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That Candyman is Mine!	By : Batwingedgirl Category: A through F > Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Views: 9394 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
I think this may be the longest chapter yet! Go me! And thank you everyone for your support! xD Its hard not to go over to the Wonka/Charlie side (Although.. it’s appealing), but I remain strong! However, I do fancy some Charlie/Mike action. I feel a new fic coming on. O_O
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She spent the rest of her monthly allowance on her plane ticket, which she felt disappointed about since there were these swank new boots that she really, really wanted, but she settled in her mind that she could buy them next month, they just wouldn’t be as popular. Mr. Wonka was to be better than a pair of boots could ever be. She was proud of this, as though giving up a pair of shoes justifies unbreakable love.
She stood in the snow at the edge of town, the taxi she had just stepped out of roaring away behind her. Ahead was the monstrously large chocolate factory, its huge smokestacks billowing dark gray swirls of smoke into the air.
It was just as she remembered it, and eerie feeling of dejavu swept through her as she walked through the snow towards the looming black gates of the factory, as through she was 11 all over again, hair done up in curls, her father beside her. But, of course, her father wasn’t with her now; she could be empowered on her own. She reached the gate and wrapped her tiny fingers around its iron bars.
I don’t know if she thought getting into the factory was going to be easy, but she shook the gate roughly as through she expected it to be unlocked. She looked the gate up and down, looking for a way to climb up and over it. No way. She’d have to find another way.
Making her way around the building, her arms crossed both in displeasure and as an attempt to keep warm, she discovered the loading-unloading area. A wide grin spread itself across her face.
“It must be open sometime! That’s my chance!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands together. When- that was the question now. She waited out the rest of the day in a café across the street, sipping on espresso, indifferently flipping through all the magazines they had and doodling little pictures of Wonka on a napkin every once and again. Finally night fell, and Veruca was rushed out of the café by the manager, who didn’t think anyone needed to be drinking that much coffee that late in the day.
A bit nervous, Veruca hid in the shadows in the alley across the street from the loading-area. Her cheeks were pink from the cold that had become much worse with the setting of the sun; she pulled her mink coat closer around her lithe frame, and shivered in the uncomfortable silence.
Silence that was soon broken by a rumble that scared her enough for her to let out a tiny shriek, despite all attempts at a cool demeanor. There they were, a long line of trucks there to pick up a new supply of Wonka chocolate and candies. The gate opened automatically, as through it were possessed by some sort of magic and the trucks rumbled in slowly, taking turns, as each had to turn around in the loading-yard as to be loaded from behind.
“I’ll be lucky if I don’t manage to get run over.” Veruca sighed, as she began to creep across the street, using the first of the trucks as cover. She tried to stay in the shadow of the trucks wake. She made it to the platform against the wall of the factory and hid behind a few crates that had been left there. The square metal curtains lifted as magically as the gates had opened, and long conveyor belts inched out of the darkness, boxes of Wonka candies waiting patiently to be loaded into the trucks. She slipped into the dark room the conveyor belts had crept out of, hugging the wall until she has completely covered in a blanket of darkness. She could see the men getting out of their trucks in order to load them up, so she decided to find a way out of that room as quickly as possible. By chance, the second the through entered her mind, she came upon a cold metal doorknob on her venture along the wall. She saw no light coming from under the door, so she took the chance and opened it, jumping in and shutting it as quietly as possible.
Warmth. She sighed, and rubbed her cold hands together. Feeling much like a spy she grinned to herself, and did a little hair-flip like in those Charlie’s Angels movies.
She must be going the right way, she wagered, this is how she remembered the factory- warmth. Perhaps how the kitchen of a good witch would smell, sugars and mint and chocolate and delightful unknown scents. Nostalgia. It’s funny how thoughts take over your mind when you can’t see.
She grabbed for her compact that she carried in her bag, which had little lights on it. After checking her hair and make-up, of course, she shined the light about the room, squinting her eyes hopefully for another door. This room was full of boxes, mountains of boxes, all compacted within each other for storage purposes. A long ways off she could make out the silhouette of a door. She put her compact away as she reached it and braced herself for light.
She was in a long hallway painted a light blue color, the ceiling painted with fluffy clouds all along it. It was dotted with many yellow doors like the one she just came out of. Thinking about throwing a fit against wondering through a maze for hours looking for him, she sighed instead, she was in no haste, and he would probably find her first, anyway.
She strolled down the hallway, yellow door on the right, yellow door on the left, cloud, cloud. It seemed to go on for miles. Just as soon as she was about to give up and just pick a door, there was a bend in the hallway, and ‘round the corner was a big bright red door. Certainly it had to lead to somewhere important! She opened it- a smaller hallway, with seemingly half-burnt out lights along it, making it terribly difficult to see. About halfway down the hall was an open door with the lights on, a long white rectangle of light made its way on the wall of the hallway. Veruca got shivers up and down her spine.
This was the first time she was actually nervous, her fingernails traced the grooves in the leather handles of her bag. Gruffly, she brought herself up to her full height and took a deep breath. She was going to get what she came for.
The hallway seemed cooler than the rest of the building, and it also felt like sound was magnified there, each step she took shouldn’t have made *that* much noise, she thought. Almost on tiptoes, she approached the door where the light was coming from, and peeked around the corner.
It was an office, lavishly decorated with statues and idols from all over the world, deep red Chinese throw rugs covered the floor, all the furniture was made out of richly stained mahogany wood. But something was off. She looked closer- everything had been sawed in half! So awed by the strangeness of this room, it took her a while to notice Willy Wonka there, sleeping with his head in his arms on top of his half a writing desk.
“Well, I didn’t expect him to be sleeping!” she thought and backed back into the hallway. But, little did Veruca know that he was not sleeping, he had heard someone approach and, as not to be disturbed, he pulled his old mock-sleep trick. Veruca wasn’t about to jump on him while he was still asleep; god knows how he would react (Probably by wailing and flinging those skinny arms of his around haphazardly). “No, I’ll just go for a walk or something… and come back.” She decided, as started to walk down the part of the hallway she hadn’t trekked yet. Of course, the door on that side lead to the Inventing Room and Wonka didn’t want anyone (Even Oompa Loompas) snooping around in there at night.
He stood up, wiping a bit of pseudo-drool from his lips with the sleeve of his smoking jacket (That he enjoyed to wear despite the fact that he thought smoking was a terrible habit.), and went to the door, about to chastise the snooping Oompa Loopma.
“Uh, little girl!” He shouted in a voice that held a combination of confusion and reprimand. Veruca stopped in her tracks and whirled around, her locks of hair bouncing, a smile plastered on her face.
Mr. Wonka seemed at a loss for words- he hadn’t expected this at all.
“’Ello, Mr. Wonka.” Veruca said cheerily, dropping her bag against the wall and slowly approaching him.
“You’ve come to steal my inventions and recipes, haven’t you?! Well, I don’t know which candy store you work for, little girl, but you will find that only I have the key to get into that room, and I keep it safe with me at all times!” He exclaimed, patting his chest, where, one would suppose, a key worn on a necklace of some sort would be hanging.
The smile fell from Verucas pretty red lips. “Don’t you remember me?”
“Did you used to work here?” He asked before skewing his face and grinning. “No, that’d be silly- unless… you happen to be very very young looking for your age...” he seemed to consider it.
Veruca didn’t know what to say, so she reintroduced herself, “I’m Veruca Salt.” She curtsied.
“Heheh, I always through a veruca was a type of wart you got on the bottom of you’re-“
“You already said that to me.” Veruca said snidely; she was standing not more than 5 inches from him (Or 13 centimeters, as Veruca would have told you), since he was, apparently, unconscious of her advances and refused to step backwards. The top of her head came up a little above his chin, so she had to tilt her head back to look at him. He was looking down at her, frowning a little.
“So I have, huh?” He touched his gloved index finger to his chin and tried to look as though he was trying to remember her, gazing off into the distance. Of course he remembered her; acting as though he knew less than he really did was his favorite game, and it always gave him the upper hand in all situations. How could he have ever forgotten little Ms. Salt? She had been so promising, where being an heir is concerned. And those deep blue eyes- like they’re about to suck you in, to make you do her bidding! The little succubus! And the way her little pink tongue lapped carelessly at that lollipop. Inwardly he got goosebumps, outwardly he knew it was time to continue the show. He clapped his hands together and grinned, “You’re that bratty American girl who came to my factory with your creepy mother! My, your hair has gotten long!” He curled a tangle around his index finger. “Oh, and you’re not all blue! What wonders a little makeup can do!”
“Nope, try again.” Veruca said in her most British-British and sighed, removing her mink coat and throwing it on the floor behind her near the bag. She stood akimbo and waited, her foot tapping slowly, and making quite a bit of noise at that.
Mr. Wonka smiled, his eyes squinting merrily “Ahh, then you must be that snobby little British girl with the equally snobby f-f-parent. A bit more buxom now then I remember you. Now…. what was your name again?”
“My name is Veruca Salt!” Veruca said loudly, her eyes aflame.
Mr. Wonka giggled in that childish way she clearly remembered. “I always thought a veruca was-” she knew what he was going to say, and she wouldn’t listen to it again. Before he had time to stop her, she had pressed her lips against his, her hands on each side of his pale face, standing on tiptoes.
“Well, well, I didn’t expect this at all.” Wonka thought, trying his best to hold himself back from her. The act must be kept up a little while more at least. Veruca drew back from him at last; her cheeks flush in a deep shade of pink. Her inexperienced kisses had left red lipstick all over Mr. Wonka.
“Now, if you aren’t here to steal my recipes, little girl, then why are you here?” He asked, as though nothing had happened.

That was it! Veruca hadn’t come all the way there to be ignored. She tackled him and they fell to the floor with surprising ease. She straddled him, venturing to untie his jacket and unbutton the paisley shirt he wore underneath.
“Aha! So you are here to steal my recipes! I’ll have you know that I never keep the key to the inventing room with me, contrary to any rumors you might have heard.” Mr. Wonka said with forced composure. “That would just be silly!”
“Oh, do shut up.” Veruca growled as she covered his mouth with her own, in an attempt to french kiss him like she had seen in one of her parents movies. He kept his mouth shut tight, so she pinched his nose and waited for his mouth to open for her chance. When it did, she plunged her tongue into his mouth and tried her best to do it right. He couldn’t take it anymore; his tongue was happily unleashed to tangle with hers, his hands rested on her hips.
Slowly, he rolled her off of him, so that he could be on top of her, their mouths still locked. He cupped one of her slight breasts with his gloved hand, and traced a finger around its erect nipple. Veruca moaned, her hands scrambling their way through his untidy hair, making sure he didn’t break away the kiss. He drew his hand away, and sensuality dragged it down the length of her body, until it found its place in between her legs.
He pressed against her panties, feeling her moist folds on the other side of the fabric. Not wasting any time, he pulled her panties halfway down her thighs and stuck two gloved fingers into her gently. Veruca ended up being the one who first broke off the kiss, as she gasped and arched her back slightly. With his thumb, Wonka massaged her clit as he slowly worked his two fingered in and out of Veruca. His other arm surrounded her in a kind of hug, as she wrapped her arms around him as well, arching into his long fingers.
Wonka leaned down, and gently kissed her neck, then right below her ear, then he licked the outside of her ear, blowing a warm breath on it afterwards, that made the hairs on her neck stand up.
“Mr. Wonkaaa…” Veruca murmured, her nails digging into his back from her fervor She was almost there, Wonka grinned. He began thrusting harder and quicker now, making sure to hit her g-spot each time.
“Veruca.” He whispered into her ear. “I belong to you.” He knew exactly what she wanted to hear. He kissed her, passionately as she orgasmed into his hand. As she lie there panting, Wonka drew from his pocket a small, green, round candy and put it into her mouth. “Eat this, dear.” He said quietly and watched as she chewed and swallowed it without a second thought.
It was sweet, almost like cherry, or… no.. it was apple… marshmellow…. strawberry… Veruca thought. Then everything went dark.
- 5
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That Candyman is Mine!