Loosening Up Bk. 04 Ch. 01-05

Thus, ten days later on a Saturday, two different rounds of interviews were held.

Amelia Lockhart was prompt and crisply efficient in her interview. Her answers were to the point. She had no trouble signing the NDA, but rejected the position once she learned about the lifestyle associated with the Circle.

Brooklyn Manning seemed more relaxed. The thirty year old had been a nanny for another couple with two children, but they had decided to move back north for family reasons, so she became free. She signed the NDA, and upon hearing about the lifestyle of the Circle, shrugged and said something of the effect 'to each their own'. The women interviewing liked her.

Avery Slowinski was forty, had finished raising her own children, and had no other skills other than childcare and housekeeping. She'd never worked. The NDA mystified her but she signed, and then rejected the position upon learning about the lifestyle of the Circle.

Madison Granger was in her late twenties, seemed smart and innovative, and was coming off a four year position with a couple whose children grew out of the need for a nanny. She had studied elementary school education before working as a nanny. She signed the NDA, and laughed upon hearing about the Circle lifestyle.

Madison asked with a smile, "And would I be expected to participate?"

Pam responded, "Not at all. We have our own little Lake Woebegone here. You make your own choices. There are certainly no expectations about that."

"I need quarters. I had a room in my previous job and full house privileges."

Alice explained as they walked back from the core, "We were thinking of creating a studio apartment for the nanny in core in this space, down the hallway behind the media room. During the day, the media room will become the nursery and play room, at least for now. We use most of that space for storage now, but part of it has windows out onto the pool area and we'd create an attached bathroom with shower. If you want a tub, you'd have to use one in one of the homes. We can easily arrange that with complete privacy."

"I'm a shower person," Madison stated. Last time I was in a tub, was probably when I was nine years old or something around then. I like this arrangement, and the room would be nice. I assume you'd paint and furnish it?"

"Oh, completely. It might take a couple of weeks. When could you start, assuming we make you an offer?"

"Today, if you want. I have no strings at the moment. The couple I've worked with have nicely asked that I be out of the house by the end of April, but only because I think they want to have guests come after that time and need the space."

"We'll be in touch within two or three days."

The nanny interview squad sat around at a picnic table after the four interviews. Alice summed up the interviews, "So, I think it's down to Brooklyn or Madison. I could live with either one."

Susan asked, "Which do you think is more likely to join the Circle?" She grinned at her assumption of future action.

Meanwhile, in the core kitchen, Grace asked, "Who's our last candidate for cook?"

Dave shuffled through the resumes he'd received and said, "Looks like a Robert A. Wyatt. He has an impressive set of credentials: been to several French cooking schools, worked in three restaurants – they each had a four star rating on the food, and even included some rave reviews about his work."

Just then the chime indicating that someone was at the main gate asking for entry rang. Dave responded by opening the gate. He'd emailed directions about where to park and come once each candidate arrived.

A few minutes later, a sharply dressed woman appeared on the patio, looking around wondering where to go. She was somewhat thin, and looked like a French model, especially with her hair done in a swept wave.

Dave was puzzled, but went to greet the visitor. Maybe this wasn't his candidate for the chef's position.

"Hello, may I help you?" he said.

"Yes, hello. Bonjour. I am here for an interview as a chef, but my directions as to where to go only brought me this far – the patio."

Dave said, "Errr, we were expecting a gentleman."

The thin, statuesque blonde rolled her eyes. She said, "You were expecting Robert A. Wyatt?"

Dave nodded and said in a tentative tone, "Yes."

She smiled and held out her hand, "I am Roberta Wyatt." She put great emphasis on the last syllable of her first name. "My friends call me Bobbie. This has happened before with this agency. They seem to think that a chef must be a male, so when they process my resume, they insist on separating the 'A' from the end of my first name and making it an initial."

Dave chuckled, "Not a problem, but we'll all need to correct our thinking. Please come in. We thought we'd start in the kitchen, although while you're right here I can point out some features about our community."

He pointed, "This is an intentionally designed community of close friends. There are ten homes in a surrounding circle, as you see, with this shared core space where we meet and socialize. This is the patio, pool, kiddie pool, cabana, and gazebo part of things. The other half behind you comprises a large living room, dining area, kitchen, media room, and a couple of spare rooms we've been using mostly for storage. There's also a sauna, Jacuzzi, gym, and workout area there, plus apartment space for our future chef and our future nanny for the children."

Dave led her into the core building, through the living and dining areas as they talked. He waved at the Nanny Committee talking in one of living room conversation pits. He continued the tour, ending at the bar in the large kitchen.

Bobbie didn't sit; she went straight to the appliances to assess them in terms of the job. She turned back to Dave and the others, "These are top of the line equipment. Whoever designed this, chose well. The layout reflects a great sensitivity to a small crew putting together meals for a modest size group. I wish they'd had something like this at some of the places I've worked."

Grace smiled, "I'll pass on your comments to my husband. He was the architect for all this. We also live in one of the homes."

Introductions were made to the others on the Chef's Committee, and various questions were asked of the candidate.

After a superficial description of the Circle and the expected duties, Dave asked one especially probing question, "Bobbie, with your background, I'd expect to find you applying at some five star hotel instead of to this relatively small group. Why?"

She nodded, and Dave became enthralled with her high cheekbones, coloration, and sense of style and demeanor. Her slim fingers waved slightly in front of her, almost hypnotizing him. "I have accomplished many things in the restaurant trade and I am sure I could continue to do so. I am at a point in my life where I need some 'Me Time'.

"I am spiritual but not religious – what some people refer to as SBNR. I want to be able to meditate and study, and not work full time. Because of the workload of a good chef, I have accumulated only a few friends in my life, and that activity is increasingly important to me. I want some lasting relationships, and being tucked away in a restaurant kitchen is not conducive to doing that.

"I am hoping that in this position, if it works, that I can enjoy myself more, have friends over even while I'm working, and have that personal time I crave. These things are so important to me, that I am giving up the 'dog eat dog' world of being a restaurant chef. That's not really who I am.

"Your description of the thirty or forty of you that live here, and your needs seemed to suit me to a tee. I thought about what it would be like. I could have beach time, exercise time, meditation time, and yet serve all of you and keep my skills honed."

Dave looked at the others. They were all nodding. Ty slid the NDA over to him with a pen.

"Bobbie, this is a non-disclosure agreement. It is simple and short. We will tell you more about ourselves, but this is your commitment to not talk to anybody other than us about what you learn. We will be glad to answer questions."

Bobbi read and signed, but then looked in a questioning way at Dave and the others on the committee.

Grace began, "Bobbie, we are a close-knit polyamorous family of about twenty-five women and fifteen men, plus an ever increasing number of babies who will become toddlers and children with us.

"We are open about our relationships, and there is no jealousy or friction about the flow of relationships between families or homes. We tend to be exhibitionists, but not in an egregious way. We just like to be near each other, often on the patio depending on the weather. Nudity or near-so is often the style of casual dress. As our babies get older that may change, but that is the way it has been since we moved in here two years ago.

"Do you have any questions?"

Bobbie looked puzzled. "I think I understand what you said, but could I hear it said differently without some of the window dressing."

Dave laughed. "I'll take that on. Bobbie, we have sex with each other in public – at leastour version of public here on our own land. That overemphasizes the coupling. I prefer to say that we 'make love' with one another, because that is what we do. We are the most loving place you'll ever find. We are all friends AND lovers."

"Oh!" Bobbie said. She sat up straighter as her brain shifted into high gear to evaluate what was said.

"And this goes on all the time?" she finally asked.

"Usually, it's usually an after-dinner activity, since many of us work off site, and I suspect with the prospect of toddlers that will become even more so. Occasionally, a man and woman might be inspired mid-day, but it's less usual now than it was in the past."

"And you all love each other?"

"Very much." Dave answered, but the others sitting there also did.

"How did this all start, if I may ask?"

"Eight of us were very close as neighbors," Ty said. "Dave annexed another woman into his family, and then a man, and then another couple of two that we knew joined with us, and then we met some others that thought alike and they became members. Eventually, we created this cohousing project, more people joined that we knew from work, a seminar one of us went to, someone's parents, and someone's brother and sister-in-law. We're about five years old now. I can't say that we won't continue to grow, and I certainly can't predict from where any future members will come."

Bobbie gave a comfortable smile, "Thank you. I'll take the job."

"Huh?"

"I'll take the job if you offer it to me."

"But we haven't talked about money or benefits or anything."

"I'll take the job if you offer it to me. The rest can follow. I think your group and I are a match made in heaven. I won't say more, except that we vibrate on the same frequency."

Dave pushed another page to Bobbie. "This job will pay $55,000 per year, with four weeks of paid vacation, and two weeks of sick or other time as needed for doctor and dentist visits, and such, but that time won't distinguish itself from vacation time. We will set up a 401k plan in the coming year, and after one year we will contribute three percent of your annual pay on each anniversary date.

"We will also provide you with a room here in the core, and complete access to all core facilities round the clock. We are friendly, and if you need space for guests or friends that visit, I'm sure we can arrange something with one of the guest rooms in someone's home."

Bobbie grinned from ear to ear, "I'll take the job if you offer it to me."

"It's yours."

Chapter 5 – The Weight of Specifics

"The defense calls Mrs. Joan Coswell to the stand."

There was no motion in the courtroom. As rehearsed, Brad James rose and said, "Your honor may I approach the bench."

The judge motioned him forward. The defense attorney came forward as well. There were some whispered words, and then the men returned to their tables.

"The defense calls Joan Paige to the stand."

Joan rose and walked to the front of the courtroom. She was sworn in, and took the witness chair.

The interrogating lawyer said, "Up until a short while ago and for ten years prior were you Mrs. Joan Coswell, the defendant's wife."

"I was."

"And you divorced him."

"I did. He had been abusing me and driving me towards committing suicide."

"OBJECTION, your honor. Please instruct the journey to strike the witness' last remark. This trial is about proving my client innocent of exactly those charges."

Joan looked anything but contrite. The judge said, "Sustained; the jury will disregard." Everyone in the room already knew the message had gotten more firmly embedded in the jurors' minds by the objection.

"What kind of marriage did you have with Mr. Coswell?"

Joan looked puzzled. The question was a strange one and invited wandering in many directions. She responded, "I came to use words like controlling, demeaning, and repressed. We initially had a lot of love and caring for each other, but after we'd been married a couple of years, that seemed to change. Brian became very career oriented, but he was insistent about what jobs I should take, and how I should behave at home. We had many arguments over his controlling attitude. It was not a good time."

"When did you first contemplate divorce?"

"Oh, not until my friends rescued me and got me in counseling. It was then that I realized I had become an abused woman; that's what the counselors called me. I also learned that my husband had been in a long-term relationship with a woman named Amanda Tyler. At that point, I realized I couldn't continue being married to the man."

"At one point in your marriage you went to a party where some other colleagues of your husband were there. Did that change you?"

"Yes, it did. Greatly. The place where the party was held was a large cohousing project, and we were by the pool. I remember it well. I heard people discussing the group that lived there. They were kind, loving, and fostered and nurtured their relationships with each other in positive ways, exactly what I wanted to have happen with my husband. I even asked him to stay and listen to some of the group's philosophy and how they put it into practice. He would have nothing to do with the subject, and walked out. I had to run after him to be sure I had a ride home. He was very dismissive of me after that."

"You claim that he made abusive statements, did those start then?"

"Oh, no. Those had started a couple of years earlier. They just became more intense after that party. In hindsight, I think that might have been when he wanted me to harm myself."

"Can you cite a specific occurrence or are we left to use our imaginations to conjure up what MIGHT have occurred."

"Certainly," Joan responded. "On Friday, September 14, 2015, I got a several texts from my husband. One asked whether I had done anything useful that day. It wasn't teasing. That was his attitude. A second one, an hour later, asked why I was such a poor excuse for a woman. A third one, in mid afternoon, told me I should be thinking of ways to get him to respect me, because I hadn't done anything that he could think of to deserve such. At night, at home, he repeated those, and then would use little words under his breath about me such as 'worthless', 'slut', 'waste of flesh', and things like that. He kept making those remarks all weekend, and otherwise ignored me."

"And another?" The defense counsel didn't sound so confident.

"On June 12, 2017, he texted me several times. He was taunting me again with his degrading questions. 'What should a worthless person do? End their life?' 'Hey, you're worthless. Get on it.' 'Take the easy way out. You're miserable in this existence.' At home that Monday night, he rode me. He told me I was good-for-nothing, valueless, wouldn't even be good as a cheap whore, and that I was despicable, contemptible, and pathetic. He ranted all evening about what a terrible mistake he'd made marrying me and how his life would be so much better without me."

"Did my client even mention divorce?"

"Not that I ever recall," Joan stated firmly.

"How was your memory during that time period? You are recalling dates and circumstances quite specifically now."

"Actually, it was very good; it always has been. At work I was a steno typist for doctors, transcribing their dictated client records for retention. I could recall records back several weeks when I'd run across the same patient. Several times, I called the doctors to call their attention to prior remarks they'd make so that they didn't make damaging prescriptions.

"When I was being treated at the rehabilitation center in Austin, Texas, that you heard about from Attorney James about, they explained that they thought that my husband had been 'gaslighting' me."

"Please explain."

"He was often telling me that I remembered specific situations completely wrong – a date, a day, a situation, or the conclusion of some discussion we had."

"Give an example."

"I wanted children in our marriage. Brian had told me he did, too, but not until he'd become well-established in his career at the utility. On February 7, last year, I raised the issue again. He feigned surprised and asked me why I'd changed my mind. I was confused. He told me that for the prior eight or nine years that I'd known him that I was the one that didn't want children. Later that day, he told me that with my bad memory, it was a good thing that we didn't have children. He told me that I'd probably kill them by starving them.

"The prior year 2016, we had agreed to go to Europe in April for a week's holiday. I was hopeful that the trip might mend our relationship. On April 4, when I was packing to go, he asked me about what bathing suits I was taking. I was puzzled. He 'reminded' me that the trip was to the island of Aruba, as we'd agreed. I'd agreed to no such thing. I am not a beach and island person. Those are examples of his trying to make me think my memory was failing. In each case, and others, he would degrade me and even make fun of my bad memory, citing how it was additional evidence of what I terrible person I'd become."

"How can you remember such specific incidents on specific dates?" the defense attorney asked with distain in his voice. He was ready to pounch that Joan had made up the dates or situations.

Joan responded, "I kept a written diary."

There was a buzz in the courtroom at both tables.

The defense attorney quickly consulted his list of questions. That one had not gone as he'd hoped. He asked, "Where do you live now, Mrs. Coswell?"

"I am NOT Mrs. Coswell, and I live with the people I met at the party I mentioned earlier in my testimony. I now have a townhouse on their property, and they are my neighbors."

"I understand that you could barely wait to join them towards the end of 2017. Is this because you wanted to engage in illicit sex with some of those individuals?"

Again, the courtroom buzzed at the confrontational question.

The prosecutor was on his feet, "OBJECTION. Counsel is leading the witness."

"Sustained."

"Miss Paige, when you were still Mrs. Coswell, did you not want to join up with this group of friends you'd met, and was not one of the draws of that group the openness in the relationships they practiced?"

Joan answered carefully, "I did want to join that group WITH MY THEN HUSBAND. I wanted OUR loving relationship to return, and I thought that setting would help in that regard. THAT was the draw of that group and why I initially befriended them once I understood their lifestyle."

There was pause and Joan continued unprompted, "I broke down and cried over a lunch with several women from that neighborhood. I had become suicidal at that point and was ready to end it all. They questioned me and that's when they learned about what Brian was saying and doing to me. The next I knew, but with my agreement, I was in Austin, Texas, being treated for emotional abuse. They had immediately seen the problem for what it was. The Austin clinic verified their analysis."