Brushstrokes And Foreplay

CHAPTER 1

As usual on fine days, Carrie Young went into Memorial Square where the first European settlers of Carlton Green were remembered with a bronze statue of a man and woman, with a young girl holding the woman's hand, standing close together and looking into the distance and smiling.

Although the plaque below said the figures were representative, Carrie's grandmother had told her that her grandmother had said they people depicted were the McLeod's, a Scottish couple with their six-year-old daughter who made their camp beside the river where Carrie's own forebears, William and Sarah Young, joined them two days later.

A guy was sitting on her favorite seat but she decided to sit with him as for some reason that seat attracted no pigeon droppings.

"Good afternoon."

"Indeed."

She opened her lunch packet and thought what a strange reply and on reflection though well it wasn't really. He'd simply confirmed that it was a good afternoon.

"Um would you care for a chicken sandwich?"

"Why, are you soliciting?"

She felt like hitting the jerk and ate in silence.

"Sorry."

She chewed in silence, looking straight ahead.

"I am sorry. Please accept my apology. I enjoy teasing women but usually I don't offend."

"Apology accepted."

"Is that offer of a sandwich still open?"

Carrie had to think about that and then said yes and turned and offered the remaining sandwich.

"You have great breasts and you're also pretty."

Her cheeks burned and thought if he hadn't added she was pretty she would have kicked him. "Your personal remarks are not welcome."

"Oh. They should be because things of beauty deserve to be appreciated and I was simply vocalizing my appreciation. What's your vocation? I think we have established you're not a hooker."

For some reason she didn't bite. Surely she wasn't becoming used to him already? "I can't see how that is any concern of yours."

"Sorry I was testing your tolerance. You are Carrie Young, thirty-two with a 34B bust. You teach painting across the road at Melville High and have had some success at selling your own art but critics would agree it's a little too meticulous and stilted, that you need to let yourself go."

"Omigod, you're a stalker."

He grinned, displaying good teeth. "How do you figure that out?"

"You know about me and yet I've never seen you before. You even know my private thoughts about my art although how the hell you have done that I cannot even guess."

"Muriel your mother told me I'd find you here during the school lunch break. Muriel showed me some of your paintings that she purchased from you and looking at them I arrived at my own opinion."

"All right let's say all of that is true. But how the hell did you find out about my bra size, that's what I want to know?"

"I looked at your puppies and guessed."

"Who the hell are you?"

"Jack Turnbull. I have been engaged by Melville High to talk to senior drawing and art students."

"But Jack Turnbull was painting when I was at art school. I saw examples of his work. He must be at least forty."

"Is that so? I must correct you because I am Jack Turnbull. My mother began selling my work to her friends from the time I was ten and by the time I was fifteen she had sold almost $15,000 of my art and demanded a commission thenceforth. I now average around $8,000 a painting and usually finish one painting every three weeks. Mom remains my commission agent and these days I do pay income tax. Like you I'm thirty-two."

"That's all very interesting I think. And so you think I lack flair Mr Turnbull?"

"Oh please call me Jack. I think as a person you bubble so why paint as if you had a big brush up your butt?"

"Excuse me!"

Jack soothed, "Now don't dwell on what I just said. Instead dwell on why I said it."

"God you are so confrontational."

"Yes and that's such a pity, the ruination of what could have been a nice man. But I wonder why I paint with passion and why are stumble at doing that?"

"Now if you say I need to have a robust affair to ignite my passion I'll scream."

Jack looked at her, his face blank.

"What?"

He said, "I'd thought what might motivate you but came up short and here are you coming up with the possible answer. Now please don't blame me; it was your suggestion."

"I was being facetious."

"You were speaking from the heart."

"I was not and shut up. Oh god is this how you'll address my students?"

"Something like this."

"Oh god, why did I write to you with this invitation and you wrote back accepting?"

"You were simply acting intelligently and instinctively. Why don't you approach your painting like that?"

"Oh please, shut up about me. This visit by you is about my students. I had read somewhere you sold your first paintings when you were ten. You are the sort of person I wished to expose to my students. Um or so I thought."

"Come on, brush the crumbs off your mouth and your tits."

"There are no crumbs. How dare you refer to them as... well use that word about them."

"Ah I see there is hope. That is passion I see lurking. I bet you wish you could slap out my teeth."

Carrie practically spat, "Well it's nice to see you are correct about something."

* * *

The eighty art students were crammed into the art room and Carrie introduced the severe looking school principal Miss Olsen to Jack. She said she had painted at high school and was good on bowls of fruit.

Jack said that figured and she looked at him quizzically while Carrie shot him a murderous glance.

Jack leapt up on to the stage while Carrie and Olsen went up the side steps to enter from left stage.

"Shut up you lot," he yelled. "This is a center of learning, not a fish market."

The only thing to be heard was Miss Olsen panting up the steps.

"I've walked around the perimeter of this room looking at examples of your work. Most of it is crap."

There were a few nervous laughs and some feet scuffing.

"Who is Jessica Jones?"

A short blonde near the front put up her hand.

"Your painting of that girl's face is not too bad. Here's five bucks for it," Jack said.

"I'm sorry Mr Turnbull it's not for sale. I did it for me mom's birthday. It's a painting of how I visualize her face artistically."

"Well great eyes. Eyes are difficult to paint. You should think about sticking with art Jess. Here's the five bucks anyway."

Jack said to the assembly, "I haven't been introduced and yet Jess knew my name. How many knew I'm Mr Turnbull."

Everyone put up a hand.

"Oh very good. Now how many of you know my first name."

All hands went down apart from Jessica's.

"We have two of your paintings in our house. You are Jack Turnbull."

"Oh brilliant Jess. Now all of you tell your parents you met the famous artist Jack Turnbull today and they ought to buy another of my paintings even if it means selling the car or house."

"Right hands up if you know what the word asshole means?"

Carrie gasped, "Oh god, sorry Miss Olsen. I'll close him down."

"Don't you dare. He's teaching and will have a reason for using that word."

"Right kids, now accept my advice," Jack said. "Never try to draw or paint one. They are so hard to get right. But if you must draw or paint it, draw it in a shadow."

"Who is Todd Scott?"

An overweight kid with a slightly vacant look stood and some of the guys laughed.

"Come up here for your five bucks Todd and you take your painting home and get your folk to have it framed. If you keep up your work you may well become a highly successful artist, either a painter, a cartoonist or your could be big in computer graphics. You have captured amazing expression in your painting you have called 'Funny Man.' What also caught my eye are the near perfectly painted hands and feet. Like eyes and expressions, hands and feet are difficult to get right. I urge all you kids to take a good look at 'Funny Man'."

"Now I travel far and wide taking photographs of lakes. Can anyone tell my why?"

A freckled faced boy said, "Because you like taking pictures of lakes?"

"That's possibly a smart reply."

"You sell those photos for big bucks?"

"Nope miss. I like your pretty curls."

He picked a kid with glasses with his hand up, "Yes four-eyes?"

There was a huge gasp from the kids and Jack heard Carrie behind him sigh heavily.

Jack said, "Sorry pal. We were allowed to use that expression when I was a kid. Go phone your mom and she can rush down here and kick my ass."

"It's okay sir. You are an artist. You're not meant to be politically correct."'

"Gee thanks pal. Great thinking. You are likely to end up a college professor. Now what's your answer?"

"You take pictures at the same place at different times to capture the uniqueness of that section of a lake. You take them home and select the best and then paint from the best photographs and then sell them for big bucks because you are smart enough to know that's the kind of picture people want to feature in their homes, an original painting by um..."

"Paul Turnbull," Jessica called.

"Yeah Paul Turnbull."

"Pal I really do think you'll grow up to be a university professor and you Jessica think about becoming a grade teacher but fostering art. You probably will be brilliant."

"Right I look all these paintings around the walls here, three rows of them. Can anyone guess what I missed seeing?"

"Jesus?"

"No."

"The school?"

"No."

"Tits?"

"Keep your head down the guy who called that out but yes, I'm disappointed not to see one nude."

Miss Olsen called, "Regulations do not allow the illustration of breasts or genitals in art classes at schools."

"But nudes per se are not specifically banned?"

"Not that I recall."

"Right you two kids set up a whiteboard on stage for me and Jessica you locate a bunch of color felt-tip pens for me, very thick ones."

"While my assistants are doing that let me talk about what you need to try to do when you are sketching or painting. You need to try to visualize what you intend to illustrate. Hands up who can do that."

"About half of you. Yes that's about average in any group. The rest of you are better at imagining text and particularly numbers and people like you are usually excel at math. But you can always use a picture to sketch or paint from unless you are being asked to draw a set piece."

"Now here we go. You buddy stay with the cloth to wipe off my mess when I say so and Jess you stay and hand me the colors as I ask for them."

"I'm actually Jessica."

"I'm aware of that but I think Jess is really cute. Why do you limp?"

There was a big gasp."

"I had a big accident on my bike when I was five."

"Well remember is okay to limp if you've had a big accident no matter if kids throw off at you. Now has your mommy told you one day a surgeon might take a look at that leg to see if he can do something with it?"

"Yes and mommy said that won't be for a few years."

"Oh that's great, really great Jess. That happened to my sister when she was four and she limped for years until a surgeon fixed up her leg when she was seventeen. Late that year as a high school senior she ran fourth place in the school's 100 yards sprint final. At college she was a crack player in the senior hockey team. She was lucky. We all hope you'll be lucky too. Black pen please."

Jack quickly drew something and as he stood aside many of the kids giggled.

"Could someone tell me what this is?"

"And asshole," a boy called and the kids erupted in laughter.

"Wrong. It's a gopher hole. Look how wide the hole it. Now I'll pile the dirt around it. There we go. Anyone who doesn't believe that's a groper's hole should leave this room now."

No one moved.

"Right you all probably agree eyes are difficult to draw. So try drawing eyes like this.

With incredible speed Jack drew ten eye sockets.

"Blue pen please Jess."

"Right we'll draw the eye of an elderly woman. Here is the eye, blue just like the eye of a woman almost of any age.

"Duster please Fred."

"My name is Mace."

"And that was my quick way of finding out your name and remembering it Mace."

"That's cool sir."

"Thanks so we rub here to narrow the eye. Red pen please Jess. Older people tend to have redness in the corner of their eyes nearest the nose. So we place a bit of red. Pink please Jess."

"No pink Jack."

"Right pass me the white. It's okay to call me Jack because I'm not a teacher and as Miss Young will tell you I'm not a man deserving respect. Now a bit of white softly over the edge of the red and lo we have pink. Now we draw in an identical eye beside it but no red, just a outline of pink and above we draw longish eye lashes but turning the pen on to it's thinner side. Purple please Jess. Now we put on some eye shadow and wet a finger and smudge it. Now what do we have?"

Kids calls out an old women's eye and a young woman's eye.

"Yes and on we go. We put an eye glass around this eye and do another of a child who has been crying and a twin who is laughing by just widening the eye a little and well that will do for now. And then we'll do a bird in flight and I'll talk about how to get everything looking right and then I'll sketch Miss Olsen for you, not in the nude of course, only from the neck up."

The kids appeared fascinated and Miss Young was beaming at Mr Turnbull. When Jack finished his quick sketch of Miss Olsen with the kids behind Jack moving in closer to get a clear view of him working they clapped when he tossed the last pen he used into the box held by Jess and bowed. He flipped the board around for the women to see and Miss Olsen appeared flabbergasted at the realism from such a quick sketch while Miss Young clapped and smiled proudly.

"Right my hour is up kids. Thanks for being so patient with me and please don't repeat my rough talk to your parents. I was addressing you guys as budding artists, not school kids."

A thin girl with chestnut hair came to the front and said, "Mr Jack Turnbull. I'm Mary-Lou Ryan and on behalf of this combined class we thank you for spending time with us. We know you have far greater flair than any of us but we have been shown how to improve our art and I'm sure everyone here will now try to draw and paint better to please Miss Young. Everyone please clap Mr Turnbull to show our appreciation."

"Thanks kids. It was great being with kids who desire to learn. My bet is many of you will continue on to greatly improve. Just one more thing, if you really want something to love, love art. That's what art galleries are for. Thanks."

Miss Olsen said, "I join Mary-Lou in thanking you Mr Jack Turnbull. I cannot believe you are not a trained tutor, albeit with some rough edges that might shock some parents. But I found your presentation inspiring and am sure our children here will take great heart with their artwork. Thank you indeed.

As the children filed out Carrie said, "Dinner tonight Mr Turnbull?"

"Indeed Miss Young and please give me the opportunity to body-paint you nude."

"Oh god," Miss Olsen said, disappearing down the steps and out the now empty workroom at half the speed of a scalded cat.

* * *

An over-weight treble-chin guy opened the door, took a long look at Jack and said, "You don't look like a professional artist, where's your beard?"

"I try not to typecast just as you don't look like a shipping clerk."

"I'm not a shipping clerk."

"Isn't that just what I said?"

"Eh?"

"Do you want flowers or a bottle of wine?"

"Wine. Gee thanks, top shelf. You are welcome to visit again."

"Even if you find I've been seducing your daughter?"

"Eh."

Muriel arrived, accepted her flowers with thanks and kissed the guest. "Don't try to work out everything this guy says Archie otherwise he'll tie you in knots. It amuses him to confuse."

"Hi I'm Archie."

"Please to meet you Archie. Call me Hey You or Jack if you prefer."

Muriel sighed and invited Jack in and he looked at the plain wall ahead at the end of the passage and she said, "You've noticed it?"

"Um most people would have a grandfather clock there or crossed swords or their national flag if patriotic or the family photo taken ten years ago."

"Where's this thing to notice?" Archie asked attempting a conversation catch-up and Muriel told him to get the drinks.

""Oh yes. What will you have pal?"

"Absinthe but if you're right out of it red wine would be fine."

"Um what kind of red wine?"

"The alcoholic version please."

"Dear just pour him a red wine, any red wine."

Muriel said, "Carrie was running late and is now at the gym. As this is probably your last visit to this house because you'll find my daughter too decorous for you, would you like to leave your calling card on that wall? Paint whatever you wish. Archie will bring your drink and we'll leave you in peace. If you don't wish to paint anything then please join us in the day room. I have placed a selection of Carrie's acrylics and brushes on that small table over there.""

"I'll be delighted to rip something off for you. Please take my jacket. Oh you kiss rather well for an older woman."

"I see. You are not the sort of person to pass unnoticed are you?"

* * *

An hour later Carrie raced through the front doorway and skidded to a halt, mouth dropping open.

"Omigod. That will look magnificent when you finish it."

"Yeah I'll need a couple of more visits before it's finished. I've always meant to paint it but never have been in the right place at the right time to do it until now. Your mom caught me by surprise, asking me to paint something on this wall. Actually she almost insisted. Come over and kiss me and push your pussy on to my hand."

"Why not just the pussy and forgo the kiss?"

"What? Oh yeah. Archie missed out on humor but his daughter got some."

"Please don't defame my father. Now kiss me and keep your hands to yourself."

"Yes ma'am."

"How was that?"

"Not bad. Perhaps you should ask your mom to coach you."

Carrie sighed and said to come though with her to wash his hands.

"I'll need to clean up here."

"I'll do it."

"Oh those flowers on the chair are for you."

"Christ you have a romantic streak?"

"I bought some for your mom and went back and got some for you."

"Oh dear romance, you survive much too briefly."

Jack said, "Actually I went back and bought the second lot for your mom as hostess."

"Ah there is romance blossoming in a most unlikely manner and without reason. Come over and touch my pussy Jack."

Jack had Carrie pinned to the wall when her mother came in and saw Carrie's dress hoisted high.

"Tut-tut you two. Have dinner first."

She looked at what Jack had worked on. "Oh this is rather disappointing."

"Jack requires two more sessions before it's finished mother. Please don't judge an unfinished work."

"Oh right. You go with Jack and smooch in the bathroom. If you get serious lock the door. Dinner will hold. I'll clean up here."

Jack kissed Carrie passionately in the bathroom and she responded robustly but he didn't permit his hands to wander and when she pulled his hand on to a breast he allowed it to drop away almost immediately.

When he prepared to wash a couple of paint smears from his fingers he said, "Dip you fingers in pussy and give them to me to suck."

"God no, I couldn't do that."

Jack busied himself washing his hands.

As he was drying his hands Carrie snaked a hand round his shoulder and he sucked the fingers and immediately knew where those fingers had been.

As they walked to the dayroom Carrie whispered, "Why did you get me to do that foul thing?"

"First of all there's nothing foul about that. I suggest you adjust your thinking. It also symbolizes to me that you are giving yourself to me and I now know that sexually you'll do anything I ask."

"When?" she asked disbelievingly.