As I approached the door, the voices and nervous chatter became clearer. My ex-wife, Barbara, who I'd divorced eight years ago, was giving her two cents on every issue. I heard the naive laughter of my youngest daughter, nineteen year old Tracy, and the protests of her sister, Kelly, the bride. Twenty-one years young and headstrong, when she had called to tell me she was getting married, my silence deceived the shock and disappointment, but I recovered enough to wish her the best of luck and a long happy life. The other voices I couldn't make out and figured them to be bridesmaids, giddy in their happiness for another, perhaps looking forward to their day.
Straightening my bowtie in a hallway mirror, I caught myself frowning at the discomfort of wearing this restricting tuxedo on my six foot frame. I looked at both sides of my short, dark hair and thankfully saw that none had gone grey since this forty-one year old man left the hotel. My face was hardened with years of travel and gigging in smoky bars and boozy nightclubs. And as I studied the eyes of this man, I reflected on the life that got me here. I met Barbara when we were both too young to know any better, and she convinced this guitar player that we could have the world.
She was a college graduate with a steady job and I was hopping around the country with forever adolescents. The daughters came early in the marriage, which kept us together about five years after we both knew it was over. She met a man she could have a stable life with, whom she said would be a better role model for the girls. The divorce was as amicable as could be expected and I stayed around for a few years until a got a big break as a studio musician in New York City. Ever since, I tried the best I could to keep in touch over the phone, through pictures, and the occasional tour with a stop in the area. And as I looked into the glass, I saw regret reflecting out.
"Dad, what are you doing?"
I came back to the present with the voice of my daughter, Tracy. She was beautiful even in the ridiculous emerald green bridesmaid dress. Her tan skin and long dark hair contrasted with the metallic color of the dress. She smiled in her innocent beauty and looked upon me with bewilderment. "Just thinking back I guess," I said. "Times like this make you think about maybe the wrong choices you make. How they affect other people."
She comforted me with a firm hug and stroked my shoulders and the back of my arms. "You did what you had to do," she said. "I don't hold your life against you Dad. I would have done the same thing. I'd rather experience life than to get through it like Mom."
Her gentle massages eased my tension, and as I relaxed I noticed how much I enjoyed having her breasts press against my torso. Standing about five inches taller than Tracy, I moved my hands from the small of her back up to her bare shoulder blades and pressed her tightly to me. She returned the deep hug and smiled innocently. Bending my head, I went to give her a light kiss on the forehead, but she extended up on her toes and briefly met my lips. "Ooo," she giggled, "better not let Mom see that. She might get jealous. Or Kelly, for that matter."
I smiled at her playfullness and as she walked down the hall couldn't believe her reaction to the way I lightly spanked her ass. "Maybe later, you could try when I'm not wearing this puffy dress."
Her dress came down slightly below her knees and those shapely, muscular calves demanded my eyes as they moved this beautiful, young woman away. I imagined the nice, tight ass she had to have. I also wondered what that ass would feel like in my hands as she rode up and down on my dick, screaming out, "Fuck me, Daddy. Fuck your horney little girl. Stick that big cock in your daughter's hot pussy." Caught staring and dreaming, I looked up at my daughter's turned head. She just smiled and shook it as she turned the corner of the hallway.
Back to reality, I was about to knock on the door where the bride was getting ready when my ex opened it up and slithered out. "Jack," she said in an admonishing tone, "we have to talk."
I moved away from the door to give her room.
"Kelly, wants Mike to walk her down the aisle. Now, you really don't have any reason to be upset."
"I don't care," I responded to her declaration. I did feel hurt, but my guilt of living away said this was another consequence of my life's decisions. "I was hoping I could talk to her before the ceremony," I said looking down at my watch. There was an hour to go. "I want to straighten some things out. Wish her luck. That sort of thing."
"That's not a good idea," Barbara said. "She's conflicted with who should walk her down the aisle. She's too emotional right now and nervous. I told her she made the right decision and that you'd understand."
I didn't want to cause any problems or grief, and I could see I wouldn't get past the gatekeeper, so I shook my head and turned down the hall.
I walked inside the room where the priest was getting ready and talked with him for a few minutes before he left to make sure the altar servers knew what they had to do. He said I could stick it out here if I wanted to, so I took him up on his offer and sat down on his leather couch facing the window and watched people wearing suits and dresses stream into the church.
The door opened and closed behind me. Thinking I was talking to the priest, I stood up and said, "Do they have everything straight?"
"Straight?" Tracy asked.
"Oh. I thought you were the priest."
She laughed. "That'll be the day."
Tracy took my place on the couch as I strolled over to the window with my earlier thoughts of incest. She spoke again, "The only Biblical story I know is Lott and his family."
