When Elaine and Harker dropped by I had to show them my new work. “The assignment was ‘Bush Strokes,’” I explained. “A typo. It was supposed to be ‘brush strokes,’ but Moch messed up. In class he corrected himself, but I’m pretending I wasn’t there that day.”

“I love that you put Flopper in the painting,” Elaine said. “He’s so cute. And that cape is very colorful.”

“Yeah, but...” Harker complained, as usual. “That’s the wrong kind of sword for trimming a hedge. It’s basically for poking someone.”

“Aw Harker,” Elaine chided him, poking him twice in the tummy.

“I was just saying,” Harker said. Elaine poked him twice more.

“Anyway I got to thinking more about bushes,” I went on. “What came to mind was a bushy-tailed squirrel. Also this kid I knew in high school who had a really nice red bush. I think she was French. Aren’t French women notorious for not shaving?”

“She’s very cute,” Harker said. “I love when you put French women in your paintings.” He flinched before Elaine could poke him. “The squirrel is cute, too,” he allowed. “Good thing Flopper wasn’t in the painting.”

“The thing about this painting is there’s plenty of bush, but not much stroking,” I told them. I showed them the next painting.

“Oh man, I love this one,” Harker exclaimed.

As I’d expected, Elaine was a bit miffed. “How come you used that French girl instead of me?” she asked.

“Cuz she’s got more muff,” Harker pointed out. “You’re practically bare there. And anyway it’s for the sake of art.”

“Right,” I said, and I showed them the fourth picture.

Now it was Harker’s turn to become indignant.

“For the sake of art,” Elaine gleefully blurted. “And you’ve got less muff than I do. You have to admit that squirrel tail looks nice and soft. Doesn’t it feel good wrapped around your cock, stroking, stroking, stroking?”

“I’ll stroke you,” Harker declared, pinching her behind.

“I hope so,” Elaine squealed, and out the door she scampered, Harker hot on her heels.