Well, here's the next chapter of my CatCF story Desire. I hope you guys like it. Thanks for the reviews, too! I can't believe I got 10 in a row on the first chapter. Here are a few review replies to some of my reviewers. You mean a lot to me! (hands out cookies)

aandm18: Thanks. I'm glad you like it!

The Lady Elrond: That's really nice of you to say! Glad you like it.

Miss Malfaisant: I guess I am special, huh? Thanks!

LilyHellsing: Thanks!

Previously…

Thoughts were buzzing in her brain like bees. She felt confused. Did she really have a crush on Willy Wonka, the famous chocolatier?

She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to force those thoughts out of her brain.

That's impossible, she snapped at herself. I do NOT have a crush on…on…on Mr. Wonka…!

Meanwhile, as he hid behind the lollipop tree, which Veruca had plucked a lollipop from, Mr. Wonka couldn't help but smile to himself as he spied on Veruca. He realized for the first time how…cute…she was.

The silver mink coat over the pink dress with white tights and black Mary Janes, the pink change purse hanging askew around her waist, the brown hair styled in oversized ringlets and pulled back with two hair clips – she was charming.

A vulnerable Lolita…a desirable young girl…

His blue eyes darkened even more as he cooked up a plan. He would lure Veruca into a trap.

But first, he had to put her father somewhere where he couldn't interfere…

But where could that be…

Then the answer came to him. The Butterscotch and Buttergin Room. Perfect…

He looked over at Veruca. She was so still and so quiet.

A smirk slithered over his face as he began to plan his trap for Veruca Salt.

I wonder how she will taste…

Roxanne
You don't have to put on that red light
Walk the streets for money
You don't care if it's wrong or if it is right

Roxanne

You don't have to wear that dress tonight
Roxanne
You don't have to sell your body to the night

His eyes upon your face
His hand upon your hand
His lips caress your skin
It's more than I can stand

-Ewan McGregor, El Tango de Roxanne

Veruca now lay on the minty grass bank of the chocolate river, looking out at the waterfall. She was wondering whether or not it was true that she had a crush on, of all people, Willy Wonka.

If I do, it is totally unfair. That Violet Beauregarde brought it up. On the other hand, my cheeks do get red when I see him, and it is impossible for me to pull away from those eyes of his. It's almost like they're trying to pull me in so deep that there's no getting out...

Meanwhile, Mr. Wonka led Veruca's father, Rupert Salt to the Butterscotch and Buttergin Room.

"Ah, now this is a room I simply must see for myself," remarked Rupert.

Mr. Wonka grinned. "You will, dear sir."

He had placed a sleeping pill in the glass he was about to give Mr. Salt.

"Here, have some of this Buttergin. It'll do you good. You look very...thirsty. It's not always easy to run a factory, as we both know. In fact, it can be terribly demanding."

"Ah, I cannot agree more there," replied Mr. Salt.

As he placed the glass to his lips, Mr. Wonka crept to the door and closed it carefully behind him.

Henry then began to drain the glass. Then, when he set the glass down...he began to feel...very sleepy...

Perhaps a good rest would help. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. In fact, he hadn't; his working on finding a Golden Ticket for Veruca (which had taken him three days) had been very hard on him. And her screaming in his ears hadn't helped one bit, either. In fact it had given him a headache.

Gently, Henry set the glass down and lay down on the floor. Then he closed his eyes...

Veruca checked her watch, and sighed. She had been there for…well, maybe fourteen minutes. She then turned her gaze back to the chocolate waterfall, wondering how it was both heavenly and intoxicating at the same time. Meanwhile, Mr. Wonka watched her, smirking.

Perfect, he thought. Soon she will know the bestial mating passions of blood, the feral fury of the wanton, the voluptuous, the desperate, and the blood-stirring dances of demons, animal passion black as night, love livid red as blood filled with hate and bloodlust as much as physical want, the scratch of nails, the bite of teeth, the tearing and pounding of flesh, the dark gasps and screams made glorious by lust and sin.

With that, Mr. Wonka made up his mind.

He strode over to where Veruca lay on the bank of the river, his black boots with sleek high heels – looking rather cowboylike – moving soundlessly over the mint grass (which he called "swudge")...

Veruca pulled herself up to her feet. She felt as though she had run a marathon, and had collapsed on the grass (which, she had to admit when she plucked a blade and began chewing it, did taste pretty darn good). Only, that didn't capture the spirit of the thing. Then she finally, and painfully, tore her eyes away from the waterfall's hypnotic roaring, and looked around, wondering where her father was.

She blinked when she noticed that he wasn't there.

That's odd, she thought. Where could he be?

She closed her eyes.

Suddenly a pang of fear went through her when a hand fell on her shoulder. She felt a tickle on the back of her neck just before a deep voice purred in her ear, "Were you lookin' for me, precious?"

She was unable to hide the shivers the stranger's nearness provoked. Because she was sure it was him. And even as sure as she was, she so wasn't ready for her reaction when she turned around, opened her eyes and found herself lost within his intense sapphire gaze.

Whoa. She thought him handsome before, but now that he was face to face with her, she was surprised she wasn't fainting. She brought a hand up to her forehead just to make sure she wasn't, but he caught it in his own, purple-gloved one, bringing it to his lips and kissing her knuckles, and her knees just about buckled at the gesture.

"So, were you?"

Veruca blinked, trying to think through the haze surrounding her mind at the moment. "Was I… what?" she asked.

"Lookin' for me." He tilted his head to the right and found the way her cheeks turned crimson, how she lowered her head in mortification at being caught utterly adorable.

"I-uh… I-" She shuffled her feet trying to come up with a plausible explanation for that.

He put a finger under her chin and leveled her eyes to his.

"I was just teasin' you, love. Truth is, I was the one lookin' for you."

Only his original reason for doing so had changed drastically. When, he truly couldn't say, but it had.

He'd been mesmerized by his fantasized sway of her hips, by her innocent sensuality as he imagined her dance, by the smile that lit her face and made her glow. Every tiny little detail he discovered about her enchanted him.

"Enjoying yourself?"

She closed her eyes and almost jumped mentally. Luckily she managed to keep herself physically still...

"Open your eyes, little girl."

Very slowly, Veruca opened her eyes.

Next, the voice commanded,

"Turn and look at me."

She did, and was most surprised to see...Mr. Wonka. He was smiling. Only... his smile wasn't so...straightforward. It was dark...almost...inexplicable.

Then, for the first time in her life, Veruca Salt felt something she hadn't before.

Fear.

She shuddered all over as it shot through her like a phoenix – the legendary bird of fire from Chinese mythology that she had read about on a rainy day. The closer his face was, the more she could see. His sapphire eyes gazed at her. They were lustful, anything but cold, and different in place of how she remembered them. They were darker, but glistened with anticipation.

Perhaps she needed a little… encouragement; she was a virgin after all. And from what he's learned of her so far, a very innocent one at that, too. Plus, enough was enough and if she didn't touch him soon, he'd burst.

Mr. Wonka had had enough. As he got to his feet, smiling, he reached for her hand and wrapped his own around it, forgetting his abhorrence for touching and being touched, and pulled her to her feet.

"Oh!" she yelped as he suddenly swept her into his arms and carried her, bridal-style, across the grass. "Mr. Wonka, where are you taking me?"