by Sarah Black
Mia shook her head and walked back into the studio. Russ waited for Kevin, then they followed her.
“I’ve been here five years. Most of the other staff don’t even know my name.” She smiled at them. “Or they just pretend they don’t know my name.” She knelt at the box again. Kevin knelt next to her and took the box cutter from her hand, leaned close and kissed her cheek. “But to be perfectly honest, I don’t really know them, either. Maybe it’s me, and I haven’t made enough of an effort.”
He cut the tape, and Russ lifted the box off the kiln. Russ took the cardboard back to the truck, and when he came back into the studio he wrapped an arm around Mia, another around Kevin, and pulled them both into his chest.
Mia felt the tears start, and closed her eyes so they wouldn’t see.
“Not real friendly around here, Mia.”
“No,” she agreed, hugging them tightly against her. “It’s not.”
Russ leaned over and kissed her on the top of her head. “We better make a return visit next weekend, don’t you think, Kev? Check on the kilns, make sure they’re working right? Check on our lady?”
Mia moped around a bit on Saturday after they left, but woke up Sunday morning feeling happy and full of energy. She washed the sheets and towels and hung everything out on the clothesline, and then went into the garage to work. She left the door to the backyard open so she could hear the towels snapping and popping in the wind, and the fresh air and light made the small studio space seem more alive than it had been in some time.
She rolled out some clay, a thick, heavy stoneware that should fire a warm, dark red. Was Russ serious about doing a wood fire? She shrugged. She really didn’t know them well enough yet, but she thought he was probably good for his word. Still, she would roll out some earthenware Raku clay, as well, so she could do her own firing if she needed to.
She worked on the sketches for awhile, distilling her two favorites down to four or five strong lines each. She cut the tiles bigger than usual, 6 by 6, and traced the lines into the clay. Then she got her finest pencils, did a couple of carefully shaded and precise drawings and hung those up next to her workbench to act as guides. She worked all day carving the tiles, using her most delicate tools, only stopping to stretch her back and work her hand when it cramped, and to take the sweet smelling laundry back in the house and make up the bed.
This work was good, different from what she had been doing before. The tile was nearly an inch thick, so she had room to make the image deep and real. Instead of box-framing the tile, she let his body run over the edge, as if he was sprawled out across it. When the carving was as good as she could make it, she wrapped it in plastic and put it between two pieces of sheetrock to dry slowly. The tile was so thick she knew it might crack during drying, but she’d just have to take the chance. She studied the extra Raku clay she’d rolled out, then put it away on the shelf, untouched, and went to bed.
Mr. Benally came into the studio on Monday afternoon and studied the kilns, then he went back over all the wiring and connections and inspected the fuse box.
“They’re professional potters, Mr. Benally. The company sent them specially to set up the kilns.”
He lifted the lid on one of the kilns and peered inside. “So these are for firing your pottery?”
Mia nodded.
“My grandmother was a potter. She used a pit, though, and cow dung. I guess that way is too hard for people now.”
“I tried a pit firing just this weekend in my backyard. Most of the pots broke in the fire, though.”
“Did you use wood or cow-dung?”
“Wood.”
Mr. Benally nodded, as if this was to be expected. “Cow-dung is a more gentle fire. I just didn’t know who those boys were, Mia. I didn’t know what they were doing in here. I was worried for you.”
He had come to see her to apologize, in his way. “Do you still have any of your grandmother’s pots? I would love to see one.”
He stroked his chin, staring at the kilns darkly. “Maybe. I’ll have a look around.”
He called her Mia, and from him it sounded like a father addressing a daughter, affectionate and familiar. Well, he was probably close to her father’s age. He didn’t use her first name the way Mrs. Miller did, as a subtle pecking-order put down. Several of the older women teachers did that to her, addressed her by her first name, never offering their own in return. She shrugged. Both she and her subject were not deemed worthy of respect. That was okay. This was just work. But Mr. Benally coming to see her, that was nice. She would have to collect some cow dung and do a firing, let him know how it went.
It was a busy week, especially after two seven-year-old students trailed her out onto the mesa on her dung-collecting trip. One of them asked her eventually what she was doing and she explained about the dung firing. They offered to find her a large bag of dried cow dung for one dollar each. The deal was struck and the word spread, and now the art supply room was overflowing with bulging bags of dung. She’d have to do a couple of dung firings for the students to use it all up. Maybe Mr. Benally could help her, could tell the kids stories about his grandmother doing pit firings.
After work on Friday she put the bone dry tile carefully into one of the electric kilns for a bisque firing. It had made it through the drying with no cracks, but she wasn’t ready to give it to the fire without a few safeguards. She would let it cool down very slowly, and they could look at it in the morning. Russ had emailed to make sure they could still come, and spend the weekend, and she had been so relieved they hadn’t forgotten completely about her that she shed a few tears in private before she sent an email back saying of course they should come; hurry, she couldn’t wait to see them.
They were waiting for her when she got home, sitting on the tailgate of their old truck. They were better looking than she remembered, taller. The smelled good, too, as they folded her into their arms. She told herself to stop acting like a fool. “What’s that smell?”
“Kevin,” Russ said. “He rode up here with a pizza on his lap.”
“We got an extra-large with everything except pineapple and jalapenos.”
“That sounds great. I can’t remember the last time I ate pizza.” Russ peaked into the back of her pick-up and studied one of the plastic bags. “What is that?”
“Cow dung.”
Russ nodded. “You got plenty back here, that’s for sure.”
“Oh, you don’t know the half of it.”
She told them about her week while she pulled paper plates and napkins out of the cabinet. She handed Kevin a pizza pan, and he slid half of the pizza into the oven to re-heat. Then they sprawled out on the couch while the smell filled up the house.
“I brought some mugs, Mia. You don’t mind, do you? I don’t want you to think there’s anything wrong with your mugs.”
“No, Russ. Why should I mind?” He looked away, color staining his cheeks.
She turned to Kevin. “He made them for you this week. A matching set of three. He doesn’t want you to get nervous, thinking we’re asking you to go steady or anything.”
“Cool! What did you use?”
“High-fire stoneware. Orange peel glaze in a salt kiln. A nice Chun liner glaze.” Russ put one of his big hands on her face. “It felt funny making them for you. I had your pretty face in my mind, and it felt as sweet like I was a boy bringing daisies to his mom. I think I’m getting a crush on you.” Mia’s stomach was tingling with anticipation. Kevin reached over Mia’s shoulder and put his hand on Russ’s head for a moment.
“Thanks, Russ.” She was suddenly snuggled between them, shoulders and thighs on either side of her.
Russ stood up. “I’ll get the pizza.”
She looked over at Kevin and he winked at her. “What did you work on this week? The tile?”
“Yeah. I’m very pleased with it. I’ve got it in the kiln now for a bisque. How about your pot?”
“Um, it’s okay. I’m not done. I don’t like the transition to t
he rim. I’m gonna keep working on it. You made me start thinking about edges, Mia.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Awesome idea. I’ve been working it out all week. I think I need to go bigger for Russ’s pot. Like a twenty pound pug, maybe heavy stoneware or porcelain.”
“That’s what I used for the tile, stoneware. It should fire dark red or brown, depending on the kiln.”
Russ carried two plates into the living room and handed them over, then went back into the kitchen for his own. The pizza was dripping with cheese and goodies. Russ dropped a big plop of cheese down the front of his sweatshirt when he lifted the slice for a bite.
“I’ll throw that in the washer for you if you want.”
“Okay, thanks.” He scraped the cheese up and popped it into his mouth.
“Uh, Russ? Can I look at your back again?” She knew her cheeks were turning pink. “I just wasn’t sure, you know, that I got it right.” He started to get up, but she waved him back down. “Finish your pizza first.”
“Not even art gets between Russ and pizza, Mia. Or between Russ and Thai dumplings, or between Russ and green-chili cheeseburgers. He’ll stand still while you stare at his back all day, as long as he’s got a paper plate full of food in his hand.”
She reached over and patted Kevin on the cheek. “And what do you like in your mouth?”
“Peanut butter cookies. Russ’s cock. I’d like to get a taste of you, too, and add that to the favorites list.”
Russ turned around and looked around at him. Mia felt a little stunned, and she shoved some more pizza into her mouth to cover her confusion. The first thing that popped into her mind when he said Russ’s cock in my mouth was, I wonder if they’d let me watch. They were both staring at her when she looked up, strings of cheese connecting the pizza to her mouth. She swallowed quickly and put the slice down. “Can I sketch you two together?” She rushed on. “I don’t want to invade your privacy or anything. I mean, I won’t draw your faces.”
Kevin tugged her close, kissed her mouth. “Um, yummy. You can draw my face. Draw my face while I’m going down on him. That would be hot.”
Yes, it would. Mia felt her whole body flush. They both turned to Russ. He was holding a slice, looking very cool. “Whatever.”
Kevin laughed. “He’s used to being worshipped, Mia. He just sits around and lets the boys and girls come crawling with pizza and dumplings.”
“Yeah, I sit around like a stone head on Easter Island. Kevin’s the one with the boys and girls always falling for him. He’s got that face, and he’s got that crazy genius mojo going. Irresistible. How about you? You’ve probably had good-looking guys trailing after you like bears sniffing honey since you were sixteen.”
“No, not really.”
They both looked at her with blank disbelief. It was really very flattering. She shrugged. “I’m sort of ordinary. I mean, I’m not really ...”
Kevin’s mouth dropped open, then closed with a snap. “No fucking way.”
Russ reached for her face, traced the rounded curve of her cheek. “I look forward to changing your mind, Mia.” His face was complicated, flushed with sex, and when he raised his eyes to hers she got that feeling again, like he had his hands moving over her skin. Kevin took her hand, pressed his mouth to her palm, then slipped one of her fingers between his teeth. His tongue traced the tip, warm lips moving on her until she realized she was close to hyperventilating.
He grinned at her, let her finger slip out of his mouth. “You look cold, Mia. Don’t worry. We’re gonna warm you up.”
“Mia, do you understand about us? Do you know what we want?” Russ’s face was beautiful with erotic desire. She shook her head. “This is what we like.” He pointed to each of them. “One, two, three. Me and Kevin and a woman with a pretty smile and a nice curvy bottom and gentle hands. Me and Kevin and you. All three of us, together. That’s what we want.”
She blinked up at him. One, two, three? Kevin was behind her, and he moved her hair away from her neck. She could feel his mouth, tender and warm as it moved across her skin.
Russ touched her bottom lip with one big finger. “Do you think that’s obscene, three together? Obscene for us to want it all? For us to want everything?”
She shook her head, a flush of warmth stealing over her skin. “I want everything, too. I want you to help me and protect me and talk to me and be with me when I feel lonely. I want to make pots with you, put my hands with yours in the clay. Am I being greedy? I feel like I am, because I want everything, too.” She stopped and took a deep breath, felt a tremble deep in her chest. “I’ve never been with two guys before. I’m not really experienced with this, you know, with sex. You’ll have to teach me what to do.”
Russ sighed and leaned in, his arms going around her, around Kevin. “Kevin ...”
Kevin tightened his grip on her waist. “I know, Russ. Mia, we didn’t think we’d ever find you.”
* * * * *
“I was reading this letter by D.H. Lawrence last week,” she said. “You know ‑‑ that book of literary criticism? He said something like sexual feeling is sunshine, or a river. I can’t remember. But we should feel its warm, natural flow moving through us. I can feel that now, moving through you two, into me. It’s been a long time for me. I forgot how warm and sweet that feeling is.”
Mia smiled at them, gorgeous and naked and lounging at ease across her bed. Both of them were beginning to stir. Russ reached between his legs and took his cock in his hand. Just this moment, she thought. I’m going to remember this moment, and the way it feels, for the rest of my life.
Mia slipped off the end of the bed. She slid her robe open and propped a foot up on the mattress, rubbed lotion up her calf, over the knee, up the inside of her thigh. Then she propped the other leg up and smoothed the lotion on.
“Let us do your back,” Kevin said. He tugged on the sleeve of her robe, and she let him slide it off her shoulders. Russ took the lotion and Kevin untied the waistband of the robe and pulled it off. She was wearing a pale blue bra and panties in a soft, stretchy knit.
“Nice,” Russ said. He crooked his finger at her. “Come a little closer, lady.” She climbed up on the bed. Kevin reached his hand inside her bra and cupped her breast with his warm fingers. He stroked across her skin, and Mia could feel her breathing quicken at the wonderful tingle that tightened her nipple.
Kevin looked over at Russ. “Russ, feel this.” Russ reached for her, slid his hand inside her bra and over her breast. His hand was bigger than Kevin’s, but just as warm. They were moving their fingers over her, touching her like she was precious.
“Why were you reading Lawrence?” asked Kevin.
He slid the straps of her bra down her shoulders and off her arms. Russ filled his palm with peppermint lotion and put a dollop in Kevin’s hand.
Russ moved behind her, and his big hands stroked lotion across her shoulders.
“I was reading about obscenity in art,” she explained. “It reminded me, when you asked me if I thought you were obscene.”
Kevin wiped his hands together, then reached for her and filled his hands with her breasts again. Mia closed her eyes, and the breath caught in her throat. She could feel Lawrence’s sweet river flowing through her, from their hands down through her body.
She opened her eyes and smiled at Kevin. He sat up on his knees and leaned in. He kissed her, and his arms went around her and around Russ. Russ reached around and held both of them together. Gentle hands and hard bodies pressed close to her, and a tender mouth moved over hers.
Kevin broke the kiss. She reached for him, and her fingers traced his face.
She could feel Russ behind her. His erection was huge, and pressed against her ass. He was working his way down her back, his strong hands kneading her muscles.
“We need some condoms,” Russ said. He climbed off the bed and went into the living room. His erection was tight and dark against his belly. He came back with one of their backpacks, pulled out a couple of condoms, and
set them on the bedside table.
He held one up, his beautiful golden brown eyes smiling down into hers. “May I, lady?”
She nodded, feeling vaguely like Dorothy must have just after the tornado visited Kansas. Kevin stretched out on the bed and pulled her up to him, his hands around her waist. He slid his hands into the waistband of her panties and pushed them down her hips. Russ rolled the condom up his cock and climbed up behind her.
Kevin kissed her, and his tongue moved against hers. His mouth was sweet and tender, and he tasted like pizza. Russ put his big hands on her waist, pulled her hips up, and slid her panties the rest of the way down. The anticipation of having Russ behind her with her bottom in the air, not seeing what he was doing, waiting for his touch, was driving her mad. She was kneeling over Kevin, kissing him, when Russ slid his hand between her legs. He didn’t push into her ‑‑ he just moved his fingers back and forth, stroking her swollen clitoris. She could hear him, the catch in his breath as his hands moved over her.
Russ reached over her shoulder and held his fingers up to Kevin’s face. Kevin broke the kiss and put Russ’s fingers in his mouth, sucked them clean. “Oh, Mia ‑‑ you taste so sweet, baby. Look down at me, now.”
Russ moved behind her again and she pressed her bottom back against him. It had been so long, she couldn’t even remember the last time. Their hands and mouths were starting fires under her skin.
“Please, Russ. Don’t make me wait.”
His hands trembled a little on her hips. He pushed between her legs, his cock stretching her body. He thrust in a little way, held her still, thrust in again and then again until he was buried inside her. Her body strained back against him, pushing him to start moving.
Kevin touched her face. She was holding herself up by a hand on either side of his head.
“You’re beautiful, Mia.” Kevin ran his hand down her face, her neck, down across her chest until he touched her breasts. Russ was moving, his cock powerful and urgent, stroking her nerve-endings.
Heat pulsed between her legs. Heaviness was building, an urgent need for more ‑‑ more, harder, stronger. Kevin slid down underneath her until he could take her breast in his mouth. His tongue circled the nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth. He reached between her legs and his thumb stroked her clitoris. Then she felt his fingers reaching for Russ. Russ thrust into her with Kevin’s fingers wrapped around his cock.