Several days ago, during a passionate night, sharing perpetual orgasms, drunk with pleasure, Andrea and Miranda confessed sexual fantasies. Truth be told, it was actually Andrea who broached the subject, while she was lying on her back, sweaty and panting, caressing with her hands the silver hair of Miranda, lodged between her legs at the edge of the bed. While the editor's mouth kissed and licked her wet folds relentlessly, Andrea went mad with pleasure, and muttered out loud her fantasies. Like the lubrication that flowed between her legs, the confessions emerged outside of Andrea's throat without her being able to control them, much to Miranda's pleasure, who listened attentively despite her busy mouth. Andrea had stuttered her Sleeping Beauty fantasy with overlapped sentences, barely understandable, but nevertheless very provocative. It was all about being completely possessed by Miranda, while being inert, receptive and passive, and enjoying everything that Miranda would dare to do to her pretending-to-be-asleep body. As the description deepened, the words lost their accuracy, Andrea approached her peak, became inarticulate before reaching an orgasm of surprising strength. Smiling with smug satisfaction, Miranda had noticed how much this fantasy stimulates Andrea.
Obviously affected by her own confession, Andrea quickly blushed. Miranda, after wiping her lips with the back of her hand, had also admitted to finding this fantasy very interesting. Sitting next to a breathless Andrea, Miranda asked her to work out the rules of this unusual scenario, if this fantasy ever came true. Suddenly shy, Andrea reddened and stated with unfamiliar embarrassment the rules of this fantasy: Andrea will pretend to be asleep; will already be in bed for the sake of realism; will not be able to respond nor make sounds of pleasure; otherwise Miranda will have to stop the fantasy. Miranda, beforehand, will need to kiss Andrea's forehead, to reassure them mutually, and then Miranda will be able to do absolutely anything she desires. If Andrea ever feels like ending the fantasy, all she has to do is move or say "stop". After these very elaborate details, Miranda understood how significant this fantasy is for Andrea, since everything was already so detailed in her mind. Therefore, Miranda had nodded as much with pleasure as with reluctance, not daring to warn Andrea how unsure she is about the behavior expected to satisfy her lover's scenario. Having sex with a consenting person who shows no signs of reciprocity could be uncomfortable. But since she is Miranda Priestly, she will find a solution.
For the time being, since that confession, both women have resumed their daily routine, the subject has not been raised again, yet.
The afternoon has just started, and it turns out Miranda is having a disastrous day at Runway. Delays in printing the last photo-shoots and errors in sending the last samples drove down her entire agenda for the week. Miranda hates situations where she cannot control the fallout. It is therefore by exhaling loudly with discouragement that Andrea's proposal reaches her mind and invigorates her soul. Andrea's offer seems to be a brilliant solution for tempering her mood and finding balance. Being in complete control of a risk-free situation, surrounded by love, security and playfulness just might do the trick. Miranda bites the inside of her cheek to restrain an inappropriate smile.
This frustration is also a productive tool capable of helping Miranda to solicit the required energy and confidence, in order to accomplish such a sexual scenario. Andrea's fantasy, somewhat peculiar, is more demanding for Miranda than it is for Andrea, despite what Andrea thinks, who only has to feign unconscious delightfully. The spotlight will be on Miranda, on the analysis of each gesture and the consequences of each decision, and Miranda fears to make the situation uncomfortable with any awkwardness. It is almost impossible to offend Andrea when it comes to sexuality, and it is indeed Andrea who’s asking for such abandonment. Then, this evening, Miranda believes herself capable of offering it convincingly.
Subsequently, while the twins sleep at their father's, Miranda is fueled by this decision which creates butterflies of excitement in her stomach. She hastens to send a text proposing her evening’s invitation to Andrea to verify if her partner is willing. Curious, Miranda waits for the next few hours in delicious expectation.
In the offices of The Mirror, Andrea's cell phone announces that she is receiving a text message from "M", without being noticed immediately. Andrea’s fingers are actively working on her computer’s keyboard. Focusing on an article to be sent for approval within the next hour, Andrea is not paying attention to her cell at this time. She operates the words running through her head. Fortunately, Andrea isn’t aware of the text’s nature, or else her concentration would have been permanently interrupted.
It is only by concluding her article that Andrea sighs in contentment by stepping back in her seat, in order to rest her back comfortably against her chair, with a refreshing feeling of accomplishment. In doing so, she takes the opportunity take a sip of her coffee, which has become cold, before happily picking up her cell phone and looking carefully at the screen to read Miranda's message.
"Sleeping Beauty, if you're ready, I am. Tonight, 9 p.m. "
Andrea instantly chokes on her coffee, spitting it all over the screen. But that didn't stop her from reacting as if she had just won the lottery, and she quickly fumbles with her phone to send Miranda a positive response, with her hands trembling with surprise.
"You will find a woman sleeping in your bed. I wonder what you’ll do about it?”
Back at the Townhouse, Andrea squirms, hopping on two feet in a hurry. The impression of feeling tiny in this empty and enormous house never fades. But this evening, she will take advantage of this quietness. She had not expected Miranda to suddenly propose acting out Sleeping Beauty in such an unexpected delay. The journalist wonders what kind of mood Miranda is in. Either absolutely everything works perfectly at Runway and this pride stimulates a sexual ambition, or, absolutely nothing works as it should at Runway and this frustration prompts a sexual determination. Usually, these two circumstances strongly affect Miranda's moods, as if she is reaching both sides of the pendulum with counterbalanced force. Regardless, Andrea mentally prepares for these two tempers, one more playful or one more daring.
Andrea dances from room to room. It is currently 7:00 p.m., and she must pass the time. Moving to the kitchen to prepare a meal, she changes her mind. Determined not to eat because she does not want to be distracted by digestion, Andrea decides to consume only a nourishing fruit juice, to accumulate enough energy and vitamins to be able to fully appreciate the moment.
Enthusiastic, the brunette goes up the stairs and heads to the bedroom. She needs to prepare the clothes she will wear for the event. She chooses to wear the most ordinary clothes, which is a black underwear and a white camisole with small straps that barely cover her chest. The mise en scène has to be realistic, and Andrea usually does not sleep in sophisticated lingerie. Next, the journalist goes through the bathroom to freshen up, barely trim her pubic hair and shave the fine regrowth on her legs. She removes any makeup on her face, moisturizes her skin, perfumes her hair with her favorite bottle, brushes her teeth carefully and ties her hair in a simple ponytail.
Back in Miranda's room, struck by the calm before the storm, Andrea is moved by Miranda's audacity and by her acceptance of this particular fantasy. Her heart throbs in anticipation while waiting for Miranda’s arrival, and no books nor TV show can sufficiently keep her mind occupied.
The minutes tick by steadily, bringing time closer to the moment when Miranda will endorse the intruder’s role. Everything seems so surreal. Despite the fact that they have been making love for several months already, this daring state of intimacy bears a resemblance to the poignant stage fright of their first encounters. Andrea has the impression of rediscovering Miranda, being placed in front of the stranger that her partner will perform by agreeing to act out her fantasy.
The moment of their rendez-vous is approaching and although Miranda might be late, Andrea makes sure to be ready at 9:00 pm. Therefore, Andrea turns off all the lights in the room, leaving only the lamps in the corridor. Eagerly, she lies down in the center of their familiar bed, decides to lie on her side, exposing her long bare legs, her black underwear and her back almost uncovered under the little white camisole. Her head rests on her arm folded under her pillow, and her other arm rests in front of her, somewhat teasingly covering her breasts. And who knows, if Miranda is indeed late, maybe the editor would find a woman accurately asleep in their soft bed.
But it’s basically impossible to fall asleep. Anticipation only grows deeper in Andrea, to the point where she embarrassingly needs to change her soaked underwear. The simple idea of Miranda's arrival makes Andrea react as if her lover were presently stroking her unwary body. She needs relief soon. Nonetheless, Andy refuses to touch herself. Instead, she preserves this accumulation of desire and waits to offer it abundantly to Miranda. And just as she finishes to refresh herself for a second time, change her undies and get back to bed, a noise is heard coming from the first floor.
At the bottom of the stairs, the front door opens before closing more loudly than usual, a likely way for Miranda to announce her presence to the Sleeping Beauty upstairs. The echo of this noise resonates throughout Andrea's rib cage. The darkness of the room encourages Andrea's excitement to imagine so many possible scenarios, however she does not want to blur the trail between her inner fantasies and the fantasy that is about to unfold in the present. So, she focuses on her breathing and the surrounding noises, such as Miranda's stilettos slamming against the porch floor. A long silence almost leads Andrea to hyperventilation of excitement.
When will Miranda walk upstairs? What will she say? What will she do? What will she wear? What is she currently thinking?
And that's when, discreetly, Andrea recognizes the sound of Miranda's feet as she climbs the stairs. Her underwear is inappropriately soaked again, but Andrea can't move. She simply can’t, as she is the Sleeping Beauty and the trespasser approaches. Pretending to sleep is harder than she thought, especially with her heart seemingly wanting to come out of her chest. Miranda is being progressively louder, passing through the upstairs hallway near the bedroom door. However, Miranda doesn't stop here, she continues on to the bathroom, and closes the door behind her, leaving Andrea with a tremendous heartbeat of eagerness.
Several minutes pass by while Miranda is busy in the next room, only adding to the mystery of the evening's turn. Andrea tries not to squeeze her thighs together and concentrates on her breathing at the exact moment when Miranda finally exits the bathroom.
And then, miraculously, the lights from the corridor reaches the furniture in the bedroom and creates additional shadows. Andrea feels the light trace her eyelids. Miranda opens the bedroom door and discreetly invites herself into the dark room, as if she were an intruder who did not want to wake this sleeping woman. Andy is strongly attached to the realism of her fantasy, thus she keeps her eyes closed with serenity, and tries to picture the silhouette of Miranda in the doorway.
Miranda gaits intimidatingly in the dark, without turning on the lights since the ones in the corridor are sufficient to cut out Andrea's sleeping body. The fragrance of Miranda persuasively invades the bedroom. It is difficult for Andrea to maintain a normal breathing, because the delicious expectancy takes a hold of her breathing. Everything accelerates inside of her being. An elusive smile appears on the side of her luscious mouth, but Andrea has to stay into character as an unsuspecting woman, one who is unaware of a female intruder sneaking in her bedroom.
Suddenly, Andrea notices a subtle movement on the side of bed. Miranda sits behind Andrea and admires the semi-naked silhouette of the Sleeping Beauty. Andrea feels Miranda's presence beside her like a wave of electricity that runs through her whole being. The journalist offers her body without restriction, surrenders completely, at the mercy of Miranda. Andrea distinguishes Miranda's breathing, slightly more pronounced than usual, and this revelation is a delight. Andrea pictures Miranda's pointed nose, her wet lips and her gaze fixed on her figure. Andrea imagines the pink of her smoothed cheeks, the gray-blue of her piercing iris and the silver of her impeccable coiffure.
"My beautiful creature," whispers the editor, barely audible, but incredibly arousing.
And now the fantasy begins, the fiction operates, and Andrea's smile happily disappears. During extended seconds, no activity comes to fill the silence of the room, until the bed vacillates a little. Miranda slowly leans over the sleeping body of Andrea’s. Andy’s heartbeat accelerates. As agreed, the first gesture that Miranda takes, is the application of a light kiss on her forehead, against her bangs covering part of her skin, as a gesture to reassure the conscious Andrea who willingly lives the fulfillment of her fantasy. Not wanting to get out of her character, Andrea does not respond to the kiss and does not move. This is the key that grants permission to Miranda, to be able to start the fantasy safely, with the consent of both parties.
With incredible delicacy, Miranda places light, barely distinguishable kisses on Andrea’s neck and against her shoulder. As if Miranda’s lips were hovering over her body, but yet her breath is there, suspended and warm against her exposed skin. Miranda’s mouth is near the straps of her tank top. Using two fingers, the intruder slowly removes the strap, sliding it down her shoulder. In doing so, Andrea’s generous breast is easier to strip as the fabric slides down her arm. Enthused, Andy shivers, but still does not move, not wanting to spoil this moment at the beginning. After a few seconds, carefully removing the strap from Andrea’s wrist, Miranda slides her fingers along Andrea's arm, going up to her shoulder, touching the collarbone, before softly descending to her chest. The touch of the fingers turns into a stroke while Miranda's palm gently and firmly takes Andy’s bare breast. The nipple is sharp in her palm, and Miranda cups, twirls slightly, making Andrea shiver. While caressing her breast, Miranda kisses the warm neck. While doing so, her white hair caresses the Sleeping Beauty’s cheek. Andrea tries to summon all the forces on the universes in order to not showing signs of reciprocity, otherwise the fantasy will end, and that disappointment will make her lose her mind.
"Always so desirable," Miranda murmurs between kisses, with a cavernous voice.
Gradually, Miranda brings her body closer to the sleeping woman’s. Andrea notices fabric and understands that Miranda is still dressed. Both bodies emanate heat and it becomes difficult to concentrate on staying still. Becoming more and more eager in her touches, and somewhat dissatisfied not to be able to admire Andrea's full breasts covered by the clothes, Miranda clutches at the bottom of the tank top and decides to lift it above Andrea’s ample breasts. The tissue is rolled up to her collarbone, crumpled and disregarded and it reveals exactly what Miranda's mouth wants. All these gestures are accomplished with finesse, at the same time with keenness. Greedily, Miranda places her mouth on the newly and illicitly exposed skin, and licks the exposed breasts with reverence.
It is imperative for Andrea to be careful and not let out the moans of pleasure gathering in her rib cage, or else Miranda will interrupt her affections. So, Andrea refrains with all her might from expelling theses yelp and hums tickling her throat. On the other hand, Andrea can’t control the sweat pooling on her neck and lower back, stimulated by the illicit caresses of Miranda.
Miranda licks, closes her lips around her nipple and slowly sucks, circling it with her tongue, unrestrained, and, to Andrea's delight, Miranda even groans while doing so. Andrea feels drunk with the idea of her lover taking such pleasure in ravishing her breasts. Andy needs to bite her lower lip, securely out of Miranda's gaze.
"You are so delicious," Miranda utters. These words are spoken with raw hunger.
Miranda continues the ravishing of Andrea’s body, claims kisses and nibbles all over Andrea’s stomach and ribs, gradually descending to her hips. Rapidly, Andrea is embarrassed by her condition, since her underwear is drenched to the point where a revealing smell must emanate from it. Perhaps that is what tickles Miranda's nostrils, because in a short time, Miranda straightens up like a lioness, kneeling above Andrea with an anticipatory groan. The editor's singularly humid hands set firmly on the journalist's shoulder and Miranda gently, with care, moves Andrea's sleeping body, carefully laying her flat on her stomach, paying attention to her head resting on the pillow and making sure of her comfort, placing her arms restfully near the pillow.
Then, Miranda gets out of bed and Andrea finds herself alone, wanting and wanted, her body exposed and trembling. Having her head near her pillow, it is easier for her to let out her discreet sobs of eagerness. She feels the energy of the atmosphere penetrate her soul and the brunette enjoys the smell of Miranda’s perfume dancing around her. Her skin is wet with sweat and saliva.
Not knowing what the next step will be, Andrea awaits, shivering imperceptibly. But she discovers it quickly, for the reason that she hears Miranda working to remove her own clothing. Andrea can make out the sound of a zipper. Does Miranda wear the clothes she wore at Runway as the Dragon Lady? Andrea recognizes the sound of the fabric crumpling while Miranda undresses, and Andrea hears the distinct sound of the pantyhose sliding down her legs. Andrea can hear Miranda’s harsh breathing and that recognition hits her directly at her core.
Quickly but skillfully, Miranda joins Andy on the bed. Magnificently, Miranda straddles Andrea’s legs, leaning on her own knees, sitting on the back of Andrea’s thighs. Miranda's center is very close to the beautiful buttocks covered with the soaked and scented black underwear. Andrea feels Miranda’s pubic hair ticking her bottom. Andrea’s heart leaps into her chest, smashes against her lungs because she realizes that Miranda is naked. Miranda feels the incredibly soft and Andrea adores the warmness of her skin sticking to her thighs. After a short pause of contemplation, Miranda puts a hand on each side of Andrea's pelvis. Andrea feels the trespasser’s fingers tremble in anticipation and she hears Miranda moaning deep in her throat. Her fingers draw invisible patterns close to the curve of her buttocks.
"If you only knew what I’d like to do to you, what I’m about to do with you," Miranda says, seductively.
Lying flat on her stomach, offering herself willingly and passively, Andrea is scared of drowning. The maddening accumulation of liquid between her legs begins to flow down her thighs and is ruining the blankets under their bodies. This dampness is nothing compared to what is coming, since Miranda begins to caress the bottom of her back, before placing a hand on each of her exposed ass, and fondles passionately. With embarrassment, Andrea is getting wetter by the second, as if such a thing is possible. She is delirious as her body is being ravished. Miranda's palms rub up and down, grab the curves, tighten them between her fingers before releasing the softness and start to stroke them again. The editor slides both thumbs towards the center of her buttocks, millimeters away from her drenched sex, without disappearing under the underwear. Miranda’s breathing jerks in her throat. Again, the editor massages, grabs, releases and slides her thumbs towards the center, tickling the boiling crotch of the sleeping woman. Miranda keeps surprising Andy as she growls with vigor before bending down and placing her open mouth against one of the buttocks, licking the roundness with the tip of her tongue, while her hands become more and more possessive.
Not being an expressive woman, Miranda never raises the tone of her voice and rarely demonstrates her tempers with the gravity of her voice. And yet here is Miranda, obsessed with the raw desire that takes hold of her. This is why this fantasy drives Andrea mad with pleasure. Witnessing Miranda's appetite, admiring her withdrawing all censorship, and being the object of her desires, is a concept in itself capable of making her achieve incomparable jubilation.
Andrea feels Miranda's saliva, adores Miranda's boiling tongue, loves the shape of her mouth nibbling and embracing the roundness of her behinds, worships Miranda's deep breathing. Drunk with pleasure, Andrea lets out a sharp cry when Miranda’s tongue ventures under the drenched fabric of her underwear. Abruptly, as it was expected, Miranda ceases all activity, withdraws her mouth and her hands. Is the sleeping woman waking up?
Andrea has moaned. Did she accidentally put an end to this fantasy? Oh, how Andrea wishes to beg Miranda to continue! But Andrea remembers the rules of this game and quickly resumes her stillness and her noiseless state. Becoming passive again, she anticipates Miranda's next move and wonders if Miranda will allow them to continue. Because if the Sleeping Beauty wakes up, the abductor will disappear.
Being motionless, Andrea overhears Miranda's raucous breathing and it turns Andrea on above all. Breathless, eager and considerate, Miranda also tries to maintain her concentration and monitors Andrea's every move to ensure her consent. The editor is still seated on Andrea's thighs, her hands hovering over her lover's body, ready to withdraw or continue. Noticing that Andrea does not wake up, Miranda places her boiling palms back on the tender ass. Andrea bites her tongue, swears not to moan nor move her hips.
Miranda breathes strongly through the nose, as she slides, without warning, her thumbs under the fabric of the underwear, caressing the incredible softness of Andrea's vulva. Instantly, Miranda loses her bearings, trembles and closes her eyes when she discovers how soaked Andrea truly is.
"Oh, my god!” Miranda inadvertently lets out this loud exclamation and it resonates on the walls in the room. If Andrea hadn't been as focused on fighting her premature orgasm and containing all of her moans of pleasure, she would have heard Miranda’s grunts of despair as she strokes the length of her sex from behind.
With rare readiness, Miranda quickly, as if she couldn’t stop herself, slips her fingers into Andrea's lubrication, gathering as much of it as possible on her fingers. She plunges in, wipes, rubs, and brings out as much as she can on her soaked fingers. Then, Miranda hurriedly applies the gathered wetness directly onto the roundness of Andrea's left buttock, spreading it like an ointment on the bare surface. Nothing would have prepared the journalist for what the editor is about to do.
Grunting, Miranda opens her legs and mounts Andrea's glistening ass, spreading her own legs on each side of the soft roundness. Damp hair tickles Andrea’s wet flesh as Miranda is lying down on Andrea’s back. Incapable of biting back this shout of delight that surprises Andrea, the brunettes loudly moans. But Miranda forgives her, unable herself to slow down as she starts rubbing herself on Andrea’s ass. Miranda begins to roll her hips in order to rub her vulva against the rumps of the sleeping woman. With one hand, Miranda grabs the wrinkled tank top against her shoulder blades to keep hold of Andrea. With the other hand, Miranda leans against the mattress, not wanting to shift the whole weight of her body against Andrea’s.
" You’re all mine, " Miranda whispers as she moves on Andrea.
The undulations of Miranda's thighs are disoriented, impulsive and purely intoxicating. Andrea feels like the center of the Universe, enveloped in the celestial matters that are Miranda, spinning around her as if their lives depended on it. They embody the power of a Black Hole where all the energy of the world revolves. Andrea feels the magnificent smallness of Miranda's clitoris swirling against the flexibility of her buttocks. Andrea loves it when Miranda squeezes harder with her tights, pressing fuller with her hips against her ass. Andy can even feel Miranda’s lower lips moving with the increasing friction, and is delighted at the sensation her skin getting wetter from Miranda’s fluids.
Miranda grunts near Andrea’s ear, who, in turn, also lets out deep gasps. Miranda must notice the sound coming out of Andrea’s mouth, as Miranda’s shaky hand releases the tank top and moves up close to Andrea's face. The editor's long fingers glide to the younger woman’s luscious mouth. Miranda slides a finger near the opening of her mouth, touches Andrea's tongue with her fingertip before stroking her pulpy lips once more, as if they are kissing. The Sleeping Beauty allows herself a single active gesture, only one, which is actively twirling her tongue around the finger intruding in her mouth, as if they were fucking.
Taken aback, Miranda cries with raw lust, and speeds the pace of her hips. More vigorously and clumsily, Miranda presses and rubs her clit in any possible angle for relief against Andrea’s soft ass, while the sensitivity of her fingers caresses the incredible luscious lips of Andrea's mouth.
"Oh, An-drea ... Andre-aa ..." Miranda stutters.
The abandonment is palpable in this broken voice and interspersed with enjoyment. Andrea pictures Miranda’s wet and sticky labia and Andrea has an uncontrollable thirst. Boiling and becoming dizzy from yearning, Andrea decides to close her lips around Miranda’s finger inserted in her mouth and sucks at it vigorously, imitating the pulsations of a clitoris. And that brought Miranda to the precipice as her orgasm approaches with robustness. Miranda’s hips become abruptly still as she only manages quick and rapid circles, focused against the roundness of the buttock as she is coming, leaving a wet imprint against Andy’s skin numbed by the friction. The smell of sex and the scent of Miranda seeps into her nostrils and Andrea is afraid of losing conscience.
As if crushed by gravity, Andrea is dizzy, thirsty, intoxicated and can't remember how to move. She believes that if she moves a single muscle, a tearing orgasm will immediately take over her body without notice. Slowly, Miranda regains control of her condition, regains a moderate breathing, sighs and kisses Andrea's neck before descending lazily by her side. Seeing that Andrea is still not moving, Miranda begins to worry about this stillness. The satisfaction of her orgasm gradually disappears because Miranda notices Andrea is breathing so quickly, she could become saturated with oxygen.
"Andrea, dear, are you all right? Would you like to talk to me? Look at me," Miranda worries.
Andrea still doesn't move, she can't. If she looks at Miranda, she will be taken by an orgasm as blinding as the sun. If she opens her mouth to speak to Miranda, she will be taken by an orgasm as powerful as the knockout of a meteorite. But somewhere in the mixture of desire and despair, Andrea manages to smile, a bright smile that transposes all her happiness as momentous as a shooting star. In doing so, she loses the rhythm of her breathing which becomes disconcerted. She hopes Miranda will touch her before she passes out.
Reassured by this smile, Miranda slowly understands what the Sleeping Beauty requires. Pursue the fantasy. Resume the roles of the intruder and the passive.
"You were so delicious to take, if only you knew,” Miranda comments, running her finger against that wonderful mouth once again, caressing the pulpy skin.
Andrea lets out a sharp moan. Proud, Miranda continues.
"I could smell you as as soon as I entered this room,” Miranda says.
Andrea knows this is the blatant truth and the thought itself makes her whimper. Miranda runs her hand along the body of Andrea, who's muscles spasm. As Miranda's hand moves lower and lower. Andrea starts to squirm and whimper. Seeing Andrea react without hesitation, Miranda decisively slides her hand between Andrea's buttocks, under the underwear to reach her drenched entrance and penetrate her with two fingers. A few seconds after the pumping of Miranda’s fingers, Andrea reaches the peak of an orgasm which leaves her spent, deaf and blind. Finally, the Sleeping Beauty regains animation, awareness, reciprocity and lets out a cry of deliverance which is quieter than it would have thought, as if she became speechless.
Indeed, everything is black and Andrea can no longer hear anything, as if she has traveled to another dimension. Gradually, Andrea regathers her senses. Opening her eyes, Andrea realizes that Miranda has turned on the lamp on the bedside table. She captures the tender and smiling look of Miranda who stares back at her. Miranda's cheeks are pink and a few droplets of sweat got tangled in the dark hair near her ears. Her blue eyes are sparkling and she is the most precious creature in the world.
They look at each other and share the identical beam, both shy and affectionate. Andrea, true to herself, laughs, an intoxicating laughter that makes Miranda blush.
"How are you?” Miranda asks, replacing Andrea's hair sticking against her sweaty skin. "Are you satisfied?"
"Oh, Miranda! That was incredible!" Andrea rejoices, abandoning herself in the arms of her lover. Their bodies are sore with pleasure and numb with fatigue, but they hug each other tightly, savoring the tranquil triumph of this moment.
"Thank you, thank you!” Andrea covers Miranda's face with thankful kisses. Exhausted and amazed, Andrea and Miranda tighten their embrace. Curiously, it is Andrea who cradles Miranda with love, wanting to reassure and demonstrate her appreciation for this wonderful gift of confidence and abandonment.
"Didn't I hurt you?” Miranda worries, despite the hundred joyful kisses from Andrea. If there is one thing that Andrea can’t do, it is to lie. Her face is too expressive, and currently, Andrea seems to float the highest cloud at uppermost altitude.
"I'm perfectly fine because you, Miranda, are the most attractive person in the world!" Such an declaration is hard to believe for the editor, but again, Andrea is unable to lie, and Miranda is delighted by the compliment. Andrea kisses Miranda with love, more leisurely.
"You really impressed me, you know? A little more and I thought I would die from longing,” Andrea says, while remembering the waves of Miranda's hips. In response, she feels her clitoris pulsating slightly in sympathy.
"Don't overdo it," comments Miranda nonchalantly as emotional and physical exhaustion catches up with her body.
"How do you feel?” Andrea asks when she sees Miranda drifting off gradually.
After a few moments, Miranda agrees to tell the truth, contentment and slumber bringing out the best of her.
"Better. Thank you for this opportunity. I may have needed this adrenaline. Now, I need rest,” Miranda explains, patting affectionately on Andrea's hips. Being reckless and daring is exhausting.
"Hard day at Runway, huh?” Andrea guesses, assuming Miranda took advantage of this fantasy to transfer the energy of her frustration. “Would you like something to eat? Or take a shower?” Andrea suggests, ready to support Miranda in any way.
"Hmm-hmm," Miranda hums, with heavy eyelids. Naked and sticky, but loved and warm in this nest of love, Miranda falls asleep peacefully. She almost does not notice Andrea turning off the light on the bedside table, and almost does not distinguish Andrea adjusting a blanket over their bodies, but she does appreciate the comforting presence of her Andrea cuddling her as they drift off in this restful slumber.