Page 68 of The Day After Christmas
Bex scoffed. ‘Come now. I know it’s only ten in the morning but there’s no way someone like you could be a potter. Do you want me to start the music for you? Where would you like me to stand? Or am I okay sitting?’
Horror rose in Felicity’s throat as she watched the potter colour slightly and although she knew she should probably step in, something held her back.
Am I awful? Maybe I’m being awful. Do something, Felicity, before it gets any worse.
But before she could do anything, it did in fact get worse. Bex stood up slowly, dark tresses bouncing, dark-red lips pouting, and walked towards him, hips swaying. She put one hand on the tie of his apron where it was done up at the front and pulled.
‘Do you want me to help you get started? Is this right?’ she purred in her most seductive voice, leaning towards him.
The man actually looked quite tempted to kiss her for a moment, before he realised what was happening and started backing away, hastily retying his apron. His voice had risen a couple of octaves.
‘Seriously, ma’am, this is your hen do I know, but we only offer pottery workshops here, I swear.’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Lord save me,’ he muttered.
‘Oh. That’s… a shame,’ said Bex, eyes still flashing. ‘Well, why don’t we just see where the day takes us?’ she added, in a voice dripping with honey.
The potter waved his hands. ‘Please. I’m just here for the pottery.’
‘Of course you are,’ said Bex.
‘I am, honest to God. I mean, if you wanted something a bit more… racy,’ said the man cautiously, ‘you maybe ought to speak to your bridesmaids.’
All eyes turned to look at Felicity and her face flushed bright red.
Oh, thanks for that, Mr Pottery Man, great help you are.
Realisation finally dawned and Bex’s beautiful face fell in dismay and flushed purple all at the same time. ‘Sorry, so you’re not actually a stripper?’ She glanced around the room, her gaze resting on Felicity and Sophie, aghast. Felicity’s skin broke out in a cold sweat.
But the man grinned shyly at that, and a dimple appeared in his left cheek. Two of the girls behind Felicity sighed audibly. ‘No, ma’am.’
Bex was still staring at Felicity, her face more a shade of crimson now. ‘Is this a wind-up? Are you trying to embarrass me, Fliss?’
Felicity shook her head firmly and Sophie stepped forwards.
‘I organised this bit, Bex, and I can assure you this is a legitimate pottery centre with no strippers of any kind.’
She waved her hand in the general direction of the pottery throw-down man.
‘But I thank you for the compliment, ma’am,’ he said, throwing Bex a winning smile. ‘I can honestly say that’s never happened to me before.’
There was a long pause while everyone held their breath.
‘I find that hard to believe,’ breathed Bex in her most seductive voice and then laughed. ‘Come on then, let’s get potting or whatever you call it.’
The whole room breathed a sigh of relief.
‘You got it, ma’am.’
Oh, thank the Lord,thought Felicity, who suddenly needed a sit down.
CHAPTER 33
By 10.30am everyone was ready at their potter’s wheels while the extremely handsome man, whose name was Jack, they discovered, sat in the middle and showed them how to craft a vase using just a lump of clay and a lot of rather suggestive-looking hand movements.
Felicity smiled to herself as she watched.Ironic that he’d probably make a great stripper, she thought.
The other girls clearly shared her opinion as no one seemed very interested in actually having a go. They were all much more interested in the demonstration side of things, especially when he got to the part where he brought the neck in deftly, moving his hands firmly up and down the clay, and by 11.15am they had perfected the art of asking Jack to “just show us that one more time, if you could” so they could all enjoy the view.
At some point during the morning Felicity managed to excuse herself while they were all transfixed by Jack’s muscled and very dextrous hands, and made some frantic phone calls to see if anywhere at all would be able to host a hostile hen and her eight companions who weren’t even drunk yet.
