Veronica

"Yes," I whimpered. "I'd like that."

"Yeah? Would you let me suck it? Bite it?"

"Mhmm," I hummed agreeably.

"And would allow me to pull your head back by that black braid of yours while I fucked you?"

My heart jumped up to my throat. I had somehow assumed this was some sort of roleplay, that he was merely playing along, pranking the prankster. But he was talking about my hair, as I frequently wore it to work. He wasn't thinking about some girl lying on her bed. He was fantasizing about me.

"Hell yes," I managed to mutter.

I had never thought about Nick in that sense but somehow now it seemed easy. I was thinking of his coppery complexion, the silky black hair on his head and how in his own way he was very attractive. Up until this moment, I had thought of Nick as the kind, perhaps a little naïve, little brother. Now I was beginning to see him as a man with a man's desire.

His heavy breathing at the end of the line fed my imagination with images of him stroking his brown member. His mind would be occupied with the primeval lust of having his body merge with mine.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," he groaned, intoxicated by the fantasy. "The things I'd do to you..."

"Tell me about them," I encouraged him in despair.

"Oh, I will, baby, first I'd..."

There was a sudden silence at the end of the phone.

"Hello?" I said uncertainly. Did the call finish?

"Fuck, I didn't realize it was already that late," he said with a disappointed sigh.

"Oh. You need to go?"

"Yeah, I do. I got to start work at noon."

This seemed extremely plausible to me, knowing he often worked the midday shift. I was more relieved than upset: Veronica had already seen and heard much more than I felt comfortable in sharing.

"I'll call you again, okay?" he said hopefully. He was a gentleman who clearly didn't want to make me feel like he was bailing on me.

"Yeah, alright. I get it." I told him understandingly.

We said our byes. When the call was over and the connection finally lost, I took a deep breath. Veronica was leaning against her dressing table, her arms crossed. There was a wicked smile on her lips.

"That wasn't too bad was it? Pity it ended so soon," she teased.

"Just shut up, please."

- - -

The day had been going by agonizingly slowly. Every minute that I spent with Veronica felt twice the length of an ordinary minute.

In appreciation of my earlier performance with Nick, Veronica decided the day would be perfect to go through the fine rags in her wardrobe. Seeing as I was her charity case, she wanted me to try on everything that might fit or look good on me. I felt like reluctant Barbie in her pastel-coloured cocktail dresses and designer outfits. I knew that if any of my friends caught me wearing any of these articles of clothing, they'd die from laughter.

"I don't understand what your problem is with pink," Veronica complained as we were carrying the clothes that she'd bestowed on me back to my room.

"It's too girly."

"There's nothing wrong with femininity," she said aghast.

"It's just not my style."

She had made me wear one of the dresses in honour of her birthday: the white, lacey cocktail dress. She would've given me heels to match had we had the same shoe size. Mercifully, we didn't.

After the clothes had been packed away, we decided it was about time for some coffee. On our way down the stairs, I saw a familiar face walk out of the kitchen door. He looked up at us approaching and flashed us his million-dollar smile.

"Evan! Where do you think you're going?" Veronica demanded flatly.

"Miss Veronica, Miss Isabella," he greeted us in a friendly manner. He eyed my outfit approvingly. I felt an involuntary flush on my cheeks.

"It's almost 1:30, you should've started an hour ago." Veronica crossed her arms.

"I'm sorry, Miss," he hissed out mockingly. "I was told to fetch some pelargoniums for the flower beds. Unfortunately, not many flower shops are open on Sunday."

He was only a couple of years older than us. He had studied botany and had ended up working for Veronica's family. Unlike the rest of the staff, he was more laid back and seemed quite content at making witty remarks to Veronica. It pissed her off. I had once asked Veronica why it was that she hadn't had him sacked. She had told me that Evan was simply too good at his job for my uncle to ever fire him. I was quite relieved by this piece of information, because he was quite likeable.

"Well chop-chop then," she muttered, clearly unhappy for not having a chance to tell him off.

"Bye then," he grinned at me, before hurrying out the door into the garden.

Veronica rolled her eyes.

"He clearly has an issue with authority," she complained to me as we headed towards the kitchen.

"I suppose he does."

"I don't understand how you can stand him."

"He's... nice," I admitted with a careful smile. "And pretty funny too. If you weren't so hostile towards him, you would notice."

"He's staff. If I was lax on him, he would lax on his job." Veronica's lips had been pinched together into a thin line, but now they were slowly relaxing. "He did seem to appreciate your make-over though."

I was quiet, but I had noticed it too. He did eye me like I was delicious fruit.

The kitchen was empty and pristine clean. Anette was nowhere to be seen.

"How do you like your coffee?" Veronica asked me as she began filling the water container of their state-of-the-art coffee maker.

"I'd like a latte," I replied, "but with lactose-free milk, please."

Not knowing how to operate the coffee machine, I always let Veronica make my coffee. She knew where everything was stored, what the different lights blinking on the machine indicated. She was a regular coffee drinker herself, and she seemed to take some joy in the preparation process. It was one of the few practical talents she had.

She opened the fridge door for the milk, but instead of reaching out for it she stopped in place.

"What's this?" she frowned.

I tried to lean over the island to better see what she was talking about. From the fridge she pulled out her birthday cake, placing it on the kitchen island. She lifted off the cake cover and stared at it disapprovingly.

"What is it, Vera?" I asked her worried. Anette had worked hard on that cake.

"So much processed sugar," she muttered unhappily.

"Well, it is your birthday," I argued. "If any day, then today, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," she sighed in defeat.

She studied the pink glaze and the letters forming her name. She narrowed her eyes in deep thought. Was she searching for a flaw? There was clearly something on her mind, other than distaste.

"What now?" I sighed.

"Izzy," she mused, "have you ever heard of cake-farting?"

"What?

"Cake-farting. It's when in porn girls fart on a cake and then eat it."

"No, I don't really watch porn." I answered cautiously. It sounded gross. "Why, it just popped into your head?"

"I'm ready to have my second wish."

"Forget about it, Vera."

"Why not? Nobody will know. It's just a bit of wind," she said lightly.

"I'm not going to sabotage Anette's cake."

"My cake," she corrected me. "And it's hardly sabotaging."

"I can't fart on command," I told her.

"You can't?"

"No, I can't."

"Pity," she sighed. Carefully she replaced the cover and the cake was soon back in the fridge. "I have to think of something else then."

"Thank you."

"Oh, don't thank me yet," she muttered bitterly and returned to her coffee maker.

While she was making us coffee, I checked my messages. No messages from Nick yet, fortunately. I wasn't sure how we'd ever have a normal conversation again.

"Here's your latte," Veronica says, handing me over a long drinking glass. "Would you like a cookie as well?"

"No, thank you."

"Nothing from that guy yet?" she inquired.

"No."

"Maybe you two will become an item," she teased. "When you are writing wedding invitations, don't forget who set you up."

"Very funny."

"Why, don't you fancy him? Do you have your eye on someone else then?"

"No," I lied.

"Who is it?"

"I said no."

"I've seen how you've been looking at Evan though."

I nearly choked on my coffee. The hot liquid burned my throat. My face was red from discomfort.

"That's right. You should give me more credit," Vera said. "Despite my blonde ravishing looks I'm not an airhead." She sipped her black coffee gloomily. "Anyway, you should be thankful."

"For what?"

"Now you actually stand a chance."

"You're just being mean, now."

"But it's true!" Veronica exclaimed. "If it wasn't for me, he wouldn't know you have tits."

As much as I hated to admit it, her words rang true. My mirror image did look better today than it probably had ever before, with my hair styled into a loose braid over my shoulder and the white dress with its pencil skirt enhancing my curves. Who knew I had curves? Apparently, Veronica did.

We sat drinking the coffee in sullen silence until Anette re-entered the kitchen. She hugged Veronica happy birthday, who reluctantly accepted Anette's displays of endearment. After Anette let go her, Veronica rewarded her surrogate mother with a tired smile.

"Are you girls any hungry? Miss Veronica? Is it already time for the cake?" Anette inquired happily. Evidently, she was very keen on revealing the cake. Too bad Veronica had already seen it.

"Not yet but thank you." Veronica reply was distant but polite. "Maybe in an hour or two."

"I'll get the household together so everyone can have a piece."

"As you wish."

"I was thinking of preparing a strawberry goat cheese salad for the evening..."

"No, not the strawberries," Veronica interrupted. "Don't we have any mango?"

"Yes, they should be ripe."

"Then make it a mango goat cheese salad. The strawberries are too watery."

"Gladly, Miss Veronica," Anette beamed. She had clearly learned not to let Veronica's blunt directions to discourage her.

"Shall we?" Veronica asked me once she was finished with her drink.

"Sure," I muttered, sorry having to leave Anette by herself. I knew she liked company. "I'll see you later, Anette."

"Bye, Miss Isabella! Have fun."

As if.

- - -

Not long after me and Veronica had begun studying for the upcoming exams, I started to feel a little uncomfortable. My stomach felt like its contents were boiling.

"Vera," I whispered. "Could it be you didn't use lactose-free milk on that coffee?"

She bit her lip embarrassed.

"I thought you were kidding," she whispered. "I mean you eat cheese."

"Cheese is low in lactose."

"Oh. I thought dairy is dairy." She shrugged but her eyes shone apologetically. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, it's just that it makes me feel a little bloated."

"Oh. Just in time then."

"Excuse me?"

"No, nothing," she said innocently with a faint smile.

"Vera?" I stared at her, my eye brows raised. She couldn't have.

"Yes, Izzy?" She flashed me her widest smile.

"Did you do it on purpose?"

"Do what?"

"Put milk in my coffee?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

But she wasn't even trying to hide it. She was smirking like a naughty girl, who took pride in her misbehaviour.

"You put regular milk in my latte on purpose?!" I exclaimed.

"Don't be a drama queen," she complained. "I only replaced half the milk in your latte with regular milk."

"You still want me to fart on that cake, don't you?" I spat out angrily, my hands crunched into fists.

"Just a teeny-weeny fart," she teased.

"You better eat a slice."

"Of course, I will. And you will too."

It was difficult for me to hold back my anger. I had never thought that Veronica could be that cruel and manipulative to have her way. I couldn't let her trick me this way again; who knew what that girl was capable of. And if I didn't do as she wished on her birthday, perhaps next time it won't be milk but rat poison that she will slip into my coffee.

The dining room was prettily decorated, and there was enough porcelain cups and plates for a party of dozen. Table napkins, undoubtedly custom-made to match with the blue details of the cups, were neatly folded and arranged. The silverware was polished to perfection. Anette had gone through the trouble of creating some savoury snacks; devilled eggs, different cheeses, even some caviar and self-baked bread was laid on the table. Different kinds of flowers had been spread decoratively across the table, fashionably out of vase. Blue cornflowers and yellow gerberas, either from the garden or the green house, were braided into a pretty display.

Amidst it all was the cake itself. The pink marvel had been placed on a glass pedestal at the very centre of the table.

"I thought there was no party," I muttered in confusion, eyeing the banquet.

"There is none," Veronica sighed. "But when there's cake someone has to eat it. This is all just for our staff."

I nodded. It was a pity that Anette had put all this together, especially when no proper party was planned. Could Veronica truly have that few friends that she wouldn't want a party?

However, there was no regret on Veronica's pretty face, not even delight at the sight of all the treats. Just a mischievous shine in her eyes.

"Ready to complete the second task?" she asked me.

I stared at the pretty cake and felt a stitch in my stomach. It just felt disrespectful, pulling such a stunt on a cake that Anette had worked very hard on. But ultimately it was just a bit of foul-smelling air. No harm would truly be done. It was likely that nobody would be able to tell.

"Yeah," I finally mustered. "Since you are insisting on it."

Veronica even sprung on her feet excitedly at my reluctant surrender. She carefully lifted the cake off the table and placed it closer to the edge. I positioned my back to it hesitantly. My ears were alert for any approaching footsteps, but the house echoed in its silence. Hesitantly I bent over.

"It has to be audible," Veronica instructed with a whisper, gently biting her finger in anticipation. Her eyes were set on the cake.

"And you promise you will eat it?" I asked her one last time. This felt so wrong.

"Yeah, yeah. Do it," she hastily assured me. Maybe she too was nervous that someone might walk in on us. If someone did, what kind of an explanation could we have offered?

Nervously and embarrassed, I prepared myself. I gave Veronica a final glance, just to make sure she wasn't recording this somehow.

Then my butt released a short loud toot.

I looked up at Veronica and from her face I could see that she'd heard it too. There was a childish glee shining in her eyes. Quickly I straightened myself and fixed my dress.

"Good enough?" I gasped breathlessly.

"It will do," she beamed. Who knew my humiliation would be a cause of such joy?

To my relief my nose detected no bad smell when I replaced the cake back to its rightful place at the centre of the table. Almost as soon as the table was restored to its proper order, we heard swift footsteps and Anette appeared from the kitchen door.

"Oh!" she gasped in surprise. "You're here already."

She had brought with her two birthday candles, shaped into the number 20. When she brought her lighter near the cake, I feared an explosion. Fortunately, there was none. The flame was flickering exceptionally bright or so it seemed to my paranoid self. In silent prayer, I wished the candles would burn away all evidence of our prank.

Slowly the room began to fill with other members of the household. It was an awkward atmosphere, as no one seemed to dare to speak to us. Instead the staff members casually conversed with each other. Ironically, we were the wallflowers despite the gathering being supposedly about Veronica. She merely stood silently, her arms crossed, waiting for the nonsense to be over.

Finally, Anette made a short speech reminding us all that this was indeed Veronica's party, complimenting her on having grown up into a young woman. It was a graciously short speech that ended in her encouraging us all to sing the birthday song in her honour. Most people participated reluctantly, except for Anette who was extremely confident about her singing ability. The lyrics boomed out of her, drowning the rest of us. Evan watched her theatrics in amusement. At least he was having a good time. When he saw me looking at him, he winked at me playfully. I quickly averted his gaze. I felt light-headed. Please let the cake taste as it should.

Veronica flashed everyone a polite smile and blew the candles. Everyone clapped, me mechanically with them. Anette handed everyone a cake slice. I received mine with as steady a hand as I could manage.

Veronica took a bite of hers.

"Mmmm," she hummed as she rolled the piece on her tongue. "How delicious, Anette. Did you make it all by yourself?"

"Miss Isabella helped me a little yesterday," she responded to her flattery. In truth, I had only measured some ingredients for her and maybe whisked some eggs.

"Funny you should say that," Veronica grinned conspiratorially. "I can taste Izzy's handiwork."

I looked around the room and saw people happily conversing and eating the cake. I hadn't yet touched mine. How bad could it be? Carefully I forked out a piece, placed in my mouth and chewed. After a couple hesitant chews, the verdict was in; it just tasted like ordinary cake. No matter how my tongue searched for a putrid aftertaste, all it found was sugar and vanilla.

"Don't you like the cake?"

I had been so preoccupied analysing the cake that I hadn't noticed how Evan had teleported from one side of the room next to me.

"Oh, hi," I said awkwardly.

"You look a little pale," he stated before shovelling a big piece of cake into his mouth. He was looking at me from head to toe. "Maybe the dress is too tight?"

"No, it's fine," I chuckled, painfully aware that I didn't sound particularly convincing. "It's just a little hot in here."

"Is it?"

"Yeah, or is it just me?"

"It's just you," he told me. There was a brief grin on his face, but he looked down at me doubtfully. I had never realized how tall he was.

We stood standing there in silence, eating the cake. Veronica was socializing with the butler on the other side of the room. I suspected she was deliberately avoiding us, giving us an opportunity to mingle. From what I had witnessed during the last few days, it was uncharacteristic of her to take interest in the lives of her household staff. Whenever she was speaking to them, she was giving orders. But now, she was patiently pretending to listen to whatever the old butler had to say.

"Isn't this a party," Evan muttered.

"I was told she doesn't like birthday parties."

"Yeah, I've heard that too. Apparently one year this one girl completely stole her party."

"Stole? How?"

"This girl from her school, apparently some rivalling student, somehow managed to replace all her party invites with those of her own. All her friends were invited to what was supposedly Veronica's party on the other side of the county. The only one left without an invite was Veronica herself."

I looked at him horrified. I couldn't imagine how that must've felt.

"That's just cruel," I said disgusted.

"Yeah, when she called the other girl out on it, she said it was just an April Fools prank and that it's a shame she never joined them despite the text message invite she was sent later in the evening. By that time Veronica had already gone to bed. Her friends never realized that she wasn't there, and when they later told her how they'd enjoyed her party, she was too proud to tell them the truth." It looked like Evan genuinely pitied her. He studied the girl on the other side of the room. "She was all alone."

Veronica was just laughing about something Anette was saying. There was no doubt she was a skilled actress, but I wondered whether she had cried herself to sleep that night. A part of me wished to comfort her, even if it had been three years since that fateful birthday party.