"If I was there I'd be jamming that inside you so fucking hard."
Sawyer yelps and her body convulses. She throws her head back on the pillows and her hips bounce once, twice, three times before stilling.
Natasha's orgasm is a sharp one that is over almost as soon as it starts. She's too worked up and in too awkward a position to give in properly. Usually after sex, she feels a bit lonely but even though she's alone in her apartment she doesn't feel lonely at all.
Sawyer has shifted forward on the bed, pulling the sheets around her. Her hair is a messy, matted halo and her face is as wholesome as a milkmaid's. Natasha sits for a few minutes, just staring through the screen at Sawyer, watching as the flush in her cheeks dies down and their breathing comes back to normal.
CHAPTER EIGHT
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The last week passes slowly for Sawyer. She has tired of the vegetarian catering that ranges from the bizarre to the pathetic. She doesn't want to wear any more black. She is bored of her colleagues, and of the show itself.
When she was a child she was allowed to open her gifts on Christmas morning before Church. She hated having to leave them behind while her mom and step-dad drove the family endlessly through the snowy woods for the Christmas day service. She used to try and focus her mind on the little helpless baby in the manger, but all she wanted to do was go home and brush the hair of her new doll. Sawyer felt like that about Natasha. She'd been allowed to peel back the paper but she hadn't even begun to unpick her present from the plastic clamshell around it, or untwist those little plastic ties.
Sawyer fell hard. She wished that she didn't, and hated herself for falling into that stereotype. She tended to be decisive about most things, shopping was an easy process for Sawyer. The problem was that, unlike a new dress, a woman could take herself back to the store at any time. It was why she had made herself maintain that physical barrier with Natasha for the first month. She wasn't sure if it was the long stretches she spent away from home, her murky family history or her fucking Wisconsin accent, but no-one seemed to stick around for very long.
Since her last relationship ended, Sawyer had been feeling flat and lacking in motivation. Out of necessity she had mustered the strength to move to Boston, but she still hadn't unpacked. Her fridge lay empty, and her wine consumption was greater than she'd like. She was dogged by a feeling that whatever she tried was doomed to failure. Her colleagues had encouraged her to try something new. She had given yoga a go, and was lucky to have met Natasha. But she can't help wondering how long it'll be before something inevitably goes wrong.
Sawyer stops herself, and reminds herself of the worksheets that her primary care physician had printed out for her. She must step back, and examine the evidence for her worries. She thinks of the weird little texts she gets from Natasha, the pictures of interesting graffiti or of a new pair of pajamas that she's made herself. Sawyer thinks of their Skype session the other night, Natasha's legs thrown over the sides of her chair while she rubbed herself and moaned. Sawyer accepts that all the evidence suggests that things are going well at the moment.
The highlight of the little tour had been Mikaela's visit. Her and Kimberly had hoped to fly in to NYC, but Kimberly couldn't get away from work for long enough. In the end, the Provincetown dates had been better for Mikaela and she'd flown in with a promise to take Sawyer to get wasted and head to a gay club, just like old times. Sawyer had picked her up at the airport, pulling Mikaela's slim frame into a bear hug.
After the show, Sawyer's colleagues went to a sports bar and Mikaela and Sawyer gave them the slip. They'd gone back to her room to discuss the show, putting their make up on while Mikaela enthused about the set and the costumes. Mikaela was sat on the bed with a bottle of bourbon between her knees. Like always, she was furiously blending eyeliner into the crease of her eye while her acid mouth ran at a mile a minute. After they'd both had a couple of swigs of whisky, Sawyer couldn't resist showing Mikaela Natasha's Instagram. It was the centre's account rather than Natasha's own, but she posted plenty of videos of herself talking animatedly about yoga and bending herself into various poses. Mikaela tolerated three before miming putting her head into a noose.
Sawyer laughed, "No, come on, one more! This one has the pose she was in when she was fucking jerking off for me on Skype!"
Mikaela roars, "And what were you doing when she was doing that, Miss Shirley fucking Temple?"
Sawyer just laughs and throws her blusher brush at Mikaela.
Mikaela looks smoking, all dramatic eyes and sweeping neckline. Sawyer wants to get as far away from her work wear as she can, so she ends up in a ridiculous, iridescent pink dress. It's high necked and long sleeved, but makes up for it by barely covering her ass. They try a 'rainbow of shots' in the first bar they go to, and Mikaela ends up passionately tonguing a
