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But I was no magician, although I sometimes wished to be.
I settled into my pottery studio, surrounded by the familiar scent of wet clay and the soft whirring of the pottery wheel.
I gave in to the little details surrounding me, subtle, sexy settings that always managed to spark my creativity.
As I worked, my mind drifted toher.
She was out there, her hair long, loose, falling to her waist.
Her eyes were green, almost like a pine forest at twilight.
She moved with the grace of a deer, and her heart bled courage in a cold world.
The way she moved, the sound of her laugh, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her passions . . . she was sublime.
I molded the clay, feeling it take shape beneath my fingers.
I let my thoughts wander to her. I imagined her sitting beside me, her fingers entwined with mine as we molded the clay together.
I couldn't resist the urge to let my mind wander a little further. I imagined us alone in the studio, the light filtering through the skylights and casting soft shadows on our faces.
I pictured her standing behind me, her arms wrapped around my waist as I worked on the wheel.
Heat rose in my cheeks as my mind conjured up more and more vivid images.
Her lips brushed against my ear, her breath hot and heavy as she whispered all the things, she wanted me to do to her.
I shook my head, trying to clear the haze of desire that had settled over me. I needed to focus on my work, not on the wild fantasies that had taken hold of my brain.
But as I returned to the clay, my fingers found themselves working with an urgency that surprised me.
My thoughts drifted back to her, to the way her body moved, the sound of her sighs as she gave in to pleasure.
The clay spun faster and faster beneath my fingers, the heat of the studio mirroring the heat of my desire.
I was straddling her at the wheel, her hips grinding back against mine as we molded the clay together.
I could feel myself getting lost in the moment, lost in the wild, untamed passion that was consuming me.
This studio was my place of solace, and in this moment, it was also my temple of desire.
I abandoned myself to the heat of her. The world outside faded away, replaced by the dizzying swirl of pleasure that consumed me.
And as I finally set down the clay, the final shape taking form beneath my fingertips, I knew that I had created something more than just a piece of pottery.
I had built a vessel for the raw, unbridled passion that had taken hold of me at that moment.
Her.
Would she find me? Would I find her?
All I knew was I had to, because, as Benji would say, the world always conspired to bring two soulmates together.
And no, I was never one to believe that I could have only one soulmate.
But it was a rarity unto itself, finding someone who could lift me from the drudgery of daily existence and show me the colors of life.
She was out there. Somewhere.
