Page 51 of A Royal Disaster
“Really?” the woman asked skeptically. “Then why are all those paparazzi camping outside? I pass them every day on my way to work.”
A few of the other women nodded in agreement, and it was all she could do not to roll her eyes. The paps were vultures. Enough said.
“What’s it like to have all those photographers watching everything you do all day?” another woman asked, hovering precariously on the edge of her stool as she craned her neck to get a glimpse of the paps who were milling around on the sidewalk, looking bored as hell. “It must be so glamorous. Even I felt like a celebrity when I came in. That alone was worth the price of the class!”
Well, then. Did she even need to answer?
“Forget the paps,” an older brunette said, waving off the faux-celebrity. “I didn’t come all the way down here from Long Island to hear about a bunch of gossipmongering stalkerazzi. I want to know what it’s like to go to the bone zone with a prince!”
Oh, the irony.
The rest of the class laughed good-naturedly, and for the first time ever, Lena wished she had a license to serve alcohol. She pinched the bridge of her nose and counted to ten.
“I meant,” Lena said, enunciating each world carefully, “does anyone have any questions about operating the wheel?”
Crickets.
“All right then,” she said, clapping her hands together. She’d get this class back on track one way or another. She had to, otherwise her enrollment would tank again. Fortunately, she’d never had a student who didn’t fall in love with the wheel once they got started. It was therapeutic, the way you could shut out the world and lose yourself in the clay, molding and shaping and creating. And she’d bet her pottery that once she got the women throwing, they’d forget all about Liam and realize she had something better to offer than the sordid details of her sex life. Although, to be fair, she wasn’t sure she’d give up sex with Liam for a turn at the wheel. “Each of you should have a ball of clay at your workstation. I want you to transfer it to the center of the wheel so we can get started on today’s project.”
She took them through the basics one more time, accepting that the class was probably going to run late. Still, it was better than no class, and it wasn’t like she had plans tonight anyway. Liam was busy with meetings, so she was on her own.
Lena stopped at the first wheel to offer guidance to the woman who’d asked about the paparazzi. In a matter of minutes, she’d managed to spin her ball of clay into a lumpy mess that in no way resembled the bowl she’d shown them.
“It’s not working,” the woman said plaintively. “I think I did something wrong.”
“Too much water and not enough pressure,” Lena said. “Remember, you want just enough water to coat your hands. And you want to brace the clay with your hands and stretch it up.” Lena grabbed the misshapen lump. “I’ll get you a new ball of clay and you can try again, okay?”
The woman nodded and Lena made the switch, grabbing a ball of clay from an empty workstation.
She worked her way around the room, giving her students direction and silently giving thanks she had at least a few who seemed to be catching on quickly.
“Now remember,” she called out, projecting her voice across the studio, “once you’ve got your clay stretched up, you want to work the center by using your thumb to open up the top.” She demonstrated the proper technique with her own arms, creating a right angle with her left arm and cupping her right hand over her left. “You want to create a nice ninety degree angle. The pressure should come from the top so you can work the clay down to the wheel slowly.”
The women chirped their assent, and she was pleased to hear renewed enthusiasm in their voices as they chatted among themselves. Lena grinned, feeling a bit smug. They’d forget all about HRH by the end of the night.
When she got to the last workstation, she froze. The girl at the wheel was probably in her early twenties and whatever she was making, it didn’t look like any bowl Lena had ever seen. It did, however, resemble the vibrator hidden in her nightstand.
“You should totally do a class on phallic objects,” the girl said, stroking the bulbous cock on her wheel.
Heat flooded Lena’s cheeks.
“Right?” The girl next to her nodded enthusiastically and took a sip from her water bottle. “It would be so fun for a bachelorette party.Ohmygod. This is the best idea ever.” She turned to Lena. “I’m getting married in the fall and my MOH has been a total slacker. She hasn’t planned anything and I’m starting to freak out. I mean, it’s only the biggest day of my life, right? Granted, I’m not marrying a prince, but he’s a politician, so that’s the next best thing, don’t you think?”
What the fuck was in that bottle? The girl barely paused to breathe.
“So, can we do it?” the bride-to-be asked expectantly. “I don’t care what it costs. My MOH will cover it. It’s the least she can do. Oh, and can we bring wine? I mean, it wouldn’t be a bachelorette party without wine, right?”
“Such a good idea,” the cock-thrower said. “You should totally do it.” She paused, staring intently at her wheel. “Hey, you think it’ll be usable after it’s been fired?”
“Let’s talk after class,” Lena said, pulling a card from the pocket of her apron and thrusting it into the bride-to-be’s hand. It was a shame Nia had class on Tuesday nights, because she was never going to believe this. Not in a million years. “Or you can email me.”
She couldn’t afford to turn away a large booking, even if it meant sucking it up and teaching a bunch of tipsy twenty-somethings how to throw a cock. Who knows…maybe it would be fun.
There was a bright flash outside and the paps moved into action, pushing and shoving and shouting, their voices barely audible through the heavy glass display windows. Then the door opened and Jack, Liam, and Ethan burst through, slamming it behind them and rattling the overhead bell.
Ay bendito.
Lena’s pulse quickened at the sight of Liam, a sexy five o’clock shadow lining his normally smooth jawline. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the overwhelmingly female class, and settled on Lena. He flashed her a devil-may-care grin, and then all hell broke loose.
