Slimthick Vic: Cum to my Big Asshole!

Vic is taking her husband for everything: his house, his pool, his lawyer. When Vic insists her husband’s attorney take care of some unfinished business, this curvy blonde comes off as the shark, and he has no objections.

The deposition had been going for six hours, and everyone in the room was exhausted except Vic. She sat at the end of the conference table, perfectly composed in a cream-colored dress that probably cost more than the court reporter’s monthly rent, and watched her husband squirm with an expression of mild, almost bored interest.

Marcus Sterling had been a successful venture capitalist when they married, his portfolio full of startups that had since gone public, his net worth substantial enough to attract exactly the kind of woman who now sat across from him, systematically dismantling his life. He’d thought Vic was that woman—beautiful, ambitious, happy to play the role of trophy wife while he built his empire. He’d underestimated her spectacularly.

Across from Marcus sat his attorney, David Chen, a man whose reputation for ruthlessness had made him the go-to counsel for LA’s elite when their marriages crumbled. David had seen it all—the bitter custody battles, the hidden assets, the private investigators and forensic accountants and all the creative ways wealthy people found to destroy each other. He’d thought he was prepared for Vic Sterling.

He’d been wrong.

“Let’s go back to Exhibit K,” Vic said, her voice smooth as honey. David’s paralegal flipped through the binder, finding the document in question. “The Cayman Islands account. Opened three months after our wedding, funded with proceeds from the sale of Marcus’s shares in MedTec. Would you agree that’s accurate, Marcus?”

Marcus’s jaw tightened. “I don’t recall the exact timing.”

“No, I don’t suppose you do.” Vic smiled pleasantly. “Fortunately, the bank records are quite clear. As are the records of the wire transfers from that account to the offshore LLC you created in your sister’s name. The LLC that purchased the Malibu property. The one you claimed you had no knowledge of when I asked about it six months ago.”

David leaned forward, studying his client with new eyes. Marcus hadn’t mentioned any of this. In their strategy sessions, he’d painted himself as the wronged party, the successful businessman taken advantage of by a gold-digging wife who wanted more than their prenup allowed. But these documents suggested a different story entirely—one of deliberate concealment, of assets moved beyond reach, of a man who’d been planning for divorce before his wife had any idea the marriage was in trouble.

“Mr. Sterling,” David said carefully, “is this accurate?”

Marcus’s silence was answer enough.

Vic’s smile widened slightly, but there was no warmth in it. “David, may I call you David? We’re going to be spending a lot of time together, I think. David, what my husband hasn’t told you—what he hasn’t told anyone—is that he started hiding money before our first anniversary. Before I’d done anything wrong, before he had any reason to distrust me, he was already planning his escape. He was already treating our marriage as a business transaction with an exit strategy.”

“That’s not—” Marcus started.

“Save it.” Vic’s voice sharpened, just for a moment. “We both know what this is. You thought you married a pretty blonde who’d be too busy spending your money to notice you moving it. You underestimated me, Marcus. You always did.”

David looked between them, reassessing everything he thought he knew about this case. He’d taken Marcus at his word, accepted his version of events, prepared for a straightforward negotiation based on their prenuptial agreement. But straightforward was clearly not what he was dealing with.

“Perhaps we should take a break,” he suggested. “Give everyone time to—”

“No.” Vic stood, and the room seemed to shrink around her. “No more breaks. No more delays. We’re going to finish this today.” She turned to David, and something in her expression shifted—became less adversarial, more… something else. “But I would like to speak with you. Privately. Before we proceed.”

David glanced at Marcus, who looked as surprised as anyone. “I don’t think that’s appropriate, Mrs. Sterling. I represent your husband. Any communication you want to make should go through your own counsel.”

“My counsel is excellent, and she’ll be present for any formal negotiations. But this isn’t about the case.” Vic’s eyes held his, and David felt something stir that he immediately tried to suppress. “This is about… unfinished business. Between us.”

The room went very quiet. Marcus stared at his wife with naked confusion. The paralegal busied herself with paperwork. The court reporter’s fingers hovered over her machine, uncertain whether to keep recording.

David should have said no. Every instinct, every ethical guideline, every warning bell in his head told him to decline. But Vic was still looking at him with those eyes, and he found himself nodding before he’d consciously decided.

“Five minutes,” he said. “In the conference room next door.”

Vic nodded gracefully and preceded him out of the room, leaving behind a shell-shocked husband and a room full of people pretending not to gossip. David followed, telling himself this was just damage control, just an attempt to understand what she really wanted so he could better represent his client.

The conference room was small, windowless, designed for private strategy sessions. Vic stood by the empty whiteboard, arms crossed, watching him enter with an expression he couldn’t quite read.

“Close the door,” she said.

He did.

“What is this about, Mrs. Sterling?”

“Vic.” She moved closer, and David forced himself to hold his ground. “We’ve been dancing around each other for months, David. Depositions. Hearings. Strategy sessions. You think I haven’t noticed you watching me?”

“I watch everyone. It’s my job.”

“Your job.” She laughed softly, and the sound did something complicated to his insides. “David, I’ve done my research on you. I know about your reputation. I know you’ve never lost a case. I know you could destroy me in court if you wanted to, even with what Marcus did, because you’re that good and the system is that broken.”

“I don’t want to destroy anyone. I want to resolve this fairly.”

“Do you?” She was close now, close enough that he could smell her perfume—something floral and expensive. “Then why haven’t you asked your client about the Swiss accounts? The ones he opened last year? The ones I haven’t mentioned in court because I was waiting for the right moment?”

David went still. “What Swiss accounts?”

“Exactly.” Vic smiled, and it was the smile of someone who’d just checkmated an opponent who didn’t even know they were playing. “Marcus has been hiding money from you too, David. From his own attorney. He doesn’t trust anyone—not me, not you, not anyone. He’s been planning for this divorce since before the wedding, and he’s been lying to you just as thoroughly as he lied to me.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want you to know the truth. About him. About me. About what’s really happening here.” She reached out and touched his arm, feather-light. “And because I have a proposition for you.”

David should have stepped away. Should have ended this conversation, walked back to the other room, resumed his role as Marcus’s advocate. But he didn’t. He stood there, frozen by her touch and her words and something else he didn’t want to name.

“What kind of proposition?”

Vic’s eyes glittered. “The kind that benefits us both. I’m going to take Marcus for everything he has—not because I’m greedy, but because he deserves it. And when I do, I’m going to need someone I can trust. Someone smart. Someone who knows the system inside and out.” She paused. “Someone who looks at me the way you’re looking at me right now.”

“I represent your husband.”

“For now.” She stepped back, giving him room to breathe. “But cases end, David. Marriages end. And when they do, the people left standing have to figure out what comes next. I’m offering you a seat at that table. Not as opposing counsel. As something else.”

David’s mind raced through implications, conflicts, ethical boundaries. Every professional instinct screamed at him to refuse, to walk away, to report this conversation to the bar association if necessary. But Vic was still looking at him, and beneath her confidence he saw something else—vulnerability, maybe, or loneliness, or a hunger that matched his own.

“What exactly are you offering?”

“Let’s find out.” She moved toward the door, then paused with her hand on the handle. “Think about it. After the settlement. After this is over. If you’re curious—and I think you are—come find me.” She smiled, and it was warmer now, almost genuine. “I’ll be the one with the house, the pool, and the very satisfied expression.”

She left him standing alone in the conference room, his heart pounding, his carefully constructed professional detachment in ruins. In the other room, Marcus waited with his lies and his hidden accounts, oblivious that his wife had just made a play for the one person who could truly hurt him.

David took a long breath, then another. When he walked back into the deposition, his expression was perfectly neutral, his manner entirely professional. But Vic caught his eye across the table, and something passed between them—an understanding, a promise, a beginning.

The shark, it turned out, had been swimming in these waters all along. David was just now realizing he wanted to be caught.