The Pottery Weekend – Part 2: Slip

By Saturday afternoon, the studio had emptied.

The rest of the class had gone to the pub. The instructor had locked up the kiln and left them the key. The tall doors stood open on the sea, which glittered silver in the low sun. Gulls cried. The air was warm and smelled of wet earth and salt.

Ruth stood behind Adam at the wheel, her arms around his, her hands over his in the spinning clay. The pot rose between them, tall and shapely. His broad back was warm against her chest. She could feel his heartbeat.

"Gently," she murmured.

"I'm being gentle."

"Let it come. Don't push."

"Like this?"

"Like that."

The clay rose. He sighed, a long, happy exhale. Slip ran down their wrists, cool and silky. The wheel purred. For a long moment, neither spoke. The sea breathed in the doorway.

When the wheel slowed, Adam leaned back against her, and she wrapped her arms round his chest. Clay-grey from head to foot, they sat in silence. The pot stood between his knees, finished: a small, lopsided vase with a lovely curve.

"It's the best thing I've ever made," said Adam.

"It's very wonky."

"It's very ours."

"Can I ask you something?" said Ruth.

"Yes."

"May I kiss my husband? With clay on his nose?"

"Yes," said Adam. "And if you say stop, you must sign us up for next weekend too."

"That's no hardship."

"I know."

He turned his head and kissed her, slow and gentle, clay-slick fingers rising to cup her cheek. She kissed him back with all the warm fondness of twelve years, tasting of tea and the sea. The light poured gold across the studio. The wheel turned slowly to a stop.

When they parted, both of them were smiling.

"Green?" he asked.

"Green," said Ruth. "Very green."

The wonky vase sits on their kitchen windowsill. It holds one flower. Every anniversary, it's a different one.

More married couple romance: The Cruise · Couples Retreat · The Second Honeymoon