"Darcy? What's going on now?"
Hearing Jimmy's voice over the radio, Darcy lifted her own unit up to her lips, never taking her eyes off the TV screen. "Not sure. Wanda was talking to Geraldine... uh... Monica, and she said how if Geraldine wanted to intrude on her domestic bliss so badly, she could make her a part of it. Then they cut away to Vision. And there was a joke about soap scum that was actually pretty funny."
"Keep me posted."
"Yeah, dude, I'll totally liveblog this."
The radio blipped, like Jimmy was holding down the call button, but then went quiet like he had released it without saying anything.
Darcy reached for a carton of Chinese takeout. If only there were a way to date a guy over the radio.
***
When Vision came back into the house, he saw that Geraldine now wore a starched gray cotton dress, with a white apron to go with the white hose. For a moment, it seemed strange to him that Geraldine had a change of clothes on hand, or that Wanda would lend her clothes for no reason, or that they would fit her—but while, as a Synthezoid, he had encyclopedic knowledge of stitching and sewing, as a man, he often had very little idea how women operated.
"Vision, you are never going to believe this," Wanda said, bouncing up to link her arm with his. "It turns out Geraldine used to work as a maid. In
fact,
she's been looking for work, so I thought, since we have the twins now, we could use the help..."
"Are you sure that's wise?" Vision asked her. He glanced at Geraldine, who preened in her maid uniform. "No offense against you, Geraldine, but we are a particularly...
private
couple."
"Oh, that? Don't worry about that." Wanda rubbed his arm. "Geraldine has a cousin who's a Synthezoid."
Vision was about to ask how that could work when Geraldine piped up. "And between the pasty British dude, the Russian, and me—who would you assume is most familiar with 'black magic'?"
Vision could've sworn he heard someone, or someones, laughing, but as usual, he dismissed it as a persistent issue with his audio receptors he needed to work out. "But don't you think, if you need any help around the house, that I might suffice?"
"Of course you would, my big strong machine-man." Wanda patted his bicep. "But I know how much time you're going to have to spend at the office since you got your big promotion."
"Oh yes," Vision recalled; it seemed like decades ago.
"And Geraldine can help you out too, when I'm too busy with the kids."
Vision canted his head a bit condescendingly. "Now Wanda, I'm a grown man. I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself. In fact, I can wash dishes at a rate of nine hundred and fifty-two per minute."
"Yes, dear," Wanda said patronizingly. "But there are some things that just require a woman's touch."
"Such as?"
Wanda reached down and patted his groin. "Woman," she told Geraldine, "get over here and
touch."
Again, Vision thought he heard a crowd whooping, like they had all been scandalized at once, although he doubted with all the varying social mores of a diverse population that everyone would react in the same way.
"Wanda, not to be a picky eater, as it were, but uh..." He circled the wedding band on his finger, calling attention to it. "My preferences on that account are well-recorded."
"He says
after
he buys the separate beds." Wanda shook her head in amusement. "And here I thought you were trying to tell me something."
Geraldine was getting closer and closer—practically slinking—smoothing her hands over her dress and apron as she approached. "Fact is, Vizh, didn't Wanda just have two kids? I'd say she's done all the wifely duties a gal can do, at least for the time being. But you still have needs."
"Only to have my hard drive defragmented occasionally!" Vision protested.
Wanda glanced at Geraldine. "You hear that, Gerry? Get down on your knees and defragment his hard drive."
"Oh dear me," Vision quavered.
"Relax, husband." Wanda got down onto her knees beside where Geraldine knelt. "I'll show her just how to perform all her new duties, just the way you like them."
"And I do accept tips," Geraldine said.
"You could stand to use a different shade of eyeshadow," Wanda quipped immediately.
***
Darcy couldn't believe what she was seeing. The later afternoon sun streamed through the living room window, illuminating a tableau that could've spilled out of the centerfold of someone's dad's Playboy and filled the entire issue.
Vision lay naked on the Persian rug, his head resting on a purple bolster. His hands were clasped together on his belly as his heavily lidded eyes watched wife and housekeeper do their womanly work. The service he was getting would've driven a human male out of his mind. Even a Synthezoid was hard-pressed to take it.
Wanda and Geraldine were on their hands and knees, bathing Vision's prick with their tongues. Both sets of lips curled around his stiff red rod as they moved their heads in unison up and down. Once in a while their tongues would touch, and then they would moan the most, both at once, beyond the enjoyment they took in simply fellating him.
The gem on Vision's forehead lit up like a cartoon character having a lightbulb moment. His eyes opened wide. Darcy wasn't a man, but she was a bit of a pervert, and she could see his thought process. Wanda might be his wife, but she loved and honored way more than she obeyed. While Geraldine was his employee. And watching Mad Men had told Darcy everything she needed to know about how that worked in Pleasantville.
