Fenny let herself into her apartment feeling significantly lighter than she had in ages. Carol had shown her around the classroom and gotten her familiar with all the facilities and generally boosted her enthusiasm for the project as a whole. She was a bit startled to find that classes had already been in session for two weeks and she was wanted to teach that evening. The previous teacher had evidently had some sort of spiritual awakening and suddenly fled to Japan with his acupuncturist to study ancient tea ceremonies, and had left Fenny with little time to prepare herself or to hunt down her old art teachers for any advice. She made a conscious decision to wing it. As she dropped her bag in the entryway, Fenny was torn between hunting out the necessary supplies and calling Paul to share her good news. She decided to wait on the phone call so that she could share all the racy details of nude models with Gina; besides, if her math was right, which was unlikely, it was still early morning in Sydney and Paul would most likely be comatose anyway.

As she made her way to the living room to check on Lilly, she found Brad asleep on the couch, bare feet dangling over the arm and one hand flopped over on the coffee table precariously close to a vase of flowers that hadn’t been there when she’d left. With a smile, she crouched between the sofa and table, turning the vase to see the card which read simply “sorry” in Brad’s distinctive scrawl.

“Brad,” she cooed, reaching out a hand to his cheek. He flinched a bit and let out a groan. Fenny moved her hand down his neck to his chest and kissed him lightly on the lips, smiling as he returned the kiss. Once satisfied he was awake enough, she pulled back and settled on the floor. He finally opened his eyes and it took him a moment to focus on her.

“I don’t mean to be an ass,” he murmured.

“I know, you can’t help it,” she smirked. “Are the flowers for me?”

“No, for the plumber who was here two weeks ago. Thought about it and decided the 250 bucks we shelled out for him to pull Lil’s stuffed duck out of the toilet wasn’t enough, I’ve asked him to go dancing tonight to make it up to him.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Fenny chuckled, leaning to rest her head on his chest. “They’re nice. He’ll like ‘em.”

“Sorry about dinner last night. And the candles.”

“It’s okay,” she sighed a bit sadly.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“You bet you will.” She lifted her head enough to give him another kiss.

“How did the meeting go?” Brad asked.

“I got a job,” Fenny perked.

“Cool,” he smiled down at her. “Album cover?” She shook her head. “Movie poster?” She shook her head. “Not another print ad.” She shook her head. “I give up, what’s got you so excited?”

“I get to teach.”

“Teach?” Brad gasped. “That’s great. What are you teaching?”

“There’s a night class, figure drawing, the teacher went all Buddhist and—”

“Wait, a night class. What about…” He paused and looked at her doe eyed.

“What about what, honey?”

“What about Lil? I mean who’ll watch her?”

“Well it works out well with your gigs, you can come home and watch her while I go to class.” She watched as Brad pouted a bit at the idea. “Or I can take her with me and continue her art education with lessons on the nude human form,” she shrugged.

Brad paused mid-argument. “Nude?” he peeped. Visions of Danny and popcorn flitted through his mind.

“Yes Brad. Nude. Figure drawing. It’s a fundamental part of art education. I learned more from my life drawing classes than from anything else.”

“So you’re going to leave me every night to hang out with naked people,” he frowned.

Fenny stood up and headed for the hallway. “Yes I am. I’m trying to do something worthwhile with my life, and you’re concerned because you’re going to have to actually care for your own daughter for a change while I’ll be doing porn shoots? Thanks a lot, sweetheart.”

“Shit,” Brad hissed to himself as he leapt up from the couch and grabbed Fenny. She’d been happy for all of two minutes before he’d managed to mess things up again. What would Lilly have to say about that? As if a miserable wife wasn’t bad enough,he had an irate daughter to deal with at the same time. “Fen, look, I’m sorry. I’m excited about your job, really. If it makes you happy then I’m happy. It took me by surprise, that’s all.” He gave her a quick apologetic kiss. “Congratulations. When do you start?”

“Tonight.”

“Tonight?” he echoed.

“Yeah, why?”

“No, nothing, that’s great,” he smiled as he threw a little mental temper tantrum. He’d have to call off his plans to have drinks with the guys after the show.

“I’m going to see if I can hunt out my drawing board and things, be a dear and heat up something for dinner, huh? Thanks.”

He watched her disappear into the study and just stood there in the hallway a moment before he pulled himself together and hurried into the kitchen before Lilly could appear and call him an ass again.

Gina sat down with Vicki on the floor of the empty living room and poured them each a mug of tea. The taxidermist had called to ask if Troy was going to be picked up soon, and Vicki had been on her doorstep looking forlorn. Gina had finally worked through the mongoose situation and it looked as though she was about to work through the Vicki situation as well. She briefly wondered why no one was ever around to deal with the Gina situation, but smiled concernedly at Vicki anyway. “So, how are things with you and Scott?”

“I tried following your advice, but I’m sorry to say it didn’t work,” Vicki sighed. “I’m afraid my husband is just too much of a moron.”

“What happened?”

“I’d just called my mum to take the boys for the night, and I laid out my laciest bit of lingerie, and I was going to start working on dinner, his favorite meal, when he came rushing in, home from work early, mumbled something about a great office birthday party, and headed straight to bed. He flopped right next to my sexy underthings and didn’t say a word. So the kids stayed home and ate our special meal, and Scott woke up as I was going to bed, he stayed up all night watching god knows what, and I’m just as ignored as I’ve ever been.”

“There must be something in the water supply,” Gina mused.

“What? You’re not having problems as well, are you?”

“Not problems really,” she shrugged. “I mean he’s still his usual sweet, slightly insane self, but he won’t—” Gina sighed, feeling slightly foolish discussing her marital issues with someone who was, for all intents and purposes, a stranger. “It’s like he’s not interested in me anymore, sexually. He’s had two chances to get me naked in the tub with him, and he’s turned them down both times.”

“In the tub?” Vicki gasped. “Isn’t that, I don’t know, dangerous?”

“I’ve heard stories of shower-related injuries,” Gina snickered, “but no. Just need practice. And shower gel. Lots of scented shower gel.”

A slow smile spread across Vicki’s face. “I think you’ve just inspired me.”

“Good,” Gina nodded, cursing her insecurities for creeping up on her. What if Paul really was growing tired of her, what if he was seeing another woman, what if he really did tire himself out just imagining her naked while she read the news?

“And you said you didn’t need to play your man,” Vicki smiled teasingly around her mug.

“Well I don’t normally,” Gina shrugged, dismissing her foolish ‘what ifs.’

“You can’t make him beg for it?”

“He won’t even look at it with the vaguest interest,” she sighed.

“Maybe you should follow your own advice and be a bit more forceful.”

“What, tie him to the bed and jump on him?” Gina chuckled.

“Could wor—” There was a terrible noise from above and before either woman could so much as cock their head at the sound, a huge possum fell through the ceiling onto the floor between them, one foot in each of their coffee mugs. It glanced around startled for a moment before hurriedly knocking over both cups, taking a few seconds to disentangle itself, and scurried around before darting out the cat flap.

Gina closed her eyes and took a few calming breaths. “If you’ll just excuse me for a few minutes, I have got to call the council about these damn possums.”

Vicki chuckled to herself as she headed into the kitchen to find something to clean up the mess, listening to Gina curse her husband, the entire species of possums and every building inspector in the country.

Greg sat in Judy’s office, watching her absently shuffle through her notes, quite possibly preparing herself mentally for the daunting task of trying to discuss things in a mature and meaningful way with Greg. He was happy just to have the silence. Even a therapy session was better than another hour with Aunt Jean and her addiction to the Game Show Network.

“So Greg,” Judy sighed. “How was your trip to Vegas?”

“Not bad, really. Shows went well, I really enjoyed myself. Especially when Fenny had to take Brad’s spot.”

“Fenny’s the woman—”

“Yeah, yeah, the one I slept with before finding out she was going out with Brad and then when I couldn’t get into Gina’s pants, yes. But as you know I’ve worked past that and it was really just good to work with her and see her not having her usual panic attacks.”

“Right,” Judy nodded. “Do you think you were possibly using Fenny’s presence to compensate for the fact that your wife wasn’t there?”

“How did you know—”

“Answer the question, Greg.”

“No, I don’t think that at all. Fenny was compensating for the fact Brad was passed out backstage, and we didn’t spend much time together really. Maybe I was using Ritza as a compensation, but not Fen.”

“Ritza?” Judy asked after a moment when she noticed Greg wasn’t going to explain any further. She flipped backwards through her notes.

“Yeah. Brad’s ex-girlfriend that I got drunk with in E-burgh and we released the sexual tension we hadn’t known was there. She showed up in Vegas.”

“And what happened?”

“We got drunk together again. Didn’t do anything other than pass out. Didn’t want to. That’s good, right?”

“Why did you decide to go drinking with her?”

Greg shrugged. “Because we could?”

She shook her head and tutted at him. “You know that alcohol is an active compensatory factor to mask what you see as your shortcomings and flubbed opportunities. So why did you go drinking?”

He rolled his eyes. “Because Jen stayed here in town to watch over her geriatric aunt who hates me with every demonic fibre of her withering old body and takes great joy in telling me this at every available opportunity and has taken to contracting psychosomatic diseases just to spite me.”

Judy raised her eyes from her pad for the first time and looked a bit startled. “I’m sensing a bit of tension between your wife’s aunt and yourself.”

“You graduated top of your class, didn’t you?” Greg scorned. “Such an intuitive nature, here I was thinking I’d fooled you with my cool demeanor.”

“And what have we said about sarcasm, Gregory?”

“Yeah I know, masking my feelings and all that shit. Isn’t this where you tell me I’m being infantile and clingy and ‘aha we’ve found another crack in Proops’s fragile psyche’ or something?”

“Of course not,” Judy declared, turning back to her notes. “It’s a perfectly natural and surprisingly healthy reaction for a man to crave the attention of his wife, especially if there are no children and the attention is being redirected at a hostile relative.”

“Wow, go me, I’m healthy after all,” he smirked.

“I wouldn’t necessarily go that far.”

“Oh.” His face fell.

“Back to Ritza.”

“What about her? I already told you I didn’t screw her and she wouldn’t wear the showgirl outfit either.”

Judy let out an exasperated sigh. “That’s good for today, Greg. I think I’ve given you some things to think about.” She closed her pad, signifying the end of the session, and he leaned back against the couch for a few seconds. There was no way he was going home, not yet, not with Aunt Jean there ready to hurl another tirade of abuse. When he’d gotten up that morning she had berated him about the episode of Whose Line she’d obviously forced herself to watch, voicing her strong disapproval of his cynicism and allowing Wayne to kiss him. She’d probably run across reruns of Rendez-View by the time he got home and he wasn’t prepared to defend his part in allowing clitoral piercing to be broadcast on national television.

“Thanks Judy,” he sighed and slipped out of the office.

“What in the bloody hell have you been doing to this poor creature?” the taxidermist demanded as he placed Troy on the counter for Paul to inspect. The mongoose had been cleaned, brushed, filled out and re-stitched. His eyes were even brighter and more haunting than they had ever been before. “I’ve never seen a specimen already stuffed in such terrible condition.”

Paul shrugged, handing over payment for the mongoose restoration, and picked Troy up gratefully. “He’s had more excitement in his death than you’ll ever have in your pissy little life, and his little glass eyes have seen things that would give you nightmares,” Paul said gravely, petting Troy’s glossy fur. The taxidermist looked on a bit warily. “Thanks a lot mate, you did a great job, never looked better,” he chirped before almost skipping out into the street to slip into the taxi that was waiting for him there. “It’s good to have you back, Archie’s been missing you,” Paul said as he settled Troy in the seat next to him.

The taxi driver eyed Paul and the mongoose nervously in the mirror all the way home, where people were milling around excitedly. “Great, the Formica’s here early,” he sighed as he paid the driver and slid out of the car and headed for the front door and trying not to get in the way. He made his way to the kitchen, pausing briefly to watch a man on a ladder stick his head up through a new hole in the ceiling. The Formica was being installed and Gina was nowhere to be found. “Genie?” he called.

“Dining room,” her voice called and he gratefully hurried into the room, but stopped short at the sight of Gina and another woman seated at the table from Gina’s apartment, with a few small bits of living room furniture crammed in as well. “Where’d all this come from?”

“We brought it over in Vicki’s van. This is Vicki by the way, Scott’s wife. And this is my husband Paul, and Troy his unhealthy fascination.” Paul and Vicki shook hands and he joined them at the table.

“You mean you went all girl power and I missed it?” he sulked.

“Maybe next time,” Gina soothed.

“So who’s the guy with his head in our loft?” Paul asked.

“I gave in and called about the possums when one fell through the roof onto us.”

“Landed in our tea, nearly scared us to death,” Vicki added.

“You get used to it after a while,” Paul shrugged. “Keeps you on your toes, makes for healthy reflexes.”

“So, how did your meeting go?” Gina asked over the sound of hammering from the kitchen.

“Oh, great, it’s gonna be a blast to do. They told me that at any given moment, 2000 couples are having sex. Isn’t that—”

“Hey mate, you gotta come here a sec and look at this,” a burly worker declared from the doorway. Paul shrugged and followed.

“What is he on about?” Vicki asked as softly as she could through the noises all around the house.

“He’s got some job doing a sex show. God, if he wears himself out just thinking about me naked how’s he going to survive a whole sex show?” Gina sighed.

“Don’t you worry, I’m sure if you just give him a little time he’ll get over it and you’ll be using up your stash of shower gel in no time,” Vicki assured her. “If not, jump on him and hope he gets distracted by your naked breasts long enough to turn off the TV.”

Gina laughed and they both sobered as Paul came into the room with Troy still tucked protectively under one arm and Archie under the other. “What now?” Gina sighed.

“A possum was groping Archie, I had to rescue him,” Paul declared, setting both on the table. “It got scared of Troy and hit its head on the window trying to get out. They’re trying to figure out what to do with an unconscious possum.”

Gina rolled her eyes. “I think that just might be my cue to leave,” Vicki chuckled.

“Okay,” Gina agreed, standing up to show her out. “Thanks for all your help, and with the moving, it’s good to have some more furniture around. And good luck with everything.”

“Thanks for all your advice, and good luck to you too.” They headed for the front door but were stopped by a tiny possum rushing past, followed by a disheveled man who seemed to be losing the chase. “Are things always like this?” Vicki asked.

“Yes. Yes they are,” Gina sighed. “And I feel I should warn you, it’s a proven fact that it’s catching.”

“Should be interesting,” Vicki mused with a smile as she wandered home.

Fenny made her way to the classroom which she was pleased to see was already bustling with activity as several students set up their easels in a semicircle around a platform pushed against one wall. It was good to see someone knew what they were doing. What had started as enthusiasm and then a defiance towards Brad had slowly degenerated into abject panic as the actual class drew closer. She dropped her things at the desk at the front of the room and tried to convince her hands to stop shaking as she waited for all of the students to arrive, nodding politely as people came in, the competition for good drawing space keeping people from being too friendly to her.

When Fenny was satisfied everyone had arrived and that she could speak without passing out, she moved to the center of the room and decided to introduce herself. All eyes settled on her and she cleared her throat nervously. “Hi. I’m Fenny Sherwood, and it looks like I’ll be your new life drawing instructor. This is the right class, right?” she asked with a smile. No one said otherwise, so she kept going. “Well, I apologize in advance for being incompetent, but I’ve never been a teacher, and I haven’t taken any actual art classes since I graduated from college, and I won’t tell you how long ago that was. I have a graphic arts degree, but I’ve had lots of experience in life drawing, I found it to be the most rewarding art class to take, and not because of the gorgeous men we had model for us, because we didn’t, and I’m going to try my hardest not to make an idiot out of myself but make this a rewarding class for all of you.” She glanced around at the class: middle-aged house wives, retired men, and a few young people who looked like serious art students. “Right, so, there went my speech, proving why I never went into politics. Should we get started so I can stop babbling about nothing? Do we have a model?”

“She’s in the changing room,” someone piped up, “I saw her go in.”

A young woman in the corner wandered to the door to the changing room and knocked. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” a voice came through the door as it opened and Fenny froze at the sound. “Fenny!”

“Uh, hi Jenna,” Fenny managed.

“I can’t believe you’re here, that’s like, so cool! I knew there was going to be a new teacher, but I never would’ve thought you were into this sort of thing. Wow, what a coincidence, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Fenny breathed, not sure this was really something she needed at this point in her life. “Right, let’s get started then. You guys do gesture drawings? One minute poses, warm you up?”

“That’s what Mr. Steuer had us do,” a white haired old woman piped up.

“Good. You, um, know what to do then Jenna?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve been doing this for ages, I’m a pro,” Jenna giggled as she flicked off her floral robe, hopped up onto the platform and began a series of short poses while the students began scribbling on their pads.

Fenny hadn’t wanted to see Jenna in the nude. She ranked quite high up on her list of people she didn’t want to see nude, just a few steps behind Carol Channing, Keith Richards, George W. and any country singer. Especially after Paul’s night of infidelity however many years ago that was, after which he’d proclaimed to Fenny that Jenna’s naked body was like “fucking a raw chicken” and she hadn’t dared ask how he’d come to that analogy. He’d failed to mention the rather unsavory piercings, however, although those were bound to be new. Fenny made her way around the class, investigating the students’ works, their sense of perspective and proportion, a vague idea of their individual styles, and tried as hard as she could to avoid actually looking at her neighbor’s body and the insanely unnatural form of her breasts. Whenever she did glance at her, all she could think of was headless chickens. There was no way this woman was being left alone with Lilly ever again.

The timer Fenny had set went off and she reluctantly went to pose Jenna. “We’ll do a long pose now, use whatever medium you like, we’ll do three twenty minute poses and I’d like to see the drawings as complete as you can make them. Think we’ll have a critique of those afterwards, get a dialogue started and see where we’re going. So Jenna can leave early.” Fenny placed a stool on the platform and Jenna draped her robe over it before sitting. “Turn around.”

“Turn around?” Jenna echoed. “But—”

“It’s very important that students learn the structure of the back, it’s a very overlooked feature.”

“What about—”

“Turn around, Jenna,” Fenny growled. She reluctantly did as she was told. Fenny flumped at the teacher’s desk as she set the timer. As she flipped through the model schedule, she realized Jenna was to model for the next three sessions. She let out a sigh and dropped her head to the desk, still thinking of raw chickens. Next session she’d have to try a drawing of Jenna, just one, she thought with a grin. The next time Paul did something unfortunate, he’d find a perfectly rendered drawing of Ms. Poultry Skin herself in the mail. Granted he’d probably retaliate with a drawing of Brad’s head on a pike and a tirade of abuse, but it would be worth it. Maybe this teaching thing would work out after all.