Icy Wifey [EXPLICIT]

i. caught in the act

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SOME BELIEVED THE WORLD WOULD END in the wrath of fire, but she believed it would end in the suffocation of ice.

As one of many formidable forces of Nature, Fire did what it was always meant to do; it burned. Burned down everything and everyone in its path into nothing but ashes. Even as the ultimate form of destruction, it also served an alternative yet equally as important purpose as a cleanser - a cleanser of the damned and wretched. However, in it's fiery aftermath always came the rejuvenation process and rebirth. A second chance of sorts. An inconsistency of what Fire was meant to do. It forgave instead of destroyed permanently.

But ice -- ice was an unforgiving force, it gave no second chances.

While Fire burned, Ice scorched. While Fire destroyed, Ice simply mended. With Fire came cleansing, but with Ice came preservation where it forever stilled its victims in its frozen embrace, cocooning them with a snowflake silk woven from their own past vices and sins. There they would be stuck in winter silence, a still image like that of a painting on a wall.

And so, she would be ice.

❖

Anastasia knew by the cheap smell of artificial flowers in the air that her husband was up to no good. Conclusive more by the fact that she, herself, would never wear such a peasant scent on her body. The perfume was rancid, causing her button nose to wrinkle at its stench and her lips to curl into a disgusted sneer.

With a displeased sigh, her designer purse was dropped on top of the meticulously black sofa, along with her sunglasses. The wife then peeled her beautiful mink fur coat off of her shoulders, draping it over an adjacent arm chair. Her red bottomed heels were taken off from her dainty feet and discarded to a corner of the living room. She walked inside her grandeur kitchen, opened the fridge, and looked inside its contents for anything remotely alcoholic. The absence of her personal bartender made this particular moment even more dire.

The back of the fridge held the treasure she was seeking though it was hidden behind the many edible products; the treasure was a fine bottle of Chardonnay wine. Without hesitation, Anastasia poured herself a glassful of her white poison, the sweet aroma smelling like home to her. She tilted the glass to her lips until the liquid ran down her throat and danced against her tastebuds, making her sigh in delight.

"May I fix you anything, Mrs. Marzanna?" Came the sweet voice of her maid who carried with her a small bag of cleaning supplies and an armful of dirtied towels.

Anastasia gave the maid a once over, noticing her dingy clothing and the pitiful look on her aged features. The same pitiful look that many of the maids had given her throughout the day. The wife's lips curled into a frown. She absolutely hated to be pitied, it made her feel lowly especially by the likes of her.

"I don't need anything, thank you very much."
Anastasia's voice was as cold as it always was in her dismissal.

The maid only nodded her head submissively before continuing on her job and disappeared into the laundry room. Anastasia, on the other hand, plucked a handful of grapes for herself off of their woody stem and plopped a few of them into her mouth. She was leaned against the granite island while her thoughts ran like unleashed dogs at a dog park throughout her mind, rampant and spreading like wildfire.

These thoughts though caused an amused smile on her lips as she thought of an act of revenge, a terrible plan to make her husband miserable. She wanted her husband to suffer in the worst way possible, for the humiliation and for even thinking about ruining her reputation. The wife would have his head served on a platter.

As the noises in their master bedroom grew louder, Anastasia couldn't help but laugh to herself, her smile only growing wider. She found this particular situation more amusing than anything.

"You are dismissed, you may leave now along with the others," The wife told the maid as she came out from the laundry room. Anastasia took another sip of her wine as the maid began to leave almost understandably with the other maids.

The wine glass she drank out of was delicately balanced between her fingertips as Anastasia quietly walked towards the master bedroom. She was surprised to see the bedroom door was wide open but nonetheless leaned against the doorframe and watched the show unfolding in front of her. There her husband was, naked along with the woman who she recognized to be his young secretary that was fresh out of college.

The wife watched for a moment and couldn't help the giggle that emitted from her lips. The noise caused her husband to stop mid-stroke and jump up. Immediately the secretary below him covered her body in the sheets, face flushed and hair a mess. Her husband only stared at his wife in shock having not expected her home so early.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Am I interrupting something?"
Anastasia laughed as she took a drink from her glass.

Her husband, Richard, opened his mouth to say something, anything but he closed it, unable to say a thing that would save his hide.

"Anastasia," Was all Richard could finally muster after a few quiet seconds,"It's not what it looks like."

She only hummed in response, her nail tapping against her wine glass.

Putting on his boxers, Richard slowly approached her, pleading with her and tears brimming his eyes. From the corner of her eye, the secretary took the opportunity to quickly grab her clothes and try her best to sneak out of there. But she was stopped by Anastasia.

"Don't let me stop you from fucking my husband," She gently pushed the young woman back towards Richard. They both looked back at her in bewilderment.

"Finish what you started," She spat out frigidly before sashaying out to refill her wine glass. Her husband followed her towards the kitchen while his secretary practically ran out to the elevator in a panic.

With her glass refilled, Anastasia sat down on one of barstools that was tucked underneath the island. She sipped away calmly at her poison as Richard fell onto his knees, his face puffed up from his sobbing and his tears wetting her hand as he held it firmly between his own. His apologetic words meant nothing his wife, she knew he was only sorry he had been caught.

"Please, Anastasia," Richard begged,"please, forgive me. It will never happen again. Just please don't leave me. I love you. I love you so much."

Anastasia felt the glee that overcame her body, seeing her crying husband on his knees begging and pleading. The image only excited the wicked woman inside her- to have a man on his knees at her mercy was incomparable to any joy in the world. She absolutely loved it. She was in love with the power she now possessed over him.

Her eyes glanced at the decently sized rock on her ring finger, the diamond grinning back at her with the same cruelty. Her lips curled back into a saccharine smile.

"I forgive you," She told her husband.