Susan looked at the figure beside her and felt a cruel, seductive smirk form on her lips that was completely at odds with the revulsion she felt when she saw that naked, flaming hot body. He was the absolute last person she wanted to see this way, and
that made her even hotter, as much as she hated it.
"Whip her good. She deserves it for thinking she could ever deserve me the way you do."
Right at that moment, Susan woke up gasping and wet, in more ways than one. Her urges were getting worse. In the beginning, it was little more than a slight, nasty fantasy that she tried to ignore every time it briefly reared its ugly head. Then, it got worse.
Her little eye rolls at his behavior turned into guilty ogling almost overnight. That was before her lurid desires, ones that made her start to hate herself, made her take it to the next level.
"Umm... can anyone out there get me a towel?" It came from the shower. Perfect timing.
"Right away, hot stuff." She said it in a way somewhere between annoyed and flirty, just enough in between for her to tease at what she hoped to get, and have an excuse if the man still wasn't ready.
Not that she wanted him to be ready. She really, really didn't want to have sex with him. It disgusted her. It made her feel like one of his sluts-of-the-moment, a designation she'd never given one of his many past affairs until these fantasies start to come
to her. Only she would be the worst one of them all, the most debased whore for him to ever parade around as his arm candy. The idea that even she, the momly Susan Richards couldn't resist his charms, that she would throw away her marriage to pursue life as
a celebrity tart on his arm made her feel queasy.
And hot. Hotter than the man himself could be.
She got up and took her slut-suit out of the drawer. Everyone knew the slut-suit. Everyone hated the slut-suit. It took so much of her will to resist it, but that will was gone today. It was no coincidence that her dream had her in her costume as Malice, because
it was Malice that had once led her to wear this monstrosity, its number 4 boob window and all.
"Sue? Where's the towel?"
"Just a minute, Johnny," she answered, then whispered to herself. "The Invisible Girl needs to make herself presentable."
***
"As you can see by the evidence, my client-"
"Objection!" Jennifer Walters shouted and quickly rose to her feet. A silence filled the room. Grunting, her eyebrow raised and temple wrinkled in sudden nervousness. She dryly gulped. Tugging at her dress shirt's collar for a couple seconds, she undid the
top button before finally blurting out, "I'm a huge slut!"
"Miss Walters! For the last time, we are in a court of law, and you WILL conduct yourself accordingly."
"I'm sorry your honor."
For the life of her, Jennifer couldn't figure out what got in her pretty brunette head. Every time she went to speak in her official attorney capacity, all the law expertise that came streaming into her mind like second nature never made it out her lips. Despite
how much she fought it, the urge to spew complete bile and idiocy always won out.
It had to be more than bad. It had to be stupid. Really, really stupid. Whatever came tumbling out of her mouth in a court of law, it had to be dumb enough to make her into a laughingstock, an attorney so legendary in her idiocy that they'd have to disbar her.
Of course, a woman as smart as she was, she knew she had to form it carefully lest the world assume some cruel villainous plot led to her shameful behavior.
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