Something devious

“I want you to be my wife,” Adam says to Lana.

The living room stops.

Mia’s mouth opens. Lana’s does too, a beat later, and the shock on Lana’s face is real but smaller, like some part of her has been waiting for a sentence in this shape since the first night she begged for his cock.

“What the fuck, Adam?” Mia says.

“Listen.”

“No. You don’t get to say that in my living room the night before I fly out. This cunt is not—”

“Listen,” he says again, and the cut is clean. “Not instead of you. Not a marriage. A place. When I fuck the new girl, Lana sits where you sit. She wears the glasses. She records. You watch it from her eyes.”

Mia goes still.

Lana blinks. “Glasses?”

Adam taps the case on the shelf, the ones he bought and barely used. “Meta. First person. She puts them on. She watches. You get the view she gets. Not a phone in the corner. Not me telling you after. Her eyes. My cock going in. You see what she sees.”

Mia’s protest dies in her mouth. Something else moves in behind it. The smile is small and not kind.

“You want her in my seat,” she says.

“I want you to not miss it,” Adam says. “You told me not to cancel. I’m not cancelling. I’m giving you the night from the front row even if the front row is on her face.”

Lana looks between them, still a step behind.

“I don’t—”

Mia turns to her. The smile stays.

“You get my chair,” she says. “Tomorrow. The girl you found. You bring her. You stay. You put those glasses on and you watch my husband fuck her the way I watch. Close enough to see her cunt stretch. Close enough to hear the wet sound. Close enough that when he buries it, the camera is where my eyes would be.”

Lana’s throat moves.

Mia steps closer. Her voice drops, filthy, pleased.

“Front row, Lana. Not a report. Not a text after. You sit there while he spreads her. You watch that thick cock force her open. You hear her try to take it. You keep the glasses on when he fucks her throat, when he bends her, when he fills her. I will be on a plane or in a hotel and I will see it through your face. Every inch. Every leak. You wanted his cock badly enough to bring me girls. Tomorrow you get the seat I was going to take, and I get your eyes.”

Lana looks at Adam. He does not soften it.

“You wear them the whole time,” he says. “You don’t take them off to be shy. You don’t angle away from the part Mia would have stared at. You are the wife in the room for the recording. She is the wife who watches it.”

Mia’s hand finds Lana’s wrist. Not gentle.

“You’ll see his cock disappear into a new cunt and you’ll know I’m seeing it too. You’ll hear me later, telling you what I liked. You’ll get the fifteenth if we like her, same as before. This doesn’t replace the leash. It puts you in my chair so I don’t lose the show.”

Lana is flushed. The confusion is still there. Under it, the hunger.

“Tomorrow the girl gets fucked,” Mia says. “You get the view. I get the view through you. If you do it right, you still earn the fifteenth. If you point the glasses at the ceiling, you earn nothing.”

Lana nods. Once. Then again, surer.

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

Adam looks at both of them.

“Agreed,” Mia says.

“Agreed,” Lana says.

The room has barely settled when Adam moves.

He steps in, arms under Lana, and picks her up.

She makes a startled sound. Her hands catch his shoulders. Mia’s mouth opens.

“Adam—”

He ignores both of them.

Lana is off the floor, held against his chest, jeans and sweater and the shock still on her face. He carries her down the hall toward the bedroom like the plan was never only the glasses.

Mia follows.

Her mouth stays open. She does not stop him. She knows that look. He is not done. Whatever the glasses were, this is the other part, and she wants to see what he does with the woman he just called his wife for a night.

The bedroom door is ahead.

Lana looks back at Mia once, wide-eyed, and Adam does not put her down.