Not Your Ordinary Housewife: How the man I loved led me into a world I had never imagined by Nikki Stern Page B

was beginning to realise he was definitely not the person I’d thought he was, although his consistent affection for Shoshanna was reassuring.
    His paranoia took a final turn when he started talking of putting a contract out on Dory. ‘It would be easy to arrange for a trip-wire . . . or a hit-and-run going up Narrak Road. Dirk has some friends . . .’
    I was incredulous. ‘You’re making me sick,’ I screamed. ‘You’re out of your mind.’ I had totally lost my composure. Paul, however, continued callously detailing Dory’s proposed ‘accident’, ignoring my distress. I had never encountered anyone speaking with murderous intent and hoped it was merely some bizarre attention-seeking device.
    ‘Anyway, you’d be a prime suspect,’ I said, smugly. ‘And I don’t believe you’re serious about Dory. If I did, I’d kick you out.’
    This seemed to work and, for a while, his insane behaviour abated.
    I was visiting Dory each week with Shoshanna, but Paul was persona non grata there. He saw my absences as an opportunity to masturbate and smoke dope—usually simultaneously. The household chores were piling up and the garden was becoming overgrown.
    Dory had been right: we were having trouble maintaining the property. Our financial situation was dire, because my glass-art income had now reduced to a trickle. Still, I was determined to be a stay-at-home mother even though Shoshanna had recently turned one and could have been left in child care.

    Unexpectedly, Paul announced that he’d seen an ad in the paper for nude models and he intended to apply. Naively, I thought he was referring to an artist’s model, with which I was familiar through life-drawing classes.
    He returned from the photo session in high spirits. ‘Well, that was the easiest $100 I ever earned. All I had to do was get my gear off and pose.’ And he mentioned to me how the photographer had a woman there, too.
    ‘What do you mean—you posed with her?’
    ‘Yeah. Don’t worry—nothing happened.’ He assured me that she wasn’t very attractive and I was much better looking. The photographer had told Paul he thought he could make some money working as an extra for TV, but he would need some headshots. He had recommended a photographer—a man called Ken, who coincidentally also lived on Kangaroo Ground Road, although we had never met him.
    So Paul arranged a session and, when I saw the resultant folio, I was actually impressed. He was immensely photogenic and was soon getting work as an extra on local shows such as Neighbours .
    Soon after, when Shoshanna and I returned from visiting Dory one day, Paul seemed excited. Ken had rung to say he knew a psychologist couple doing a sex therapy video; they were looking for actors. ‘He asked me what my wife was like, and I told him she’s gorgeous.’ Ken had kindly offered to do a screen test with the two of us—at no charge—to show them and the producer.
    ‘There’s no way I wanna do that,’ I said. ‘It’s so tacky.’
    But Paul’s tenacity was unsurpassed. He worked on me constantly but I kept saying no. A week later, the phone rang. It was the producer. Paul got off the phone, smiling.
    ‘That was a guy called Greg Lynch—he’s really keen for us to do this video.’ Ken had described how photogenic Paul was and how he thought he’d be perfect for the role. Paul had already accepted the part, but Greg was trying to arrange another female because I’d refused to do it.
    ‘What—you’re gonna fuck some woman on camera and you expect me to be pleased about it?’ I was upset that Paul couldn’t empathise with my point of view.
    ‘Hang on—we’re not gonna fuck. It’s only R-rated. It’ll only be simulated stuff—you won’t actually see anything.’
    ‘But still, you’re gonna be naked with some woman . . . simulating sex?’
    ‘Well, maybe not naked—she might be wearing lingerie. Anyway, it’s an educational movie, not smut—contrary to what you might think.’