"Natasha, Natasha, take a picture of me for Mikaela in her couture. I want it to be high fashion!"
Sawyer drapes herself over the yellow plastic trashcan, bends her arm outwards at the elbow and loosely holds her burger in her hands. She stares moodily into the distance. The trashcan clashes horribly with her dress, and someone has left ketchup smeared down the front of it. It looks, improbably, like a magazine shot.
Sawyer suggests, "Okay, come on, let's do another one,"
Natasha sees a group of teenagers gossiping amongst themselves about Sawyer, darting little looks at her and sniggering behind their hands. Two burly men wearing fluorescent jackets keep staring at them, frowning slightly, then going back to mashing their fries into great pools of ketchup.
Sawyer can't be drunk, not off three glasses of free prosecco, but she's exuberant and obnoxious, and Natasha finds it infectious. Natasha thinks of the asshole in the taxi, and the stupid college kids in the restroom. Fuck it, Natasha thinks, she wants to have some fun.
She puts on her best Russian accent. "Alright my darling, I need you to give me 18 year old Mormon bride. Married to narcissistic millionaire."
Sawyer puts her burger on Natasha's tray, gives Natasha's phone a dead eyed stare, and holds the award in front of her with both hands, arms straight and locked. Natasha can see the side of Sawyer's mouth pulling, she's going to lose it imminently.
Natasha rolls her Rs as much as she can, "Perfect, perfect! This time I want sexy. Get on the trashcan."
"On the trashcan?" Sawyer asks, sounding less sure.
Natasha's accent slips as she laughs at Sawyer's indignant face, she recovers it as fast as she can. "Yeah on the trashcan. Lie back over it."
Sawyer follows Natasha's instructions and then turns on her side. The curve of Sawyer's hip is ridiculous, and Natasha can see her working her core to push it up further. Good girl, Natasha thinks. Sawyer grabs her burger and bites aggressively into it. She drums her feet on the side of the plastic as Natasha plays with the settings on her phone camera.
"Come on, more! Sexy! Sexy!" Natasha shouts, capturing Sawyer's gherkin falling in mid-air. Sawyer pulls her hair out of her bun and shakes her curls down. One of the flouro-jacketed men coughs into his McFlurry. Natasha laughs with her mouth open so wide she thinks the other patrons of McDonald's must be able to see her every tooth. She needs to run in a small circle to burn off her energy.
"Gorgeous, yes! Give me more! Give me sexy, and stupid - and sociopathic!" Natasha's cackling at Sawyer and Sawyer's arching her back and snarling. Her curls are spilling down the side of the trashcan and Natasha's sure something sticky and smelly is going to get stuck in them soon.
"Right, I'm done. Need to see if I can eat all this without my Spanx making me regurgitate it immediately."
Sawyer pushes herself down from the trashcan and squashes herself in the little plastic booth next to Natasha, finishes her cheese dippers while Natasha selects the best photos to send to Mikaela. The fries were a mistake, she doesn't much want them. She tilts the bag towards Sawyer, knowing she will finish them off for her.
While Natasha is looking at her phone, Sawyer manages to sneak her own phone out of her clutch bag and take a picture of Natasha. Sawyer makes a pleased humming noise and then turns it, so Natasha can see. Natasha instantly focuses on her widow's peak, how big her nose is, the crinkles around her eyes.
"I'm keeping this one forever, you look so hot." Sawyer grins at her, holding a clump of fries by their ends and then biting them all at once.
Natasha revaluates the picture. She likes the way her green eyes stand out against her maroon eye-shadow, the neckline of her dress is elegant, her hair looks tantalizingly disheveled.
As they finish, Sawyer summons a taxi through an app on her phone. Thankfully, this driver keeps himself to himself. He's got an audio book playing, some old-fashioned English detective thing that Natasha doesn't recognize. Sawyer leans across the back seat and kisses her. At first, Natasha's ears pick out odd words and phrases, but as Sawyer starts to clamber into Natasha's lap, they fade more and more into the background.
Soon, Sawyer's whole body is draped across Natasha's lap, their mouths melded together. Sawyer has her fists wrapped around Natasha's hair and every so often she tugs sharply. The material of her dress is slippery as she writhes against Natasha. She's a rusalochka, Natasha thinks.
Sawyer pulls away for a second, panting and flushed. "Sorry," she breathes, "winning makes me horny."
Natasha twists in her seat so Sawyer can lean her back against Natasha. She pulls Natasha's hands around her body and pushes them down so they're over her pussy. She rocks her hips up into Natasha's hand rhythmically, tilts her head up to kiss Natasha's jaw. Over the speakers, the detective is still searching for leads, investigating a suspicious happening at the vicarage.
When they get inside Sawyer's flat, Sawyer sets her award on the sideboard where she keeps her favorite Barbies, and flops down on the sofa.
"In a minute," she tells Natasha, "I'm going to be the life and soul of the party."
Natasha snorts, sits down next to her and
