Vicki remained standing, the only flaw of her posture being her slight bend toward him.  She crossed her arms, oddly conscious of the way her breasts swelled under the pressure.  Smirking, she shook her head.  He'd been the only one to get away with calling her that, though she conceded to herself that she was more a bitch now than when he had last used that moniker for her.  If only her main frustrations involved wet towels and lazy roommates and not multimillion dollar contracts and five partners screaming down her neck.<br/><br/>"I don't think I mind Mega-Bitch as much as I used to," she said, her confession as to why she had grown into the name only cut off by George's emergence into the room with Beth in tow.<br/><br/>"Beth!" Vicki exclaimed, her voice sparkling with polite delight.  "Glad you made it!"  Unconsciously, Vicki's eyes scanned over the other woman, taking in the details of her look as only another woman could do.  Beth always seemed to dress in such a flattering but subdued and professional look at their outings.  Seeing her attired for pleasure, Vicki came to appreciate her personal style even more, finding a secret charm in the daring yet modest lace.  Her bare skin peeked out of the delicate lattice, the creamy tan almost enticing her to be touched.<br/><br/>Her pleasure fizzled into a puzzlement at her husband's words.  She had explaining to do?  Fred would have married her?  Both questions tangled together in her mind, befuddling the previously gracious hostess.  Her brown eyes narrowed as she peered at him.  "Honey?  Can we talk about that later?"  Vicki had to focus to make sure she was asking a question and not barking an order as she knew she was wont to do when confused or off-put.<br/><br/>In a vain attempt to turn her befuddlement into humor, she quipped, "Unless Fred here wants to confess his secret, undying affection for me."  Her laughter was nervous, strained.