Straight Expectations
Agatha walked up the small, stone path to the front porch. The garden and outside of the house were everything she expected – well maintained, the design practical yet pretty at the same time with its white picket fence.
This was going to be a piece of cake.
Knocking on the solid wood door, Agatha’s expectations were met again as a woman with immaculate hair, nails, and clothing answered, showing her in.
A crease appeared between Agatha’s eyes at the sight of the hallway and living room, however. Here, the color palette became a mix of rich reds and emerald green. Everything was ornate, like a palace.
That info helped form her first question.
The plan had been to start out with the basics, asking everyone’s name and age, plus a little backstory on where they were from, and how they ended up here. It was simple and made the most sense, but it could wait.
Taking a seat on a large, black leather couch filled with cushions in the same rich colors as the walls, Agatha was brought coffee in a fine bone china cup, rimmed in gold. The aroma of the coffee was divine, telling her it was good quality. Not at all what she was used to being served in the college food hall.
There was no milk set out, but a single sugar cube sat on the saucer beside the cup. Agatha blinked at it before looking up at the lady who had brought it, who was now sitting in a throne-like chair across from her.
“I did my research,” she said, nodding to the cup with a smug grin on her face.
Agatha swallowed, pushing her fresh set of questions about who the lady might have contacted about her drink preference back down her throat and away.
“So,” she said instead, hating how nervous she sounded. “What should I call you?”
“I’m Jess,” said the lady, “But you can call me mistress.”
Agatha’s eyes widened, and Jess laughed – a rich laugh, almost as deep as the décor. “I’m teasing,” she said, rearranging herself in the chair more comfortably, propping one leg on top of the other. “Relax!”
Caught off guard as she was, Agatha allowed herself a tight smile. The plan she had thought was so straightforward it couldn’t possibly fail seemed to have left her the second she crossed the threshold, and now she was struggling not to be overwhelmed.
“So,” she began again. “Whose house is this?”
The smile dropped from Jess’ face. “What makes you think it’s not mine?” she asked in return.
“Oh, well, I…” Agatha stammered as she hoped Jess would laugh again and tell her to lighten up.
She didn’t.
Yep. Definitely out of my depth! Agatha thought to herself in quiet despair. The thing of it was that everyone in town knew about this house. It was a big house and a small town, after all. Rumors were rife, so it was hard to pin down actual facts, but what all the gossips seemed to agree on was that it was some kind of sex commune.
A group of women from the house were often seen around town together, not bothering anyone else, but not bothering to hide the obvious bonds of attraction between them, either, often engaging in public displays of affection.
Of course people were intrigued. Especially the ones pretending to be outraged instead, Agatha had often thought. But what she or any of those other people thought didn’t matter. It was the facts she wanted - no, needed - to pin down: what really went on, and why, and for how long.
The result of her journalism class was dependent on Agatha getting top marks for her final article, and she’d thought the local interest angle would work in her favor. People were very interested and, if Agatha was honest with herself, she was fascinated on a personal level herself.
“I didn’t mean to offend,” she said, scrabbling to recollect her thoughts along with her composure. “I just meant,” she paused to cast her eyes over the place again, “It’s all so nice.”
Jess’ eyes narrowed further before Agatha could continue digging. “Are you saying it strikes you as out of place that someone like me might own a place like this?”
Yes, thought Agatha, who shook her head. “No, not at all. It’s just that it looks like some kind of foreign royalty lives here. I was wondering if, maybe, someone rich and famous owned it?”
“Ah,” said Jess, the corners of her eyes softening again. She took a glance around the room, too. “You like it?”
“Definitely!” Agatha enthused, pleased with herself for getting back on track. She was about to start forming her second question – belatedly realizing the first one hadn’t really been answered – when someone else walked in. It was the lady who had first opened the door.
Agatha scooted aside on the couch, thinking she would come and sit in the space by her, but instead the lady walked over to Jess and perched on the wide arm of her chair.
“This is Ki,” Jess introduced.
Hmm. Ki and Jess. They weren’t the old fashioned names Agatha had assumed the women would have. Also not as she expected, Ki had dark, dark skin. Possibly the darkest Agatha had ever seen.
As Ki beamed at her, Agatha felt guilty for initially assuming she was some kind of housekeeper.
“How many people live here?” she asked, trying to ignore her prejudices.
“Just the five of us,” said Jess. “Me, Ki, Hannah, Kristy, and Billy.”
Agatha wrote the names down before looking up again, just in time to see a private smile pass between the two women on the chair.
Ki had a long, bare leg resting on top of Jess’ crossed ones. Her skin looked well cared for, deeply moisturized, and… tempting, almost. Agatha had to work hard to pull her eyes away and look back at her notes, focusing on the last name she found there.
“So, Billy. What can you tell me about him?”
Ki’s laugh broke through the room. It was sudden and clear, like a child’s. Unrestrained. She shook her head in an obvious effort to contain herself.
Off Agatha’s bewildered look, Jess called Billy into the room, making Agatha’s eyes pop out just that little bit more.
Billy was a short, blonde woman in an apron and a wheelchair.
“Yeah?” she said, before her eyes settled on Agatha. She frowned, then, as she turned to Jess. “You didn’t say we were having company. Should I put in more food for tonight?”
Jess, in turn, introduced Agatha and said she wasn’t staying for dinner.
“You could,” said Ki. “If you want?”
“No. No, um, that’s…” she looked down at her notes again. “That’s okay.”
“I don’t mind,” Billy assured her, despite her earlier implied distaste at the thought of guests. “As long as I know,” she added. “I gotta plan these things in advance, see?”
Agatha nodded at her, quite sure that she didn’t understand anything that was going on around her at all.
When Billy rolled away again, Jess offered out more coffee.
“You okay?” she asked, and Agatha was halfway to a standard ‘I’m fine’ response when she abruptly set down her cup, pretense dropped.
“I don’t get it,” she said, her lips pursed.
“A lot of people don’t,” Jess replied. “We aren’t exactly your usual, all-American family.”
“But I thought you already knew that,” said Ki, tilting her head so she was looking between Agatha and Jess as she spoke. “Isn’t that why she’s here?” she asked of the latter.
Jess shrugged, and Agatha gave her head a shake, trying to clear it enough to rewind back to the start.
“I’m doing a piece on you guys for school,” she explained. “All about non-traditional family types.”
When neither Ki nor Jess said anything, Agatha elaborated further. “Because you’re an, um- a Mormon…
harem or…” she waved her hand, “Something?”
More laughter flooded the room - Jess and Ki together this time, holding onto each other so that Ki didn’t fall to the floor in her fit of giggles.
“Who told you that?” Jess asked, once she’d finally reined herself in. Before Agatha answered, however, she carried on by saying, “People get all kinds of crazy ideas.”
“It’s because no one bothers to ask,” said Ki, sighing even as she continued to smile.
“That’s why I said yes to the interview,” said Jess. “I thought we’d set the record straight and people would give up their wondering and get the hell over their little obsession.” With a wink, she added, “Plus, Agatha here is kind of cute.”
“Okay,” said Agatha, ignoring the blush she could feel rising in her cheeks as she awkwardly repositioned herself on the couch. “So, from the top, you’re not all married to the same man?”
Jess shook her head but looked ready to start laughing again. “There’s no man here. Just us.”
Agatha nodded, intrigued more than ever. “So what’s your deal?” she pressed.
“No deal,” said Jess, shrugging. “We just live here, together. We don’t really see what the fuss is about.”
“You’re not part of some religious group, telling you it’s okay to be polyamorous?”
“God no!” Jess laughed, exclaiming once more about people and their crazy ideas.
The blush in her cheeks persisting, Agatha felt foolish and defensive. “Well, you hear about these things on TV,” she said. “Reality shows, you know?”
“Not really,” said Jess. “Reality shows don’t really strike me as… real.”
“Okay,” Agatha said again. She guessed that was fair enough. The media often got the wrong end of things and, seeing as how she was hoping to one day be the media, it seemed fitting that she’d been misinformed, too. “So no religious thing, check.”
Jess sighed, looking down at her nails. “Religious people don’t seem to like it when it’s all women for some reason.”
“Jealousy,” said Ki, snorting.
That made Jess smile. “Probably,” she allowed, before looking back at Agatha. “Look, I get why you assumed we were all little housewives to some alpha male, but like I said, we’re just us. No big deal!”
Agatha liked the sound of that. “You just ignore what everyone expects of you, and do what you want,” she summarized.
“Pretty much,” Jess affirmed. “I don’t think we give it a lot of thought. That’s kinda the point. We go with the flow, not analyzing everything to death. So what if we’re a group women sharing a house and a bed? Who cares?”
Agatha blushed once more at the mention of bed, not quite able to help herself. Evidently, there was still a part of her caught up with caring about societal expectations, but she was learning to overcome.
Smiling coyly, she was tempted to ask what happened when someone tried to hog the covers.
© 2016
Rose Blackman