Slow Fires with bonus story Alligators & Orgasms

by Sarah Black

  SLOW FIRES

  With bonus story

  ALLIGATORS & ORGASMS

  Sarah Black

  ®

  Warning

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id® e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  * * * * *

  This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable (homoerotic sexual situations, ménage [m/m/f], and mild violence).

  Slow Fires

  With bonus story Alligators & Orgasms

  Sarah Black

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by

  Loose Id LLC

  1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-2924

  Carson City NV 89701-1215

  www.loose-id.com

  Copyright © January 2007 by Sarah Black

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

  ISBN 978-1-59632-297-4

  Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

  Printed in the United States of America

  Editor: Judith David

  Cover Artist: April Martinez

  www.loose-id.com

  SLOW FIRES

  They were lost. Had to be. People never paid attention to her directions until after the first time they had been lost out on the Navajo reservation, wandering endless unmarked red dirt roads. The kilns were coming today. Flagstaff was only three and a half, four hours from here, so they were definitely lost. She had talked to the company this morning, and they said the truck had left the warehouse. The drivers, she was assured, had received her careful directions.

  Mia put down her bottle of beer and picked up the axe. She had a pile of cut wood sitting next to the hole she had dug in the backyard. She was going to try a pit-firing ‑‑ the oldest way to fire clay pottery. She knew that she needed lots of smaller pieces of wood piled up tightly around the pots so they could burn evenly. The bigger logs would be too heavy, and would break the clay. She wasn’t exactly sure how to chop these big logs into pieces with her new axe, but it shouldn’t be that difficult.

  She had seen a picture in Mother Earth News of a woman chopping firewood with an axe, so she set up the largest log on the ground, and put a smaller piece of wood on top of it, just like in the picture. She whacked her little camp axe at the log. It got stuck about two inches in.

  She stared at the pile of wood and her carefully dug hole, which had taken her much longer than she had anticipated to dig. It was full dark now, and getting cold. Probably too late to go out on the mesa to collect cow dung, though it suddenly seemed like a pretty good source of fuel, especially compared to these heavy, unsplit pieces of wood. She put the bottle of beer down and went into the house for a sweatshirt.

  It was after ten when the delivery truck finally pulled up in front of her house. She had given them directions to the studio at the school and to the house, not sure when they would arrive. She walked into the front yard and waved at the two guys climbing wearily out of the truck. They were young ‑‑ college-aged, maybe. The driver was a big guy with brown curly hair and a beard. He was wearing a Northern Arizona U hooded sweatshirt. The other guy had the clipboard. He was a little smaller, with shoulder-length blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, and a blue and green knit cap with ear flaps and a funny little bobble on top. He was wearing a fleece vest and baggy hiking pants and boots.

  The driver spoke first. “I hope these are your kilns. We were getting ready to abandon the truck by the side of the road and head back to Flag on foot.”

  She nodded. “They’re mine. I was afraid you were lost. They didn’t give you my directions?”

  He shook his head. There was a loud popping noise from the backyard, and bright red sparks shot up into the night sky.

  “Let me go check on that,” Mia said. “I’m trying a pit-firing, and I don’t want to set the whole neighborhood on fire.”

  They followed her into the backyard. She had divided her pile of wood into pieces small enough to use, and those that were too big. Her little axe remained firmly lodged in the top of the first log she had tried to cut.

  The fire was falling into embers. She had started the bed of coals, piled the warmed clay pots on top of them, then covered them with a few more pieces of wood.

  The guys were staring at her woodpile, grinning.

  “Hey, let us help.” It was the taller guy. “I’m Russ.” He held out his hand, and she shook it.

  “I’m Mia. I think I know you two. You’re potters, right? We met last year at that big community firing at NAU.”

  He pointed to the other guy. “This is Kevin. I don’t remember meeting you, Mia, but I’m happy to meet you now.”

  “I’m glad the Skutt people sent potters to set up the kilns. That’s great.”

  Kevin nodded. “I’m glad to meet you, too, Mia. Russ, look how beautiful she is. Will you let me sketch your face?”

  Mia stared at him, her cheeks flushing pink.

  Russ nudged him with an elbow. “I can’t take this guy anywhere. Don’t worry ‑‑ he’s just an artist, not a lunatic.”

  Kevin was studying her face again. “I don’t have time for all that social crap. I just tell the truth. It’s a lot quicker. Sure makes women nervous, though.” He grinned at her. “We haven’t done a pit firing since we were teenagers, Mia. We used to do them all the time, though. It’s fun, like a camp-out or something.”

  Russ studied the pit, tugging on his chin. “You know, Mia, usually you add all the wood at once to make a bonfire.”

  Mia sighed. “I’ve not done it before. I read about it in an old Ceramics Monthly. But I didn’t know how to chop the big pieces of wood. Isn’t that ridiculous? And to tell you the truth, I’m a little afraid of the fire. I didn’t want it to get too big, get out of control or something.”

  Kevin stepped up next to the fire, the warm red glow from the embers casting light on his face in the darkness. “Let us help,” he said. His voice was quiet in the night. “Russ, he knows about fire. That’s his thing.” He was gorgeous, his eyes the same deep blue as his fleece vest.

  Mia smiled at him, then turned to Russ. “Thank you both, very much. I’ll take the help. Though to tell you the truth, I’m not that crazy about the pots. They may not be worth the fire. I just made some tiles and a couple of little pinch pots. I wanted to learn how to do it.”

  Kevin moved over to the logs and pulled her little axe out of the top one. He handed it to Russ, who grinned down at it. “Where did you get this little toy axe? The camping aisle at Wal-Mart?”

  She felt her cheeks turn pink again. That was exactly where she had bought the axe. “You guys need to use the bathroom or anything? You’ve had a long drive.”

  Russ shook his head. “We stopped a while ago and peed off the side of the road. Scared a jackrabbit.”

  “You hungry?” Both heads swiveled around at that. “Ham sandwiches?”

/>   “That would be great,” Russ said, moving to the woodpile. “Bring them out here, okay? We need to get this wood onto the fire pretty soon, or there won’t be enough heat to fire your pots. You’re using earthenware?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I wedged some grit into the clay. You know ‑‑ thermal shock.”

  “Good,” he said. “Thanks for the food. We’re starving.”

  Mia went into the kitchen and pulled the plate of leftover ham out of the fridge. She had cooked a ham a few days earlier, slow roasted with honey and brown sugar, and piled high with squash and sweet potatoes. She bought the smallest ham she could find, but it was still food for ten. She had resigned herself to eating it for weeks.

  She made them big, meaty sandwiches, two each, and then put a pan full of hot cocoa on the stove. It was a cold night, and Kevin’s mention of the campfire gave her a sudden craving for chocolate and marshmallows on sticks. When she brought the sandwiches out, Kevin stopped working at the woodpile and helped her move the picnic table a little closer to the fire. She put the plates down, and a roll of paper towels, then went back into the house for the hot cocoa.

  They were waiting for her at the table when she got back outside. “Are you having anything, Mia?”

  She shook her head. “You two go ahead. I will sit with you and have some cocoa, though.”

  They ate without another word, and finished every crumb with a bliss that made her heart glad. She loved to cook for other people. When they finished eating, Russ gathered the paper plates and towels and tossed them into the fire. The deep, red coals flared up into brighter yellow and orange flames for a moment. When the flames died out the fire went back to its sleepy, warm red. “Thanks, Mia. That was great.”

  Kevin nodded his thanks as well. “Mia, do you have a wedge or splitting maul? Anything like that?” She shook her head. She wasn’t really sure what a maul was, but it didn’t sound like something that would be in her garage.

  “That’s all right. You have enough smaller pieces of wood, I think. If we put them all in the fire at the same time, like in a teepee shape, then the bonfire will give us enough heat to fire the pots. Maybe.” Russ studied the woodpile. “You don’t have any dried cow dung, do you?”

  “No, I don’t. I was thinking about that earlier. It should be easy enough to find some for the next firing. I can just walk around out on the mesa and pick it up.” Russ used the shovel to carefully edge the coals to the side of the pit.

  Mia gathered up an armful of split wood and started putting it into the pit. Kevin and Russ laid wood in, too, until the stack was piled high.

  “Let’s sit on the picnic table,” Russ suggested. “We need to watch it. After it goes to ember, you can safely leave it for the night.”

  The night was getting colder. Mia went into the house and brought an old quilt to the picnic table. They sat down on the top, one on either side of her, and pulled the quilt around their shoulders.

  “We’ll keep each other warm,” Kevin said. He scooted close until his thigh was pressed against hers. Russ did the same on the other side.

  “What do you want to do about the kilns we brought, Mia?”

  She turned to Russ. “Can we leave them until the morning? Do you have to be somewhere tomorrow?”

  He shook his head.

  “I think it’s really too late for you two to try and drive out of here tonight.”

  “We’ll set up the kilns in the morning, then. It should take a couple of hours, depending on what your studio looks like.” The pit was smoking now, a plume of bright white smoke rising straight up into the night.

  “The electricians should have everything wired and ready to go. I’ve been trying to get the school to set up a ceramics program since I got here. It’s been hard going.”

  “How long have you been out here?” Russ asked.

  “Almost five years. Since I finished my MFA.”

  “It’s a boarding school, right?”

  “Yeah. About five hundred kids from kindergarten to high school.”

  “You like teaching art?”

  “I guess. I like having a job. But I feel like I haven’t made a decent pot since I started teaching. I don’t know what it is, why teaching seems to just drain my creativity. Or maybe it’s this place. I don’t know.”

  Kevin leaned forward and looked at Russ, raised his eyebrows.

  “We’ve been having this same discussion ourselves, about what we want to do when we graduate,” Russ said. “If we graduate. This is our last semester at NAU to finish our MFAs. But we’re having a problem. Kevin wants us to just forget it and set up a studio and start to work, as practicing potters. We’ve even got a place picked out, down in the mountains in New Mexico.”

  “What’s the problem you’re having? Money?”

  Russ shook his head. “We’ve got this job setting up electric kilns, and building gas and wood-fired kilns. We’re the go-to guys for kilns.” Kevin snorted. “No, the thing is the work we do together is a lot better than what we do separately. Kevin, he’s all about the clay, the form. I’m about the fire. You know we’ve got that Tozan Noborigama kiln at NAU? Wood fire is my thing. Kevin is making pieces that need wood fire. The faculty, they keep trying to make us separate what we do. A body of work for me, a body of work for him. I mean, I understand their point, but what we do together is better.”

  He was quiet then, and Mia felt their warmth on either side of her, their stillness. They did seem like a well-matched pair.

  “You’ve got form and fire. What about glaze?”

  “I’ve been playing around with some ash glazes.”

  “I love ash glazes. Makes the pots look like they’ve been growing in the woods with the trees and ferns and wildflowers. Have you two been together a long time?”

  “Since we were kids,” Russ said. He shrugged. “Partners in our work, you know, and in our life. But not like partners.” She looked a question at him, but he avoided her eye. She turned to Kevin.

  “We like to be together, but we like girls, too,” he explained.

  Mia nodded. “Okay.” She wasn’t really sure she understood why liking girls was a problem, but she was sure that she liked these men. It had been a long, lonely time since anyone had made a gesture of kindness and friendship toward her. She had missed being around other artists, missed their creativity and quirkiness. Over the years she had lost touch with her friends from school.

  She had felt so isolated, living in this remote corner of the reservation. The Navajo did not accept outsiders very easily. There were a few other white teachers at the school, but she hadn’t really made friends with them, either. She had become used to the isolation, started to like the quiet and the stillness, but she hadn’t got used to feeling so alone. She felt like wrapping her arms around these two strangers, hugging them and thanking them for being nice to her. Maybe she’d been out here alone too long.

  The flames shot suddenly high into the air, casting bright yellow light into the darkness. She felt the warmth of the fire against her face.

  * * * * *

  Mia woke with her head on Kevin’s shoulder. He had an arm wrapped around her.

  “I’ll go get the backpacks out of the truck,” Russ said.

  “Go ahead,” Kevin said, wrapping his other arm around Mia. “I’ve got her. We brought the sleeping bags?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We can put them on her living room floor. She’s nice, Russ.”

  “Yeah, she is. I call the couch.”

  Mia stirred a little and sat up, but Kevin kept his arm around her shoulder. She was warm under the quilt, especially with these good-looking guys snuggled up close to her.

  “You don’t have to worry about letting us stay in your house,” Kevin said, leaning his head against hers. “We won’t, you know, take advantage of you or anything.”

  “Okay,” she said, voice sleepy. “Yeah, I know.” And she did know. She sat up a little and looked at the fire. It had burned down to coals, dark ch
arcoal gray with deep glowing red underneath. When the wind passed over it, the red brightened and swelled, like it was breathing.

  “By tomorrow afternoon we can unpack the clay. What do you make?”

  “This last year I’ve been making tiles ‑‑ carved tiles.”

  “Really?” Kevin sat up and looked at her. “That’s interesting.”

  “I know it sounds odd, but I want to try and wood-fire my tiles. Maybe develop some new glazes. Russ mentioned ash glazes. I hadn’t thought about that, but ash would really put the touch of fire on them. How about you? What do you make?”

  “Vessels. Wheel-thrown and altered. I’m into living, organic forms.” He stroked a finger over the curve of her cheek. “Like beautiful women’s bodies. Russ likes functional ware. He’s been making platters lately. Bigger and bigger, like he’s trying to see how big he can get before the fire overwhelms them. He makes bowls, cups, all those everyday things. He’s really good, but he doesn’t know it. But wood-fired, both of us.”

  Mia stood up and lifted the quilt over her arm. “You think it’s safe to leave the fire?”

  He nodded and followed her into the house, helped her spread the quilt over her bed. Mia opened the front door for Russ. “Make yourselves at home,” she said, yawning. “I’m going to bed. Bathroom’s in there. Clean towels in the cabinet next to the bathroom.” She stopped to look at them. They were both grinning at her.

  Kevin was still wearing his goofy-looking hat with the ear flaps. “You look a little cold, Mia. So maybe we better climb into bed with you? Warm you up and love you a little.”

  Kevin’s voice settled into the pit of her stomach like the warmth from a nice bed of coals. She stared at him, shaking her head, then turned to Russ. “He may be an artist, but he’s a lunatic, too.” She sketched a wave at them, then went to her bedroom and climbed into bed.

  Mia stretched in the drowsy dawn light, with the smell of woodsmoke in her hair and giddy anticipation in her stomach. She had guys sleeping in the house, and not just regular guys. They were potters, artists like her, and they were nice. They felt like friends.