I poured a glass of scotch for each of us. It was a fine, aged single malt, but that didn't stop Brooke from downing her glass instantly.
"Pour me another."
"Brooke, what happened?" I asked, as I filled her glass.
"What happened is I'm done. Why do you look sad? You should be ecstatic."
"I'm worried about you. I can tell you've been crying."
"Yeah, I was crying quite a bit earlier. But now I'm just more pissed off than anything else."
"Why? What happened? What did he do?"
"Over dinner, he told me that he's met someone else."
"Oh. But I thought that was okay. I mean, I thought that was part of your...your agreement...that he could see other people sometimes."
"Yes, it was. He's slept with a couple of women since he came back onto the scene. Since he stormed back into my life, uninvited. I was okay with it, as long as he used protection. Which he promised he did. And I believe him."
"So what's different about this one?"
"Several things. For one, he's more serious about this woman. It's not just a one night hookup or a brief fling. He says that he's gone out with her multiple times. In other words, he's fucked her multiple times."
"Meaning he wants to stop seeing you, to stop staying here?"
"No, not at all. He said that his new girlfriend knows all about me, all about you and about the whole fucked up relationship between the three of us, and that she's fine with it. She must be as twisted as he is. He said he'd still be around as much as ever."
I thought it was interesting that Brooke was now describing our threesome with Luke as "fucked up," even though it's one she found so satisfying in so many ways, and as recently as that morning. Knowing her as I did, however, she would probably say that being "fucked up" and being satisfying (sexually satisfying, in particular) are not mutually exclusive. And she would have a legitimate point.
Rather than engage her in this discussion, I simply asked, "Then what's the problem?"
Brooke replied angrily, "The problem is that he said he expects me to submit to her. Like some pathetic cuck."
"Gee, thanks a lot."
"I'm sorry, but I'm not in the mood to be sensitive to your feelings at the moment."
I was silent, trying to process everything she was telling me.
"Look, Walter, it's different in so many ways. You submit to Luke because you love me. You sacrifice for me, and I appreciate it. You know that I do. But I don't love Luke. I may be in love with his cock, but I'm not in love with him. And I may be submissive to him, but I'm not generally submissive like you are. Certainly not to another woman!"
"But you told me you had lesbian relationships when you were in college."
"I did, but I was never the submissive one. I like women going down on me, but I've never liked eating pussy. The one time I tried it, with Michelle, it kind of grossed me out, to be honest. But, beyond that, Luke said he wanted this bitch to be around a lot -- at his house, at our house. He actually said he expected me to be submissive to her in OUR house, if you can fucking believe it."
"With Luke, I can believe almost anything."
"Well, I told him to go fuck himself."
"What did he say?"
"The arrogant bastard smiled at me -- that cocky, know-it-all smile, I so wanted to slap it off his face -- and said that eventually I'd come to my senses and agree to anything and everything he wants. He said that I might as well face it that I'm helplessly addicted to his cock, and that sooner or later -- probably sooner, he said -- the withdrawal pains will be so bad that I'll be begging him to come back, under any conditions. He's so insufferably conceited, it makes me want to puke. It reminded me of why I divorced him. Hey, puke rhymes with Luke. Ha ha," she laughed bitterly. "Pour me another glass."
After she downed her third glass, she continued, "When I told him to get fucked, the bastard said that he'd tell his new girlfriend to be patient, that her quote unquote 'future cuckquean servant girl' just needs a little time to come around. That's how talks about me to her! Apparently, he has the whole thing worked out in his depraved brain. Well, fuck him! And fuck her!"
I contemplated asking her, "But what about 'the game'? Wouldn't the emergence of this new player -- and you submitting to her -- be just another exciting, unpredictable twist in the game that you cherish so much?" However, I didn't think asking that question would be wise in her current state of mind. I really couldn't tell what was bothering Brooke the most: jealousy of this other woman, who clearly interested Luke sexually, or Luke's demand (presumably one made with the knowledge, if not outright complicity of his new lover as well) that Brooke submit to her.
"Pour me another glass and let's toast to Luke's good riddance."
As we clinked our glasses together, I wanted to allow myself to be happy. I really did. Could there actually be a possibility of going back to the time before Luke, where just the two of us could be happy together? I tended to think of our lives as B.L. and A.L., meaning before Luke and after Luke. At the same time, I had to be careful not to idealize the time B. L., because that period also included the many nights that Brooke would go out with Michelle in search of men who could sexually satisfy her. Restless, angst-filled nights -- for me, always, but also often for Brooke, who found most of these one night stands or short lived trysts deeply unsatisfying.
As painful as those nights were, however, at least I wasn't completely enslaved in my own home back then. But I vividly recall, because of the difficulties in finding guys who could satisfy her (even remotely approaching the way Luke could), how discontented and moody Brooke often was B. L., especially when she came home following unsuccessful or unsatisfying nights out on the prowl. And that was before Luke reentered her life and reminded her of his sexual prowess, of how he (and he alone, seemingly) could make her feel. The way he filled her up, took control of her body -- and, to some extent, of her mind. What would things be like now with him gone, but with the memories of how he makes her feel still fresh in her memory (and in her loins)?
I also recalled vividly how despondent Brooke became in the early A.L. months after she and Luke bickered and she asked him to stay away for a while. The last, and worst, example was when he harshly spanked her following a political argument. That really pissed her off, and he was banished for two weeks that time. Brooke was fine the first week, but by the end of the second week, she was indeed begging him to come back. And he made her grovel. There were occasional flashes of rebellion in her after that time, but that's all they were -- flashes. Overall, she became appreciably more submissive to him after that, wanting to avoid any future more protracted periods of separation. Luke's analogy of a junkie experiencing withdrawal pains was not off the mark; I had in fact used it earlier myself in describing to you the hold Luke has over her.
These were the thoughts that occupied my mind as I sat drinking scotch with Brooke that evening in December, trying to understand what this new development meant for our future.
"What about Luke's stuff?"
"As much as I'd like to pack it all up now and put it out on the curb, I told him we'd pack it up for him. He said he'd send Kevin over to pick it up on Saturday. Then he told me it's just a waste of time, and that you shouldn't bother moving your clothes back upstairs, that you'll just have to move them again when he's back. Then he said I should clear space in MY closet for his new slut's clothes. The fucking son of a bitch! Pour me another one," she added, angrily sliding her tumbler across the table at me.
"Brooke, are you sure? You're going to regret it in the morning."
"Just pour it," she said, sharply, and so I did. I also got her a glass of water and urged her to drink it.
The next morning, she did indeed have a raging hangover, but far be it from me to say 'I told you so.' Instead, I got her ginger ale and Advil, massaged her temples and then her feet. I then began packing up Luke's clothes and shoes into the three suitcases he had used to bring them over to our house seven months earlier, which had been gathering dust in the garage.
Despite my anxiety about the permanence of his absence, I'd be lying if I didn't admit to be being borderline giddy while removing his things from my dresser and closet. I tried not to show how I felt to Brooke, however, as her emotions were still very raw and it was unclear to me how she would feel about her decision to refuse Luke's demands and tell him to leave as time went on. She seemed resolute last night, but how would feel later today? Tomorrow? And in the days and weeks ahead?
To her credit (and, if I'm being honest, somewhat to my surprise), her resolve was firm. Until it wasn't. At which point it collapsed spectacularly, with major consequences. For Brooke. And for me.
The collapse didn't happen for nearly three months, however, and I didn't see Luke during that period (other than catching a glimpse of him once in town, getting out of his truck to walk into a restaurant). Although I was relieved that he was no longer around, it was jarring to have someone who had been such a dominant, and dominating, force in my life suddenly disappear, almost as if he had been some malevolent phantom.
