Her sister’s gifts are more frivolous; A book about photography, a new leather journal, a crystal bracelet, and a set of fancy European bath products in neon colors.
She saves Sawyer’s for last. Sawyer has given Natasha two gifts. One looks like a shoebox but feels like metal, and the other is long and thin like an envelope.
“Open this first,” Sawyer says, tapping the top of the larger gift.
Natasha peels the paper off and sets it aside. Inside there’s a green metal tin with a hinged lid. Sawyer has carefully painted “Natasha’s Car Box” in gold paint, and then added a red rose either side of it.
Natasha flicks up the lid and inside there’s an ice scraper, some nuts, gum, a tiny torch, a rosary and a small figure of Ganesha, hand wipes, tissues and a brand-new copy of The Teaches of Peaches, free from any scratches or marks.
“Sawyer, this is amazing!” Natasha laughs.
“My granddad gave me a glove compartment kit when I passed my test. I thought it might bring you luck,” Sawyer explains, “Now open this.”
Sawyer slides the long, thin package over to Natasha. She carefully tips it up, so that the contents fall out. It’s a plain paper wallet and Natasha glances quickly at Sawyer before she opens its flap.
There’s a small card voucher in the wallet but Natasha can barely take in the words printed on it. Her eyes fix on a few words: $3000, airline, travel, anywhere.
“It’s a air-travel voucher,” Sawyer says. It sounds like she’s speaking from somewhere far away. Sawyer opens her mouth again and it takes Natasha a few minutes to realize that there’s sound coming out of it.
“You can fly from Logan International, or anywhere really. You can use it with almost any airline. It’s valid for two years so we can take our time and organize my work, or your studying, or our mental health around it. And if you play a small admin fee you can extend it, if we don’t organize it within two years.”
“It’s too much. You paid for dinner,” says Natasha uselessly.
“Yeah, $238 plus taxes and gratuity,” Sawyer says casually, “I budgeted about that much for dinner. I checked the menu online before I suggested it. I’ve budgeted for this plane ticket too.”
Natasha takes a few moments to collect her thoughts and then asks, “Where do you want to go?”
“It’s your birthday present!” Sawyer exclaims, smiling encouragingly at Natasha. “You should decide. We could go somewhere you’ve been before and enjoyed, like France or San Francisco. Or you could try somewhere new. You love Thai food!”
Natasha thinks about it, and she finds that it suddenly isn’t as daunting as she might have thought.
“Thank you, Sawyer. I love you,” is about all she can manage. Her voice sounds hoarse and low, and Sawyer squeezes her knee in response.
They sip their coffee. Natasha finds herself telling Sawyer story after story about growing up with her family. For once, she doesn’t feel like she has to finish every story with a caveat about what happened when they all grew up. When she let them all down. Sawyer sits with her legs folded under her and listens, cradling her cup against the side of her calf. Natasha holds the paper wallet in her lap. It’s such a light thing but she’s sure she can feel the weight of it on her knees.
They finish their coffee and Sawyer lines their dirty cups up next to the sink for them to wash in the morning.
When they get to bed, Natasha wants to fuck Sawyer but she doesn’t know if she can. She tempts herself by thinking about kneading both Sawyer soft breasts and the hard, gristly knots in her shoulders. She imagines the first touch of Sawyer’s tongue on her clit, and how the heat of it will make her shiver and moan. But she also feels her limbs getting heavier with exhaustion.
Sawyer folds her into bed and kisses her and kisses her and kisses her until she’s insensate. Even Sawyer’s vanilla-y perfume is soporific. Natasha’s too tired to even move her mouth, she lets Sawyer lick into and over it until the spit is running over their cheeks and chins and down into the pillowcase underneath them.
Sawyer presses two fingers in between Natasha's labia and pushes them as deep as they will go, bending them upwards. She rubs her thumb above and around Natasha's clit, and soon Natasha is making low, rumbly moans that flow into each other as easily as waves. Sawyer presses her body flush against Natasha and loops her other hand around Natasha's neck to press on the knobbly vertebrae at the top of Natasha's spine. Natasha's eyes flutter closed as Sawyer murmurs quiet words of encouragement into her ear. When her orgasm hits, it comes with the force of a spade digging into a rock. It feels as if it dislodges something hard and heavy, lets cool, clear water flow from underneath it.
Sawyer maneuvers Natasha so her muscled thigh is between Sawyer's larger, softer ones. Sawyer clenches her thighs around Natasha’s, slides herself over it's hard plane. Natasha can feel Sawyer’s wetness smearing on her leg. Her breath still smells of garlic. Natasha thinks Sawyer’s pussy will probably taste of garlic tomorrow, and she makes an oath to herself that she’ll make time to find out. Sawyer is squeezing her thighs and rocking her hips forcefully enough that it pulls Natasha’s body back and forth. Sawyer comes with a sudden
