by Cynthia Dane
She laughed, exhausted. “You would deserve it. I want to keep them inside me forever.”
“My fingers, but not my cock?”
“There is a lot to say about a man’s fingers, Kenny.”
“They don’t come, though.”
Typical man, always thinking about the cum-shot. “Even so, I don’t think I would mind hanging on to these for a while.”
Nevertheless, Lana attempted to relax, releasing her hold on Ken’s hand and letting him have all five fingers back. He gave her a mild punishment by inserting the wettest finger into her mouth, letting her suck it until she could no longer taste herself on him.
Meanwhile, she left her legs spread open. Who knew? Maybe someone liked what they saw.
“Have I called you beautiful yet today?”
“Yes, baby.”
Ken wrapped an arm around her midsection, letting his wet fingers linger on her silky blouse. “I’ll keep calling you beautiful until you’re not anymore. But not only do I think that’s impossible, but I would lie anyway. You deserve to feel beautiful every day of your life, Lana.”
He sounded so sweet that Lana allowed herself to turn into a puddle of mush.
“You sweet talker.” She sounded drunk. She felt drunk. Between the sex and the audience, Lana was liable to pass out on the couch for the rest of the night. Now, if only she were allowed to actually do that… “I need to go wash up.” Lana found the strength within her to stand, pull down her skirt, and walk away from her dirty husband. He watched her head toward the women’s restroom with a look that said she was more than welcome to finish him off when she got back. I might. Lana would prefer some actual intercourse in a private room, but she wasn’t above giving her husband head before they headed home and had round two in their own room.
She found Elle standing in front of the bathroom mirror, sprucing up her makeup. “My favorite person,” she chirped. “You’re positively glowing. Let me guess. He went down on you during that show?”
“Close.” Lana joined her friend at the sink and washed her hands. “Pussy pounding from the brother of the finger wearing his wedding band. And the middle one, I suppose.”
“Good shit. Sorry I missed it.”
Lana dried off her hands and leaned against the counter. “Still time for you to join us. My husband could use some disciplining, and I’m a bit worn out right now.” Lana grinned. “How about you spank his naughty ass and I jerk him off. He’ll love that.”
Elle rolled her eyes. “Thanks. But I found me a date out there. I plan on spanking some other man’s ass tonight. Tell your husband I send my sincerest apologies.”
“Oh? Anyone I know?”
“Honestly?” Elle stood up straight, finished with her touch ups. “Probably. Is there any regular here you don’t know?”
“Not really. Even if I don’t like the person, I’ve probably learned everything there is to know about them. Or fucked them.”
“You’re crazy. I can’t imagine screwing as many people as you have after saying wedding vows.”
“Honey, that shit was written into our vows. My mother nearly had a heart attack.”
“I bet she did.” Grinning, Elle headed toward the restroom door and offered to open it for her friend. “Go take care of your husband’s blue balls. I’ve got some of my own to tend to. Heh, not my own…”
“Uh huh.” The moment Elle disappeared back into the club, Lana picked a bathroom stall and finished cleaning up.
She returned to the club expecting to find her husband talking to someone, since the man gabbed more than any woman Lana knew. She just wasn’t expecting the exact person she found sitting on the couch with Ken, in the very spot Lana occupied only a few minutes ago.
It was the pretty, nubile sub who initially caught Lana’s eye when she was being fucked for their corner of the club to see. There she was, looking cozy with Ken, who put a flirtatious hand on her shoulder and whispered something into her ear that made her giggle.
Flashes of Chloe the trampy maid took over Lana’s mind. If her husband were fooling around with that girl, then this was probably what they looked like getting all cozy in his office. Probably one of the guest rooms. Her room. Who cared.
“Ah, Lana,” Ken said the moment he noticed his wife standing before them. “Meet our new friend, Josie.”
“Our new friend?”
The sweet brunette smiled meekly. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. I… really liked that…” She turned away, giggling.
She was the type of girl Lana would normally love to Top in front of her husband, but they had just enjoyed a threesome with their mistress that past weekend, and sometimes Lana thought she only had one threesome a week in her.
“Can I talk to you, Kenneth?”
His smile wavered, but his demeanor did not. “Of course, my love.” He stood, sending a trite apology in Josie’s direction. Ken followed his wife into a dark corner where they could be alone enough to convene on whatever was troubling her.
Everything was troubling her.
“I don’t feel like fooling around with other people tonight. Get rid of her.”
Ken was visibly taken aback. Whether at this being her reaction, or the force of it… “Sorry, Bunny, I thought you might like her.”
“Like her? What is there to like about a weak little girl who can’t hold her own against a virile woman like me?” Lana scoffed. “If you’re going shopping for a woman for us, at least pick one who is more like me. I can’t stand little muffins in my bed. That’s more your bag, isn’t it?”
The perplexity on Ken’s face unnerved Lana. Could he not see what was going on? Did he not know that he was being so transparent? “Excuse me?” he said, quietly. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Besides you tonight?” The huff wracking Lana’s body was almost as strong as her orgasm from earlier. “It’s not becoming of a man your age to flirt with twenty-year-olds who look like they came from a sub’s nursery. It’s creepy, Kenneth. Even our mistress at least acts like a grown woman for her age.”
“Because she is a grown woman, Lana.”
Words, words.
“And I don’t appreciate you insinuating that about me.” Ah, there it was. The hidden impatience of Kenneth Andrews. Sometimes Lana was able to get it out of him. And this was a man who had seemingly endless patience for her insecurities and crazy ideas. “You know damn well that I am not… like that.” Like what, exactly? Why wouldn’t he say it? “I thought she was attractive, regardless of how she chose to present herself. Yes, she’s young, but she caught my eye, and I know you like taking control of more innocent women, and I thought… well, excuse me for trying to liven up the night a bit.”
This was the moment Lana should have leaned into his embrace, kissed his cheek, and apologized. But she was not the type of woman to have those types of moments. She put her hands on her hips and shook her head instead. “Forget it, Ken. You know what? I want to go home.”
“Already?”
“You heard me.”
It was petty, but Lana was the queen of petty as of late. Like I’m going to stand around and watch my husband flirt with a Chloe stand-in. She realized what she was thinking, had a moment of panic, and immediately made the decision to call her therapist in the morning. She needed it.
Chapter 7
“Everything’s Fine.”
“But you have no evidence that your husband is cheating on you.”
There was that annoying word again. Evidence. Lana rolled over on her therapist’s couch, wondering who he bought it from. It’s comfortable. I want it. She wanted a lot of things.
“Does evidence really matter when my gut tells me something is wrong?”
“Perhaps something is, in fact, wrong or amiss.” Her therapist was an elderly gentleman who was rumored to have single-handedly solved the Clintons’ marriage. What he was doing in this God forsaken city of the rich and powerful, Lana had no idea. Sucking my m
oney dry, that’s what. The man charged thousands an hour. Not even “rich” people could afford him. He better fix me. If he could do it without pills? Even better. Lana had watched pills destroy her mother’s personality until she was nothing but a vapid shell who nodded politely and then went back to her jigsaw puzzles while guzzling orange soda – at least she wasn’t drinking alcohol with the pills. I’d rather die than become her. Sister Inid was already on that path with her shitty husband and brood of kids.
The therapist cleared his throat before continuing.
“That doesn’t mean he’s cheating on you. All you’ve mentioned is a suspicious young maid mooning over your husband’s stationery. Otherwise, isn’t everything as it should be? No other problems? Money? Business? Your own personal sex life?”
“Everything’s fine.” They were rich. Business was always good. And sex? When were they not copulating like rabbits? The other night notwithstanding. Unfortunately, Lana still had a chip on her shoulder after they got home from The Dark Hour. Ken tried seducing her before they went to bed, but she shrugged him off, sending him to jack off in the bathroom. I wouldn’t even blow him. That was a big deal for them. “Perhaps that’s the problem. Everything is too fine.”
“You’re used to a certain level of chaos, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know if I would say that, but…” Lana chewed on the inside of her cheek, wishing she had some gum, a mint, anything to keep her tongue and teeth preoccupied with other than talking. “Things always change, eventually. Something always gives.”
This was a truth in life. Or at least in hers. Nothing stayed nice and quiet forever. At some point, some business deal would flat line, somebody would go broke, someone would cheat and divorce, or, in her mother’s case, someone would have a nervous breakdown and get doped up on Xanax and its ilk.
People died. Marriages ended. Children were born and created strained relationships for others. Houses were sold. In comparison to other people they knew, Lana and Ken were too quiet, wild sex life aside. They almost never disagreed regarding money and business, and if they did, it was sorted out rationally within a few days. When it came to sex, they were always on the same page, even if tastes changed here or there. But at our core, it’s business as usual. It was always business.
“Ten years is a long time to be with someone,” the therapist said. “Perhaps you are antsy?”
“I would believe that if we didn’t have the kind of relationship we did.”
“Do you still love him?’
“Of course I do!” What kind of question was that? Would she be here trying to sort out her insecurities if she didn’t love the bastard? “Do I really have to spell that out?”
“I merely wanted to confirm, Lana.” The man was more patient than Ken. Especially with someone as high-strung as Lana could be. “Do you believe he still loves you?”
“He says he does every day.” How many women could say that after a decade of marriage? Only a lucky few, in Lana’s experience. “He doesn’t treat me any differently. We have a lot of sex. Three, four times a week. Sometimes more. Less if we’re apart or sick, but that doesn’t happen often.” She glanced at her therapist. “I’m including non-penetrative sex with that.” Oral and manual sex always counted in Lana’s book. Otherwise she would’ve lost her virginity at sixteen and not fifteen, and she did love numbers with a multiple of five.
“All right.” The therapist typed something on his tablet. “Now, Lana, I want to ask you something that may make you a bit defensive…”
She waited.
“Do you think it’s possible that you are manufacturing this illicit affair between your maid and your husband?”
Lana turned toward him again. “Why would I do that?”
“Well, from the sounds of it, you’re uncomfortable with how seemingly simple your relationship is after all this time. If your instincts tell you that things fall apart after a certain amount of time, then you will start looking for signs that may not even be there. Things that did not bother you before suddenly will now. You’re looking for reasons to think that your husband is cheating, because you’re looking for reasons to end your marriage. You said so yourself that you fantasize about divorcing your husband.”
“I don’t know if I would say fantasize…”
“It’s completely normal, Lana. You are far from the first woman, let alone person, who harbors ideas of ending something perfectly fine for the sake of ending it. In this day and age, we are conditioned to want something new every five minutes. Even if you have an open marriage with your husband, you may still crave for someone new to call your own.”
“I would never cheat on my husband.”
“Even so, our subconscious can sabotage even the best of things because of what it believes is necessary. And for your subconscious, it may think that a new relationship, a new marriage is in order. Therefore, you want a divorce, but you also need a reason for that divorce. You look for signs that your husband is cheating on you, one of the only reasonable grounds for divorce you can think of.”
Lana sat up and swung her legs over the side of the couch. Her fingers gripped the edge as she stared at the plush, beige carpet. So neutral. So boring. Like her life could be sometimes, even for all its adventure. “So what do I do?”
“Well, first of all, you need to talk to your husband and tell him your fears and concerns.”
Lana shook her head. “I couldn’t tell him that I thought he was cheating on me…”
“You don’t have to. Simply tell him that you’re concerned about feeling uninspired and in need of something different. Whatever that means for you two. It may be necessary to brainstorm ideas on how you can eventually feel better and more confident in your marriage.” The therapist paused, glancing at his ceiling in thought. “Your second honeymoon is coming up?”
“Yes. After our anniversary.”
“That’s an excellent opportunity to explore new facets of your relationship. It’s also a chance to have these talks, since ten years marks a change in your relationship, no matter what.”
She didn’t want to cry. She definitely didn’t want to cry in front of her therapist, whose office was decked out for Christmas and sporting pictures of his happy family. Did this man have the same concerns for his life that she did for hers? Was he the type of man to build up signs that weren’t there, so he would have the excuse of ending a perfectly good marriage? I don’t want to lose Ken… And yet her instincts…
Lana grabbed a tissue and dabbed the corner of her eye. “I can’t ignore my instincts. They’ve never failed me before.”
“Then you really need to talk with him. If necessary, we can schedule a session with him.”
Boy, that would be a trip and a half. Lana couldn’t even imagine what that kind of conversation would be like.
She did leave the office that day with a new resolution, however. Don’t fall for your own mind games, Lana. First, she treated herself to that spa day since she happened to be downtown. Lana was pampered by the best masseuse in the region and had her toenails painted a bright, cheery pink that would delight her every time she looked at them. She wasn’t thrilled about having half her hair ripped out of her body, but she ignored the pain by talking to the esthetician about the latest gossip around town.
Lana considered these temporary improvements to her skin, nails, and muscles as a new lease on her attitude. From now on, I’ll calm down. She strolled down the chilly city streets sipping a latte and trying to enjoy the moment for what it was.
Her husband loved her.
She loved her husband.
They had everything they could ever want, including each other.
Lots of people may not care much for them, for whatever reason, but those same people were jealous of how strong they were as a couple.
Lana could not let anything come between her and Ken, including her irrational insecurities conjured by her pesky subconscious. Her therapist was right. S
he was manufacturing these ideas for the sake of drama. No wonder some people found her insufferable.
She detoured to the downtown office where Ken was working that day. In true real estate mogul fashion, the Andrews owned their own renovated building that they used for their business and to sublet to others. Yet the top few floors were all theirs, and within those currently empty halls was her husband’s downtown abode where he spent way too many hours a week dealing with grumpy investors, running numbers, and responding to concerns posted by current tenants and those looking to buy and sell other properties. All in a day’s work for those two.
“Yes, thank you.” Ken’s voice echoed through the inner chambers of the private office the moment Lana entered. She quietly closed the door and tiptoed toward the sound of her husband’s voice, intending to surprise him. “I love how willing you are, Chloe.”
Lana stopped. So did her heart.
Color? What color? She didn’t need any color in her face.
Ken wasn’t talking to the maid back home like an employer. He leaned back in his large leather chair, knee resting against the desk as he spun himself to and fro with the dumbest smile on his even dumber face. Fuck me. Fuck him! That voice… that was the voice he used when talking sweet to Lana. To his wife.
“When I think of you, Bunny, I can’t help but sound like this.” That’s what he told her years ago, when she first asked him why he spoke so softly like that. She had never heard it from any other man, and she had yet to hear him talk that way to another woman. Until now.
She was going to kill him.
“That’s fine. Go ahead and put it on my desk. I’ll put it all away later.” Laughter. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll talk to you about it later.” Ken leaned forward, bending his elbows on his desk. That stupid smirk would not leave his face. “And I’ll see you soon.”
He hung up.
Lana remained in the archway, undetected. She stared at her husband, the man who supposedly loved her above all others. The man she took a vow to always be open and trusting with. The man who was definitely cheating on her.
