A Fragile Wife(14)

By: Cynthia Dane

Lana didn’t chat with lifestyle subs much. Monica was different. She was also a shrewd businesswoman who made her own money independent of her wealthy fiancé. That Lana could respect wholeheartedly.

She also liked her. And after seeing her perform with Henry Warren at the club a few times… well, maybe she had a sexual crush on her as well. I couldn’t give her what she wants, though. Neither could Ken. Not even the two of them together could satiate the kind of submissive appetite Monica Graham had.

“How is the wedding coming along?” Lana asked, afraid to let the silence continue. Grace got up, turned the corner of the sofa, and stood behind her patrons. One hand snaked across Lana’s shoulder while the other stroked the back of Ken’s neck. Good girl. Lana had to contain a smile of pleasure. “I hear it’s going to be the event of the season.”

“Just what I need. More pressure.” Monica politely looked away as Grace’s hand descended Lana’s chest and stroked her through her red turtleneck. Pretty little fingers played with the pendant hanging around Lana’s neck. Ken gave me this pendant for my birthday last year. It was a gold finch, Lana’s favorite bird.

She looked at her husband, currently enjoying his glass of scotch and another woman’s hand combing through his hair.

Grace knew how to please them, that was for sure. For the past few months she had learned the idiosyncrasies of her patrons and put them to her advantage. Example: she knew that they got off on being treated as one sexual unit. So she always, always made sure to show them an equal amount of attention.

Even so, Lana spent most of that night staring at her husband being felt up by another woman. For the first time in a long while, she felt a pang of jealousy. Fuck that bullshit. She looked back at Monica and said, “I suppose it’s the price you pay for marrying one of the most eligible bachelors in the region.” She placed her hand on Ken’s arm. “That would’ve been my Kenny if I let him stay single for much longer.”

“That’s right. You’ve been married what, ten years?”

“Yes. Coming up.” Lana removed her hand and shrugged Grace’s off. “A Christmas wedding for our families. Nothing on the scale of what you have planned.” Anyone who was anyone was going to Monica’s wedding that upcoming February. At least she was the type of woman who could handle the pressure. Especially if her Dom commanded it so. “Seems quaint to look back on it.”

“I’m sure it was lovely.”

“She wore a red and white garter,” Ken chimed in, stealing a glance at his wife. “The most beautiful white gown any man has ever seen. Cheeky of her to wear something Christmassy beneath it. Felt like unwrapping the most perfect gift.”

Lana looked away, hiding her blush. It wasn’t even my idea. It was her sister’s, insisting that she do something festive for her wedding clothes. I only cared about the cake and the sex that night. Ken had not disappointed her. He took her in ways she didn’t know a husband could take his wife – all while making her feel so incredibly loved that she swooned all through their honeymoon.

“I can only hope to have such a grand marriage as you two have.” Monica’s smile was genuine, although still demure as was her nature. “You’re practically legends.”

Neither of them pressed for a reason. Having someone young and nubile like Grace feel them up while they spoke was enough reason on display.

“Thank you,” Ken finally said. “No marriage is perfect or easy, but Lana and I make it work.” His hand curled over her crossed knee. “I can’t imagine having anyone else by my side.”

Those words would usually make her blush more, but Lana suddenly entered a moment of self-doubt. Those sound like stock words, Kenneth. Did her husband hide those kinds of words up his sleeve to use when it was best? Like now? There was a reason some people in the real estate world called him Silver Tongue Andrew. He knew how to charm the pants off a snake. He’s charmed mine off enough times by now.

Monica couldn’t spend much more time with them, not with a busy business bustling with life that night. After she paid her respects and whispered something curt in Grace’s ear, Monica saw herself out.

“And how are you, Kitten?” Ken asked, turning every ounce of attention to the mistress. “It’s unfortunately been a couple of weeks since we last chatted.”

Grace wrapped her arms around his shoulders and bent down low to his ear. Yet she spoke loud enough for Lana to hear as well. “Anything that may have been bothering me is now nothing, sir. A visit from you and your lovely wife is all I need to feel better.”