“Ben stands just behind me, and we begin to wedge out a fresh piece of clay. I try my best to concentrate, to ignore the fact that my heart is beating at five times its normal speed. I watch his arms as he kneads the clay—almost a little too hard—and as the muscles in his forearms flex. “That’s good,” I say, in an effort to stay focused. I dip a sponge into a bowl of water and squeeze the droplets down over his hands to keep things moist.After several minutes, Ben lets me take the lead. I place my palms over the clay mound and close my eyes. Meanwhile, Ben’s chest grazes my shoulders, and his clay-soaked fingers stroke the length of my arms.“You’re doing great,” he whispers in my ear.We continue to sculpt for another hour, working the mound down into a flattened surface—until we have a total of four tiles.And until I can no longer hold myself back.I turn around to face him.“Camelia?” He squints slightly.I bite my lip, wishing that he could read my mind, and that he would kiss me until my lips ache. “What are you thinking?” I ask, slipping my hand inside the waistband of his jeans and pulling him closer.”

laurie faria stolarz

Laurie Faria Stolarz - “Ben stands just behind me, and...” 1

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