+

"Why haven't you been answering my texts?"

Michael glared at Vivienne who sat at her desk, a strange expression darkening her face.

It had been 4 days since they last had sex and Michael was going nuts. He wanted her, he needed her. He fucking craved her and it was all her fault.

"Fucking answer me!"

"Please come in and close the door. You're making a scene."

He hated how cool she was. He ignored the stares of a few of their coworkers and shut the door, locking it with a satisfying click.

"Sit down."

"Don't tell me what to do!" Michael paced like a caged animal, his eyes wild and furious. "What the hell have you done to me?"

Vivienne sighed and rested her head against her hands, closing her eyes. "Please sit. I need to tell you something."

Michael stopped and sat down reluctantly. "Talk."

"Victor knows." Her eyes slid open. "He won't do anything to you, so don't worry about that."

"Don't worry?" he asked, his voice quiet but his insides raging. "Shit. How much does he know?"

Vivienne flicked her red hair back and giggled cruelly. "Does it matter? He knows we've fucked."

"Did you tell him?"

"No. He figured it out."

Michael didn't believe that Victor just "figured it out", but he wasn't in the mood to fight with Vivienne. "So now what?"

Vivienne typed at her computer. He loathed how composed she was, how none of this seemed to touch her. He was in shreds, hardly recognizable, and she sat there fatally beautiful.

"We pretend it never happened."

He was quiet for a minute. He stood again and paced. "How?"

She smiled but it didn't make her eyes glitter. "We go back to how we were before."

He walked around her desk, which may as well have been a throne the way she sat and held herself. He met her eyes and spoke more passionately than he could ever remember. He was always more of an action guy than a "words" guy, but it didn't shock him that Vivienne would force him to change this about him, too.

"I know how you taste now. I know how long your arms are. How light your body is when it presses down on mine. The length of your fingernails when they scratch my skin."

"Stop it," Vivienne whispered, dropping her eyes to her desk. Michael grabbed her chin and forced her gaze back to his own.

"I won't forget how your pussy feels when I inch inside it. How wet it gets just by me teasing you a little bit. The tightness that makes me stop breathing when you cum."

"Michael..."

"Most of all, I can't forget you. Your red smile. The terrible way you tell jokes. Your belly-laughs that make you snort. You made me want you. I can't go back now."

She looked down again. "I didn't know you were a poet, Michael."

She tried to spit the words with vitriol. Instead she whispered them, needy and broken.

"You can't forget, either. I know you can't."

"Please." She looked at him with a strange urgency. "I have to tell you something. I haven't been-"

"Just shut up." He unzipped his pants and ignored her protests.

"They'll hear," she said, sounding scared for the first time he met her.

What a strange creature she was. All fierceness and rigid lines and flirty smiles with a little girl heart.

His cock was hard and already glistening with precum. His own words had turned him on. "Open your mouth."

He expected her to fight a little more. He didn't think she would respond obediently, popping open that creamy mouth and sucking him inside.

"Fuck," he sighed. He ran the length up and down her tongue, controlling the thrusts as he made love to her face.

She looked up with eyes wide and trusting and he nearly lost it. His movements quickened. He tugged on her long red hair desperately, shifting her on and off his cock with choppy desire.

They could hear two coworkers chatting outside her office. It added to the soundtrack of sex-laced pants and pleading groans. It all somehow made him harder, and her more eager to please.

He ripped open her blouse, delighting in a few buttons breaking off and spinning on the carpet. She made an annoyed sound. He just laughed and gave a good, deep nudge into her mouth, smacking her chin with his balls. She moaned deeply in her throat and he nearly came at the vibrations.

He reached into her silk bra and toyed with her nipples. She growled and he fucking loved it. He was close.

"I'm gonna cum," he whispered.

She raised both her hands to clutch the back of his thighs for balance and then went to town, hungry for her next meal.

His cum happily slid down her throat as he grunted and gasped. His fingers tangled in her hair, holding her to him for a few moments.

Then they parted. Vivienne wiped her chin where a few stray drops of cum had dribbled down. She laughed when she saw his ravenous expression.

He walked over and sucked in a nipple. He would have worshipped her body had her phone not gone off, harshly bringing them back to the reality of their situation.

"You can't forget," he whispered, pulling up his pants. "I won't let you."

+

Michael got out of work, expecting to wait for Vivienne and convince her to head over to their favorite hotel, but he had a text from Christine.

"Dinner at 23 Demeter St. w friends. B there at 7. U owe me."

He wanted to fling his phone against the pavement. He didn't have time for "dinner with friends". All of Christine's friends were dull. He didn't feel like spending an evening with them.

He caught Vivienne's stare as he got into his car. He nodded and waved, then sped off to go have a boring as fuck dinner.

+

In spite of knowing they had to stop, Vivienne was strangely upset when she saw Michael speeding off, presumably heading home to Christine. Was he trying to make her jealous? He was succeeding.

She wanted to head to the bookstore rather than face her husband, but she had a text from him he was making something special for dinner tonight and they were having guests. Usually these guests liked to watch them have sex and she was sick to her stomach at the thought. Still, if she didn't make an appearance it would be far uglier later.

She drove home and noticed an unfamiliar blue car sitting out front. She didn't recognize it as any of Victor's usual "buddies" and so she assumed he picked up someone new.

There was laughter when she pushed open the door.

"Hi, Honey!" Victor bellowed from somewhere in the kitchen.

Vivienne rolled her eyes and walked into the house.

When she caught sight of who Victor's guest was, she nearly fainted. There stood Christine McGuire in the flesh, wearing a plain black dress and a perfect string of pearls.

"You must be Vivienne," she said, a genuinely kind smile on her face. She put out her soft hand and Vivienne automatically took it. "I'm Michael's wife."

"Christine," Vivienne whispered. She cleared her throat. "I've heard so much about you."

Michael's wife gave her a small smile but said nothing further.

Victor chopped onions, keeping his eyes on the show.

"Glad you make it home on time tonight, Sunshine."

Fuck. She pleaded pathetically with her eyes for him to stop, to pretend to be normal, to not ruin these people's lives, but he just grinned and kept on sliding his knife into the tender skin of the onion.

Victor was planning a car crash and there was nothing Vivienne could do but sit in the passenger seat and close her eyes.

+

When Michael pulled up he noticed the house was far nicer than his own. It was almost gothic with high arched windows and stoned walls. It wasn't a warm and cozy home, however, and something about it sent a chill up his spine.

He walked up and rang the doorbell. The man who answered with a huge, fake smile was vaguely familiar.

"Mike! Come in."

Michael stepped over the threshold.

The man bumped a fist on his shoulder. "Glad you could make it. Christine and my wife are just inside."

Something was off. Terribly off.

He followed the blonde guy into the kitchen and nearly threw up his lunch everywhere.

Christine and Vivienne were standing next to one another, smiling and drinking mimosas like old friends. Vivienne caught his gaze and her smile flattened out. She winked with one eye. He didn't know what she was trying to tell him and at that moment he didn't care. He was too pissed off.

He looked over at the man who must be Victor, furious and terrified at the same time. He remembered Vivienne saying he knew about them. This had to be his doing.

"Hi, Sweetie," Christine laughed once she noticed he'd walked in. "I'm just getting to meet Vivienne here. She said you really helped her out on her last project."

Fuck. In spite of Christine's sweet tone, he knew her pleasant facade was just that- a facade. Her eyes told him she was beyond pissed, and he could make a few educated guesses as to why.

"It's time to eat," Victor announced, a permanent smile curving his lips.

The unhappy bunch followed him like children following the Pied Piper.

+

"Vivienne loves her job, don't you pet?"

She sipped her wine and gave him a nasty look he just laughed off. She watched him spoon more potatoes on Christine's plate.

She hated Christine because she had the life she never would, but she felt horrible she was mixed up in one of Victor's many games. She wanted to tell Michael and Christine to run, to just leave now and give up trying to be nice at this sham of a dinner party.

But she could say nothing.

Michael kept glancing at her with agitation and a smidge of disgust. It boiled hotly in her stomach, making the threat of throwing up a real possibility.

"I hear you're quite proficient, too, Mike," Victor added.

Michael cut a piece of steak. "I do okay."

"No, that's not the way Viv tells it. She says you're an all-star. I mean, why else would she beg you to help her out all the time?"

There was an uneasy silence.

"Victor," Vivienne whispered.

"I say we all start acting like adults here and treat this for what it really is. Christine, I'm sorry you're in the dark here, sweetie, and I hate doing this to you. But our spouses haven't been themselves lately. Have they?"

Christine bit her lip.

"Victor!" Vivienne's heart pounded heavy and fast.

Christine looked like she was about to cry. She got to her feet. "Listen, dinner was lovely but-"

"They're having an affair, Christine. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you. I wanted to fess up at the supermarket but I wanted to give you a chance to spit in Vivienne's eye, so to speak."

Christine was silent for a moment. She fingered her pearls and then cast her eyes on Vivienne.

"It's between me and my husband now. I don't appreciate you doing this, and I don't know what your own game is. I don't play games."

"Ah, but I do," Victor smiled. "And so does Vivienne. Michael, you didn't actually think she wanted you for you, did you? It's the conquest. The hatred she has for men. She wanted to defeat you. Ruin your marriage. Destroy your faith."

"Shut up!" Vivienne shrieked, throwing a plate at the wall and feeling a second's satisfaction in its shattering. "Stop it!"

Michael paled and got up, moving over to Vivienne. Then he paused, glancing back at his wife who stood watching him with an eerie calmness.

"It's all a game, Michael," Victor went on, "and you're merely a part of it. That's it. No matter how she made you feel, how she got you to think, she comes back to me. She always comes back. And you're always tossed aside, back to the dutiful wife who may or may not let you back into the bed."

"No, no, that's not true," Vivienne cried, shaking and putting her hands out to Michael. "Please. It's not. You're different."

Victor clicked his tongue. "Just a game."

"I'm leaving," Christine said, her voice shaky. She looked at her husband as if she didn't recognize him. "You can do what you want."

She ran out, leaving the trio staring at one another.

For a moment Michael looked like he wanted to comfort Vivienne. He shook his head, breaking the spell. "You're sick. The both of you."

"No!" Vivienne went to run to him but Victor held her back. In a few short seconds, Michael was gone and speeding off in his car.

Vivienne struggled for a while, sobbing and pleading and cursing, until she finally quieted down. The fight had gone out of her.

Victor slowly pulled up her dress, hiking it to her waist. He pet her hair, pulling it over her shoulder.

"Do you want me?" he asked. "Or do you want to go chase things you'll never have?"

"I want you," Vivienne said, her voice cracking.

Victor stabbed her with his cock and kissed the back of her neck.

"Am I wicked?" he asked her, a little laugh in his voice.

She stared blankly at where Michael stood just minutes before.

"To the core, my love."