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Secret Service

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Part 16

Special Delivery: Part 2

Andy nervously taps on her desk with her pen as she stares sightlessly at her computer screen. Today is Miranda’s birthday. Wanting to make it memorable, Andy has pulled out all the stops. She may not be able to bring Miranda to the best restaurant or shower her with gifts, but Andy is nothing if not inventive. Every hour on the hour Andy has had a poem and a single red rose delivered to Miranda. Andy has spent the last couple of months writing those poems. They show a progression from the first day they met to now. Wringing her hands, Andy hopes Miranda likes them.

Wanting to make sure nothing will go wrong, Andy is splurging on dinner. She is picking it up on her way home. Miranda has reassured Andy that she will be home on time. After the dinner, Andy plans to massage away all of Miranda’s stress before making love to her. She would have preferred to do more, but they are leaving in two days to visit her parents for Thanksgiving, and their schedules are jammed as a result.

Flicking her eyes toward the clock, Andy scowls. The last poem is being delivered right now. Andy presses her lips together. She doesn’t understand why she is so anxious. Even if Miranda believes the poems are juvenile, she will appreciate the effort involved. Right?

If Andy is honest, though, she must admit it’s not just the birthday plans that have her agitated. In two days she will see her parents for the first time since she had walked out on them in a high-scale restaurant months ago. The night Miranda had asked her to move in. Her parents had objected to the move, of course, but they hadn’t seemed surprised. It made Andy wonder what the conversation between Miranda and her parents was all about.

Pulling her mind back to the article in front of her, Andy uses a mammoth amount of concentration to finish it. Clicking the send button, Andy dares to look at the clock. Shit! Shutting down her computer and packing it up, Andy calls the restaurant to make sure the food will be ready and hightails it out of the newspaper office.

Once home, Andy sets up the bedroom with flowers, candles, and cued-up music to provide the proper ambiance for the massage. Dragging the massage table to their bedroom that usually is stored in the home gym for Miranda’s biweekly treatments, Andy spends precious minutes trying to figure out how to adjust it to a height that will work for her. Andy lays out the sheets and oil carefully. Satisfied, she returns downstairs to prepare the dining room for their meal.

Twenty minutes later Andy hears Miranda’s arrival. “Andrea?”

“In here.” Andy hurries to light the tapers in the candelabra and blows out the match as Miranda walks through the doorway. Andy watches with bated breath as Miranda stops short to take in the romantic tableau. Andy smiles. “Hi.”

“Hello.” Cocking her head, Miranda gazes at Andy for several moments before walking toward her. “This is beautiful.” Miranda rests a hand on Andy’s collarbone as she leans forward to kiss her. “Thank you, darling.”

“It’s nothing,” Andy says. “Certainly less than what you deserve.” Andy smiles apologetically. “I’ll do better next year.”

“Don’t be absurd.” Although the words are harsh, the tone of voice is affectionate. “What you’ve done has made me feel so special, so privileged that I am having trouble finding the words to adequately thank you.”

“Well. Now you know how I felt when I received the laptop,” Andy says gruffly. Andy blinks repeatedly, not wanting to let her emotions get the better of her. This night is for Miranda.

The air between them has become thick with meaning. Clearing her throat, Andy guides Miranda to a chair and holds it out. “Madam, if it pleases you, kindly rest on this comfortable chair while dinner is served.”

Miranda’s lips curl in amusement as she sits down. Andy pours the wine and serves the appetizers before sitting across from Miranda. She is pleased that Miranda seems to be unwinding. Andy can practically see the cords of stress falling off Miranda as they flirt. Andy purposefully steers their conversation away from work and her family. She wants Miranda to relax. Andy caters to Miranda throughout the meal, hopping up whenever it seems she needs something. Bending over to refill Miranda’s glass of wine, she is stalled by a hand on her arm. “Andrea. This has been lovely.”

“Oh, but this isn’t all. As soon as we are done here, you have one hell of a massage waiting for you.” Andy grins at Miranda’s surprised look. After they finish their wine, Andy leads Miranda to their bedroom. Opening the door, Andy follows Miranda in and lights the candles. Turning to Miranda she says, “I’ll give you a few minutes to undress. Lie on your stomach.” She delivers a chaste kiss before turning on the music and closing the door softly. Five minutes later she reenters to find Miranda resting comfortably.

Over the next ninety minutes Andy rubs out every knot she can find. She may not be a massage therapist, but she knows Miranda’s body well. By the time she finishes, Miranda is purring. Gazing at Miranda’s serene face, Andy feels her heart lurch. The woman is lovely. Like this, Miranda appears much younger and more carefree. Andy loves that she is able to evoke such reactions. Running her hand lightly from toes to head, Andy ends the session with a very unprofessional kiss on the forehead. As Andy moves away she feels arms pulling her back for a long, intense kiss. “Make love to me, Andrea.”

As if there is any doubt.

This time it is Andy who kisses every inch of Miranda’s body reverently. It is Andy who whispers how much she loves her, wants her, needs her. It is Andy who kisses Miranda again and again as if she can never get enough. She can’t.

When she enters Miranda, she feels more than hears Miranda moan as she climaxes. Andy kisses down Miranda’s body and feasts on Miranda’s passionate outpouring, sucking on the labia with abandon before focusing on the sensitive bundle of nerves. Andy does not relent until Miranda screams her next release. Only then does Andy take Miranda into her arms. They remain in this position long enough for Andy to dream of sensual fingers dancing across her abdomen and dipping into her wetness. Moving her body to the compelling rhythm, Andy does not realize she is not dreaming until she climaxes. Andy opens her mouth to exhale as she tilts her head back. Lips kiss her sternum lovingly while those magical fingers play with her breasts.

“Oh, Miranda,” Andy sighs as she opens her eyes. Andy is greeted by a full smile and dancing eyes. “Happy birthday.”

“Indeed. If your journalistic endeavors fall short, I believe you could have a promising future as my personal massage therapist.”

Andy grins. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“As it was meant. Of course, your poems are quite exceptional, too. Publishable, even.”

“No way. Those are only meant for your eyes.” Andy blushes with embarrassment. Some of those poems are very raw, so raw she has a hard time reading them.

“Mmm. Well then. Perhaps you will consent to my having them compiled into a book? I know a calligrapher who is very discreet.” If Miranda’s visage didn’t sport such a serious look, Andy might believe she was being teased.

“You want—Miranda, they aren’t that good.” Andy runs the back of her fingers across a soft cheek. “You don’t have to.”

“I do. I want to. Please allow me.” Surprised but pleased, Andy nods. “It’s settled then.” Miranda kisses Andy gently. “To think you have so many hidden talents secreted from the world. Poet, massage therapist, lover extraordinaire—I am extremely fortunate.” Miranda smiles devilishly. “I hope you aren’t too tired, darling. There are a few secret services I’d like to provide to you.”

Arching into her lover, Andy moans her consent.

And it’s as simple as that.

The End.