Lanie's Lessons Page 7

  “Are you all right, Lanie? You’ve got an odd look on your face.”

  With color creeping into her cheeks, she turned back to the mirror, clearing her throat before answering. “I’m fine, and anxious to meet Ray; he sounds a lot like my Ethan.”

  “He should. Ray was Ethan’s first boss. He took him under his wing and taught him to be a brilliant attorney.”

  “That explains a lot.”

  “The panties, right?” Vicki asked, tongue in cheek.

  “What?” Lanie practically squealed, her head whipping around up in surprise, until she saw her new friend’s sly smile. “Oh, you are bad! I’m going to like you.”

  “I hope so. We have a lot in common. Mostly having to act so serious and above board forty-plus hours a week. I need a young friend who likes to cut loose every now and again, someone I can mentor, but can also keep me on my toes.”

  “I am all yours then, dear Vicki,” Lanie said with a dramatic flair. “I’m young, teachable, pliable like clay… Mold me, oh wise one.”

  “I can hardly wait to get started.” Vicki hooted with glee. Arm in arm they found their husbands, both women smiling over the new bond of friendship they had formed outside the stalls in the ladies room at the Top of the Hub, of all places.

  Chapter Eight

  After only a few months, Lanie and Beth’s small practice was flourishing. The idea of women representing women had caught on. At least three-fourths of their current caseload was comprised of clients of the female persuasion. Between Lanie’s criminal law proficiency and Beth’s business law expertise, they took almost all referrals, except for divorce cases, handing those off to another independent attorney—also a woman—whose office was a few doors down.

  Lanie still crunched numbers and tracked the cash flow closely, but at last, accounts receivable were outpacing expenses so she was able to rest a lot easier. Ironically, their first check for services had arrived the day after Ethan delivered Lanie’s much needed lesson in the elevator. Business was booming and as the phone rang near constantly, it seemed that the Deevers’ conviction in Texas, which made national headlines, had diminished the furor over his Massachusetts acquittal and Lanie’s role in the proceedings. In fact, most of her new clients came specifically seeking representation by the Ice Queen. In a short time, her reputation for skillfully and successfully defending the underprivileged or disenfranchised had become widely known. Although she didn’t want that to be the bread and butter of her practice, she had a hard time turning away clients. As a result, her schedule was often overbooked and she was having difficulty keeping pace with the influx of new clients and referrals.

  Lanie and Beth became closer as they worked together to build their new practice. The two couples had grown closer as well. They went out often; to dinner, the theater and sailing in the harbor or in Dorchester Bay on the Anderson’s catamaran. They also expanded their circle of close friends to include the Studors since the three couples had so much in common.

  Because of their hectic schedules, with numerous court dates and countless consultations, the new partners didn’t see each other much during work hours. Therefore, they made a point to get together for social time often and included Victoria whenever possible. They took time for coffee whenever possible, or shopping if they had a free afternoon, and since free time, let alone lunch, wasn’t always possible during the day, they started a once a month girl’s night out. Most often it was nothing more than dinner and a chick flick, but occasionally, they got a bit more adventurous and would have drinks at a club with live music, or take in a concert. The husbands didn’t seem to mind since it let them off the hook for bands they considered bubblegum music or in other genres not exactly to their taste. Like recently when One Republic and Christina Perry had played for one night at the Blue Hills Bank Pavilion downtown, Lanie had pounced on tickets.

  A classic rock junky, Ethan had been relieved she had someone else to go with, saying simply, “You three have fun. Call me when Metallica or AC/DC come to town.”

  It didn’t escape anyone’s notice how amazing it was that three women, from three different generations got along so well, liking many of the same things; art, theater, and the same kind of music.

  On a more personal level, Lanie’s stress had greatly diminished, which she attributed to several factors, a wonderful marriage to a passionate man, shorter work hours, which meant more time with said passionate man, a solid group of friends and a new sense of freedom from becoming her own boss. There was also another contributing factor and she would be remiss if she left it off her list. Last, but certainly not least, was the switch to the Ethan Fischer method of stress management. That’s how Lanie referred to it. And, it worked so well, she often suggested that he and Steven should team up and write a how-to book for other stressed out couples.

  They had embraced their new dynamic, both finding it fulfilling and extremely pleasurable. Mostly limited to the bedroom, they found that they thoroughly enjoyed role-play and that Ethan was extremely good at it due to his exceptionally creativity.

  A door closing down the hall, caught Lanie’s attention and she glanced at the clock. Seeing it was past quitting time, she put aside the brief she was working on, bookmarked her law reference, and stacked everything neatly to the side of her desk. In the last few weeks, with an increased workload, she’d often been getting home past seven. This week it had been almost eight o’clock, three nights in a row. When it was clearly becoming a pattern, Ethan had sat her down and cautioned her about falling into old habits, like burning the candle at both ends. He suggested adding staff. When she hemmed and hawed about it, he recommended meeting with her accountant to look at the financial feasibility of hiring more help. She agreed to that right away. With Ethan’s promise to deal with her if she didn’t slow down, she also agreed to work on her schedule. That meant not being late when her husband had plans for a Friday night.

  Eyeing the clock once again, she grabbed her purse from her desk drawer. “I’m heading out, Beth,” she called through her open office door as she switched off the light. As she walked down the hall toward the rear exit, she bumped into her partner who was doing the same.

  “I’m leaving, too.” Beth announced, slinging her purse over her shoulder, the huge leather bag dwarfing her small frame. “So what are you and Ethan doing over the long Labor Day weekend?”

  “We’re going out of town, but Ethan won’t tell me where. He says it’s a surprise.”

  “How romantic.”

  “What about you and Steven?”

  “Oh, we’ve got big plans. Big and little that is.” Her eyes gleamed with excitement as she grinned.

  As Lanie considered her friend, she imagined she’d make a very cute little girl. At barely over five feet tall and weighing one hundred pounds soaking wet, she could easily see her play the part of a teenager, maybe even younger in braids and age appropriate clothes. Steven was a few years older than Beth and she had told them at dinner last week that people were constantly referring to him as her father anyway.

  “Have a good weekend, honey.” Beth said, standing on tiptoe to give her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll want all details on this mystery vacation on Tuesday.”

  “Okay. You two have fun, but try not to be too naughty. We’ve got depositions on Tuesday morning and you’ll need to be able to sit down.”

  “Not be naughty? Lanie Fischer, what would be the fun in that?” They smiled mischievously at each other as they headed out to the parking lot and went their separate ways.

  At home, when she pulled her car into the garage, Ethan’s side stood empty. Well, well, Professor Fischer,” she smirked aloud. “Looks like I’m not the only one burning the candle at both ends.” Her phone alarmed with a text message.

  Running late, baby. Meet me at my office and we’ll leave from here. Bring my suitcase, will you? It’s all packed. Sorry. Love you.

  She quickly texted him back.

  Sure thing, honey. Be there in about thirty m
inutes. Luv u back.

  It actually took her over an hour to get to the college during rush hour. While stuck in gridlock on The Pike as she headed back to town, she sent him a message that she was going to be longer than anticipated. He responded immediately and she could almost hear his anger through the words on the screen.

  Are you texting and driving?

  Uh-oh. Technically, she was driving, but did it really qualify as such when stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic where her average speed for the last few miles was barely two miles per hour? Currently, she was stopped so she answered truthfully.

  No, I’m texting while at a dead stop on the freeway.

  Ethan’s response came about a minute later.

  Smart ass comments are unnecessary. We’ll deal with that when you arrive. Be careful, I’d rather you be here late and safe than not at all.

  ‘Dealing’ with her in any context usually meant her belly was across his lap and her butt was up in the air having a close and personal time with his palm. Since ceding control to him months ago, she’d experienced many erotic and naughty playtime spankings, but in all that time, had only earned two real spankings outside the context of role-play and stress management. Both were well-deserved for putting off some task he’d asked of her, something mundane, but important. By failing to do so, she’d wound up in a mess. The first punishment had been a spanking to beat all other spankings—and one so richly deserved that she was unlikely to ever forget it.

  One rainy evening around twilight, Lanie had once again been battling traffic on her nemesis, the Massachusetts Turnpike. She would never forget the red lights blinking on in rapid succession as the cars up ahead slammed on their brakes. Traffic had suddenly come to a halt. She reacted automatically, but when she pressed her brake pedal, nothing happened and she went into a skid. The truck directly in front of her rapidly drew nearer and her arms braced against the steering wheel, preparing for impact. Her heart raced as fear surged through her. Metal crunched, a loud bang sounded, and a split second later, everything went white as she jerked forward, then rebounded against her seat. Stunned, she felt the heat from the air bag explode as a cloud of white dust settled around her. Slowly, she came out of her daze and began to take a head to toe inventory. When everything appeared to be in working order, she fumbled around her phone to call Ethan.

  Twenty minutes later, wrapped in a blanket one of the EMT’s had given her, she sat on the steps of their rig waiting. She heard her name over the sound of the stop and go traffic surrounding the accident scene. Standing on the steps, she searched until she found Ethan. As she watched, he skidded to a halt near her crumpled vehicle. His face tightened as he stared at the damage. After a moment, a shaky hand rose to his forehead. His fingers speared roughly through his hair, a sure sign of his agitation.

  “Ethan,” she called to him.

  He spun around, searching. “Lanie?”

  She waved. “Over here, Ethan.”

  His gaze shifted to her and she could have sworn she heard his sigh of relief from over fifty yards away. They moved as one, meeting halfway and wrapping each other up tight. In a flurry of searching hands and lips, Ethan examined her.

  “I’m fine, honey. Only a little burn from the airbag,” she rubbed at the place on her right forearm. His thumb followed her fingers and he lifted her arm to his lips, kissing the reddened skin.

  “Are you sure you’re okay, baby? Did the paramedics check you out?”

  “I’m good.” She shivered. A light rain was falling, and as night set in, she’d become damp and chilled. She trembled, whether from cold or the aftereffects of the accident, she wasn’t sure. Now that he had arrived and after she’d witnessed his emotional reaction to the sight of her wrecked car, it was hitting her full force.

  He pulled her into his arms, buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply. “Thank Christ, you’re all right.”

  Then Ethan took charge, checking with the EMT who had examined her and the officer on scene. Getting the okay, he tucked her into his car, started it and switched on the seat warmers and the heater. Flashing yellow lights signaled the arrival of a tow truck and Ethan went to meet it.

  A few minutes later, Lanie watched as a winch pulled her precious midnight blue 370Z coupe onto a flatbed tow truck. The entire front end was twisted horribly. Once it was secured, the driver handed the paperwork to her husband, climbed into his rig and took her baby away.

  The driver’s door opened and a very wet irritated man climbed in and slammed the door. Still, he turned to her and wrapped his hand around her neck, pulling her mouth against his. It started out as a soft brush of his lips, but quickly became a deep, fully involved life-affirming kiss. When he lifted his mouth, he rested his forehead against hers.

  “Are you sure you’re okay, baby? No injuries?”

  “Nothing a little Neosporin and a Band-Aid won’t cure.”

  He nodded, kissed her gently once more and sat back.

  “How bad is my Z, do you think?” Lanie asked, although she dreaded the answer. “Will she live or be totaled?”

  “Depends on if the frame is bent. You’ve got a busted radiator, its leaking transmission fluid, and the whole front end: fender, hood, and both front quarter panels are all badly damaged. So yeah, I’m betting it’ll be totaled.” Since his car more closely resembled a sauna than a sedan, he shut off the heat before pulling into the still slow moving traffic.

  “I loved that car. This sucks.”

  “The tow truck driver said the tires were practically bald. The police officer said there was barely any tread at all and caused you to hydroplane.” His voice was flat and controlled as he pulled a yellow paper out of his pocket. “Here’s your ticket for faulty equipment. Didn’t you tell me you were going to get new tires several weeks ago along with your regular service?”

  “Yes, Ethan, but I got so busy, I forgot.”

  “You forgot,” he repeated. His tone was flat with no inflection, then he lapsed into silence.

  One thing about her husband, he was as cool as a cucumber. When angry he rarely raised his voice. He usually got very quiet, like now. Sometimes she wished he would yell and curse, letting it all out, as he was always trying to get her to do. The difference was, he used some sort of physical activity to deal with his emotions and stress, most often running or going to the gym to work the heavy bag. Lanie on the other hand internalized everything and when she did, more often than not, it was Ethan, who had to help her let it out. Palm to ass therapy, he called it. His palm was the least of her concerns at the moment.

  They drove along in silence for the thirty minutes it took to get home. When he pulled into the garage and the door came down, Lanie didn’t wait for him, but slipped out on her own. As she was rounding the hood of his car, moving toward the door that led to the kitchen, Ethan met her head on.

  “So, you loved your little blue sports car, hmm?”

  “Um…” If in court, she would have objected that he was leading the witness. Down the path to perdition, most likely. Unwilling to condemn herself further, she waited to see if he would give more of a hint of where he was going with his question.

  Her patience soon paid off.

  “Know what I love? You, Lanie. I don’t give a damn about your car, although the sight of it scared the hell out of me. Thank God for the airbags and that you were wearing a seatbelt. But this could have been avoided if you’d done what you promised me you would. Preventative maintenance is called that for a reason, Lanie.”

  “Ethan, I’m—”

  “Save it,” he interrupted coolly. “I don’t want to hear how sorry you are. ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t help if your head smashes through the windshield or if you’re comatose in a hospital bed, breathing through a tube. And it damn sure doesn’t help if you’re dead in the morgue. Does it?”

  “No, but Ethan—”

  “Be quiet. I’m not done. I don’t want to hear excuses, because there are none in this instance.” He lowered his face until ther
e was only a fraction of an inch separating their noses. All she could see was his beautiful brown eyes as they snapped with anger. “From now on, I will schedule your routine maintenance appointments. I will tell you where and when, and you will be there, without fail. Do you understand me, Lanie?”

  “Yes, sir.” She didn’t dare answer any other way. She wanted to apologize, pour out her regret, but she realized that would make her feel better, assuage her guilt, but not necessarily do anything for Ethan.

  “Bend over the hood, palms flat, feet shoulder width apart.”

  She froze. The image his words brought to mind made her body tingle. Her nipples hardened, standing out in bold relief against her silk blouse and it wasn’t from the chill or the dampness in the air. The only dampness she was aware of at the moment was gathering between her thighs, triggered by his uncompromising words of command.

  “Now, Lanie.” His voice was pitched low with authority and laced with impatience. It was clear he would tolerate no stalling. Believing obedience behooved her already condemned behind, Lanie wisely complied, doing so quickly.

  Once she’d done as he instructed, his hands found the bottom of her skirt. Without preliminaries or further comment, he tugged it upward until it settled in a wad of material around her waist. Her panties came down next, with one efficient tug. This left her bottom bare to the coolness of the garage with only the garters holding up her stockings as protection. With a flick of his thumb, those were gone too.

  “Stay still,” he ordered firmly in her ear. “If you dare move I will double what I have in mind. I’m that angry, Lanie.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  She heard his footsteps behind her. His rubber soled Gucci loafers appearing in her periphery as he paced back and forth. They made an occasional scuffing noise as he paused, pivoted on his heel, then strode back in the opposite direction. This went on and on. Minutes passed, at least ten, probably more, but she had no way of telling. Rarely had she seen him so agitated. She began to grasp the depth of the fear her carelessness had caused. She stood unmoving as she waited, feeling the full brunt of her guilty conscience before the first inevitable swat had landed.