As all calls go

The call settles into something almost domestic.

Mia in a hotel room. Adam on the couch. Lana at the table with the laptop angled so both of them fit. No Remy in the frame.

“Is she being a good girl?” Mia asks Adam.

“Yes,” he says.

“And the reward?”

“She came twice in two days,” Adam says. “Once the night of Kyler. Once last night, over the dryer. She earned both.”

Mia’s smile is real. “Good. That’s the rule working. I like that you’re keeping it. I like that she’s earning it instead of taking it.”

Lana feels the praise land and does not look at the camera too hard. Twice. He does not know about the third, the one in the dark, his cock between her thighs while he slept. She keeps her hands in her lap.

They ask about the project. Mia tells them. Meetings. A bad conference room. A client who wants the same deck rewritten with different verbs. The hotel gym. The time difference. It is boring in the way work is boring, and she does not dress it up. Adam asks a practical question. Lana asks if the food is awful. Mia says the food is fine and the deck is not.

Then Adam asks, “How’s Remy?”

Mia smiles. A smaller, meaner one.

“I’ll tell you later,” she says. “Not on this call. She’s alive. She’s behaving. That’s all you get tonight.”

Lana glances at Adam. He lets it go.

Mia looks at Lana through the screen. “Morning duty?”

“I’m doing it,” Lana replies.

Adam nods. “She’s good at it. This morning she took her time. I woke up to it. She swallowed. Cleaned me. Then she went to shower.”

He does not say hubby. Lana is glad. She is also not glad.

Mia’s smile comes back, warmer. “Good. That’s the answer I wanted.”

They talk a little longer. Nothing urgent. Mia tells them to send the next video the same night it happens, not the morning after. Adam says they will. Lana says the glasses are charged. The call thins the way calls thin when everyone is fine.

Mia looks at Lana before she hangs up.

“Letting you stay as the fake wife wasn’t a bad idea,” she says. “You’re doing the role well. Keep doing it.”

“I will,” Lana says.

The screen goes dark.

The apartment is quiet. Adam stretches, already half somewhere else, dishes or bed or something else. Lana sits with the closed laptop and the thing she has not said.

Last night. His hand on her waist. His cock between her thighs. The sleep-thrusts. Her hand on her mouth. Him cumming without waking. The smile she fell back asleep with.

He does not know. She could tell him. She could leave it in the dark with the dried mess she already washed off.

She watches him stand up, and she still has not decided.