Page 27 of Learning Curves
Michelle watched, transfixed, as the wheel began to spin. It was oddly mesmerizing. In fact, she wondered how Audrey sat in front of it for hours at a time without hypnotizing herself. Michelle already felt somewhat entranced by the whirling lump of clay.
Audrey swiped her right hand through the bowl of water beside her and then pressed both palms against the clay.
“This is called coning up. I’m pressing inward with my hands to force the clay upward into a cone shape.
We want to keep it as neat as possible because that’ll help with the next step, which is coning down. ”
The wheel sped up, and Audrey pressed down with one hand while she smoothed the sides of the clay with the other until it resembled a cake, low and round.
“This step is one of the hardest for new potters,” Audrey said.
“It takes constant pressure and a fair amount of arm strength to keep the clay under my control. Ideally, I want to see it spinning here without a wobble. That’s how we know the clay is truly centered on the wheel.
The human eye can lie, but centrifugal force doesn’t. ”
“Fascinating,” Michelle murmured, watching as Audrey’s fingers skimmed over the surface of the clay like a lover’s caress.
She shouldn’t be thinking about sex while watching Audrey work, but there was something so sensual about the way Audrey’s fingers stroked the clay, molding it into the shape she desired.
Michelle had always found Audrey’s hands elegant, and now she was seeing firsthand why those slender fingers were so dexterous.
Michelle sucked in a breath, suddenly starved for air, as if she’d been so caught up in watching Audrey’s hands that she’d forgotten to breathe. Or perhaps the grace of Audrey’s movements had stolen her breath. “It’s like a dance ... art in motion.”
“Yeah.” Audrey’s voice was hushed, and when Michelle looked up, Audrey’s eyes were locked on her, watching Michelle as raptly as Michelle had been watching the wheel.
Michelle gulped another breath, searching for something to say, when her thoughts were a jumble of sexy fingers and Audrey’s blue eyes. “What are you making?”
“A teacup.” Audrey still spoke quietly, as if she’d fallen under the spell of the wheel too. “If you like it when it’s finished, it can be yours.”
“Oh, but ...” I already have one, she wanted to say, but the words got lost, because Audrey’s fingers had dipped into the top of the clay.
Not all her fingers, just her index and middle finger.
They pressed into the clay in a gesture so undeniably sapphic that Michelle’s skin flushed hot, and her core clenched as if those two fingers had just dipped inside her .
“This is called opening the clay,” Audrey said, and indeed it was opening beneath her touch, a hollow forming at its center.
As Michelle watched, Audrey removed her hand and dipped those two fingers—index and middle—into the bowl of water to wet them.
Her nails were short, neatly trimmed, and she’d taken off the turquoise ring, probably to keep it clean.
“It’s important to keep the clay wet,” Audrey said.
“Oh,” Michelle murmured, focused on Audrey’s glistening fingers.
Audrey pressed those two fingers into the clay, and Michelle couldn’t be the first lesbian to find this erotic.
Because good lord , the way Audrey’s fingers dipped into that clay .
.. Michelle pressed her thighs together, hating herself for reacting this way.
Audrey had invited her over to show her a skill, not for Michelle to write mental porn about Audrey’s fingers.
She’d switched to her thumbs now, pushing farther into the clay as the gap widened. Its surface glistened from the water she’d applied. So wet, Michelle’s sex-starved brain supplied. Audrey picked up a sponge and gently blotted away some of the moisture, and at least that wasn’t overtly sexual.
Michelle made a conscious effort to control her breathing.
It was absurd that she was getting hot and bothered watching Audrey mold clay.
Audrey was her student , or she had been once.
Michelle feared she would never be able to fully separate present-day Audrey from the bright-eyed freshman she’d first met in her introductory art history class.
Audrey had been only eighteen, and Michelle had been her professor.
This attraction was beyond unfortunate. She needed to snap out of it immediately.
Audrey was talking again, explaining her process as the clay slowly transformed into the shape of a teacup.
She kept using the word “wet,” and it was having a most inconvenient effect on Michelle.
Making a teacup didn’t take as long as Michelle had expected, and she attributed that to Audrey’s talent.
There were no missteps. The clay never fell and had to be reformed.
No, Audrey’s graceful fingers molded it steadily into a beautifully proportioned cup.
“How do you get it off the wheel?” Michelle asked, rediscovering her voice as the wheel came to a stop, releasing her from its trance.
The cup seemed so delicate, so flimsy in its current state, and Audrey had stuck it really firmly to the wheel to keep it in place while she worked.
Surely, if she grabbed at it now, the whole thing would collapse.
In response, Audrey dipped both hands into the bowl of water to clean them, then dried them off and held up a piece of wire. “I use this to cut it off.”
“Oh.” Michelle heard the surprise in her voice.
Audrey slipped the wire under the cup and pulled, releasing it in one quick movement. “It needs to dry for a little while before we add the handle, but what do you think?”
“Spectacular.” Michelle sat up straight on her stool, only then realizing how much she’d leaned forward, eager to watch every move Audrey made.
Her heart was racing, and she felt a little bit buzzed, the way she’d felt the other night after she finished drafting a particularly invigorating scene in her new book. Adrenaline.
Audrey grinned at her, and Michelle could feel herself smiling right back.
She felt warm and uninhibited, and the urge to kiss Audrey was almost too strong to resist. But resist she would.
Michelle had impeccable self-control, and that wasn’t about to change, no matter how deliciously pink and kissable Audrey’s lips looked right now.
Michelle needed to stop staring at them, though. She yanked her gaze back to Audrey’s eyes, which were just as soft and inviting as they watched Michelle.
“I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink,” Audrey said, breaking the spell.
“Yes,” Michelle agreed. Her throat was parched, and all she’d done was watch. She stood on slightly wobbly knees, allowing Audrey to lead the way downstairs to the kitchen. It was small but cheerful, as bright and inviting as the rest of the house.
Audrey took two glasses from a cabinet and filled them from the water dispenser on the refrigerator, then handed one to Michelle. As Michelle sipped hers, Audrey gulped the whole glass, licking water from her lips when she’d finished and sending Michelle’s mind straight back into the gutter.
After observing Audrey at the pottery wheel, Michelle was seeing her in a whole new light. She’d been so confident, so steady. The student had become the teacher, so to speak, and it only made Michelle want her even more.
“Now the question is, do we follow that with a real drink?” Audrey asked.
“Because I really want you to take a turn at the wheel, and I feel like my chances of convincing you might be higher if I give you a little liquid courage first. So ... what do you say? Should we open a bottle of wine and make more pottery together?”
Michelle should say no. Drinking alcohol while her judgment was already impaired by her rampaging hormones was a recipe for disaster.
Or maybe a glass of wine would help calm her down.
She was surprised by the tug of yearning in her chest that said she did want to try the wheel.
She’d be terrible at it, but it looked oddly soothing, and surely she wouldn’t find it as sexual if her own fingers were molding the clay.
“Yes,” Michelle said. “Yes to wine. As for the rest ... we’ll see.”
The wine was a mistake. Halfway through her second glass, Michelle found that her inhibitions were hopelessly blurred. She sat entirely too close to Audrey on the sofa as she waxed poetic on the most influential women in realism, including one of her all-time favorites, Rosa Bonheur.
“Did you know she was so committed to realism in her paintings of animals, not only did she spend days observing cattle and other livestock, but she also dissected their carcasses and even visited slaughterhouses to get a better understanding of their anatomy?” Michelle might never get over the thrill of being able to discuss these topics with someone who was as interested in them as she was.
Surely that was the reason she was currently gazing into the azure depths of Audrey’s eyes like they belonged in a painting at the National Gallery.
Everything about Audrey was a work of art, and Michelle wanted to stare at her forever.
“I didn’t know that, but I did know she was openly queer, which was incredibly badass of her.”
“Yes.” Michelle smiled into what remained of her wine. “I’ve always loved that about her too. Queer women throughout history are my heroes. Lord knows it’s not always easy even now, but back then? I can only imagine the things she endured.”