After a few minutes Natasha beckons the group over to the empty space behind her mat and they sit in a small circle, knees touching. Natasha doesn't want to single out the newcomer and so begins, "It's great to see a few new faces today. We always start with our names and people usually add either what brought them here or something good that has happened to them recently."
Usually this turns into a bitching session, full of in-jokes and by name references to bratty children or unreasonable bosses. Today, the group seems a bit subdued by this tall, unaccountably pink interloper.
As everyone speaks one by one, Natasha is curious as to what the newcomer is going to say. She tries to actively listen to the others, but her eyes flicker over to the blonde woman.
"I'm Sawyer Martinez. I'm from Brookfield. I'm here because my uncle always told me he'd find me hotter if I was a bit more flexible."
That definitely wasn't what Natasha was expecting. The group falls silent. The atmosphere is frosty.
Sawyer puts her head on the back of her hand and adopts a nasal, Valley girl tone. She says, "I'm, like, totally here to find myself."
Natasha finds herself doing her wheezing, open mouthed laugh. Some of the rest of the group snicker politely.
Miriam adds quietly, "Yes, these hipsters appropriating the ancient philosophy of Buddhism can be frustrating." She nods towards Sawyer.
Natasha feels sure that Sawyer is going to answer in her Valley girl tone but instead she says, "They're usually the ones wearing the war bonnets at Coachella as well. I'm half native and fully unforgiving so..."
Miriam smiles back at her, and the frosty feeling eases slightly.
Natasha stands, encouraging the rest of the group back to their mats. Sawyer gets to her feet, and Natasha is fairly impressed to see that she doesn't brace her arms on the floor at all. Natasha sometimes begins the session with a bit of silliness to make sure everyone relaxes. She segues into her 'Russian gymnast instructor' character, clapping brusquely at them and shouting in Russian. Today she feels a bit intimidated by the presence of Sawyer, standing straight backed on her mat.
Some of the group close their eyes while they do yoga, falling into a meditative state as they move through their flow. Others whisper and giggle, mats set out closely together. Sawyer keeps standing straight, waiting for her instruction. Her spine is tucked under so her big ass sticks out. Her dark eyes are focused intently on Natasha.
Sawyer isn't bad at yoga. She finishes all of her poses with a flicked wrist or an artfully posed finger. She has a tendency to bend one knee across the other, and point her toe to the floor. Natasha's made up her mind that she must be some sort of dancer.
She's on her knees, having successfully completed a Cakravakasana pose. It's fairly challenging, but Natasha's not sure if Sawyer knows that yet.
“Yoga isn’t about looking good,” Natasha whispers in her ear. “It’s ok, don’t’ worry.”
Sawyer doesn’t answer but observes Natasha for a moment.
“You have strength. I’d like to help you push your boundaries, Sawyer.”
Natasha walks away from Sawyer for a few paces, then lies on her stomach with her elbows bent and hands spread out underneath her shoulders. She makes sure her toes are in line with her hips, and brings her elbows tight to her sides like little grasshopper legs. She pushes her pelvis into the cool wooden floor. Natasha uses her toes to walk her ass up into the air, and then flips her legs over and down until they are touching her head. She gives her toes a little wiggle, smirks and says, "You're going to need to work a little harder."
Sawyer lets out a long screech that rips the silence of the studio. Natasha holds one finger to her lips and then smoothly flips her body back on to her feet, and pads to the back of the room to help the other women.
Sawyer doesn't say anything for the rest of the session. She easily finds her way into the feathered peacock pose, and Natasha admires the quality and workmanship of her sports bra. Her big breasts remain smashed together as she holds herself upside down on her braced forearms.
Afterwards, some of the group like to go to the café for lunch before they head off. She loves these women, but Natasha sometimes hates the pressure of being the teacher. Her teaching persona means that some of the women attending seem to think that she's fonder of them than she is, and it makes her anxious. It's inevitable that if she starts talking to someone at the end of the session, she'll end up talking to them about their dead dad as Lucia mops the table and cashes up the register behind them. Natasha usually just hovers at the back of the room until they've gone, but Sawyer is having trouble rolling her mat down to a manageable size.
"Here," says Natasha. She grabs the pink foam mat and wrings it between her two clenched fists. Her fingers are long and tanned, veins tracking over the backs of her hands like tributaries. "Is this your first yoga session?"
"Yeah, was I that shit?" Sawyer is staring at her again.
"No, uh. Not at all. You managed most of the challenging poses!" Natasha rushes.
"Sorry I'm a bit of an ass," says Sawyer. She looks down at her own chest. "It's the Leo-Virgo cusp in me."
Natasha laughs and
