That pottery scene in “Ghost” never did a whole lot for me. Sure, Patrick Swayze was pretty to look at, (remind me to tell you about the time I met him, and he kissed me on the cheek, by the way) but the goopy mess all over their hands? Blech. Not sexy at all. I never got why everyone went so crazy over that.
But recently I came across a short video on Instagram. A man sat in a dim room, forming a vessel with his hands. He never spoke, but a haunting music played while his hands shaped the clay. The vase was gorgeous, and it did not hurt that he was absolutely beautiful to look at – caramel colored skin, serious eyes, and sculpted biceps. It was mesmerizing.
I sent the video to my best friend with a funny comment, and we laughed at ourselves for thinking pottery was sexy. Maybe we’ve been married too long, but we both had the same reaction – sure he’s handsome, but can you imagine doing his laundry every damn day? Nooo thank you.
Then I started to read the comments others posted. It wasn’t just me. People were flipping out over this dude with his hands mushed up in clay. His followers posted graphic descriptions about what they wanted his hands to do to them. I realized that he had an entire group of fans who had no interest in pottery – they were there to think dirty thoughts about his hands.
My Writer Brain started spinning. How could I make a story out of this? A woman watching his videos develops a crush on him? I trashed that initial idea – an obsessed fan falling in love with someone online got creepy pretty quickly. What if I made the heroine a writer who made a living off of him? How about we up the stakes a little bit more – she doesn’t just write romances that star him, but she writes erotica about him? What if one day they met, but she didn’t recognize him because she had only seen his hands and arms in the videos? What if he knows about her books, and intends to sue her for damages? What if when they meet, they are wildly attracted to each other?
And then the fun began. I created  a flawed heroine, Raven Darke, a successful erotica writer. Then came Jaxon Dawes, a handsome artist (with amazing biceps. Obviously.) who is the unwitting star of millions of erotic dreams. I put them in a room together, and let the mayhem ensue. It was awkward at first. Jaxon was pissed off at Raven. Well, you can hardly blame the guy. Raven was clueless. But the electricity between them couldn’t be denied. Come on! The story practically wrote itself.
So what I’m saying is, I may have to watch “Ghost” again. Maybe – just maybe – that pottery scene is a little sexier than I realized. Maybe I have a future in writing erotica in pottery studios.
After all, I have been kissed by Patrick Swayze.
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