Disclaimer: This prologue involves a minor kissing an adult. It is not meant to be perverted, but simply under the idea of Nabokov's Lolita. If you are offended by such things, PLEASE TURN BACK NOW. Or, skip to Chapter 1, in which Veruca is 20.

PROLOGUE: MARCH 1998

"Give me one good reason not to sue you, Wonka," snarled Mr.Salt less than a week after the winners had visited the factory, "My daughter suffered several bruises and she was greatly humiliated. That, and I believe I experienced some whiplash upon the fall."

"Hm. I see," responded Wonka matter-of-factly, "However, since this is involving Veruca, why don't we ask her how she feels. Besides, what good would my money have on you, as you are equally as rich as I. Money, money, money. Why is it the rich who always want more, and the poor who are comfortable where they stand? It would make more sense for the Gloops, Beaureguards, or Teevees to sue me, as at least they have something to gain from it."

Little Veruca, who was obliviously sucking on a lollipop over in the corner, giggled.

"Veruca. Mind yourself," Mr.Salt scolded.

The twelve year old stuck out her tongue and went back to her lollipop and magazine with a picture of The Spice Girls on the cover. She prided herself on being a mini 'Posh Spice', and thus took time to, (in between licks of her candy), take some red lipstick from her purse and carelessly paint her lips with it.

"Well, Veruca," said Wonka, who stood-up and made his way over to the little girl, and kneeling down her level, "Do you want your Daddy to make it so that there is no more Wonka chocolate ever because he takes all my money?"

"No. That would be quite foolish. Daddy has a lot of money, but he doesn't make decent chocolate." She grinned and went back to her magazine, "Daddy. I want a little black dress and very high heels like Posh Spice."

"Veruca, that is inappropriate for a girl your age, and you forget that Mr.Wonka sent you down a garbage chute and you got hurt." It was obvious he was trying hard not to yell at his daughter, who seemed to have phased him out yet again, in regards to her magazine.

"Mr.Salt, you have a brilliant daughter here. It is a good trait to listen to only what one wishes to hear." Wonka smiled down at Veruca, who allowed those almond-shaped blue eyes of hers' to meet with his for a moment. The candy inventor let his mind wander for a moment to just how radiant she would be in just a few years. How old was she? Obviously closing in on her teen years, but not quite there yet. Unless, of course, she looked young for her age. She could have been as young as eleven or as old as fourteen. That was not too young to understand 'feelings', right? Perhaps even some little boys from her school had kissed her, or dragged her to engage in a petting session behind the pop machine. That would mean she had experience, and thus he alone would not be guilty for her corruption.

"Do not try to flatter me, Wonka," Mr.Salt's voice was raising, as was the red in his face, "You could have seriously injured my daughter, all because you wished to teach her a lesson! That is the parent's job!"

"Daddy, I don't want you to yell at Mr.Wonka. He gave me a lot of candy to make-up for it, and I didn't get hurt." By that point, Wonka had retreated back to his seat behind the desk. In order to prove she was siding with Wonka on this one, Veruca walked over to him and plopped down upon his lap, "You can shut-up. You're going to ruin all the candy!"

Wonka's whole body went tense as the girl sat down upon his lap. He tried his best to find a 'normal' way to react, and did so by placing his left hand around her waist so that she would not fall off. He was certain that Veruca could feel his heart pounding, and it seemed that she chose to play right into it, as she moved up a bit on his lap. Horror of horrors! He moved a bit in his seat, trying to calm himself down. If only the horrid Mr.Salt could go away for one moment. Or even better, a complete disaster would take place in which most the world would be abolished, and he could sit there with Veruca in his arms; no judgment.

"You will not speak to me that way, Veruca! You have become very disobedient as of late! You are lucky that I have not taken the belt to you!" Mr.Salt looked like he was just about ready to strike the child right there, when his cell-phone rang, "Pardon me a moment, Wonka." And he got up and walked outside of the room.

"He hits you with a belt?" That was Wonka's first question once the man was out of the room. He was attempting to keep it as platonic as possible. He was only concerned about the child, that was all! Nothing more! He kept repeating it in his mind that such concerns were all that he was feeling.

"No. Just threatens it," she shrugged and turned her head to the side to look up at him, "Sometimes I dislike him and I want to leave home. He gives me a lot, but is very strict with me. I wanted to write Charlie Bucket a letter, but when Daddy found that out, he tore-up the address list. I saw Charlie the other day, though, and I kissed him. I don't think he likes me all that much, though. But also, then his mother came outside and offered us some hot chocolate. He told me you offered him the factory, but he decided not to take it. I told him that was dumb. Then he said it was because you wanted him never to see his family again because you don't like families, and I told him I knew what you meant. He said it was because my family is mean sometimes, and I told him that my parents yell a lot. Then Charlie and I snogged behind a snow bank."

"And then what happened?" Wonka smiled a bit as he listened to the girl prattle about her time with Charlie, trying to seem more like an understanding adult figure than someone who was trying to find out just what exactly she knew. Again, he tried to convince himself that such things were his only reasoning, but all the same, he tightened his hold around her slender little waist.

She leaned over and whispered something in his ear that made his eyes grow wide.

"Oh. Hm. Interesting." He said, taking a sharp, deep, breath.

"Don't tell me you never did that as a kid," she responded with a little giggle of glee.

'Oblivious. Completely oblivious." He had, but he wanted to see where little Veruca was going to take this.

'I would show you," she said with a smirk, before moving her gaze away from his, "But you obviously don't care about me."

"Now why would you say that, Veruca?"

"Well, you haven't kissed me yet, have you?"

That was all he needed, against his moral judgment, he turned the small girl around, and allowed her to press her hot little lollipop flavoured lips to his mouth. That action alone had been enough to cause him to moan, due to the anticipation that had been built-up from watching her sucking on that lollipop and sitting on his lap.

'Veruca! Get out here now! We have to get going!" Called out that damned Mr. Salt from outside the door, causing Veruca to simply hop off of Wonka's lap, giggle, and run out to join her father.