Chapter 37 Off the Rails
Off the Rails
LANIE
“I think we should go to The Vesper Room after this,” Baz said as I devoured a chocolate souffle.
The suggestion surprised me. This afternoon, he’d sent me the family tiara—something my mother would be most excited to hear—and offered to take me to dinner.
That was a complicated matter since he’d chosen a Japanese place where I couldn’t eat most of the menu.
The scent of the place bothered me most of all.
Now, diving into chocolate, I felt a bit better.
I felt like a wife. But now, he wanted to play again?
“Is that the best idea?” I asked.
“Well, I’d like to try if you would.”
Baz’s voice suggested a challenge. He expected me to be game.
Instead, I was knackered. I wanted my bed.
I wanted to tell the truth, but didn’t want to here.
I didn’t feel like having a go in public, either.
But it’s what he wanted. This was our arrangement, and I wanted to please him.
To deny him was to not hold up some part of a bargain I took far too seriously.
I hadn’t seen Baz in weeks. I longed to be his. So, if this is what it took, I’d do it.
“Sure,” I said.
We arrived at The Vesper Room. I nursed a drink, pretending to sip a rum and coke—an odd choice.
The Thursday evening crowd was just beginning to file in.
I assessed the situation. The thing that surprised me the most about the crowd on any evening was the average age of patrons.
They were mostly in their mid-thirties and up.
I was one of the younger people last time.
I assumed it was a fluke but tonight solidified that was the usual crowd.
“What?” Baz read my expression.
“Just people watching and observing.”
“Uh-huh. What do you think, Lanie Day?”
“I think everyone here is older than I expected,” I said. “Not that I mind. I just didn’t expect people over thirty-five to be so…”
I looked for the words.
“Interested?”
“I was gonna say horny but yeah,” I giggled.
“People have time and money—professionals and couples with nannies, I suppose. And someone of us never grow up, Lanie.”
I shrugged. “I think I’m pretty grown up. And right now, I have time.”
“Says the important actress who has no time. You’re an heiress. Not everyone here is born into wealth like we were. Some earned their ascension through actual work.”
“I may be a nepo baby, Baz, but I worked my ass off as well. I know I’m a woman under thirty. You don’t have to remind me.”
“Oh…” he looked down. “That was more of a joke. I have seen your work. You’re no slouch.”
“You’re a fan?”
“I try not to think about watching this series,” Baz chuckled. “One, because of the content. Two, because you’re supposed to be underage.”
“Not your thing?” I asked, making eye contact with a man with a strong jaw across the bar.
“Not my thing. You’re too young for me like this,” Baz said. “The idea of thirsting after eighteen-year-old you—in real life—perturbs me.”
“That’s refreshing,” I admitted.
Baz turned to see the object of my gaze as a woman walked into view.
“Could be fun?” He asked.
“I thought so, but they’re a couple.”
“No interest in a couple?”
“I am not into girls,” I said. “I’ve said this.”
“The bloke last time was in a couple.”
“She’s making eye contact,” I said. “They want to either swing or play together. I’d guess play together.”
“Well, could be fun.”
“I mean it. It’s not for me. It feels fake. I’m not going to fake orgasms for all of you. I don’t fake it—not anymore.”
He chuckled.
“What? Did I just destroy a fantasy for you?”
“It would be a dream to watch you with another woman—I won’t lie—but if you aren’t into it, I’ll keep those thoughts to myself.”
“Why is that so entertaining? You didn’t mind your best mate balls deep in me before,” I said.
“So no swinging?” He raised an eyebrow.
“That never appealed to you before, Baz.” I suspected it didn’t now, either. “But it bothers me. So, no, unless you want to row—”
“I don’t,” Baz asserted.
My gaze transferred to another man alone at the bar wearing a sharp sportscoat. His eyes perused me. He’d do.
“I want to talk to him,” I said. “What is your comfort level?”
“You want to fuck him, Lanie?”
“Uh-huh,” I said. “If I stay interested. I want to torture you.”
Baz shook his head, then brushed my cheek, cupping it. “You’re greedy, Lanie.”
“When you look like me right now, you get to be greedy.”
Baz kissed me slowly, pulling away to whisper, “But don’t you want me to cum inside you. Don’t we still have a mission to accomplish?”
We didn’t. Mission accomplished.
“There will be time,” I lied. “I rather like the idea of making you squirm. Unless that won’t work for you? Does the idea of us together bother you?”
He shrugged, “Then take what you want, Lady Osgoode. Just remember who owns you.”
“I know,” I assured. “You’re going to get the last word, Baz. I save the best for you.”
BAZ
The game no longer played the same. I should have lived to watch Lanie give herself over to someone else.
I should have lived to listen to her get off.
It should have added to the fun to watch him take her in a room full of people.
Instead, it angered me to watch her with another man.
What was hot at the beginning, now tortured me.
I hoped she’d be satisfied going at it with another woman.
That dream died. I wouldn’t force the issue.
I committed to this and I told myself this would snap me out of it—we’d return to the game, and I’d let this silliness subside.
Watching him kiss her and pin her to the wall felt fine.
As he kissed her neck and ran his hand up her dress.
She moaned, her eyes meeting mine. I hardened at her gaze and the sound of her excitement.
I thought about how wet she must be with his fingers on her clit and inside her. This was fine. I handled this.
They moved to the bed in the center of the room where this paramour went down on her for a good long while.
She looked back at me, breathing heavily.
I marveled at the way her chest rose—her beautiful breasts nearly spilling out of her dress.
I loved this image of her—the one I didn’t get to see when my face was buried in her pussy.
Say my name. Say my name. I pleaded silently as she began to reach her climax.
Reading my mind, she cried out—eyes never leaving mine. “Oh, Baz! Fuck!”
My cock revolted against the binding presence of my trousers.
I wanted her so badly. Then, everything shifted.
I could lie to myself and say everything was the same until the point where I watched them exchange commentary about a condom.
I stepped forward, handing one over. It was going to happen—against my will.
I don’t want this. I fought what I knew I should feel.
I wanted to be aroused, but as this hot stranger thrust inside my wife—the woman I wanted to be all mine—it faded.
I fought the urge to turn away, suddenly horrified by what I agreed to.
Unable to watch, I left. I let him finish.
I’d not interrupt them, but needed another drink just to cope.
“You alright, mate?” The bartender asked.
I nodded, lying. No. I felt betrayed, jealous, and broken. “Just another whisky.”
“Coming up,” he agreed.
“Baz! Baz!”
I turned to see a frantic Lanie.
“Why are you here?” I asked, voice harsher than I intended.
“Because you left… why—”
“You were just fine on your own, Lanie. I didn’t—”
“I did this for you, Baz.”
“Don’t lie to yourself, Lanie,” I said as the drink appeared.
I took a long sip as she stood silently to my right.
“Baz, I… I didn’t do this against your will.”
“Your mind was made up, Lanie.”
“You were the one—”
“I didn’t want to bore you, okay? You were the one who was selfish. You wanted him to fuck you!”
Lanie’s face turned from concern to anger. “We will not do this here.”
“Fine,” I said. “Let’s row in the car, then.”
“I will get my coat.” Lanie stormed off.
I slammed my drink as the bartender closed our tab. The car was on the way to the entrance. By the time I reached the lobby, Lanie stood stock still, arms crossed. Expression livid, I didn’t dare speak.
I tried to reach for her hand, to tell her I didn’t mean to get cross, but she batted me away.
“Don’t touch me!” Tears welled in her eyes.
I hated to hurt her. I wanted to wrap her in a kiss and apologize.
The car arrived. We climbed in, silent. I wanted—and needed—to apologize.
Instead, she sobbed without a word from me.
We arrived at my place and she raced off, unable to even look at me.
I gave her space, pacing in the kitchen.
I longed to tell her everything, but cowardice got the best of me.
I’d lost the thread and the game. I needed to confess.
Do it now or you’ll regret it, Baz.
I strode into the bedroom, finding Lanie asleep in the fetal position still in her dress. Tears soaked her pillow. She was exhausted. I didn’t dare wake her. Instead, I tucked her in, then sat on the bed by her, rubbing her back. I couldn’t leave her, but couldn’t stay.
“I love you, Lanie. I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Why couldn’t I just say it out loud? I needed to be honest. She needed to hear it.
Even if she didn’t love me back, she deserved that clarity.
She was my wife. All I promised her at the beginning of this was respect and honesty.
I’d given her neither tonight. Instead, I’d publicly admonished her like she was a child—all because I couldn’t tell her I was done playing this game.
My cowardice cost me her affections, but there was time to make up for it.