A Conversation at Peggy's Bar

So I waited until we were alone and asked her point blank, 'why did you marry him?'."

I took a sip of my fourth Woodford Reserve that had magically appeared in front of me just to realize that my tongue was starting to get numb. If I were going to continue telling the story coherently, I would need to switch to water so I asked Peg for some. She smiled and called me a lightweight but set down a glass of ice water, along with a bowl of pretzels that I watched her pour fresh from the bag. After that, she surprised me further by setting down a bottle of aspirin and a bottle of B-complex vitamins. I accepted both. 'An ounce of prevention' and all that.

Once I'd downed the vitamins and aspirin, I continued. "Anyway after asking why she married him, Trista smiled and shook her head as if I had asked the dumbest question in the world. She said, and I quote 'I know what you are, Daddy. I've always known, and when you figure out what that is, I will answer'. I was dumbfounded, not having a clue as to how that could be an answer to my question."

I was lost in my memories for a moment prompting Peg to ask, "Did you figure it out?"

"Yes, but not for several months. I had to observe her and Peter interact some more before I did. I noticed that while she did things for me right away, she was slow to respond to Peter, sometimes even looking to me before she did. Once I saw that happen a few times, I realized that I didn't phrase my requests the same way he did. I had always used phrases like 'do me a favor and' or 'grab me one of those while you're at it'; while Peter would ask her things like 'would you please get me' or 'could you make us something to eat'. I realized that she was a true submissive and that she had been responding to me telling her what to do, but that didn't answer the question of why she had married Peter.

"Of course the next time I was alone with Trista, I told her to tell me why she had married Peter. She looked at me for a moment gauging whether or not I had discovered the truth and then tested me by saying 'no', with a defiant look on her face.

"Peg, I can't tell you how the expression on her face affected me. It was like flipping a switch. She was no longer my daughter-in-law, she was suddenly my property. I swear to you that when I took her by the shoulders and said that I hadn't given her the option of saying no, she came. She literally had an orgasm."

Peg smiled and her eyes sparked. "Did you ask her how she had known you were a Dom?"

I smiled. "Later, but first I told her to explain why she had married Peter, knowing that she already belonged to me. When she finished her second orgasm, she said that Peter had told her many times that she was going to marry him; and since I hadn't forbidden it and because it seemed to be the only way she would be able to stay near me, she did. She explained that his statement about them getting married was the only confident thing that he's ever said to her."

"So, how did she explain her knowledge that you were a Dom?"

"Her Dom" I corrected. "As she explained it, she had been riding her bike when our moving van pulled up and she stopped to watch. She said that when she first saw me, she felt an 'awakening', that her fledgling hormones and emerging attraction to the opposite sex had found a home. That she just knew that I was a real man. But apparently, it was my voice that tipped the scale for her. When she heard me commanding all of the workers to put each stick of furniture in its proper place, she had her first orgasm. When her friends later talked to her about masturbation, she just knew that the only way she would ever achieve another one was if she could hear me make a command. I got her to admit that when she visited our house she secretly recorded my voice to masturbate with and that I'm the only one to ever make her cum."

"So Gabe, you own a twenty-one-year-old submissive that happens to be married to your son. Have you slept with her yet?"

"No. I have not had sex with that woman," I said in an overly defensive tone. I figured if it was good enough for Bill ...

Peg lifted an eyebrow and started to pick up her pen, so I quickly added "We've not had intercourse but I've made her cum in every other imaginable way. I just can't bring myself to the point of cuckolding my own son, no matter how many times Trista begs me to."

"Okay, at least you've found the line that you won't cross. I assume it's because of what caused the crash. However, you're not acting as if you're concerned with Peter's feelings. If you were you would have simply commanded Trista to be the best wife Peter could possibly have and for her to never think of you sexually again. You admitted that you were no longer close and that the beautiful woman who is less than half your age and happens to be his wife is in love with you. You've stated that you're in love with her as well. You came in here needing someone to say that the situation is okay, but it's not, Gabe. If it were okay, you wouldn't be questioning it! You're smart enough to realize that this situation can't end without someone getting hurt! Either you, Trista, Peter, a pair of you, or all three of you are going to get hurt and there is nothing you can do to stop it! The question is whether or not there is any way to play this that allows Peter to escape into a life where he can be relatively happy?"

With forty-five minutes and a few glasses of really good bourbon, Peg had brought me to the point where I was forced to look in the mirror metaphorically, so I reflexively glanced past her to the mirror behind the bar. Fortunately, I couldn't see myself because she was standing in the way. I was pretty sure I wouldn't have liked what I saw. Peg allowed me to stare at nothing for a moment or two and then asked me if we were going to tell him.

That was the moment my phone 'knocked' indicating that I had a text. I had turned my ringer off when I decided I needed time to think. I pulled out my phone and unlocked it so that I could read the text. It was from Trista. 'Daddy, where are you?' I chose not to respond.

Peg glanced down and I could tell that she had read the text upside-down when I set my phone on the bar. I sighed. "Two months ago I asked Trista if she still loved Peter and she had said that she would always love him in a way, but that she never had loved him in the way that I meant. So I told her that she should have found a way to be honest with me without marrying him. She took what I had said to mean that she should divorce him. That's why I needed to think ... I found out a few hours ago that she's having him served today."

Peg bit her lower lip in contemplation and set down both the current glass she was polishing and the rag. "Will you keep the relationship going even though Peter is about to find out?"

"I don't really know how not to. I'm in love with her ... As fucked-up as the situation is we make each other happy, but I might not depending on how Peter reacts."

My phone knocked again and we both glanced down. 'Daddy, please call me!'

I replied to the text by saying out loud, "Just a minute Baby Girl, Daddy needs to pee". With that, I slid off the stool and almost went to the floor.

Peg, for her part just said "Keys", so I laid them on the bar while walking towards the back in search of the restroom. As I found the door I glanced back to see Peg typing something into my phone. Normally I would have been outraged, but I was in too much need to worry about it. Once my bladder was comfortable again I headed back to my stool.

I found it strange that the two guys from the booth were standing near my seat, and even more so that Peg's eyes were brimming with unshed tears, her face and body language screaming sympathy. "Gabe, sit down, please. Mark, here is going to drive you to Trista's. You just need to tell him where to take you and forget your tab, it's all on the house."

I knew I was in no condition to drive so I climbed back into place. I watched as the two guys moved in close enough to invade my personal space so I looked to Peg for an explanation. "What's going on?"

Peg, slid my phone back to where I could read it. She had typed 'Just tell me what's wrong', in response to Trista's plea for me to call her.

Trista's response had me retching. I felt the two guys; I guess Mark was one of them twisting my body just as I heaved. The last thing my mind heard before I blacked out was the sound of my vomit splashing into a bucket, but what I saw will never leave my mind. The image of Trista's text ...'It's Peter, he shot himself'.