A Fragile Wife(3)

By: Cynthia Dane

“Lovely to see you too, Wife.”

“I’ve been waiting for you, Husband.”

Those sorts of titles were only exchanged when they were feeling incredibly silly or sarcastic. Right now the sarcasm dripped from their fangs like venom.

Ken slipped his hand over Lana’s knee before he even picked up a fork. “If you’re not letting me have my cigarette right now, then I’ll have to soothe my nerves some other way.”

Lana stared at him, feeling his fingers press deeply into her flesh. Wish I could say it was turning me on. She drank her wine and said, “I don’t want to smell it while I’m eating.”

“It doesn’t smell, Lana. It’s vapor.”

“It reeks.” Ken quit smoking real cigarettes shortly after they married, but was one of the first on board the vape trend. He tried to tell Lana that it was healthier, had no smoke to stain the walls, and, better yet, didn’t smell. Well, no, it didn’t smell like cigarette smoke, but Lana could smell whatever he put in it to give it flavor. Ken could smoke whatever he wanted in his office. At the dinner table? Lana was queen.

Ken cleared his throat. “Sorry I’m so late, Bunny,” he mumbled. Oh, Bunny. There were few things that people didn’t know about them. The fact that Ken called his wife “Bunny” was one of those secrets. Not even Chloe had heard him call her that. “One of the attorneys was late for our afternoon meeting, so we ran over. So far over that I have to go in early tomorrow to finish the blasted thing.”

Lana stabbed her food, although gingerly brought it up to her mouth like the lady her mother tried to raise her to be. “That’s unfortunate.”

“I’m beat.”

If Ken cleared his throat one more time, Lana would probably have to strangle him. Instead, she ignored him, knowing damn well what he wanted. One of the things he wanted was to push his hand farther up her thigh, trekking beneath her skirt and playing with the tops of her stockings. I’ve never met a man who loves tights and stockings more than this pecker. All Lana had to do to get laid was show up in nothing more than lingerie. As long as that lingerie had sheer black tights with lace around the trim. She saved the fishnets for the nights she really wanted to dominate him. Tonight was not one of those nights.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Kenny.” She hoped he didn’t hear the lifelessness in her pet name for him. As she ate, drank, and considered her nerves, Lana put her hand on his knee as well, squeezing it for dear life. “I know you work hard.”

They both worked hard. Sometimes Lana stayed home, sometimes Ken stayed home, and sometimes they both went into the city to run meetings and deal business. Exhausting. They put on a front that had helped them castrate the masses for going on a decade now. The power couple. The power hungry couple. The formidable pair that no one could defeat unless they were truly that shrewd or had a whole army behind them. Lana and Ken were like peas and carrots. Yin and Yang. Love and lust. They complemented each other, filled in each other’s weaknesses, and had reached a point three months into relationship where they were already finishing each other’s sentences – and orgasms.

Two such intense personalities seemed doomed for the start. People didn’t think they would last more than three years. They defied everyone by making it five. They won their own bet by coming up on their tenth anniversary.

They were going on a second honeymoon. An island in the Bahamas where, as Ken whispered into her ear when he brought forward the plan, “they could fuck naked on the beach and nobody would care. Except maybe those bastard sharks and jellyfish.” Lana wouldn’t say no to beach sex, although she had to talk to her gyno about the possibility of her monthly nuisance rearing its ugly head during her second honeymoon. They were into some fairly kinky shit, but Lana drew the line at anything involving blood. At least they had pills for that now.

It reminded her that she also needed to ask about more permanent birth control options. She had been on the pill for years, since before meeting Ken, but by now she was about as interested in having children as she was interested in watching her husband sleep around with someone ten years younger than her. Unless it was Lana’s idea, of course. Why not? Sometimes it’s hot seeing some twenty-year-old get a taste of my husband’s brand of fucking. Only if she got to watch, though. And pick out the girl. And seduce her into her husband’s lap on his behalf. That was most of the fun.

She looked at him now. She looked at Chloe, walking through the dining room with refills for the wet bar in the corner. The maid glanced at the back of Ken’s head before leaving.