Sailor

 

“Where in the world are you taking me?” I ask Jake as he keeps his hand over my eyes and helps me walk.

“We’re still in the Village, but I think you’re going to like it. Stop for a second.” A bell dings like one you’d hear when opening a door to a business. “Walk forward… OK, we’re here.” Jake removes his hand, and I look around.

“Is this your mom’s pottery shop?”

He grins proudly. “It is. I hope you don’t mind meeting her.”

“I’d love to.”

“I’ll be right back.” I survey the space as he leaves me alone and heads toward the back of the shop and through a curtain.

The room is bright and cheerful from the colored art on the walls and the painted pieces of finished pottery sitting on shelves.

The glow of evening sunlight casts on them through the windows, showcasing the bold colors, and I had suspected her shop would be this vibrant. Jake’s personality is like an aura of vivid colors.

He walks back inside the shop with the same grin, along with a woman who he favors. She’s in a long, floral dress that almost touches the floor, and her shoes are like ballet slippers.

She pushes back the dark hair that’s fallen from her messy updo. The apron over her dress is covered in remnants of clay and a rainbow spattering of paints.

“Sailor, I’d like you to meet my mother, Jeanine.”

“Mom, this is Sailor, the coolest teacher I know.”

“Madeline and Jake haven’t stopped talking about you. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you, too. I love your shop.”

“Thank you. It’s like my third child, except this one is never going to grow up. It’s a little better of a tax write-off than my other two were, so I allow it to be demanding.”

“I see where Jake got his wit from and his dynamic green eyes.”

“I can’t take all the credit. His father’s quite amusing.” She nudges Jake’s shoulder. “You found a gentle soul. I like her already.”

“Thank you.” Blushing, I examine the room again. “I see why art is Maddie’s favorite class. She’s so creative and imaginative.”

“Like her Uncle Jake, she’s a natural on the pottery wheel.”

“Oh, really? Jake hasn’t told me about this.” He’s the one turning a bright shade of red now.

“Are you ready for your surprise?” he asks.

“This isn’t it?”

“Nope. There’s more. Follow me.”

Jeanine removes her apron as she walks back toward a counter near a doorway that’s covered by a pink and green paisley curtain. We follow her, and I’m eager to see where we’re going.

“I’m grabbing my purse and heading out. I’ll lock the front door.”

Jake kisses her cheek. “Thanks, Mom.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. It was lovely meeting you, Sailor. You’ll have to come over for dinner soon and meet the old man from Brooklyn.”

I giggle. “I’d love that.” Taking my hand, Jake leads me through the curtain, and I glance around a spacious room with a concrete floor. On the right are rows of shelves and supplies, along with some plastic tote containers resting on the floor.

An open walkway is straight ahead, and a half-wall starts on the left about fifteen feet in front of us that somewhat divides the large room into two.

Jake walks us over to the makeshift area, and I cover my mouth. Small strings of white lights are hung up on the perimeter walls and run across the top of the half-wall.

There are two giant red pillows on the floor, and between them is a blanket spread out with a picnic basket, a place setting for two and an ice bucket with a bottle of wine chilling. Behind that is a pottery wheel and a table with supplies.

“Jake, this is so romantic.”

He kisses my temple. “Have a seat, doll.” I take a pillow, and once we’re both seated, he starts a mellow playlist on his phone and pours us drinks. I open the picnic basket and pull out containers.

“Oh, you got noodles and dumplings,” I say excitedly. “I love both.”

“You’re too easy to please.”

Looking down at the containers of food, I ask, “So, have you brought other dates to the pottery shop?”

“Hell no, woman.” I giggle over the surprised tone in his voice. “That would’ve given them the wrong impression, and I don’t mislead people. They weren’t special like you.”

“Thank you.” Once we’re eating, Jake’s quiet, but not in the I’m hungry and only focusing on my meal sort of way.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask.

“Elliott told me he’s working a bunch of extra hours so he can take you away for a couple of days. Hell, he can charter a private jet if he wants. I can’t compete with that, so it’s at least cool to hear you like what I’ve done tonight.”

I reach across our cozy space and squeeze his hand.

“I wouldn’t compare the two dates. You and Elliott are different, and I don’t feel one of you is better than the other. Your differences are what make each of you unique, and you both give me special, contrasting experiences.

“Honestly, until you mentioned Elliott, I was only in this moment with you, thinking about how romantic this is. I’ll admit I enjoy luxury at times, but I also crave this right here … with you.”

I grin bashfully. “Believe me when I say that our brief staycation and trip to Walmart was the most fun I’d had in years.”

As he chuckles, his dimples peek out, and the twinkling lights shining in his captivating green eyes remind me of Christmas.

I bet the holidays with his family are so much fun, not stuffy like with my parents. I feel lonely when I see my family at the holidays, but I bet I’d have a blast with Jake’s.

“Now, what are you thinking about?” he asks.

“How I’d love to spend the holidays with your family since I imagine it would be amazing.”

“Seriously?”

Nodding, I lean over and give him a kiss, hoping I’ve eased his mind. I didn’t know if I could feel as close to Jake after the intimate time I spent with Elliott, but like always, as soon as I was back around Jake, seeing his smile, and feeling the positive energy and happiness he transmits, I fell deeper in love.

It’s so easy to picture us ten years from now, married with children. I didn’t know it was possible to want that so soon.

We talk and finish eating, and afterward, Jake directs me over to the pottery wheel.

“Have you done this before?”

“Yes, but not since college, and I wasn’t good at it.”

“I’ll help you. It’ll give us another opportunity to be up close and personal.” He winks, and I swoon since he’s so good-looking without the added charm. I touch the stubble on his face.

“I look forward to it.”

“My mom wedged the clay for us, so we’re all set.”

I sit on the stool in front of the wheel, and Jake sits on one right behind me. As he explains the process of throwing clay, I realize how much he’s learned from his mother.

Starting the wheel with the foot pedal, he places the clay in the center and pats it in place before we wet our hands in a bucket next to us. He presses his body against mine and instructs me to bring my elbows in close to my waist.

In no time, his hands are over mine, and we’re shaping the clay. The act of squeezing it with our wet palms, and forming it into a cone, is arousing.

While he gives me instructions, I imagine my palms around something else, and that something else is pressing against my ass.

He moves my right hand to the top of the cone, and as we push down on the clay, our left hands press against the side of it. This new move redirects my thoughts, and I focus on what we’re trying to accomplish.

Once we’ve done this a while, it’s time to create a hole in the top center with our fingers, and my mind is having dirty thoughts again. I’m blaming it on the wet hands.

Next, we begin to shape the cylinder into a pot. We use my thumb and fingertips to pull the clay … squeezing and lifting it gently to raise the wall.

Even though I know we’re not creating a masterpiece since we’re using two sets of hands and I’m new at this, it’s cool to see the mound of clay form into another object.

We smooth the rim and repeat the process, needing a sponge at times to soak up the excess water. I’m having a blast learning, finding it enjoyable to be the student again rather than the teacher. I feel safe in Jake’s arms, and as we finish, he kisses my neck.

“You did good, Teach. Don’t let go while I get the wire to slide under the pot to remove it.”

As he reaches farther over me to the grab wire off an attached area at the front of the wheel, I say, “I could call you Teach tonight, and you must be a pro at pottery since you were able to create this with your hands over mine.”

“We were pros.” Carefully, he removes the pot from the wheel and moves it to a table. I turn around on my stool, hoping he’ll return to his so we’re facing each other. He takes the hint and sits in front of me. “Want to wash your hands?” he asks with a smirk.

“No. I want them on you. This experience turned me on.” I glance back toward the door. “Will your mom come back?”

“Not a chance.”

“Do you have a condom?”

“I do.” Pulling one from his pocket, he holds it up and smiles. I bite my lip and get up to remove my jeans and panties, not worrying that they’ll be dirty from my hands.

He lowers his jeans and underwear, too, and once he has the condom on, I straddle him and sink onto his hard cock. My satisfied moan and his groan are exhaled simultaneously.

I’m soaked from having his body against me and from squeezing and shaping the clay. I recall his fingers directing mine to make the wet hole, and yeah, I’m diggin’ pottery class.

He clutches my ass, keeping us both on the small stool. Sliding my hands up into his hair, I press my elbows against his shoulders to brace myself as I ride him.

We kiss, our tongues probing and stroking, and I have to let go to catch my breath as the pleasure builds swiftly. My orgasm hits me fast and out of nowhere, so I grip the back of his coarse hair and cry out.

He holds me down forcefully, burying himself deep as he’s pummeled with pleasure, too. He leans his head over to rest on my shoulder, and he pants for breath, the sounds in time with mine.

Gradually, the banquet of sensations subsides, and it’s the perfect ending to our perfect date. I circle my arms around his neck and hug him tightly.

“Thank you for tonight. It couldn’t have been better, and now, we have a reason to go to the condo and shower together.”

“I like the way you’re thinking, and if throwing pottery gets you this horny, we might have to do it more often.”

“I’d like that, but just know that any time we spend together is exciting.”

Cupping my cheek, Jake strokes my hair with his other clay-covered hand.

“I love you, Sailor. How is that already possible?”

As I grin, I feel the butterflies in my stomach and the heart palpitations.

“I don’t know, but I love you, too.”