When Natasha steps back the pose falls apart.
"Don't worry, that one's hard. It will come when your balance improves further. You could never have done that a few weeks ago."
Sawyer chafes under any criticism, but something about Natasha's warm teaching voice makes it easier to stomach. That evening Natasha rides Sawyer's face. Natasha urges Sawyer to spread her legs, using her hands on her thighs to press them and spread them as far as possible. Sawyer moans at the stretch.
"Keep them open for me. You're doing really well. I've been thinking about this all day," Natasha whispers in her teacher voice, and lowers herself slowly down so she's licking Sawyer too. She keeps her hands on the tops of Sawyer's thighs. They're burning. Sawyer comes outrageously quickly, panting into Natasha. Natasha comes shortly afterwards, rolls off Sawyer and laughs for five minutes straight. Sawyer develops a habit of touching herself while imagining Natasha coaxing her in that gentle teacher voice.
They never go on the boat lake. Natasha refuses to do anything relating to the Freedom Trail. They go leaf collecting in the Arnold Arboretum and Sawyer can tell Natasha is quietly pleased when Sawyer tells her that Fall really is more spectacular in New England. Sawyer wants to make a spectrum of all the different shades of orange she can find. She sends Natasha off to find the perfect leaves and discards the ones she brings back with jagged edges or streaks of mud. They take books down to the floating docks on the esplanade. Sawyer loves watching the water, and sharing Natasha's scarf as the sun goes down. Natasha takes Sawyer for really excellent pho with a perfectly clear broth. They spend a lot of time in JP. Sawyer likes how everyone seems to sit out on their porches in the evening, and she photographs JP's enormous hat shop for Mikaela. They go for walks in Natasha's favorite cemetery and visit the graves of Anne Sexton and E.E. Cummings. Shortly after, both of them admit to each other that they don't actually like poetry at all.
Sawyer's production is going well. She pops into the rehearsals, but mostly works from home or the centre. She spends a few days welding and wiring in the theatre workshop, making the pieces of the set that involve electronics. She photographs it from every angle for Natasha. When she takes delivery of the neon signs from the specialist maker she actually screams with excitement as she pulls them out of the polystyrene. She's gone with Natasha's suggestion of a winking eye in a triangle, and she can't fucking wait to see it light up on the stage. The Assistant Stage Manager decides to dye the water black to get even stronger reflections, and they have a fun afternoon in the workshop playing with different ways of doing it. Sawyer meets with Irma and her Deputy Stage Manager, and they go through the script, marking up each of Sawyer's lighting cues.
It's a drab and drizzly day in Boston. Sawyer is using it to sort out her laundry before the chaos of next week's technical rehearsals, while Natasha is using it to drive Sawyer slowly insane. Sawyer finishes balling up her socks and moves on to ironing a stack of black shirts. She may not like living in boxy shirts and starchy, baggy trousers but she can at least try and make herself feel put together.
Sawyer is mostly used to Natasha's quirky habits, but today she's finding Natasha's restless energy exhausting. She's lost count of the number of strange poses Natasha has pulled herself into, and has got used to the thumping noise that means she's attempted to do a hand spring in the hallway. She jumped a mile when she wandered into the bathroom for a pee, to find Natasha in the dark, silently staring at her own reflection in the mirror.
She's just about to suggest that they go for a jog in the rain when Natasha bounds over from the kitchen.
"Had a text from Lucia. It says "Dyke night at The Midway. This non-dyke wants to know if you + Porn Barbie are up for it?"
"You can tell that living embodiment of a tragic Bettie Page sleeve that I saw on Tattoo Fixers that I am willing to consider it."
"I have to say, Luce wins points for brevity there. I'm not typing all that. I'll just put, ‘OK’."
"Natasha, you text like someone's fucking mom."
Sawyer loses interest in her laundry immediately. She folds away her iron and hangs up what she's ironed already, leaving the rest on a chair.
"If she wants Porn Barbie, she can fucking have it."
Sawyer roots around in her closet. She pulls out an old dress she bought for her ex, and prays she'll still fit in it. It's a short, long-sleeved dress in a pink latex. It's a bit tighter on the stomach than she remembers, and her tits are bulging dangerously out the top, but she still likes the way it hugs her body. Natasha's eyes are practically on stalks, so she figures it will do the job. She carefully folds the dress into an overnight bag, and adds a pair of pink pumps. Sawyer slips back
