Professor Maitland Ward focuses on "the pursuit of happiness" in this second season of Muse. The assignment this time is: "If we're not happy, what's the point? We have all our fundamental needs met, and we have the freedom to pursue happiness. And it's considered a human right. What are we missing? 2,500 words, due Monday, on where you think this disconnect lies." 

After dismissing class, Ward dolls up in a party dress, blowing off neighbor Manuel Ferrara to visit Aubrey Kate, who engages her in a philosophical discussion about theft, anger and the teachings of Jesus ("Turn the other cheek") and how they differ from the urge to get even, as they are watched by a tuxedoed sub (Pierce Paris) who lights Kate's cigarettes and serves as a footstool, and a black-clad woman (Destiny Cruz) cowering on a hassock. When Kate says the item stolen was "my man" and then she grabs a flail and starts in on Cruz, the implications are obvious. Kate is thoroughly in charge in the four-way that follows, and when Ward gets ready to leave, Kate allows that she has had differences with Ward and says, "I'd love to go head-to-head with you, Maitland. Someone needs to," through a cloud of cigarette smoke. "I think we'd have fun." Ward comes back to her penthouse at daybreak to find Ferrara still there. She initially resists his advances but succumbs in a passionate zipless quickie in the early morning light.

Elsewhere, an ambitious attorney (Mona Wales) tells a colleague that there's a potential scandal involving a college professor's unorthodox curriculum: "She made them watch porn ... parents are upset. The professor is Maitland Ward." Suddenly the colleague—Aubrey Kate—is interested. "I'm not sure I like this," Kate says, leafing through printed screencaps. "But I'd sure like to take it on." Given the greenlight, Wales leans on student AJ about how those nasty feminists like Ward are marginalizing him—and all men—to get him to pursue a lawsuit, claiming he's been raped by Ward.

The story spreads like wildfire, except to Ward, who studiously ignores her buzzing and pinging phone while grading papers. When Ward fights her way through a gaggle of reporters to Ferrara's limo, he asks her, "Do you need me now?" Ward is upset, primarily because the "victim" voluntarily came to and stayed in her class. Wales pursues her case in the press, infuriating Ward, who fumes "Fucking liar!" at Wales' press conference, but Ward continues to teach, leading a class discussion to how people in a serving position can take the upper hand.

Wales coaches AJ for his deposition, telling him to dress in layers because sometimes the thermostat is adjusted to make people uncomfortable, and, "You need to learn how to answer questions while giving them as little information as possible"—and sexually manipulating him into not being intimidated by Ward. For her part, Ward takes solace in anonymous sex at an orgy, and the season ends with her beginning her deposition, looking forthrightly into camera and defiantly stating her name. 

To be continued.

Kross's elliptical style, bouncing between points of interest, is hardly new (D.W. Griffith did it in Intolerance in 1916) but her execution is flawless. Some side trips, like couch-surfing working-her-way-through-college Lulu Chu hooking up with bartender Anton Harden and taking a few dick-in-mouth pics to taunt galpal Jessie Saint—who prints them up and sends them to Chu's estranged father before having second thoughts—and the friction between lesbian partners Ivy Wolfe and Avery Cristy—who both cheat on each other with men—are saved for resolution another time. The production values equal those of a mainstream drama, and the production well repays the five hours the viewer invests.