So Ken did not arrive home until seven-thirty, his layers of clothing shedding from his skin as Chloe did her due diligence helping the master of the mansion get settled in. This included a small glass of bourbon waiting on a tray that would also take away his tie and cufflinks. The last thing Ken wanted to do when he returned home was go all the way up to the master bedroom just to come back down for dinner.
About time he got home. Lana sat at the head of the dining table, where dinner was kept warm but not yet served. The cook began bringing out dishes the moment Ken walked through the door, so by the time he made it to the dining room he had a plate waiting for him. And a pretty young maid following him around, demurely asking if he would like to have his cigarette now or after dinner.
“He’ll have it after dinner,” Lana said, lifting a glass of wine to her lips. Ken sat next to her, and the scent of his heavy cologne nearly overpowered steak and vegetables. He sighed as Chloe walked away with the tray of cufflinks and tie.
“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.