by Sarah Black
Kevin peeked into her bedroom door, his blonde hair in a tangle around his shoulders. He was holding two cups of coffee. “You awake? The sugar bowl was empty, but I’ll put some milk in yours if you want.”
She sat up, running both hands back over her hair, then a finger under each eye to check for mascara smears. “Black’s good for me. Coffee in bed. That’s a first for me. Thanks, Kevin.”
“You’re welcome.” He sat cross-legged on the end of the bed and sipped his coffee, and Mia tried hard not to notice his long hairy legs, or the way his boxer shorts hung low on his hips.
“Russ still asleep?”
He nodded. “He’s a grizzly curled up in his cave when he sleeps. It’s like he goes into hibernation every night. It’ll take something strong to get him up.”
“Like breakfast?”
“Breakfast might do it. You could try and kiss him until he wakes up.” Kevin gave her a sleepy grin. “You can practice on me if you want.”
Mia blinked at him. “Really. Kevin, I thought you guys were together. You know, like partners.”
“But you’re a girl potter with a pretty face and you smell like you’ve been firing in the backyard.” Kevin leaned up on his hands and knees, gave her a big smacking kiss on the neck. “And you know girls who smell like wood fire are hard to resist. Can I help in the kitchen?”
Mia slid her legs out from under the covers, and Kevin gave a wolf-whistle when he saw her plaid flannel PJ bottoms and tank top. She had to laugh. What a goofball.
“So what do you want me to do?”
“I guess you could chop up the rest of that ham while I’m in the shower. Don’t eat it all, and I’ll make a good breakfast casserole. Something perfect for a couple of hungry men.”
“That sounds good, Mia.” His hand settled warm on her lower back, but she stopped in her tracks when she spotted Russ draped over the couch, his face buried in the pillow and his long legs hanging off the end. Wow. Double wow. The sleeping bag had slid to the floor in a puddle of olive green nylon. Russ was huge, his long hard thighs as big around as her waist. Her eyes traveled along the curve of his shoulders and back, moved down to his waist and over an ass that Michelangelo could have carved out of smooth, white marble.
Kevin was watching her, a funny little grin on his mouth. “Yeah. He’s all that and more, Mia.”
Mia was patting the pockets of her plaid flannel pajamas for a pencil, crayon, anything. “Don’t let him move!” She darted back into her bedroom, snatched a sketchpad out from under the bed and blew dust off the cover, grabbed an eyeliner pencil from the little pottery cup on the dresser where she kept her makeup.
Kevin was already in the kitchen, so she sat on the floor, a little below the couch, studied the elegant, lean lines of his body. Something about the shoulder, the spine and the shoulder blade, reminded her of the curve of a sea gull’s wing, the curve of a wave just before it broke on the beach. The eyebrow pencil was not going to do the job. She started to scramble to her feet, but Kevin walked back in, holding a couple of newly sharpened charcoal pencils. “In the junk drawer in the kitchen.” He handed them to her, then stooped for her coffee cup.
His spine was so elegant and sinuous. How long since she had studied a man’s back? Maybe in grad school? His arms were up over his head. If those arms hadn’t been so long, the muscles would have seemed too bulky. But they were perfectly proportioned, his hand heavy, the veins thick. It hung in the air over the end of the couch.
Mia had nearly finished sketching his hand when he groaned and started rolling and twisting and moaning. Kevin leaned against the kitchen doorframe, watching as Russ rolled over onto his back, the pillow and both arms up over his face, and a massive dark erection bouncing gently against his belly.
She couldn’t move for a moment, then, almost against her will, charcoal started inching toward paper. Perfectly proportioned. The phrase echoed in her brain. Her mouth went dry.
Kevin walked over to the couch and wrapped his fingers around Russ’s cock. He was able to fit his hand around it, just, and shook it a couple of times like he was shaking hands with the mayor. “I made some coffee,” he said. “I’ll pour you a cup if you get up. And Mia’s drawing your pretty back.”
Russ quit stretching, lifted the pillow from his face and met Mia’s eyes. Then he reached over and whacked Kevin with the pillow, jammed it down over his groin.
Mia couldn’t help laughing. Kevin danced back out of the way, and Russ shook his head and cursed a bit under his breath. She walked over to the couch, bent down and kissed his cheek. “Hey, Russ. I shouldn’t have been sketching you while you were asleep. Sorry.”
He brought a strand of her hair up to his face. “You have a pretty smile. Like looking at sunshine.” His eyes were golden brown, rich and warm, and his curls were sticking out all over his head. He looked like some sort of ultra-sexy, sleepy, teddy bear. Mia briefly considered what he would do if she climbed on top of his gorgeous long body, and just for a moment they shared an intense awareness of the cock throbbing away into her pillow, six inches from her hand.
Mia cleared her throat. “Russ, use the bathroom if you need to, then I’m gonna get into the shower.” He traced a finger over the curve of her cheek, and she bent over impulsively and kissed him again, next to his nose, above his soft beard. She could feel one of those big hands linger on her waist.
“Hey, I want a kiss, too!” Kevin was standing next to the couch, blond hair pulled back in one of her hair clips. He was still wearing just his boxer shorts.
Before she could think what she was saying, she blurted out, “From whom, Kevin?”
He gave her a look and shook his head, bent over and kissed her on the mouth, lingering for a moment, his mouth as sweet as plums. “Both of you, Mia.” Then he bent over and kissed Russ, too.
* * * * *
Mia regained a bit of her composure in the shower, thanks to her lavender bath gel. I’m just not used to men, that’s what it is. And these two? Gorgeous, sweet, gentle, and artists, too. A picture flashed into Mia’s mind of Kevin sitting cross-legged on her bed in boxer shorts, face like a Botticelli angel, and Russ rolling over on the couch, his gorgeous long cock coming into view. Okay, that, too.
She thought about the pit firing. When would it be cool enough to unpack? She’d heard the unmistakable hiss and pop of clay pottery cracking under heat, but maybe some of it would have made it through the firing without breaking. She couldn’t wait to see those tiles. She was trying something new, a little idea that had been buzzing around in her head. Well, after breakfast was soon enough. When was the last time she’d had people over to eat, to cook for? Her mother didn’t like to come out to the reservation, and they usually met somewhere and went out to dinner. A country soufflé, that would be good. She could use that loaf of French bread that was getting stale, the rest of the ham, peppers, and onions and cheese.
When she got into the kitchen, Russ and Kevin were looking at the sketches she had drawn. They were spread out across the table, and Kevin was curving his hands, following the lines.
“I could throw a pot with these lines, Mia.” Kevin moved his hands as if a lump of clay was stretching and curving between his fingers.
Russ tapped one of the sketches. “Nice, Mia. You throw on a wheel?”
“Some,” she admitted. “But lately I’ve been more and more interested in surfaces, glaze, and surface decoration. The surface like the edge of the work. The edge like the transition point. I’ve been carving tiles, trying to work down into that edge.”
Kevin nodded. “The edge is a powerful metaphor, Mia. I admit I’ve never thought much about surface decoration.”
“There are a couple of potters in our program who are all about the surface. I guess we both just felt that work was shallow.” He looked over at her and smiled. “You can teach us.” Russ tapped the sketch again. “You gonna carve some tiles this week? Maybe you can carve the sketch, and Kevin can make a pot out of the same lines. That’ll be co
ol to see how they look together, if they’re twins, or just friends, or total strangers.” He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll fire the tile for you.”
“I was telling Kevin before that I want to try wood-firing my tiles. Have you ever seen tiles in your wood fires?”
He shook his head. “I’ve seen Raku tiles, but they have to be really thick to deal with the thermal shock. They aren’t as functional, but they are pretty. Wood fire is subtle, quiet. And a lot of work. I think that’s why people save the big, important pieces for the wood fire. These electric kilns, like we brought for your school studio, are a lot easier and quicker.”
She grinned up at him. “But we don’t like easy and quick.”
Kevin reached for his coffee cup. “You got that right, baby. Will you let us see your studio?”
A flutter of nerves in her belly stopped her. Show them her studio? No one had ever been in her studio before. They were smiling at her. Russ’s face was kind. Kevin stood next to him, arm wrapped around his waist, his blue eyes gentle. She could feel their acceptance, their warmth wrapping around her like a cloak. “Okay,” she said.
Kevin glanced at Russ. “She likes us.”
Mia laughed out loud. “Yes, I do.” She pointed to the kitchen door. “I’m set up out in the garage. But you have to promise to tell me the truth, not to worry about hurting my feelings.”
Russ slipped a big arm around her shoulders. “We’ll tell you the truth, Mia. But we wouldn’t hurt your feelings for anything in the world.”
She gestured to the door. “Go ahead.”
Kevin opened the door and Russ followed him into the garage. Her washing machine was in the corner, and a tiny electric test kiln was plugged into the dryer outlet. There was a long table against the wall with a roller and mat, a couple of plastic bags of white porcelain clay, and a block of bright orange earthenware clay. There was a glass jar full of her tools and knives. Big, color pictures of ceramics were pinned to the walls.
Russ turned in a circle, looking at the pictures. “Kevin, look. She likes slow fire,” he said. The pictures were almost all of wood-fired pottery. Kevin nodded, then looked down at the tiles.
Mia had a line of tiles cut and wrapped in plastic, resting between pieces of sheetrock on the shelves. The tiles that were already carved and dried were sitting in a row on the worktable. A figure was carved on each ‑‑ a naked man, sprawled out asleep, or standing, hand wrapped around his cock, or from behind, hip cocked. None of them had the lines of Russ’s back, or the elegance of her new sketches, and she felt a sudden vague dissatisfaction with the work.
Kevin drew his finger along the edge of the figure. “Beautiful, Mia.” Russ nodded. Kevin traced the tile on the end of the row, the man sprawled asleep on his back. “He’s alone,” he said, looking up and catching Mia’s eyes. “He looks lonely.”
Russ nodded and put a big hand down on Kevin’s shoulder. “They look lonely, Mia.”
* * * * *
Kevin had the ham chopped up, and was tearing the French bread into bite-sized pieces. Russ was chopping red bell peppers and onions into nice, tiny chunks, and Mia was grating cheese into a big bowl.
“Well, we can go with something strong, like this aged cheddar and some feta, or bleu. Or if you like a milder cheese, I have some provolone and some butterkase. I love that cheese, the way it feels on the tongue.”
Russ glanced at Kevin, who was concentrating on the bread. “We like it all, Mia.”
She stopped for a moment. They liked it all? “What, like everything?”
Russ watched her face, and she looked a question at him. “Yeah. I love your smile. Let’s try everything.”
She could feel the warmth of his voice in her belly, moving down, and just for a moment thought she could feel his big hands stroking her skin. Kevin was grinning at her. “I love your smile, too. And your pretty round bottom. Russ, are you taking notes or something? Like how to do this cheese thing at home?”
“Yep.”
“Two eggs per cup of milk is the right proportion. We’ll double that, make a good-sized batch. I don’t want you two to go home hungry.” She stared down into the bowl, trying to concentrate. She wasn’t really sure she could crack the eggs, her hands were shaking so much. I’m just not used to men, that’s what it is.
Mia slipped a jacket on. “You want to follow me down to the school?”
“Sure,” Russ agreed. “But we’ve got a bench seat in that truck. There’s room for you, if you want to come with us and give us directions.”
“Come with us, Mia,” Kevin said. “I like you tucked up between us.” He held his hand out for her, and she took it and followed him out of the house.
Russ climbed behind the wheel. The woman who lived next door was loitering in her frontyard, giving the delivery truck a suspicious look. She was the high school English teacher. Mia didn’t think they had ever had a conversation in the years they had lived next door to each other.
The woman waved, and came to the edge of the fence. Her eyes were on Kevin, her mouth twisted.
“Hello, Mrs. Miller,” Mia said.
“Mia, dear, you aren’t moving, are you? This truck was here all night.”
“No. These are the kilns for the art studio.”
“They didn’t get good directions? They must have gotten here too late yesterday to deliver them?”
Mia nodded. “They’re both friends of mine, Mrs. Miller. Artists from NAU.”
Her eyebrows went up. “Oh. They must be the reason half your backyard was in flames last night. So the school can afford more expensive art equipment and supplies, but can’t buy the books I asked for? It seems priorities are a little skewed, if you ask me. English is required for graduation, for student success the rest of their lives. It’s not one of the little electives.”
Mia nodded at her. O-kay! “Ah, well ... We better get to work.”
Mia climbed into the truck. Kevin climbed in after her and pulled the heavy door closed. When Russ turned the corner, Kevin reached over and patted her thigh, then left his hand there.
Kevin was looking out the window. Mia liked having his hand warm on her thigh. It wasn’t sexual as much as comforting, protective. She looked out the window to see what he was seeing. The red rock mesas stretched away to the horizon. There were a few scrubby pine trees and dusty tumbled boulders, but otherwise the land was empty, the sky above it as blue as his eyes.
“It’s desolate here. Do you like it, Mia?”
“I like the quiet ‑‑ the quiet of the landscape, and the color. The land feels peaceful. But I feel this desolation of the spirit. There is so much poverty, so many drugs. The alcohol is even worse than you’ve heard. This hasn’t been what I hoped for, teaching out here. The kids, they just struggle to get through the day, get something to eat, and they worry about their grandmas out herding sheep alone. School is the last thing on their minds, and art is the last thing they care about in school. Some of them just sign up for art because they need some place to sleep for an hour in the afternoons. I don’t think I’ve been able to get a single kid interested enough in art to stick with it after school, or to go on to college and study art.”
She put her hand on top of his, slid her fingers in between his fingers. “But, you know, lots of artists are struggling to find work. I never wanted to end up living in the back of my van or something. So I guess I’m glad to have a job, and a house. So many people out here don’t have either, and end up just sort of camping out, praying they’ll find enough food for their kids in the morning.”
Russ and Kevin exchanged a look over her head. “How do you feel about camping, Mia?” Russ reached for her other thigh. “Want to go see our land? We’ve got a cabin built, and a little studio. It’s still a little rough, though.”
“Thanks, I would love that! It’s nice of you to include me. Include me in a part of your life like that.”
Kevin reached for the back of her neck and slid his hand up through her hair. �
�That would make us real happy, too, Mia.” He looked over at Russ. “Good thing we got that bathroom put in, Russ. I don’t think Mia would have liked the outhouse.”
Mia unlocked the double doors into the school art studio and propped them open. The studio had been made from the old athletic department, so it was next to the gym. The rooms were small and dark, but they did have bathrooms and running water.
She stood back and watched Russ and Kevin work together to bring the kilns in. They worked without speaking, and they were gentle with each other. She decided that she was probably becoming infatuated. Sweet, young, gentle, good-looking. And they like me. But she couldn’t quite figure out what was going on with them. They both looked at her like they wanted to pull her clothes off and put their hands all over her. But they looked at each other that way, too. What was going on?
The Skutt electric kilns were lightweight, but bulky and fragile. Russ scooted the dolly under the box, and Kevin backed down the ramp, holding the box steady. When they got the box inside, Kevin studied the new wiring and venting system.
“It looks right, Mia. Where’s the fuse box? I’ll just double check.”
“It’s out in the hall.” She pointed the way.
Russ slid the dolly out from under the box, then took it back to the truck. Mia knelt down and slid Kevin’s box cutter under the paper tape.
“Hey! What you think you’re doing here?”
Russ came out of the back of the truck and followed Mia down the hall. An older man with dark hair and a thick bunch of keys at his waist was standing next to Kevin. He was speaking into his radio.
“Mr. Benally, they’re delivering the kilns,” Mia said. “You remembered that the kilns were coming?”
He stared at her as if he had never seen her before. Finally he nodded and turned away, muttering under his breath in Navajo.