Trophy Wife on Trial

The look on Whitney's face made Brock ask, "What?"

"The whole vial got poured in to her Cosmo."

Brock felt his eyes widen. He struggled to regain his calm. "I'm sorry.. what? Did you say-"

"It wasn't my fault, " Whitney whispered. "While I was being careful pouring just half like you said, someone walked behind me and bumped me...and the vial dropped in the glass. When I took out the vial, all the power was gone."

"And you still gave her the Cosmo anyway?"

"Yes," Whitney replied, her voice rising above a whisper as she proudly told Brock her plan. She wrapped it up, "Now I have her right where I want her. Two birds with one stone you might say. I get a chance to tell her off and when she passes out, my husband isn't going to stay in a room where a woman is passed out. What man would?"

"Right..." Brock agreed but as if from on another planet somewhere else. "What man would, ha ha."

"Is everything ok," Whitney asked.

"NO everything is NOT OK!" Brock yelled. "That WASN'T VALIUM you gave Kelli. It was ECSTASY! The very BEST! Half the vial would've made feel frisky and dance. But you PUT THE WHOLE VIAL in her drink! Do you have ANY IDEA what you've done, you CRAZY BITCH!"

Brock snapped out of his momentary daydream of what he wanted to say the Scott's wife, but he understood it wasn't her fault. He smiled his smile he gave to client when they needed reassuring before signing one the dotted line. "OK, Whitney. So... what's the deal with getting her to barge in?"

THE DEN

(a few moments later)

"And another thing," Whitney said sharply. "Your laugh. It's always so unnecessarily loud. As if you're not laughing at whatever was said, but in your Little Miss Look At Me way. It's like you want people to look over to see why Kelli is having so much fun. Enough already."

No one was sitting on the sofa with Kelli.

The trophy wife was on trial.

With her glossed lips pressed together in the same defiant pout for the last 10 minutes since Whitney had turned the tables on her, Kelli silently listened to this seemingly endless list of All The Things Whitney (And Apparently Everyone Else) Couldn't Stand About Kelli Kiner.

Both Brock and Scott were standing with their backs against the bar. They were drinking scotch. Scott's suit jacket hung on one of the barstools. He was amused by the way Whitney had tricked Kelli into being put on the hot seat. HIs wife and Carl's couldn't be any more opposites.

Whitney was on the sofa across from Kelli. Helen was next to Whitney. Her smile and nods of encouragement made it pretty obvious Helen was enjoying this. If there was any doubt she wasn't, Helen's vicious laughs at some of Whitney's comments made it beyond clear Helen was loving it.

Clark was on the end of their sofa, still sloppily slipping in and out of his stupor.

"Clark!" Kelli hissed at her husband. "Clark don't just sit there! Stand up for me!"

Brock cackled. "That'll be the day."

Kelli ignored him. She raised her voice, unmistakably bitchy. "Clark are you really that drunk? Do you hear what is going on here?"

Clark's head bobbed up, but his eyes were closed. He burped, drawing a disapproving look from Helen as she scooted closer to Whitney. "Pardon me," Clark slurred. His head dipped down again.

"Clark, you're my husband," Kelli reminded him. "Don't you have anything to say?"

"I told you so," he didn't slur that time.

Brock cackled again.

Kelli stared in disbelief at how Clark decided to us this moment, of all moments, to throw his favorite condescending phrase in her face. Speechless, she watched Clark seemingly passing out while sitting up on the sofa.

"Useless...." Kelli uttered while continuing to stare at her husband as if she could will him awake by sheer bitchiness.

"Oh my," Helen's words were drenched in sarcastic sympathy. "Your own husband won't even defend you from being taken off your pedestal, Kelli. What does that tell you?"

"Hardly a man," Scott said simply, without judgement and directly at the woman everyone disliked and he had found himself thinking about. A lot. Lusting for her, to tell the truth. And now this odd twist. It appeared Kelli had dragged Whitney with her into the den to deliberately interrupt an important business discussion. As much as he was not happy about having a business discussion interrupted, he couldn't help being attracted to her strong willed personality, her reckless disregard. Clark didn't deserve her.

Kelli did her best to keep her composure when she heard Scott state what she thought was opinion - which she couldn't care less about - yet the way he said it and considering the current drama she was only just realizing Whitney had this all planned. Tricked Kelli. Made her want to just barge into the den and insist her husband tell her jealousy was out of control and there was nothing between them.

And Kelli fell for it. Worse while she was being tricked by Scott's wife, Kelli had been telling herself she had outsmarted Whitney. That she had gotten the better of the this woman who was her complete opposite. Now she was forced to sit before the two wives that disliked her the most - and Kelli wasn't very keen on either Whitney or Helen - as they felt free to criticize and judge her.

Kelli wasn't going to sit there helplessly.

"You two think I'm trying to sleep with both of your husbands," Kelli condescended to the two wives on the other sofa. "But it couldn't possibly be the other way around."

Whitney gave Kelli a catty look, "Scott has never given me reason to think he'd cheat on me."

"That's because Scott is..." Kelli glanced over to where Scott and Brock were leaning against the bar, both amused by all of this. When she did, Scott winked at her...her assertive momentum stalled. "... hotter....SMARTER," Kelli quickly covered the first word and kept speaking, changing the subject, "very smart. Or so it would seem. What seems isn't always what it is seeming to be..."

Kelli didn't even know what she was saying. She felt light headed, suddenly more tipsy than she realized.

"What are you even saying, Kelli?" Helen mocked her. "Do you even know? Should we ask Clark?"

Clark's chin bounced off his chest and he raised his head, eyes remaining closed. He mumbled, "... i just said fuck it...didn't say a word..." Then he fell back into his stupor.

Helen's laugh was harsh. "Does he even know what he's saying himself?

"Awards party last..." Clark spoke with his head down, the words turning into a low mumble.

Brock cackled from his spot at the bar next to Scott. He smirked at Kelli when she glanced over irritably at him. "That was a hell of a evening, right, Kelli?"

Kelli just rolled her eyes at Brock.

"You can flirt with Brock later," Whitney snipped at Kelli to get her attention. "Right now, we're here to talk about your flirting with my husband."

"Fine," Kelly lazily replied, "yes. Let's do that. Since I'm always the one. And somehow I manage to find time to flirt with Ron." She said Helen's husband's name spitefully. "I can see why Helen thinks I want to sleep with Ron because I flirt with Scott. Because they look so much alike." Kelli laughed, shaking her head.

Her eyes felt heavy as she stared at Whitney. She was going on and on about something, but Kelli couldn't care less. This woman was boring her. Making excuses for her marriage, her tall handsome hunk of a husb-

Kelli snapped herself out of that train of thought just as Whitney asked, "Do you need to be the center of attention at every party?

Kelli lazily replied, "Whitney get a grip. I don't-"

"You're the one who needs the grip, Kelli," Whitney interrupted. "If we asked all the guests still here at the party if you're the one who flirts with my husband first or if they see Scott flirting with you first, I bet they'll say you."

"I'm sure the guests have more on their mind than making bets about me," the disliked trophy wife replied with utter boredom.

Brock cackled from behind the bar where he was mixing a drink. "Kelli," his smugness on full blast, "you'd be surprised, very surprised, on just what kind of bets are being made about you."

Kelli's drowsiness lifted when she heard what Brock said.

She glanced over at him, giving one of her perfectly practiced bitchy pouts. She was unsure if Brock was saying things to play games to confuse her... or if he was telling the truth... what bets could he possibly mean? She knew Brock was trying to bait her into asking about these so-called bets, but she was not going to give Brock the satisfaction or any other of his satisfaction. She simply was not -

"Is that so?" Kelli heard herself asking. "Just what are these bets?"

Brock grinned while walking from behind the bar, "Oh, I think it's best not to mention.

"In other words, there aren't any bets," Kelli mocked Brock's cryptic approach.

Helen looked at Brock. "Just tell her," she said amusedly. "She's asking for it."

"She's always asking for it," Ron grumbled.

Kelli's eyes were daggers aimed at Ron and Helen.

"Excuse you?" Kelli went on the attack. She looked at Ron with unbridled disdain. "Someone was asking for something last New Year's Eve. Right in this very house."

Ron coughed, "You're off topic, Kell-"

"No, no, Ron," Kelli was asserting her bitchiness, "this is so sooo on topic. Isn't that what you tried on me on New Year's eve? Your idea of asking for it?"

"Is this you twisting the truth to avoid looking less slutty?" Helen taunted Kelli, but there was a desperation in the way she did.

"Ask your husband if he likes 'slutty'," Kelli suggested.

Helen didn't like the direction Kelli was taking this. "My husband doesn't -"

Clark burped loudly and announced, "I'm going to be sick..." He was suddenly standing up, but his eyes were closed. He wobbled on his feet. When her burped again, his cheeks bulged wide, holding back all of the scotch he'd drank.

Helen screamed, "Do not! She was on her feet and shrieking at her husband, "Ron grab him! Hurry! We're taking him to the East Guest Bathroom!" Ron made it over to Clark, had his arm around his shoulders and guided him to the den's door where Helen was now already at and opening for Ron to walk Clark through. She looked back at Whitney.

"Will you wrap this up as soon as possible?"

She slammed the door behind her.

Whitney gave Kelli a stern look.

"Don't you even dare try to make the same suggestion about Scott because -"

Kelli interrupted Whitney, her voice loud and slurry, "Whitney, getta grippalready. Don't take thisss the wrong way, but iffihadtoo choose between Ron and Scott?" She glanced at Whitney's husband. "I'm picking Scott."

"You are not picking him," Whitney snapped at Kelli, "for anything. You're so conceited..."

As Whitney went on and on about her issues with Kelli's flirty behavior, Kelli felt her eyes slowly closing. Whitney's voice sounded far away, as if coming from a tunnel. Kelli decided her eyes needed to rest...

Whitney kept talking to Kelli, but when her eyes didn't open and she didn't respond to anything Whitney was saying, she glanced over at Brock, giving an expression that read: is this how it works? Brock returned a thumbs up - making sure Scott didn't notice. He took a step away from the bar.

"Is she passed out?" Brock asked, taking a few more steps over to the sofas.

Scott approached as well. He has a fresh Cosmo in his hand. "Well, I guess this goes to waste." He set the glass down on the end table closest to Kelli's end of the sofa.

Whitney gave her husband a withering look. "She's clearly had too much already. Passing out in someone else's home... such low class. I can't stand to be around her." Whitney seized Scott's hand. "Sweetie, let's get out of this room. I don't want to be associated with such low class."

Somehow, a woman Whitney's size was able to pull her tall husband with her out of the den and into the hallway, shutting the door behind her...

... leaving Kelli alone in the den with Brock.

Almost as soon as the door shut, Kelli's eyes opened. She didn't look drowsy at all. Quite the opposite, really. She had this... glow..she felt electricsexy...she doesn't know what that word means....it popped in her mind...and body..she loved loved loved how her Neiman's red dress fit her figure, hugged her body. And yes, fine the neckline was low cut and accentuating her perfect cleavage...and.. so what? It's just a little... it's fine it is...omg i really want another Cosmo...

All of those feelings and thoughts happened in Kelli's mind almost all at once when her eyes opened. And as she was processing the last thought, appearing before her as if having just read her mind, Brock had Scott's fresh Cosmo in hand. He extended it to her and at his most casual, offered it to her. To his surprise, she accepted it.

"Omigod are you are mind reader?" Kelli asked in a half kidding way.

Brock took a seat on the other sofa - where Clark was slumped at one end - so that he was directly across from her. He had a glass filled with scotch. He raised his glass and after a moment, Kelli raised hers. He smiled giving his most charming version of Brock, "I just know what certain women want. And I act on it."

"Really? So, your toast is to... yourself?" Kelli was almost flustered at the younger man's audacity. She felt upset... but fascinated by such...

"Who would you prefer it to be? You?" Brock gave her a look, "I mixed the drink, brought it over and handed it to you. What did you bring to the show? Other than that bod of yours in that tight little red dress, showing off your tits like it's Christmas, but acting like you're not at all. But you are. I notice everything when it comes to you. Everything."

"I'm just going to sip my Cosmo now," Kelli told Brock while giving him her bitchy pout.

Brock watched Kelli take a big drink, as if to spite him. He didn't sip his scotch. Just stared at her with a gaze that began to grow intense..

"For example," Brock went on. "I notice how much blonder you've done your hair. Just in time for summer. It looks great on you. Brings out that tan. And I noticed how you've feathered and layered the sides, brings an eye to look at your face, when we really want to be looking at that low cut dress and how you look in it. I noticed how it fits you like a glove, Kelli. I noticed you know you look fucking sexy in it. And I noticed how you spend the whole night acting like you don't know... or have any clue every man at the party wants you."

Kelli laughs, then sips from her Cosmo. "That's very sweet of you, Mister Ladies Man. The men at this party are not going to leave their wives just to get me to sleep with them."

Brock cackles. "Who said anything about them leaving their wives? They want you, Kelli. Just for the night. Weekend, tops. Depends on the Lucky Fucker. Maybe he just wants a quickie. Some guys just like getting a blowjob." He paused, shrugged and went on before she could say anything, "To go Weekend Warrior on you? Just depends on... will you got to Las Vegas with him?"

Kelli gave a defiantly bitchy pout, "Yes, I would...."

"And dress sexy in the casino with him..." Brock added.

"....All the time..."

"Willing to take ecstasy with him..."

"...Yes, fine...

"And how depraved will you get with me?"

"...how much coke do you have?"

Kelli doesn't realize she's said it until she hears it coming out of her mouth, which she very quickly closes, but it's too late. She's said it. She looks away, looks down.

And from the cackle, Brock heard it.

"Oh, Kelli..." Brock's smugness was in every word, "Sweetheart, you should've told me you're an ex-snow bunny turned trophy wife, but still has Little Miss Bunny inside and Little Miss Bunny needs to get started up every once in a skinny."

Brock took a big drink of scotch while watching Kelli's pout. "You let your party girl secret out of the bag, baby. No putting it back now. Nope. No chance. I don't think you could think of anything that you could do, Kelli, that would and probably could do - if done right and all the way through - and put this party girl secret back in the bag."

"No comment, Kelli?" Brock mocked her silence, noticing how it would tighten her jaw. "That's a change. Quick question. So just how much coke are we talking, Little Miss Bunny? How much do I need to bring to the next party?"

"I've had some of my best sex while on coke," Brock kept going, determined to get Kelli to break her silence. Get her talking and trip her up again. He had planned and planned and thought about fantasized about being in a moment like this. He knew he just need something that would shock her... the more personal, the better. "You will, too."

"The other thing I noticed, Kelli." Brock's playful tone suddenly turned menacing, "You were so eager to take the drink being handed to you... you didn't even bother to say 'Thank you.' Just like the stuck up trophy bitch who doesn't realize every man that works with her husband - present company very much included - and all the married men in your community as well, all think you look like a hot MILF porn star."

That got Kelli's attention.

When Kelli looked up, she saw Brock was standing with his glass of scotch, now almost empty. In his drunken swagger, he had stopped a few steps away from standing in front the sofa. Brock cackled.

"Actually... it's two porn stars."

Kelli found the porn star comparison upsetting... but that was not what froze the reaction on her upon...seeing Brock standing before her, a few feet away, it appeared all of Brock's "porn star" talk involving her had...had aroused him... was still arousing him...

- a memory flash... from the Awards Party... backstage, on her knees behind a curtain...Brock's long hard erection thrust between the curtains... how she had almost touched it when she reached out for it in a daze she'd never before and hadn't since -

Until now.

Kelli didn't even realize she hadn't been able to look away from Brock's bulge. She also didn't notice that Brock had noticed she wasn't noticing how she was staring at how hard he was now. Kelli also didn't notice his slow swaggering approach...

....or how he lowered his zipper...

...or how his next step put him standing before where she was sitting, her face level with the front of his unzipped slacks.

Brock reached inside his open zipper and brought out his erection. He took a final step forward and let go of his erection. He cackled at how close his tip was so close to Kelli's lips....

The den's door suddenly opened.

"Forgot my coat," Scott announced as he walked into the room....and stopped when he saw Brock standing in front of Kelli on the sofa...his erection out and bouncing in front of her face close enough too...

At that instant, both Brock and Kelli reacted to Scott's entrance. She sat back and looked down, embarrassed to have been seen like that... seen by Scott. She didn't want to know what he must be thinking of her now.

Brock had put his erection back in his pants, zipped up, turn to Scott. "Scott... whatever happened to knocking, right?"

Scott looked at Brock. "There's going to be knocking. Me knocking you out." He stepped toward Brock. "That's a married woman sitting there."

Brock moved away. Scott followed, circling the den and driving Brock toward the door. When Brock saw this, he cackled. "Yeah, you try remembering that, too, Old Romeo."

"I'm a married man," Scott repealed.

"Then how did Sunnyvale happen, Scott?" As Scoot shoved Brock into the hallway and was shutting the door, Brock called out, "I know things about you Sco-"

SLAM goes the den's door when Scott slams it. He turns around, focused right on Kelli, timid and embarrassed, ashamed even possibly. Where was Miss Priss Princess? Where were the never ending variations of pouts put on her always glossed lips? Instead we have a her mouth frozen half open as if about to say something but her ditzy side was stating to show.