Sawyer passes the time playing pool with a couple of short butches visiting from Pittsburgh. The music is pounding, and Sawyer feels giddy as she sneaks off to the bathroom to send Natasha a selfie. She tugs her neckline down and uses her elbow to push her tits up. She tilts her jaw up and away from the camera in a way she looks casually debauched. She isn't sure what to caption it so just sends it with a few of her favorite heart emojis.
CHAPTER NINE
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Natasha hadn't quite known what to say when Sawyer sent her a selfie from a P-town bathroom. She hadn't wanted to come across as possessive, and she'd wanted Sawyer to let her hair down and enjoy her visit from Mikaela. However, she also wanted to push Sawyer down onto the grimy floor and force her to lick Natasha, make the bathroom ring out with Natasha's shouts. She wanted to crash their lips together afterwards, taste herself on Sawyer's lips and growl 'mine.'
They had text back and forth for the rest of the evening. Natasha hoped she gave the impression of an elegant, bohemian lifestyle. In reality, all she had done that evening was smoke six cigarettes and jerk off to try and stave off a panic attack.
But now, Natasha was going to surprise Sawyer. She had picked out her favorite dress, a mid-calf length patchwork of folksy patterns, sewn on mirrors and tiny pom-poms around the sleeves. She pulls on her wooden-soled clog boots, the vintage leather butter soft around her calves. She'd done a shimmery, silvery eye that brought out the Monet-greens in her eyes. On top of her wild hair she perched a little red hat with a gold trim, and she was pretty happy with the way it was all looking.
Natasha had been taken to the old Colonial Theatre a lot as a child. She admired the grand chandeliers but she was always privately quite glad to get outside and into the free space of the Boston Common. Sawyer's theatre was a lot more modern. The facade of the building was a Gehry like construction of silver plates layered over each other. It made Natasha think of what a long exposure shot of some mermaids leaping from the water might look like. The foyer was long and sparse, with white marble reflecting the lights overhead and low, metal framed couches that looked anything but comfy.
The woman on the counter is haughty and disinterested, and Natasha thinks that she really must suggest to Lucia that she should apply here if she's ever looking for a job. She directs Natasha to the back of the theatre. As she rounds the corner she sees that a big white van has just pulled in to the dock of the theatre. The passenger door swings open, and Natasha sees Sawyer's blonde hair immediately. It's frizzier and more unkempt than Natasha has seen it so far, and it's loosely manipulated into two braids.
Sawyer's strong arms swing her out of the cab of the van, but she's so tall her toes almost reach the floor already. The driver is a woman too, dark and petite. She has to jump from the cab and Natasha hears Sawyer laugh at the way the driver launches herself out of the door and flail as she lands. Sawyer is wearing a black shirt and black cargo shorts. They're flecked with paint and a large pen knife sticks out of one pocket.
The two women embrace, laughing. Natasha thinks back to the defensive way Sawyer had come across at her first yoga session, and is glad to see how carefree she looks when she spins the smaller girl around in a circle. The driver disappears and Sawyer walks around to the back of the van, where she finally spots Natasha. Natasha immediately wants to throw up on her feet with anxiety, but Sawyer lights up and runs towards her.
Natasha can't think what to say. She goes for, "It's fucking weird to see you dressed up like an actual dyke."
Sawyer squeals and punches Natasha hard on the arm. "Say that when Betty gets back, she'll fucking cut you down to size."
"Yeah, her size! Watching you hug was like watching that scene where Gandalf and Frodo are talking in the Shire. I wasn't sure who was supposed to be the size of a real human!"
"Oh my God you actual -" Sawyer pulls the hat off Natasha's head and swipes her with it.
She sheepishly hands the hat back to Natasha, "Sorry. I, uh, get a bit hyper after a tour. There's always a big adrenaline rush."
Natasha gets a flashback to bombing speed at her final college show, the little paper twist disintegrating in her stomach. She felt effervescent, talking to her parents and her lecturers about her work. Most times she couldn't look her lecturers in the eye, let alone explain her creative process. It was amazing what a little chemical nudge could do. The next day her parents had driven her home with thin lips, and a friend had text to check if she was okay. Apparently everyone had thought she had been 'strung out and weird.'
"I get it," says Natasha. She takes Sawyer's hand. She finds every part of Sawyer's face a pleasure to look at.
"Did you bring your overnight bag?" Sawyer asks.
Sawyer had text Natasha two nights ago to invite her over for her first night back in Boston. As Natasha had come to expect, Sawyer had explicitly stated that she wanted Natasha to stay the night.
Natasha had anxiety-packed some nice lingerie, a strap on with a couple of different sized
