Chapter 7 - Making Plans For Lanie

ROY

 I sit in my car outside Lanie’s house with the engine on and the heater running to keep warm. I check the time again on my phone. She said she’d be back from her friend McKenzie’s around lunchtime. It’s nearly 3 o’clock! She knew I was calling in to talk with her. We haven’t seen each other for days. I want to trust her, I honestly do. I feel sick at the prospect that she’s delayed returning because she can’t face me. Because she did something while she was out on the town last night. That she’s met some other guy and she doesn’t know how to tell me.

Or maybe she doesn’t want to come back because she suspects that I want to speak to her again about getting married.

Well, she’d be right about that. Is it so wrong to love a girl this much?

Perhaps I should put my foot down with her once in a while. Tell her if I think someone - like McKenzie - is a bad influence on her. But I don’t want to be that guy. The boyfriend – or fiancé - who tries to dictate to his girl. That sort of attitude from me would hardly make her more likely to want to be my wife. And she wouldn’t react well to me telling her what to do. That’s for sure.

I peer down the sapling-lined road that’s flanked by houses, all of which are almost identical to Lanie’s. It might be mundane if it wasn’t where she lived.

But there’s still no sign of a cab coming around the corner.

I told her I could have picked her up. Saved her the fare. It wouldn’t be so bad if Sophie was home and I could be inside chatting with her when Lanie gets back. I’ll probably look desperate sitting outside here alone and waiting.

But I suppose I should look on the bright side. McKenzie’s only around for a few more weeks before she goes working on that cruise ship. I’ll get more time with my girl then. And OK, Lanie might not have actually swooned at my proposal and said ‘Yes’ right away to it, but she’s not that kind of girl. I mean, she didn’t say ‘No’ to getting married, did she? She said she ‘couldn’t’. That she ‘didn’t have enough to give me’ at the moment. Well, she might change her mind when she hears what I’ve found for us.

I check the road and then the time again and let out a deep sigh.

There’s something else I’ve realized about me and her lately too. Ever since I asked her to marry me. Even if I found out she’d cheated on me on one of her nights out with McKenzie, I’m certain I'd still want her. As long as Lanie promised it was a one-night stand and definitely in the past. That it was a ‘mistake’.

Please God though, don’t let anything like that ever happen.

My stomach drops again at the thought.

But with that sensation too is a weird feeling somewhere else inside.

Lanie cheating. It’s unthinkable.

Sickening images though pass through my head. My girl losing herself in passion with another man. And ‘him’, faceless and nameless but raking his pleasure from her too as he makes my girl writhe and cry out while she betrays me.

These feelings aren’t normal. They’re borne out of desperation to know that she’s truly mine. To make her my wife. I never used to think this way when I was sure about her.

What was it that some of the guys in our class used to say about me, though? That I’d ‘never keep hold’ of a girl like Lanie Machin?

Yeah? Well, I have so far, haven’t I?

A few minutes later a blue Nissan with a lighted ‘Taxi’ sign on the roof appears on the street.

She’s here. She’s sat in the front with the driver.

I give her a second to pay and then to get out before I join her on the sidewalk. She’s in a puffer jacket and jeans with her hair scraped back in a ponytail and a holdall over her shoulder.

“Hey Roy,” she says then wiggles her fingers at the cab as it pulls away with a toot of its horn.

“Hey,” I smile, “Was that Kenzie’s Dad?” I ask as I watch the motor pull away.

“Trevor? Yeah,” she says and lets me kiss the side of her face.

I want to comment about the look he was giving her when she got out of his cab, but I don’t want to be an asshole. And anyway I might have misread him.

Let’s just concentrate on the good news.

I put an arm around her then hug her to me and kiss her full on the lips. The mere smell of her always turns me on. Faded perfume, maybe a trace of sour alcohol, and her own ‘Lanie scent’. “How was your night?” I ask and scan her makeup-less eyes for any hint of guilt.

“Overdid it,” she groans but then laughs.

“You think you’ll be up for going for a meal tonight?” I ask. I want to take her somewhere nice to tell her what I’ve found. “It wouldn’t need to be a late one,” I say.

“Do you mind if we don’t, Roy?” she grimaces as we reach the front door and she digs her key out of a pocket, “Not tonight. I just want a long soak in the bath then a slice of pizza in front of the TV. Mom’s still out too, so we can have a little peace without that man from next door.”

I must look disappointed because in the hallway she puts her bag down and kisses me. Then with the side of her face against my chest, she hugs me.

The warmth of her lovely body close up against me thickens my penis. And reassures me.

I’m a little pissed that she was ‘fit’ enough to go out partying with her friend last night, and yet tonight not even able to go for a quiet sit-down meal with me.

And from somewhere else in my head too comes a nagging, inarticulate question about why she wants a bath the second she gets home.

Has she got something to hide?

I don’t want to dwell on any of that. It won’t do any good. Besides, she was happy enough for me to come around and be with her tonight, wasn’t she?

“I’ve missed you,” I say with her still in my arms and I smell the top of her golden-brown hair. My erection swells further in my pants.

“That’s nice to know,” she says.

That’s what I needed to hear.

“So if you’d prefer to stay in, then no worries,” I shrug and look right into her eyes. I kiss her nose. “If you’ve got any pizza in the freezer I’ll heat it up after your bath. If not, I’ll order takeout. Let me come up and run your water for you first.”

“There’s no need, Roy,” she shakes her head and ponytail, “I can do the bath myself. Just see if Mom’s got any pizza in while I go upstairs. I won’t be long.”

I’m disappointed again but this time I don’t show it. I nod and then watch her and her plump, denim-clad butt climb the stairs. But my stomach has dropped a second time.

Why didn’t she want me up there with her? It’s not like I haven’t run the bath for her before.

But perhaps she’s every bit as hungry as she is in need of a bath.

I head into the kitchen and the sink is full of dirty dishes. I doubt they’d be there like that if Harry was still alive. I yank open the freezer door and rummage through the top then the second drawer down.

Two pizzas, one pepperoni, and another spicy chicken. I check the timing details on the packs then turn the oven on. I could just shout up to find out which one she wants. But I want to see her again.

I climb the stairs knowing there’s no need to doubt her, but somehow unable to stop goading myself. Dreading, yet perversely and confusingly almost even ‘reveling’ in the possibility that my worst fears could come true.

I don’t want her to realize I’m checking her out though. I need her in a good mood later when I tell her the news.

Surely she’ll be happy about it? She’ll be pleased to ‘compromise’. Just for now. Until she’s more ready to commit.

Upstairs and when I reach the bathroom Lanie isn’t there. The water is running though. It smells of the rose-scented crystals I bought her last Valentine. It’s nice to know she still uses them. This whole room though, the same as the kitchen, has gotten a lot messier lately.

I glance at my appearance in the mirror.

I should get a fresh trim and visit the gym more. No matter how loyal Lanie is, the more she goes out on her own, the more guys are bound to hit on her.

She’ll have more guys to compare me with.

“Roy?” Lanie appears with a frown on her face and skimpy black underwear on her spectacular body, “I thought you were checking for pizza?”

Black? She wore that underwear last night?

“Yeah, I checked,” I say and I shouldn’t do it, but I can’t can’t help but glance around her neck, and then even the cleavage of her plunging bra for any sign she could have been kissed last night. “I just came up to ask you which you wanted. Chicken or Pepperoni.”

“Chicken,” she says and lets down her hair then she undoes her bra. Her perfect breasts jiggle free and my eyes scan them too. And I didn’t notice before, but she looks tired around her eyes.

It’s a weird thing, but much as it tortures me whenever I know she’s out on the town with McKenzie, I’m always horny than ever for her when I next see her.

“Can we do it before you get in the bath?”

“Roy! I feel dirty,” her nose crinkles up.

“That sounds good,” I say and laugh. I pull her into my arms, crushing her bare breasts against my chest.

“Not that kind of dirty,” she rolls her eyes.

I run my hands down the indents of her slender, firm waist then around the swell of her smooth hips. My fingertips graze the rougher string waistband of her panties. I kiss her neck.

How would I have felt if she’d let someone else do this to her last night? If my girl had been kissed. I’d be destroyed.

And yet right now, the thought fills me with something more, something besides horror. How?

Only because I know it’s not true. I kiss under her ear.

“Mmm,” she murmurs.

I caress her left hip again but then lower my hand between her legs.

“You’re a dirty boy,” she purrs.

She wants it.

“For you I am,” I whisper and ease my hand into the front of her panties. I trace around her little shaved lips there, then slip two fingers inside her.

“Uhhm,” she murmurs and kisses me.

“Did you and McKenzie get pestered again last night, Lane?”

I don’t know why I have to ask. I hate hearing. And yet I like to know. I push my fingers deeper into her and she groans.

“Uhhm, no one offered to pay just to follow us around like they did the time before,” she says, “Uhhm, if that’s what you mean.”

“They did what?” I gape at her. “Who?”

“Just some weirdo. Mmm, Keep doing that with your fingers.”

I try to imagine the scene. Some guy offering my girl money just so he could look at her? Oh, Lanie. I use my other hand to lower her panties over her hips and butt and then lower still, with her help, until they’re right off.

She widens her stance and I caress her clit.

“Sit on the edge of the bath, Lane.”

“What for?”

“I want to go down on you,” I say and I’m breathing fast, hard.

“I haven’t showered since before I went out last night,” she whispers.

“I don’t care.”

“You might when you get down there,” she says and she laughs but she pulls me to the bath with her. She sits with her legs crossed and grips the edge of the bath either side of her. Then she reaches to her left and turns the taps off.

I gaze from her supple legs to her unmarked boobs and her stiff, pink nipples then up her angelic face.

“I promise you I won’t care,” I say and get down to my knees in front of her. Nothing about Lanie could ever put me off her. I take hold of her top foot with both my hands then lower my head and kiss the top of it.

“Mmm, that was nice, Roy.”

I ease that leg off the one below and push both her highs apart. “Oh God, Lanie.”

She smiles down at me, her gray-blue eyes ablaze now.

“Mmm,” I lower my head and push my face between her thighs and to her opening.

Musky. A little bitter. Slightly earthy. But it’s hers, so it’s beautiful.

Her hands lightly hold onto my head and she purrs.

I burrow deeper with my nose and tongue. Someone was prepared to pay money just to watch the girl who loves me. My arms cling right around her thighs and I kiss her pussy, lick it, suck it. But that was the time before last night. What if she’s lying about last night? What if there was someone else?

She wouldn’t. My girl never would.

“Uhh-ha, mmm, uhh-ha, oh,” she moans and holds my head in place.

I want this to be good for her. I want to make her cum. The way I always can when I do this.

“Oh, that feels good Roy.”

I suck and lick her slippery clit, tease it with the tip of my tongue then kiss her there some more.

Lanie pulls my lowered head and face harder against her.

I want to ask her more about the weirdo from that other night but Lanie always cums fast and hard when I do this to her so I don’t stop. I lick and I suck and I bury my face in her vagina and I kiss. I fondle the silky flesh of her thighs higher up too and I imagine the way some poor saddo must have felt about my girl if he asked to pay good money just to follow her around a nightclub. She might have said he wanted to follow her and McKenize, but her friend isn’t in Lanie’s league. Everyone knows that.

But who is in my girl’s league?

“Uhh-ha Roy, Roy,” she cries out and her inner thighs squeeze either sides of my head, compressing me

“Are you cumming, Lane?” my voice is strangled.

“Yeah, oh yeah, don’t stop, uhh-ha, uhh-ha, don’t stop, don’t stop!”

“I won’t,” I gulp air, “I won’t,” I pant and dive back in, burying my face in her seeping heat again. She’s sopping, sodden over my nose and mouth, she smells gorgeous, feminine. Perfect. I flick my tongue fast over and back across the nub of her clit, back and forth, up and down, then I slow it down, suck her there a little before speeding up some more.

She grips my hair and cries out.

I glance up beyond her gaping pussy and her nipples are upright and crinkled, her head back as she climaxes in my face.

Later, I leave her to bathe and put the pizza on, and then while I’m still in the kitchen, she comes down in her fluffy, cream-colored dressing gown. She’s got her phone in one hand and her hair is still damp.

“Smells good,” she says and her face is flushed from the heat of the bath. Or maybe even from her orgasm.

No wonder someone wanted to just ‘watch’ my girl.

And I can’t wait any longer. I’ve got to tell her now.

“Look I know you don’t feel ready to get married just yet,” I say and put my arms around her, “But when I asked you...,”

“Roy, don’t,” she sighs and tries to break free of my arms.

“Look, I’ve found an apartment for us. I just want to show you,” I reach to my back pocket for my phone.

“Roy we can’t afford a place of our own. Even if we wanted one,” Lanie crosses her arms and leans back against the worktop.”

“We can do a lease option on this one,” I say and swipe at my phone, “with an option to buy.”

“And waste all that money you could be saving?” she frowns at me.

“So it might take us a little longer until we own somewhere,” I shrug, “At least we’d be together in the meantime. You said you hate it here now.”

“Only when he’s here,” she says.

“So, there you go. You’d never have to see your neighbor again. Let alone put up with him in the same house.”

“Roy it wouldn’t feel right,” she shakes her head, her arms still folded across her boobs, “Not until I can contribute too.”

“You can do that when you’re ready. And I’ve told you before, I don’t care if you never are ready. As long as you’re with me. And as long as one day you’ll marry me. You could be a stay-at-home Mom,” I blurt the phrase out without planning to, “If that’s what you wanted.”

“It’s not,” she frowns.

“Well, I wouldn’t worry about it,” I shrug but my face burns with further discontent, “You can't get pregnant from oral sex.”

Despite her frown, Lanie laughs and as she does, her frown melts.

“Come on Lane, I just want us to be together. I’ll wait to get married. However long you say. But I might even be able to persuade my parents to lend us the money so we can own the apartment even sooner. Just take a look at the photos of it,” I offer her my phone.

“We couldn’t let them do that,” Lanie shakes her head and doesn’t take the phone from me.

“But they’d probably want to do it for us,” I say.

“I’d feel terrible taking money from them, just because I didn’t have a good job of my own. But I’m not in the right headspace, Roy,” her eyes fill up. And it’s a reminder of how fragile she is underneath. “I’ve told you I need time,” she says, “I don’t want to end up like my Mom.”

“What do you mean, your Mom?” I ask slowly,  “What’s wrong with your Mom?”

“When I make my marriage vows I want them to be forever.”

“They will be,” I say and try to hold her again.

“My Mom’s weren’t,” she shrugs and shakes her head.

“You can’t know that for sure,” I say but her Mom does always dress young for her age, “And even if another family member did something like that, it wouldn’t mean you’d follow suit.”

“It might,” she shrugs, and now tears trickle down both cheeks. “I’m pretty sure Rachel cheated on boyfriends in the past too.”

“But not on Joe now she’s married,” I say, “And you’ve never cheated on anyone, have you?” I state it like I know, but I’m double-checking.

“Roy, you know I haven’t. You were my first...”

‘Were’? I shake the word out of my head. “Who cares what Rachel did or didn’t do when she was a kid, you’re not her and you’re not your Mom,” I say and kiss her.

“What if it’s in my genes?”

“It would have showed itself by now.”

“I’d hate to end up like my Mom and hurt you, Roy. You’ve been so good to me. Especially since my Dad…,”

“Been?” I repeat her word.

“You are so good to me,” she corrects herself.

A phone rings. It’s not mine.

“Oh hi Phil,” Lanie moves across the kitchen.

Who’s Phil? I’m sure she’s mentioned that name to me before.

“No, I can’t at the moment,” she shakes her damp hair, “Yeah, yes I am,” she laughs, “No. Right,” she says the last word slowly like something interested her, or perhaps whatever was said was a surprise.

I stand and gaze at her as she listens, I hold my breath to try and hear whatever ‘Phil’ is telling her. But I can’t pick any words out.

“OK, well maybe. I’ve just got a lot going on at the moment. I appreciate it though. Thanks. Let me come back to you. Yeah, I promise. I’m good. OK, yeah, yeah OK.”

“Who’s Phil?” I ask when the call ends.

“He used to be my Mom’s boss,” she squeezes past me to the kettle. Her butt always looks good in that dressing gown.

“So how come he called you?” I try to keep any trace of jealousy and suspicion out of my voice. But her reaction to my news has upset me. Almost as much as her first rejection. And how come this guy has her number?

“He heard I dropped out of Uni and I might be looking for an apprenticeship like you’ve got,” she reaches for a cup and then holds it up at me.

“Working for him?” I ask and nod my head at the offer of a drink.

“No,” she shakes her head, “But I told him I still haven't decided what I want to do.”

“About me and you?”

“Stop it, Roy,” she sighs.

“So who was the job with?”

“It was only an interview,” she shrugs, “some firm recruiting Management trainees or something in a few weeks. He said he could set up a meeting for me if I was interested.

“Who was the interview with?”

“Coyle Corporation?” she says it like a question, “Have you heard of them?”

“I’m surprised you haven’t, I say, “they’re based not far from here. Got a swanky HQ on that business park near the interstate slip road. They’ve got international operations. They’re into property and IT. I think they got into Game Development recently too .”

The location and career prospects somewhere like Coyle Corp could be perfect for us.

“I told him might go back to uni next term though,” she says.

 Author's Notes

Do you think Lanie should pull herself together and accept Phil's offer of an interview at Richmond's firm? Or should Roy encourage her to avoid that at all costs? Why would he consider it a potential danger, though? Especially if her return to uni means he'd see a lot less of his girl. And what's liable to happen to Lanie's life and leisure time once her friend goes away and leaves Miss Machin stuck at home more often with her mom and the neighbor she can't stand?

 It would be great to get your thoughts in the comments below.

Speaking of the neighbor from hell, as you can read next week, it seems that since his last apprearance, Dennis Talbot has continued to dodge those murderous high speed buses. (If you don't know what I mean, see comments after his previous chapter) . Now though, it appears he may have further competition for Sophie's affections. Meanwhile Lanie herself makes it clear what she thinks of the creepy old man next door.

© 2024 Tinto Selvaggio. All rights reserved.

 All characters portrayed in this ebook are consenting adults eighteen years of age or older. As a work of fiction, any similarities to any situations or persons living or dead are entirely coincidental.