The Unknown

The timeline of the wedding flashed by in a series of perfect and imperfect moments, and Poppy worked on picking out a good mix of each to go into the final photo album. First, all the shots from her checklist: getting ready, the bridesmaids, the fathers of the brides, entering the room, the vows, the rings, the confetti toss, the family groups. Then the candid shots, capturing people when they weren’t expecting it, showing their joy unfiltered by posing and expectation. She liked doing the candid shots. She’d had a lot of practice at fading into the background and watching people.

Poppy cycled back to the confetti photo she’d been working on when Emma had got back from work. It was one of the checklist shots, technically, but it might as well have been a candid. The two brides were so focused on each other it was like they had forgotten they were the centre of attention for the duration of the kiss. She lost track of time as she stared at them, not even working on the editing or shortlisting anymore.

LGBTQ+ weddings were a mixed bag for Poppy, and they were the majority of her work ever since her business card got circulated in some local pride groups. There were the small, quiet weddings, where even mentioning family was enough to shatter the fragile mood. Those ones she didn’t mind. The other kind were the loud and boisterous ones, where there were doting parents wishing their children health and happiness in their new marriage, or a found family of close friends filling the same role. It was a bittersweet feeling, circling the outside and capturing the memories of that kind of joy. It was beautiful, even when it was imperfect, but it was also a reminder of what she could never have for herself. The small, quiet type would have to do for her own wedding, if it ever happened.

A loud rumbling disturbed Poppy’s musings, and it took her a moment to realise it had come from her own stomach. She blinked her dry eyes and looked around. How long had it been since she had eaten last? How long had it been since Emma had got back home, and said she was going to cook for them?

Climbing stiffly to her feet, Poppy left her little office and wandered silently through the flat, but found it completely empty. Had she actually eaten already, then forgotten and not noticed Emma leaving until she was hungry again? It wouldn’t have been the first time. Shrugging to herself, she grabbed a banana from the kitchen and then meandered into the throne room.

Poppy blinked slowly as she took in the vast stone room that suddenly surrounded her. This seemed unusually vivid for one of her daydreams. At least she hadn’t forgotten her banana. She carefully peeled it and took a tiny bite from the tip as she finally realised there were people in this daydream too.

“Who the hell is this?” a confused man in a golden throne was asking a ginger woman in a red leather jacket, “I thought they were all going to be women I knew.”

“I never said that,” the woman replied, “I just said they were picked to be attractive to you, and indulge in your kinks. You’ll know all the others, to be fair, but we just couldn’t find anyone for this specific kink that you knew directly.”

“God, why do I feel like I know what kink that is?” came a familiar groan.

“Oh, hey Emma!” Poppy said brightly, then took another bite of her banana. Her girlfriend was sitting in front of the throne, alongside three other women, with her head in her hands.

“You know her?” asked one of the others. A shorter woman, sitting on the far end of the row.

“She’s my... roommate,” Emma said awkwardly.

Before Poppy could open her mouth to say anything, the ginger woman had hurried up next to her and poked her in the shoulder with the tip of an orange quill, grinning like she already knew the punchline. The new knowledge flashed into Poppy’s brain, and she decided the reasonable thing to do was to walk over and sit down next to Emma, then introduce herself to an invisible Audience.

“Hi, I’m Poppy Chen. I’m twenty four years old and I’m a freelance photographer. I’m a lesbian, and the last time I had sex was this morning when I licked Emma’s pussy in the shower before she went to work. I know the Master because Emma told me all about him.” She blinked again, looking at the man on the throne. “Hey, wait. You’re Matt!”

“She’s your roommate, is she?” Sarah said to Emma in a dark, challenging tone.

“Oh my god, they were roommates,” Max said under her breath, stifling a chuckle.

“Lesbian?” Eleanor questioned, looking at the Host, “Why would he want a lesbian in his harem?”

“It's just kind of trendy to include a token lesbian in Harem Hotel,” said Scarlet, as though explaining the sky was blue, “Though the all-girl ones tend to use a token straight girl instead. Besides, I think Matty might have an idea as to why she’s here.”

“Oh fuck,” the Master said, going very pale as he met Poppy’s eyes, “I am so sorry. It’s all subconscious, Scarlet said. I never actually wanted...”

“...it might not be what you’re thinking,” Emma said quietly, looking at the floor, “Not exactly.”

Poppy shrugged, and gave Matt a trusting smile that for some reason seemed to hurt him even more. The conversation appeared to have ended though, so she relaxed back into her chair and focused on finishing her snack before she forgot it existed again. Emma got very disappointed in her when she didn’t eat properly, and she definitely didn’t want that.

“Onwards to the next one then!” Scarlet exclaimed, prancing back into the metaphorical spotlight with a wave of the feather, “From someone the Master has never met before, we’ll move on to someone he knows very well indeed...”