It was Friday morning and Andy had hoped it would go smoothly. She hadn't made any plans for the weekend, but she was imagining a nice warm bed, a stack of DVD rentals and an endless bowl of popcorn. It made her smile all the way from the door of her 1800-dollar-a-month-'low'-rent-housing apartment, down the streets of hey-i'm-walkin'-here New York and along the wait-is-that-urine? subway. But all in all, it was a great day, Andy decided.
That was of course, until she stepped foot onto Runway's floor of Elias-Clarke.
She had arrived early enough to stop in the cafeteria for some breakfast and was carrying an indulgent chocolate chip muffin, wrapped in a napkin, towards her desk to finish before Miranda arrived. Miranda of course, never allowed anyone to eat in front of her. Come to think of it, she didn't appear to enjoy eating in front of anyone either. Perhaps it was too 'common', too 'biological' for her. Whatever it was, Andy just chalked it up on one of the woman's lists of endless idiosyncrasies and left it at that. But God forbid you be caught with a crumb of food on your lip.
As Andy opened the glass doors that led to Miranda's reception area (and incidentally, the location of her own desk), she could see a familiar red-head standing near her own computer terminal, gesticulating wildly in the air.
"What do you mean ambulance?!" an exasperated Emily shrieked into the phone, looking one frayed thread away from a pre-mid life crisis. Normally, this wasn't something Andy would get excited about. After all, with Emily, crisis was par for the course and an every day event.
However, something about the way Emily's eyes remained frozen open as she yelled, unblinking - told Andy that somehow, this particular crisis was a cut above the rest.
Andy crossed to her desk and placed her muffin down. Emily's eyes followed it in disgust before she waved Andy towards her, covering the mouthpiece with one of her hands, "Miranda's been hurt."
Andy froze. Something in her heart suddenly went off, sending her pulse racing. The room began to spin a little and she had to press her hands to Emily's desk to steady herself. Words failed her. Ambulance... Emily had said something about ambulance.
Without waiting for Andy's input, Emily continued dramatically, "She... just fell. I don't know... she's fallen… in the lobby. The guards are there, they've called 911. Apparently she is refusing to get in the ambulance. “Oh Bloody—" Emily removed her hand from the mouthpiece "what?! No, that can't possibly — Oh well God help us..."
The conversation came to an abrupt halt as Emily slammed the phone back onto the receiver. The redhead's eyes slowly rose towards Andy's and the look she gave her could rival even Miranda's characteristic glare. "She won't let anyone help her. They told her she has to go to the hospital. She said she will only go by car and has requested that you accompany her."
Andy could do nothing but nod before grabbing her bag off of her desk and rushing towards the doors. It took only moments for the elevator but it felt like a lifetime.
Miranda had asked for her? That was odd. Miranda had rarely requested her specifically, unless to accomplish some impossible task. But taking her to the hospital? Ah, perhaps that was it. Perhaps it was a perfect opportunity after all, to use Andrea. She could just imagine it. 'Andrea… Tell them, I'm fine. Make them release me... tell that Doctor to alter the charts... have my medical records destroyed... buy the hospital... make those nurses wear heels...'
Oh yes. There are many opportunities for the impossible to present itself.
Her body was all but shaking as she rushed off of the elevator and into the busy lobby. There wasn't a crowd. Andy had expected one, but now that she thought about it - she wasn't sure why. Miranda remembered faces a lot better than she remembered names. If the woman knew how to do one thing right it was hold a grudge and if a passersby found her predicament a little too interesting, the Fashionista would certainly find a way to make those faces disappear.
In the corner near the doors was a group of security guards and a few ambulance drivers, shielding Miranda from view. As Andy neared she could see the Editor sitting on a chair, her arms held out before her - lifeless and bloodied - with torn tracks of skin down the palms. The knees of her black Armani pants were torn on one side, the other looking only slightly mangled. She looked pale, her skin almost the color of her silver hair, and she was in pain. She didn't say as much of course, but Andy could tell by the way her jaw was clenched, by the way her teeth were locked together and by the dullness of her eyes focused straight ahead.
"Miranda..." Andy started and pushed inside the group of men. Miranda's eyes blinked once and looked up at her, unseeing.
One of the burly ambulance drivers took hold of Andy's arm and pulled her aside. "She won't come with us - but she needs to get to the hospital right away. Her wrists could be broken, but it looks so far like they're sprained. Her legs might be hurt too. But she's goin' into shock..."
"What happened?" Andy asked as one of her unsteady hands snaked through her hair, brushing the fringe back from her brow.
The ambulance driver shrugged. "I dunno. We got the call from the guards here. Apparently someone saw her go down and called a guard over then they took off. I guess she's kinda difficult or somethin'..."
"Yeah, looks like they didn't wanna be around when she noticed them."
Andy nodded again. It was after all probably a smart move on the hit-and-runner's part. If Miranda had so much caught a look at the sole of their shoe, she would no doubt imprint it in her mind for a witch hunt later. However, for the time being, Miranda didn’t look like she was seeing much of anything.
"Can you help me carry her?" Andy asked the two guards as she moved to Miranda's side - but the editor shifted uncomfortably, tensed and spoke. Her voice was low and unspeakably fatal. "No."
Andy looked at Miranda incredulously. "But... uhh....Miranda... we have to get you to the —"
"No. No one will carry me. I will walk." Miranda moved to get up, but with her knees in the condition they were and with her hands completely useless - she just rocked and then resettled.
Andy shook her head and looked back to the security guard. "Is Roy—?"
"Yeah... he's out there. We asked him to stay at the ready..."
Andy nodded and then looked back towards Miranda. "I... uhh… we're gonna move you. You can walk… just let me..."
Andy swallowed the lump of pure panic that had risen in her throat, and slid her own shaking hand around Miranda's waist. She could feel the older woman's breath intake sharply as she lifted her ungracefully to her feet. Her body was tense, the muscles straining underneath Andy's sweating hand. Miranda reluctantly walked beside her in small painful steps towards the lobby and then out in the street as they neared the awaiting car.
Roy had rushed up to help but Miranda shot him a look so cold it could have frozen all of greater New York, so they continued together.
Andy's arm was wrapped around Miranda's slim waist and her hand brushed against the editor's hip. It was kind of odd, Andy mused, that this would be the only circumstance that she would be able to hold her boss in such a way.
Now that she thought about it, she hadn't ever been this close to Miranda before in all of the time she'd been at Elias-Clarke. In fact, the closest she'd ever gotten was to hand a paper to the woman, or to observe some errors she was pointing out. Why did she feel so ridiculously proud of herself? It wasn't as if she'd walked up to Miranda like a football-buddy and wrapped her in a bear hug. She was supporting the woman so that she didn't fall. That was it.
Andy convinced herself that it wasn't a self-satisfied smile that she was holding back and pushed the thoughts right from her head. This was her boss. She wasn't just any boss either. She was the kind of boss that would eat you alive for having thoughts like that. Certainly not in a good way.
Roy stood back with the door held wide open for Miranda as Andy worked at manoeuvring her into the back seat. She didn't miss the way Miranda's cheeks flushed and then paled as she was seated, or the small strangled sounds of pain that somehow managed to slip by the editor's lips without her permission.
Once Miranda was in place, Andy closed the door, thanked Roy and rushed around to the other side. She climbed in and smoothed her hands down her skirt to keep it from moving up her legs before angling herself towards Miranda.
Miranda was sitting, her torso bent at an odd angle towards the window, her hands still limp in her lap where Andy had delicately placed them. She looked like she was biting her tongue to keep from crying out and her eyes - still glassy and cold - stared out at the disappearing buildings.
Andy said nothing. She regarded Miranda carefully, still trying to slow her own beating heart as she sat in silent worry. The ride seemed unbearably long, but miraculously Roy managed to get them to the hospital, in morning New York traffic in just under ten minutes.
Andy had seen that Miranda was checked in to the private room arranged for her, before sitting down in the waiting room - ironically with a copy of Runway selected from the magazine collection on the coffee table. It was over an hour before the doctor appeared. She was an older woman with raven colored hair and a dark complexion and she offered Andy a gentle smile as she led her towards Miranda's room.
"I understand you're Ms. Priestly's assistant." Doctor Johnson chuckled as she flipped through the clipboard in her hands. "Brave girl."
Andy couldn't help but smile in return. "So I'm told..."
"She took quite a fall. You'll understand that I can't go into too much detail for legality reasons. But I can tell you she will not have use of her hands for quite some time. Her left wrist suffered a grade 2 sprain and the right, grade 3. Her knees have been bandaged... nothing too badly damaged there, although there is quite a lot of bruising already. And although I am sure to hear about this from her attorneys..." Here, Doctor Johnson's eyes twinkled with good-natured laughter. "...I am ordering her on medical leave from her position, effective immediately for a period of two weeks to begin with, possibly longer. It will all depend on her appointment at that ti..."
Andy stopped listening. Her pulse had begun to pound loudly in her ears. There was no way in hell that Miranda would consent to staying off of work that long. And if she did consent, she was sure to make it absolute hell on her assistants.
Great. So much for popcorn and DVDs...
"Uhh... three weeks? Can't... umm.. I mean... can she work from home?"
Doctor Johnson considered this for a moment and then nodded "I suppose this wouldn't be a problem, but that does give me a perfect segue into my next question. Does she have anyone to take care of her?"
Andy thought about this for a moment. What she knew of Miranda's relatives was that none of them kept in contact anymore. That was, if they were still living. And after her latest divorce, Stephen had moved in with a much younger woman and had moved to Los Angeles.
"The twins!" Andy proclaimed before the realization hit her that they would be away at summer camp for another month. "Oh... uhh but, they're away and won't be back for awhile. I...uhh... actually, I don't think she has anyone." What a horrible thought. Andy bit into her lip. She really hadn't thought about Miranda's personal life until her own knowledge had been drawn out of her.
"Well, that won't do I'm afraid. She won't be able to do anything for herself. She has some mobility of her fingers on the left wrist but that would be only enough to really get some of the essentials done like using the bathroom, getting up or down, lifting food to her mouth... those kinds of things. But she will need a live in care aid for the time being."
Dr. Johnson lifted a sheet of paper off of the clipboard and handed it to Andy. "These are some contacts for in-home nurses. Maybe you can go over it with Ms. Priestly and make your selection. The bottom line is - she can't refuse in home care. She will not be able to take care of herself."
Andy nodded glumly. Oh great. And Hoorah! she got to be the one to deliver the good news! This day was getting better and better.
"Can I see her now?" Andy asked, the paper clasped tightly between whitened fingertips.
Dr. Johnson nodded and turned her hand on the door knob of the room they had been standing outside of. She pushed the door backwards and allowed Andy to pass through before closing it behind her. Andy jumped when she heard the door click. She had an odd feeling like she had just been tossed into the gallery pit of a gladiator stadium.
The hospital room by all accounts rivaled the size of her apartment. It was beautiful. A private suite, naturally - reserved for patients just like Miranda. She had to walk around a corner to actually get to Miranda's bedside, and when she saw the editor, her heart sank.
Miranda was asleep under a down filled quilt, her wrists rigid with splints underneath layers and layers of tensor bandage. They lay limply at either side of her and she looked pale. Miranda for the most part was always pale, but against the white sheets, white pillow cases and white walls, with a silver/white forelock brushed over her brow - she looked ghostly.Angelic, perhaps.
As Andy approached, Miranda's eyes shot open. So much for angelic.
She grunted under her breath as she tried to sit up, slowly building the mask of 'I'm above a mere-mortal and-uncompromised by injury'. Despite her best efforts, she looked no better off than before. Andy offered her a small smile, which was unreturned by the older woman.
"Miranda... I uhh... well… how are you?" Andy winced as the words escaped her own mouth.
Why did Miranda have the power to turn her to a stuttering mess, without even speaking a word? Andy really hadn't expected an answer to such a stupid question and wasn't surprised that Miranda completely ignored her but fixed her with a steely glare.
"I want out of here."
Andy nodded slowly. How to break the news? Perhaps it would be best to tear it like band-aid.
"Well uhh.. yeah... you can... you... well." Andy swallowed.
Like a band-aid, she reminded herself.
She sucked in a deep breath and then blurted out her words in one quick string, "Yes, you can leave. Roy will have the car ready as soon as you're able and we'll take you back to the town house. The doctor ordered you on bed rest for two weeks, to be determined further after that time. She gave me this list of in-house care nurses that you can have your pick of. All highly recommended, to take care of you for that time. You are able to work from home, but you have to have hel--"
"No." Miranda interrupted. Her voice cut the air like a sickle.
Andy's eyes were saucer wide as she gripped the paper that had now started waving back and forth in her grasp. "No?" Andy asked, unsure of why she did. Even if you lay dying in the street from a gunshot wound to the chest, you never asked Miranda anything.
"Absolutely not." Miranda reiterated and sucked in a breath of air through clenched teeth.
Andy nodded. "Ah... well.... they didn't give me any oth...."
"I will not have a nurse, without a modicum of decorum, stay in my home."
"But... but Miranda you can't. I mean, they're all supposed to be very good.... I mean, you won't be able to care for yourself. You don't have use of your hands!"
Andy was exasperated. It wasn't as if it were her decision what happened to Miranda. She had no choice in the matter, and regardless of what Miranda said--
"You will do it." The editor decided, tilting her elegant profile to the side with disinterest.
Andy had to stop her mouth from hanging open. Surely she couldn't mean... "Me? You.. uhh.. you mean... you want me to help at the house?"
Miranda turned her ice blue eyes towards her assistant, "No Awn-dray-yah, I want you to dance the tango with a Masai warrior."
"...ah.... well. Okay, yes. I... yes...." She scrambled, her mind was going a mile a minute. "But uhh, won't they need me at Runway?"
"You work for me exclusively. The last time I checked you were my assistant - so assist."
With those final words, the conversation was over and nursemaid Andy gained one hell of a patient.
Miranda Priestly: Indisposed - Part 2
Once she had Miranda settled back in bed at the townhouse, Andy had managed to slip away to her apartment to gather a bag of clothes. She was to stay in the small guestroom only two doors down from Miranda's master suite. It was absolutely stunning, Andy remembered, as she stuffed a handful of panties into the bag and followed it with a few bras from the drawer below.
It occurred to her then, that Miranda would probably need help dressing. The nurse had forced her into the nightwear at the hospital but she would need help in and out of clothes, probably even to wash. She would be responsible for leading Miranda through simple day to day tasks while all the while being responsible for the editor's personal moments. Andy looked down at the bra dangling from her fingertips and blushed furiously.
Swallowing yet another lump of nerves that had gathered in her throat, she lifted a moist palm to her cold cheek and pressed it there. It would be fine. She could get through this. Whatever these weird feelings were, they could be ignored. She had become rather good at it since the first time she realized that her interest in Miranda Priestly extended far beyond the general call of duty.
This would be completely, one hundred percent normal. Couldn't a girl be a simple live-in care nurse for her dragon of a boss lady that she had an undying crush on - without raising eyebrows? Nah... it would be fine.
Andy's positive outlook dropped significantly on her first night at the townhouse.
She had taken Miranda's meal up to her from where the cook had prepared it and delivered it directly into Miranda's lap on a silver tray. Miranda had taken one look at the food and then sharply jerked her head towards the door, commanding the girl to leave without using a single word. Andy had done as directed, naturally, and had returned twenty minutes later after hopefully giving Miranda enough time to eat.
When she opened the door to Miranda's room, she almost gasped. The Editor was sitting just as she'd been left, but the tray had slid off of her knees and was sitting on the bed beside her. An overturned plate of chopped meat was in her lap and a bit of gravy decorated the front of her silk nightwear. Her hands rested limply in her lap next to the silverware that couldn't be clutched very well between her weak fingers.
She hadn't managed to eat any of the meal from the looks of things and to make matters worse, she was glaring at Andy as though the entire ordeal was her fault. Andy bit her lip and approached like a lion tamer prepared to crack a whip if necessary.
"Miranda...? Do you ... uhh... do you need some help?"
Miranda's eyes narrowed. It was enough of an answer and Andy moved quickly to Miranda's side. She lifted the plate and put it down on the tray after righting it. Gravy stained the white duvet cover and the front of Miranda's beautiful silk pajamas. Actually, the stain had fallen almost perfectly down the swell of her left breast.
Andy's eyes lingered a little too long and Miranda's glare became piercing. Andy almost whimpered but she gathered the tray and dishes and ran downstairs (all three winding flights) to deposit them in the sink. With the mess cleared, Andy uncovered her own dinner and set it in the oven to heat. Her feet carried her quickly back to Miranda's room where the Editor still sat, seething mad at the whole situation.
Andy tried to look positive as she gathered up the duvet cover to be washed and placed it in a ball by the door.
"Miranda... you... uh... that's dirty." Andy motioned towards Miranda's silk pajama top.
Miranda's own eyes lowered to the very same top and she inclined her head before looking back to her Assistant. "How observant we are Andrea."
Andy swallowed "Can ... we get you into... I mean... can I help you into new… clothes?"
Miranda stared at Andy as though the question was completely preposterous and it seemed like hours had gone by before her chin dipped quickly in a few short nods as though it was obviously the only course of action.
"The top drawer on the left." Miranda spoke, turning her eyes away from Andy and looking down at the stain across her chest.
Andy complied and went into the extremely large closet (if you could call it that) looking for what 'top drawer on the left', Miranda was talking about. She pulled the first drawer open but it contained what looked like store-folded rows of silk Hermes scarves. There were probably twenty in that drawer alone. She couldn't even tally what the cost of all of them would be without pulling out a calculator.
The next drawer made droplets of sweat form at Andy's forehead. It was filled with the sexiest and laciest lingerie that Andy had ever seen. Most of them were matching bra and underwear sets. Some were completely sheer, some were ruffled and some looked like mere wisps of fabric being held together by a string of hope. She blushed fervently as she pictured Miranda wearing them under her clothes at Runway.
One particular item of interest was sitting on top of the collection and she slowly moved her hand towards it, lifting the gorgeous black lace into her hands. It made her breath catch in her throat and caused her pulse to beat loudly in her ears. They were panties made out of what looked to be antique, vintage lace in an intricate pattern. The waist band was ruffled with a tiny black bow that would sit below the wearer's navel. The back side of the garment was completely open in a wide 'V' that allowed the black ribbon (that laced like a corset all the way up the fabric) to be tied at the top in another flirtatious bow.
But it wasn't the underwear that had her heart beating a mile a minute inside the confines of her chest. It was the person who would wear the garment and who had worn the garment that made her swoon.
"By all means Andrea, do take your time. You know how I enjoy waiting," Miranda called from back in the bedroom. It sent Andy in a wild panic as she shoved the panties back where they'd come from and went to opening the drawers and closing them at light speed to find the pajamas. Once she'd located them, she gathered them into her hands and carried them as delicately as she would a baby to their owner.
Miranda shifted and stood from her place in bed. Her knees, although painful, weren't enough to keep the Editor seated and she had taken to standing whenever she felt she needed to. She eyed Andy carefully and then pursed her lips together.
"Don't look at me. Look at the clothes as you place them on."
It was a simple enough command, Andy thought, but very, very hard for her to do.
She lowered herself to the ground, on her knees before Miranda. The Editor tensed and stared directly ahead, refusing to look down at her. Andy readied the pajama bottoms before moving her hands up to Miranda's waist at a cautious distance until she could crook her fingers beneath the waist band of the silky material.
Andy blushed when she felt her fingers graze against Miranda's warm skin. She'd never seen her stomach before. It was an extremely wonderful feeling, like stepping on untouched sand. Although she wanted to linger and wanted to slide her hands up the curve of Miranda's hip and over her gently muscled abdomen - she refrained. Instead she turned her head to the side, looking away as instructed while she slid the silken pajama pants down Miranda's thighs, over her knees and past the supple curves of her calve muscles.
Miranda stepped out of the silk pants, her perfectly manicured toes pressing into the white carpet. Andy looked down towards the fabric of the new bottoms in her hands and began gathering the legs together for ease of access. She did however make a bit of a show of it, as though the pajamas weren't cooperating, so she had time to gaze at the older woman's calves that stood so perfectly before her eyes. Her eyes traveled further up still and she saw the white skin turn purple near her knees and for the first time saw the real damage her fall had done. There were bandages of course, but around the bandages, the skin was almost black. It looked extremely painful and completely foreign on the porcelain skin, but Andy nonchalantly kept her head towards the floor and lowered her eyes soon after.
Miranda stepped into the pajama bottoms and Andy turned her gaze away again as she slid the fresh ones up the length of the Editor's legs until the delicate waistband was resting just above her hips.
Andy got to her feet then, her eyes trailing up Miranda's body as she moved, although the woman in question didn't seem to notice as her own head remained turned away from Andy. If she didn't know any better, she would say that Miranda Priestly - dragon lady - looked embarrassed.
Andy's hands paused at Miranda's top button, her eyes trying to find the Editor's for some silent confirmation that it was okay to continue. Miranda seemed to feel Andy's discomfort and she nodded her head once, her cheeks still flushed as she kept her head turned to the side. Andy echoed the nod with one of her own and then slid the top button through the buttonhole. The material pulled away showing Miranda's beautiful cascading white skin below. The next button followed and then several others afterwards. When she reached the middle button, her hand brushed against Miranda's breast and Andy couldn't help but notice the breath that caught in the Editor's throat.
She undid the remaining buttons quickly and then moved so she was standing behind Miranda. Her hands hooked into the silk collar of the pajama top and she slid it down the woman's shoulders, arms and then very carefully over the dressings at her wrists. Miranda's skin was flawless and soft to the touch, although Andy tried very hard not to allow her own skin to press against it. She could see the black lace of Miranda's bra and wanted to ask if it would be more comfortable for the Editor if she removed it, but something told her that, 'Can I take your bra off, Miranda?' wasn't exactly a good start to her time at the townhouse.
Instead, Andy dropped the dirtied silk shirt to the ground and held out the fresh pajama shirt from behind Miranda's back, guiding it slowly over her wrists and up the length of her arms until the collar settled around the back of Miranda's elegant neck.
Well that had gone surprisingly well. Andy smiled as she moved in front of Miranda and did up the new buttons. Miranda's face was expressionless, but she hadn't snapped or glared, so Andy figured she had done pretty well.
"I'm uhh... I'm just going to go get a fresh duvet."
Miranda disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Andy shrugged and whispered, "You're welcome." to the empty bedroom. The bedroom didn't respond.
Miranda Priestly: Indisposed - Part 3
It didn't take long for Andy to find the linen closet that seemed to host a small storefront of designer 'million' thread count duvet covers, sheets and the fluffiest duvet blankets she had ever had the pleasure of squishing between her hands. After struggling to get a cover on the duvet, she carried it back to Miranda's room and laid it out over the woman's bed. Miranda still hadn't returned from the bathroom so it allowed her time to clean up the pile of dirtied clothes and blankets that she had placed near the door.
As Andy carried them downstairs, she could smell the dinner she'd put in the oven to heat and it reminded her to plate it and place it on a new tray. Once everything looked presentable enough, she lifted the tray into her hands and carried it up to the master bedroom. When she re-entered the room, she saw Miranda perched on the fresh comforter, staring blankly down at her hands. She looked small and distracted and very unlike the boss that had almost glared a hole right through her, not twenty minutes before.
This all changed however when she sensed Andy's presence.
Miranda tilted her chin upwards and then forced her blue eyes back towards her assistant. Andy merely offered a weak smile as she held up the tray. "I... uhh...brought you dinner."
Miranda's eyes lowered to the tray as she considered it. Andy had cut the meat and vegetables into tiny, bite sized pieces. This appeared to annoy Miranda but she merely nodded, indicating that despite her own frustrations, she would indulge.
Andy looked at Miranda carefully. "I can... uhh... help you this time, just so... I mean it'll be easier if I help..."
Miranda swallowed clearly, the muscles in her throat working strenuously in time. Finally, she looked Andy square in the eyes and with a mixture of contempt and resignation, sat back and allowed Andy to sit on the bed beside her.
Andy was shaking but hoped Miranda wouldn't notice as she tried to calm her hand's path to the Editor's mouth. Miranda's lips parted to allow the food to pass through it and she lowered her teeth around the fork, effectively taking the morsel into her mouth.
It was fascinating to watch Miranda eat. Every single piece was chewed carefully and with a great deal of thought before being swallowed. Whenever she cleared her mouth she would allow her oval lips to part, the only sign given that she was ready for another bite. Andy managed to move the fork with a little bit more skill after the first few pieces, but she still held on to the silver tined tool as though it were an extension of her own fingers.
Once Miranda had eaten what she deemed was enough, the Editor turned her head away and lifted her bandaged wrists, flicking the fingers of one in dismissal.
Andy removed the plate from Miranda's lap and made her way towards the door. It was the Editor's voice that stopped her once she reached it.
"You will bring me the book when it arrives."
Andy nodded but Miranda wasn't looking at her. "Yes, yes of course..." She mumbled and then turned back to leave. She'd only managed to open the door and step through when she heard the same soft voice behind her.
"Oh and Andrea...?"
Andy turned. This time Miranda's piercing blue eyes were making their way up and down the length of her body. She paused and seemed to struggle with the possibility of making another demand but Andy saw Miranda's jaw clench and then release as silence fell between them. After an awkward moment when neither said anything to the other, Miranda made a clear decision.
Andy nodded and allowed the door to click closed behind her, finally letting out the breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.
Night had fallen over the townhouse on the upper west side of New York city and it cast an eerie quiet through the entire structure. Not a single noise seemed to permeate the silence. Not a foot fall, not a creak of floorboard. It was complete and utter quiet, much to Andy's dismay.
Even at her own apartment, Andy could rely on the strangled sounds of children crying or dogs barking and it provided her a comfort that she only realized she missed when it was gone. She'd never quite felt at peace in complete silence.
Since her break up with Nate, Andy had taken to sleeping with her laptop on, with itunes set to her favorite playlist. It was the only thing that could distract her from the thoughts that plagued her mind and forced her lashes apart in the late hours of evening. Or was it, the early hours of the morning? Either way, sleep didn't come so easily anymore.
It wasn't that she missed Nate. Sure she had felt some guilt over the dissolve of that relationship, but whenever she thought back on it, searching for an ounce of regret, she came up empty handed. When Andy was being honest with herself, she could even pinpoint the moment she stopped caring. It wasn't Nate's fault. If only it were that simple. If he had said something or done something unforgivable, it could have been an easy break. She wouldn't have had to explain anything to herself. She could have been the victim, a role she wouldn't have minded playing if it meant forgoing responsibility.
But Andy wasn't a victim. She had made a clear and concise decision.
The realization had dawned on her in Paris during fashion week. Things had been going smoothly and Andy felt as though she were finally at the top of her game. Everything Miranda wanted was there before the woman even thought of it, and Andy had even managed to sneak a little bit of time to go sightseeing. For the first time she had felt as though she had finally found true happiness in both her job and her life. Of course, her and Nate had had a falling out before she had left for Paris, but somehow she knew that if she wanted to rebuild that relationship that it wasn't too late. The ball was in her court and it was exactly where she wanted it to be.
Everything had been wonderfully, fabulously, and undeniably perfect. That was until she had entered Miranda's hotel suite to find a stranger sitting in the living area.
At least she had thought it was a stranger. She was so shocked by the shell of a woman she saw looking back at her, that she hadn't managed to find her voice.
On the couch sat Miranda Priestly, Queen of the fashion industry, stripped of crown and scepter. She wore not a single stroke of makeup and her usually perfectly styled hair was unkempt. Her eyes were raw and rimmed a bright red and her cheeks were damp with drying tears. She looked broken - defeated.
And then Andy had scuffed the floor with her foot and Miranda had become wise to her presence. Then just like an actor preparing for a scene, Miranda straightened and shifted in a vain attempt to regain her characterization of the ice maiden people thought her to be. With an off handed glance through her glasses and a tilt of the chin - the transformation was complete. However this time, there were flaws in her performance.
Her voice rasped unnaturally in her throat. She swallowed, she shifted and she made a gallant effort... but Miranda Priestly had been hurt and it was as visible as wine spilled on a white tablecloth.
Andy noticed something interesting about herself that night. When Miranda had lost her confidence, had dissolved in front of her, had shown too much - she had gone through a transformation herself. Her stuttering was gone. The shaking and all around fear that generally occurred in her boss' presence had completely vanished. She felt as though she had absorbed the Editor's lost authoritative aura and had shifted places. It wasn't a common reaction for Andy and it instilled a thought in her. She found that in that instance she acted as one of a pair, no longer a single. She was what Miranda needed her to be.
After it was all over, when Miranda had cleared her throat and instructed Andy to do nothing but 'her job', she had found herself thrust back into her own body. She was ejected from within Miranda's personal walls and cast off like the assistant she was. What had she really expected? It was a moment of weakness on Miranda's part. She had been in the right place at the right time. It could have been anyone.
Andy had gotten up and left Miranda as the woman had requested. She had then gone and found Christian Thompson and literally fucked him senseless. It hadn't been a happy moment for her by any means. It had been violent, rough and fast and she had even started crying half way through, although she had stretched her head back on her neck so that he couldn't see. Once he finally noticed, he had thought she was crying out from pleasure - the idiot. It turned out not to matter much because the morning hadn't even allowed for conversation to become awkward before Andy had discovered the plot to oust Miranda and had gone back to her in an attempt to save her.
At the time she had even seen it as a way to get closer to the woman. But as usual, Miranda didn't need saving. She had saved herself and Andy was left feeling unwanted, unneeded and unsatisfied. It was a complete reversal of how she'd felt when she'd first arrived in Paris. She had contemplated leaving Miranda right then and there; making a clean break. Of course it would have been painful but it would have been over. The thoughts she had started having would be forced from her mind; it would have been so easy.
But Andy had not left. She had gone to Miranda's side and dutifully did as Miranda had demanded. She had done her job. Nothing more, nothing less and life somehow just seemed to go on....
The sound of a door opening and closing, followed by the sharp clicks of stilettos to hardwood floor brought her back to reality. Andy rushed down the stairs to meet Emily, nearly knocking the other woman over as she took the book from her surprised hands. Emily's eyes moved up and down Andy's pajama clad form in absolute distaste. "Is the logging convention in town? I suppose it slipped my mind when I was dealing with disaster after disaster at Runway today because someone decided to take an unexpected vacation."
Andy's glance lowered to her own flannel pajamas. She had thought they were a rather good selection. They were better than the jockey shorts and a tank top which she often wore at home. And who was Emily to judge her when she was at home in her... Wait. Not at home. No, no, no. Who was Emily to judge her when she was at her boss' home in her... Oh god. Not much better.
"Hey!" Andy shook her head. "I'm not on vacation!"
"Well you might as well be. Here you are flouncing about in the latest special on K-Mart sleep-ware while I get to cancel and rearrange a week of Miranda's tightly packed schedule."
Andy shrugged. It wasn't even worth a comment. Of course Emily would be bitter about Miranda's choice, regardless of whether it had been thought out before or not. It wasn't as if anything she said would be able to change the Brit's mind.
But Emily surprised her when she articulated in a quiet voice behind Andy's retreating back. "How is she?"
Andy turned back around and tried not to notice the lines of worry that had nestled themselves above Emily's brow. "She is doing... okay."
Emily's eyes searched hers, just barely noticeably flicking back and forth before she nodded, apparently appeased by Andy's answer. "Yes well... don't let her see you in that." Emily's finger pointed at Andy's chest before roving upwards and downwards in a single, graceful movement. "It is quite enough to make one sick."
Andy couldn't help but smile. "Goodnight Emily."
She readjusted her grasp on the book and held it to her chest as she turned and headed up the stairs missing the slight look of jealousy lurking within the red head's clear eyes. Emily quickly smothered the unseen emotion and departed; the sound of the door's latch catching in its closure the only signal she had gone.
For Andy, it was time to re-enter the dragon's lair.
Miranda Priestly: Indisposed - Part 4
"Why is it that I'm out of the office for a single day and the magazine suddenly degrades itself to the fashion equivalent of Good Housekeeping?" Miranda's words slipped from her mouth, coated in rising bile as she looked at the final page.
Andy had been furiously scribbling down every single thing Miranda had dictated to her while the Editor glanced through the Book. Every page was apparently worse than the last, though Andy with her 'untrained eye' hadn't noticed anything different than usual.
She had asked Andy to write 'Totally useless - get rid of it.' next to one article on Christian LaCroix's latest jewellery collection; 'Utter abomination.' on a special feature article about the reflection of global events on clothing design; and probably the most scathing review was 'Burns my retinas.' on the cover photo which showcased a theme reinventing Emilio Pucci inspired designs.
Andy closed the Book and looked down at the post-it notes shooting out from all sides. Her hand had cramped from all of the quick writing. She flexed her fingers, extending the digits and then retracting them several times. Miranda shifted next to her. When she looked up from the Book she saw that the Editor was looking at her over top of the frames of her Gucci reading glasses.
Andy knew that it was probably a cue to gather her things and head out, but something in her longed for it to be more. She smiled warmly at Miranda. "How... how are your wrists feeling?"
A muscle in Miranda's jaw twitched, clearly holding back a degrading remark - about babbling- no doubt. But those degrading remarks remained unspoken, much to Andy's amazement. "I'll live."
Andy's smile grew although her gaze remained sympathetic. "Can I uhh... get you more of the medication? It's been enough time..."
Miranda nodded and Andy slipped from her perch on the bed to go and retrieve the pills from the dresser. She opened the lid and tilted the pill bottle until two rolled out into her hand. She pondered bringing them back to the Editor on some sort of tray rather than unceremoniously in the palm of her hand - but she was limited as to what she had available. She considered her options a moment before plucking a tissue from its distributor and flattening it over her free palm before transferring the pills into its fold.
She poured some water from the pitcher she'd filled earlier into a crystal water glass and delighted in the ping that her fingernails made against the glass as she lifted it.
The glass felt cool in one hand and the tissue felt soft in the other as she carried them to Miranda. The older woman took the pills from the tissue paper and placed them on the moist curve of her tongue. Andy was so enthralled by the way Miranda's tongue glistened in the bedside lighting that she didn't even notice that the Editor had taken the glass from her between her own trembling fingers. Miranda's tongue disappeared behind her lips as they pressed against the rim of crystal and Andy watched as the glass was tipped upwards and as water slid between the tiny parting. Her eyes changed their position then, choosing to rest on the Editor's neck as she swallowed. The muscles glided exquisitely beneath her fair, thin skin and it made the hair on Andy's arms stand up.
Once she had taken the pills, Miranda held the nearly empty glass out, which Andy took quickly. She went to Miranda's bathroom to rinse it and was surprised by how beautiful her bathroom really was. The whole entire townhouse was beautiful, but something about this particular bathroom just objectified Miranda's persona. It was cream coloured and spacious with lighting around the mirror that lit the person standing before it like a photographer would light a cover shoot. The rest of the lighting was dim and comfortable; casting a warm, cascading, romantic feeling over the area. The soft stone tiling was warm beneath the soles of her bare feet as she stepped near the sink and turned the water on.
The light from the mirror reflected off of the rim of the glass and she noticed that the Editor's lips had left a whisper of an impression against its surface. She held the glass to the light and tilted it to peer through it, enjoying the small personal way Miranda had unknowingly left her mark. It was like a bee sting or a vampire bite; divinely decadent. It was enchanting and alluring. Something pulsed between her legs and she blushed just thinking about the sinful yet ridiculous thoughts she was having. Finally, unable to resist anymore, she glanced over her shoulders quickly to make sure that Miranda hadn't appeared out of nowhere before aligning the glass in her hands and bringing it to her own lips. The glass was cool beneath the soft fleshy pout of her bottom lip and she revelled in the idea that her lips were pressed to the same piece of crystal that Miranda's had touched only moments prior.
For good measure she finished the sip of water that was left in the glass and then with guilt, began to rinse it out. What was she doing? Taking out her silly, impossible fantasies on a cup? The whole situation had 'stalker' written all over it. But it was after all, only an appreciation thing... wasn't it? Sure, she had felt warmth spread across her abdomen as she'd done it, but that could have been just embarrassment. Sure, the idea of her lips touching the Editor's made her whole body tingle like it was asleep, but that could have just been nerves. Sure, she had unnaturally sexual thoughts about the woman every single day and every single night so much so that it led her to distraction and to doing drastic measures like kissing a cup to feel closer to her, but that could have just been... crazy.
Once it was rinsed, Andy placed the glass upon a fresh white hand towel folded next to the sink, allowing it to dry. She turned then towards the rest of the bathroom and let her eyes take in every detail. The bath tub caught her glance first. It was deep and large enough to fit two people comfortably. She blushed. The tub was jetted; she could see and on a small shelf next to it sat some of the most expensive, exquisite bathing soaps and shampoos that she had ever seen. She could imagine what the tub looked like filled with bubbles and hot water. She could imagine a certain silver haired woman laying down in that tub with the water lapping at her collar bone leaving wet expanses of skin in its wake. She could even imagine the Editor's neck stretched backwards against the cool lip of porcelain, her lips parted in a moment of quiet indulgence.
Her eyes begrudgingly moved from the tub to the shower then, noting that it too could fit more than one person. It could fit four or five by the looks of it. It was enormous and it had two shower heads spouting from separate sides. The windows surrounding it were all clear glass and it was lined with warm chocolate brown stone. Andy smiled, wondering it would be like to shower inside of it. She was used to showering in a cracked, footed tub with a stained shower curtain clinging desperately to five or six rusty curtain rings. This was the Cadillac of showers.
Suddenly another flash of vivid imagination washed over her and she could see the shower filling with steam. She could picture Miranda's naked form pressed against the glass wall, her hands on either side of her body.
The woman's head was thrown back in pleasure, her lips working at sensual silent sounds that Andy couldn't hear. Her muscles were tensing and releasing and her hands were gliding over the slick surface as most of her body remained veiled by the pooling steam. Andy felt a rush of heat between her thighs. The image of Miranda, completely unhinged on the verge of orgasm was almost too much for her to take in. It was too good not to indulge for a little longer.
But the dream shifted slightly and the steam began to grow denser, hiding more and more of the Editor behind it.
Miranda's lips were parting in an approaching scream, her fingers grappling at the glass for some type of grip. Then with a final thrust against the clouded glass, Stephen's chin slid into the nook of Miranda's neck from behind and bit down into the tender flesh.
Andy felt sick to her stomach. She was surprised that her own imagination would have let that particular character in.
Stephen. Stephen had touched Miranda. He'd even had sex with her. It was not like this was any new information - they had been married after all - but when she really thought of it in a realistic way, it made her furious. It was animalistic to picture some grunting, groaning, boar of a man on top of a delicate frame like Miranda's. To picture their sweaty, large and rough hands snaking through her silver hair. To picture those same hands grabbing the strands at the root and tugging at them...
Andy had to press her hand to the shower's glass to steady herself as her mind spun wildly out of her control.
She could picture it everywhere. She could picture them everywhere. She could picture them in their marital bed, Miranda crushed under Stephen's large body; Stephen's hips thrusting with wild abandon into the dip between Miranda's legs. Miranda's knees, squeezed against Stephen's ribs as her head came dangerously close to colliding with the headboard. She could see them on the stairs, Miranda straddling Stephen's hips as he lifted and lowered her against himself, without skill or care. His hands held her hips in place and he used her like a doll until he could release inside of her. Then they were in the kitchen. Miranda's back was on the counter and Stephen was over top of her, gripping her breasts and twisting them in his hands roughly as he moved. He was calling out her name, 'Miranda... Miranda.... oh god Miran...." with every lustful, sinful jerk. Miranda's lips parted too and she looked like she was going to scream again, but her eyelashes fluttered open and she called out, "Andrea..."
Andy's eyes flew open and she jumped. As much as the idea of Miranda calling out her name while coupling with her husband was intensely erotic, she knew her mind hadn't just taken that liberty. She knew it because when she opened her eyes, she saw Miranda's reflection in the shower glass. She was behind her.
Andy spun to face her. "Miranda.... I...."
Miranda's eyes were dissecting her; questioning why the girl was standing, supporting herself against her shower, no doubt noticing her flushed cheeks and damp forehead. "Andrea... are you ill?"
Andy stuttered and tried to look anywhere but into Miranda's eyes. It was as if Miranda had become the Basilisk from the Harry Potter books that her children liked so much; a creature whose gaze could kill even if merely caught in a reflection. Miranda's serpentine stare was penetrating her defences. When Andy met those twinned blue eyes, she could see the danger that lurked there. She had to think, quickly.
"I'm... no. I was just... uhh.. with the..." Andy made swirling gestures with her hand as she grappled with a possible explanation to her predicament. "... and the.... with the.... I mean to say... Miranda did you know that seventy percent of home accidents occur in the bathroom? I was just checking to make sure that your shower had sufficient grip for when you.... take a shower.... being that your... with the wrists and everything... you'd... it must increase your chances... I..." Damnit. She'd started strong! The statistic had been a really good idea and her explanation was flawless. But then Miranda's eyes had squinted lightly as if looking for the real merit in Andy's argument and Andy had melted.
Perhaps Miranda felt sorry for her, or perhaps she simply accepted the fact that her second assistant was losing her sanity, but Miranda did not question it any further. She merely drew part of her lower lip into her mouth and nodded before turning and vacating the bathroom, leaving Andy alone.
Andy used the few seconds of solitude to her advantage and regained her composure. A cool splashing of water against her cheeks helped this along and Andy used a hand towel to dry the moisture away before returning to Miranda's bedroom.
Miranda had seated herself back in bed and she was looking at Andy as she came back in. Andy glanced back at the bathroom door and then towards the Editor. "It's uhh... all clear in there. Your bathroom was really... safely... uhh…built." Oh god. Did she have to keep talking? Just shut up Andy... say something intelligent for once...
But much to Andy's surprise, Miranda's lips had pulled upwards at the corners in an amused smile that reached her eyes. She was even more surprised when the Editor finally spoke, the tone of her voice lighter than usual but still sarcastic and just as assertive, "What I would have done without your safety check, I'll never know."
Andy's surprised look vanished to be replaced by a spreading smile of her own. Feeling brave, she took a step closer to Miranda's bedside. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"
Miranda regarded her carefully, the smile still lingering at her lips, having not quite been controlled just yet. "No, I am fine, thank you."
Andy's heart fluttered. She must be dreaming. Miranda Priestly rarely smiled, and she most certainly never thanked anyone. But this wasn't a dream. It was all very real. Andy nodded her head and raised her hand awkwardly in a half wave before she thought better of it and lowered it back to couple with her other hand.
"Well... uhh... if you need anything... just... call, or let... me know. I'll have my... uh cell on..." She was just down the hall. "Umm... goodnight Miranda."
Miranda readjusted her wrists in her lap. "Goodnight, Andrea."
Andy was beaming when she turned around and headed towards the door. She could barely keep the excitement out of her step. How ridiculous it was to be so happy over something as simple as a 'goodnight'. But this wasn't just any 'goodnight'. This was coming from a woman who before this particular moment in time, Andy couldn't have imagined actually saying that simple word. She was just closing the door behind her when she heard Miranda clear her throat softly.
"Oh and Andrea...?"
Andy smiled. Hope swelled in her chest as she was summoned back into the room. She knew something small had changed between them. Perhaps it was the start to something more. Whatever it was, it was both thrilling and exciting. Andy turned around, the smile still present. "Yes?"
Miranda's eyes moved up and down Andy's form with expert precision. She tilted her head to the side and let the silence reclaim them. Finally she raised a brow.
"Is the logging convention in town?"
Andy deflated, the smile falling from her lips. She even went so far as to defend her pyjama choice, but as soon as her lips parted, Miranda turned away with a familiar phrase thrown effortlessly over her shoulder. "That's all."
Miranda 1 - Andy 0. Surprise, surprise.
Miranda Priestly: Indisposed - Part 5
Despite all odds, Andy had managed to sleep rather peacefully in the guest bedroom. It was only a couple of doors down from Miranda's master suite and she found the proximity comforting. It was the closest she'd gotten to sleeping in the same place as someone else since Nate had left. The task of sleeping wasn't the hard part. The falling asleep process had been the hard part. However, she had anticipated it after the unusual evening she'd just spent fantasizing over a woman who couldn't be more indifferent to her.
Andy had washed her face in the en-suite of the guest bedroom and had laid her head on the pillow at exactly 12:36 am. Deciding to clear her thoughts of the day's events, she thought of her favorite TV show - The Office. She smiled. The Office had been a guilty indulgence of hers whenever she was actually home to watch it - which wasn't by any means on a regular basis. She had fallen in love with the characters but found that she couldn't sympathize with their thoughts regarding their annoying boss. They hadn't had a boss like hers.
No, no... don't go there Andy. Think happy, pleasant, un-Miranda-esque thoughts....
Andy concentrated hard. She pictured herself as a character on the television show. It was a trick she'd learned as a teenager while suffering from mild bouts insomnia. It kept her mind busy and allowed her to eventually fall asleep without realizing it.
She replaced the receptionist and took her seat as Andy Beasley, secretaire extraordinaire. She tried to imagine what it would be like to interact with the crazy 'Dwight' character and to flirt with the cute boy next door, 'Jim' character. It was all perfectly distracting. ''Stanley', yet another character in The Office strode over and placed a large stack of papers on her desk. He told her he needed the figures added up and she went to work diligently. But the numbers weren't making sense and the papers were expanding all over her desk. When she couldn't take it anymore, she stood from her seat and shouted, "This is too hard!!!"
Michael Scott, the boss, peeked his head out of his office door and looked at her. "That's what she said."
Andy grinned and went to sit back down but Michael interrupted her. "Hey... Andy Anderson.... Pam Anderson... Hooty McBoob.... why don't you just come in here for a little meeting. I have this impression I've been working on that I think you'll appreciate."
Andy pushed herself back from the desk and walked around it, heading towards the office that Michael had just disappeared inside. She was laughing even at this pretend scenario, and the thoughts she'd been avoiding couldn't have been more safely stowed away. She stepped inside the office and closed the door behind her, approaching Michael's desk. His back was to her and she picked up the 'World's Greatest Boss' mug.
"Well Michael - show me your impression."
The chair spun around and Andy dropped the mug. A woman with silver hair and immaculate makeup had replaced Michael. She peered up at Andy over the rims of her glasses and placed one well manicured palm onto the desk's surface. "Don't be ridiculous Andrea. I don't do impersonations."
Andy's eyes flew open and she rubbed at them vigorously with whitened knuckles. Why can't I just have a normal dream? She looked at the clock 12:41 am. Five minutes. She'd been Miranda-free for only five minutes. Oh god this'll be a long night.
It didn't help that the weather had picked up outside the townhouse and Andy could hear it banging against the thick window glass of her room. It must of been quite a storm because the glass window had managed to keep out the city traffic noises, yet was still allowing the howl of wind to penetrate its barrier. But Andy surprised herself and she eventually managed to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. It didn't hurt that the mattress quality surpassed any others she'd even had the privilege of testing at a Department store and the sheets were so soft that she feared marking them by her mere presence. They didn't smell like Miranda, but they smelled like her house and that was enough of an association to permanently flush her cheeks as she slept.
It wasn't until an uncertain time in the very early hours of morning that Andy awoke with a start to a loud 'thud' coming from Miranda's bedroom. Andy flew out of bed, tossing the comforter back so hard that it stripped itself from the bed and landed on the other side on the floor. She looked to the digital clock but found it blank. Power outage. Fumbling through the house in the dark Andy managed to collide with a dresser, the door and ironically a lamp, before reaching Miranda's room. She didn't bother to knock as she swung the door open and rushed into the darkened bedroom. Miranda wasn't on the bed, that much she could tell. One half of it was still made from the night before and the other half had its covers tucked neatly back. Evidently Miranda wasn't very restless in her sleep.
Andy frantically searched the floor of the bedroom before running to the bathroom and opening the door. Her eyes had begun to adjust to the dark but everything still seemed completely foreign to her.
"Miranda?!" Andy called, gripping at the wall as she made her way out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest. No response.
She heard a rustle coming from the closet and her eyes widened with hope as she rushed forward towards the noise.
The closet door was open and Andy ran right inside. She stopped just on the inside of the door frame. It was pitch black. The rustling had stopped and she couldn't see a thing. "Miranda?" She tried again. Nothing.
Andy took a few steps forward, her hands reaching around for objects that might find themselves in her path. She grasped something silky on a hanger and then glided her open palm through the row of clothing beside it. She turned away and stepped blindly into the darkness, holding her hands out in front of her in an attempt to stop walls and jagged corners from coming into contact with her forehead. She was so concerned with things at head level, that she didn't notice her foot catching on something, sending her totally off balance and crashing to the carpeted floor. Andy let out a yelp as she went down, but she was uninjured. "Fuck." She cursed as she placed her hands to the carpet in front of her. Her fingertips grazed something silky and she paused, peering around and willing her eyes to see what it was.
She felt something hot against her nose. A warm breath being let out. Goosebumps prickled her body as she realized she was kneeling directly in front of Miranda and the woman was breathing on her skin. Andy's whole body jolted and she sat back on her heels, lifting her hands and placing them back down again, this time on a very soft expanse of skin. She swallowed and lifted her hands as though she'd been burned, stuttering, "Mir... Miranda?"
The darkness sighed softly and then finally spoke. "Yes."
Andy let out the breath she'd been holding. "Oh my god... are you okay?"
Miranda swallowed and Andy could hear her tongue click against the roof of her mouth. "I am fine, I've just... fallen."
Andy wanted to reach out but she couldn't trust what she'd touch. "Oh... well the power is out."
A breathy noise came from Miranda. "How astute Andrea." She moved and Andy could feel a piece of delicate skin whisper across her forearm before gliding away. "It was what caused me to fall in the first place."
Andy nodded although she knew Miranda couldn't see. "Uhh.. why are you... I mean... why are you in the closet at this time of nigh... morning - anyways?"
Miranda made another indiscernible noise. It sounded disapproving. She was still very close, Andy could tell. When she failed to offer an explanation, Andy decided to take charge of the situation. "Okay.. well.. uhh let's... let's get you out of here."
"A fine idea." Miranda grunted miserably.
Andy lifted her hands again and slowly reached them out in front of her. Her fingertips met Miranda's skin and she rolled the fingertips aside until her palms replaced their position against the surface. She couldn't tell what she was touching but she could feel the muscles tense beneath her hands. Her fingers moved across the cool skin and she heard Miranda gasp. Her fingertips froze. That can't be good. She lifted them back before placing them down again, only this time, slightly higher. She could feel a lightly protruding bone and then another one mirrored beneath her other hand. Her fingertips slid upwards and finally she rounded a corner on the woman's body. Shoulders. Definitely shoulders.
Andy let out a sigh of relief and cursed herself for actually doing so. She was glad Miranda couldn't see the expression on her face. She felt as red as a tomato and her pupils were so enlarged from a combination of the darkness and an uninhibited lust that it wouldn't be hard for the Editor to become wise of her blatant thoughts.
Andy used Miranda's shoulders to help with balance but she didn't put any weight on the woman as she brought herself to her feet. "Can you... uhh.. can you give me your hands?"
Miranda didn't say anything but Andy felt two slender hands slipping between the woman's shoulder blades and her own hands before clutching them delicately. Andy let go of Miranda's hands soon after, but used them as a guideline to find where the bandages were on her wrists before clutching to the Editor's elbows. Andy moved very carefully in an attempt to help the woman to her feet, but as she did so she felt something brush against her calves. Two knees pressed against either side of her legs and she realized that she had been kneeling between the Editor's own legs all along. It was such a provocative and unexpected thought that Andy's palms lit on fire and began to sweat profusely.
Miranda was midway to standing when the sweat caused Andy to lose her grasp. She made a quick move to recapture Miranda's elbows, but failed causing the Editor fall backwards. Miranda's knees were squeezing against her calves involuntarily and it caused Andy to lose her balance, effectively being taken down with her. Perhaps a better description would have been, taken down ON her.
Andy could feel her entire body pressing down on top of Miranda's. She tried to move but her hands fumbled against bare skin instead of carpet. A strange question occurred to her then. She was surprised that it hadn't come to her earlier. Why hadn't she felt any of Miranda's clothes yet? There had been an awful lot of skin...
Andy's hands were trembling as they continued in their useless fumbling as Miranda grunted beneath her. Just as her hands met with the carpet, the lights came back on.
Andy could not have been prepared for the sight in front of her if she'd tried.
Miranda was on her back on the carpet beneath her. Her wrists were up near her head at either side of her silver hair, which was tousled slightly from the fall. She wasn't wearing her pajamas anymore. Instead, the Editor lay beneath her in only a black lace bra and matching panties. She couldn't see very much of the panties because her own thighs were blocking the view. She was straddling Miranda's hips, pinning her down beneath her size 4 weight while the Editor's silk pajamas lay abandoned around them.
Andy tried to play it cool, she really did, but the image Miranda had created beneath her had caused a rush of warmth and moisture between her legs and she thanked god she'd chosen flannel bottoms.
Miranda's cheeks were flushed as she looked up into Andy's eyes and a silence fell between them that was surprisingly electric. Their gaze never faltered and both of them were breathing a little heavier then they should have been. After what seemed like hours but was probably only minutes, Andy found her voice. "I'm... uhh.. sorry. Let me just..."
The dark haired assistant wobbled slightly as she managed to move off of the Editor and into a standing position. She bent down to help Miranda up and once they were both on their feet, Miranda turned away from her to face the wall. She looked oddly self conscious about her beautiful body and Andy longed to convince her otherwise, but she knew that she had no right to. She also had a feeling that Miranda wouldn't want to hear it.
Why would she? Especially coming from me, Andy thought bitterly.
But she refused to think about that now. Not while Miranda stood practically shivering with her damaged wrists held protectively over her front. She was facing the wall still, her gaze fixed directly in front of her at a row of jackets.
Andy unhooked the grey bathrobe hanging near the closet door. She carried it back towards Miranda and placed it carefully on the woman's shoulders. During a fleeting moment of unbridled bravado, Andy even managed to squeeze Miranda's shoulders soothingly before helping her into the robe and tying it off at her slim mid section.
This same bravado seemed to linger just long enough for her to ask, "Miranda... why didn't you just call me?"
Andy hadn't been expecting an answer. She had spoken quite out of line - questioning her boss' actions and reasoning in her own house. As the bravado vanished, so too did any remaining nerves that she had been fiercely clutching to. She was about to change the subject when Miranda surprised her yet again, with a response.
"I wanted to change before you awoke."
Andy nodded slowly. The woman was now facing her, meeting her eyes slowly. She continued through a clenching jaw, "I would have managed too if the lights hadn't gone out."
Andy nodded again. She imagined she was doing an impressive impersonation of a bobble head. "Yes.. yeah... but how about... how about next time, you just call me?"
Miranda looked as though she was going to tell Andy exactly what to do with her 'how-abouts', but she stopped herself just as her lips parted and then she moved to reseal them. She then nodded her head once and then several more times quickly in succession - then she looked away.
Andy smiled softly and placed her hand delicately to the small of Miranda's back. "I think it's best... you uh... lay down for a bit."
Miranda didn't protest. She climbed into bed, slipping between the sheets, and even allowed Andy to draw the covers up to her chest. But she didn't look at her again.
Andy turned the closet light off and the other various lights around Miranda's bedroom before closing the door firmly behind her. She paused on her way back to her room and turned back to look down the hall at Miranda's bedroom door.
Sighing to herself she drew her hands through her hair and headed to the guest room where she gathered the comforter under one arm and made her way back into the hallway, towing the expensive guest room's desk chair behind her. She set it directly in front of Miranda's door and lowered herself into it. The blanket felt cool against her skin and she laid back against the leather of the chair uncomfortably. Her eyes worriedly travelled over the surface of the door before finally closing as Andy let out another sigh.
As she slowly drifted to sleep she couldn't shake the image of Miranda laying flush beneath her. She could still picture the way Miranda's eyes looked as they had locked with her own. She could still see the whisper of blush across her collarbone and the rise and fall of her ribcage. In a word, Miranda had looked breathtaking. It was an image she would never forget and one she would never want to forget.
For the first time in years, Andy fell asleep with a smile on her lips.
Miranda Priestly: Indisposed - Part 6
"Andrea... Andrea...?" A soft voice called from inside Miranda's bedroom.
Andy practically jumped to her feet as she swung the blanket off and climbed out of her makeshift bed. It rolled backwards unenthusiastically. She ran her hand through her hair and down the front of her pajamas to straighten them before turning the door knob in her hand and swinging it open.
When she entered she saw Miranda sitting on the bed, one leg crossed elegantly over the other. She was fully dressed in a gorgeous Armani skirt-suit and her hair was expertly styled just grazing across her right brow. She looked impeccable.
Andy was confused. She walked closer and noticed that Miranda’s wrists weren’t even bandaged as they rested across her knee. “Miranda… are… uhh… how did? Are you okay?”
Miranda jerked her head for Andy to come closer. Andy obeyed. She approached Miranda and stopped once she was standing directly in front of her. Miranda’s gaze fell to her feet and then made their slow ascent up her body, moving at such an excruciatingly slow pace that she felt she was (for lack of a better term) being eye-fucked without lubricant.
“I’m more than okay, Andrea…”
Andy flushed a deep red. There was something indescribably sensual in the Editor’s voice as it caressed her ears and sent shivers down the length of her spine.
“Really…?” Andy asked, swallowing the lump of pure panic in her throat. Was it panic? It sure felt like panic… or was it… excitement? “How … uhh.. how come?”
Miranda tilted her chin to the side and narrowed her eyes. “Because I like to get what I want…”
Andy’s eyes widened. “Uhh yeah…?” She clenched and unclenched her hands to act as a distraction. “And… uhhh… what did you get?”
Miranda’s lips parted and the point of her tongue peeked out to perch in between her lips. It sat there as she regarded Andy in painstaking silence, her fiery gaze locking with Andy’s darker one. Finally the tongue rolled over her bottom lip and disappeared.
Andy physically jolted - her stomach churning with the onslaught of tingling nerves.
This couldn’t be happening! Miranda felt the same way? Her mind raced. What would the Editor expect of her? Did it really mean what she thought it meant?
Andy’s mouth had gone dry. “Oh… okay…”
Miranda lifted her wrist and crooked her finger, motioning for Andy to draw even nearer still.
Miranda’s hands were on her elbows then, pushing her down on to her knees. She kept her gaze on Miranda’s face at first but soon found herself staring into the Editor’s lap and consequently, up the woman’s skirt.
Miranda parted her thighs as she placed her hands on Andy’s shoulders. “Do you want to make me happy, Andrea?”
Andy nodded over enthusiastically. “Yes… yes Miranda... I do.”
“Then give me what I want.”
Andy felt Miranda’s hands at the back of her head, drawing her downwards between her thighs.
From the new vantage point, Andy noticed that the Editor had forgone underwear in her dressing routine and was bare beneath the black material of the Armani skirt. Andy’s tongue slipped out from between her own lips in anticipation and she extended it - closer and closer to making contact with the area between Miranda’s legs.
“Andrea…?” Miranda’s voice asked from above. “What are you doing?”
Andy pressed onwards, her tongue still stretching towards the center of her desire. “Giving you what you want Miranda.”
Miranda’s nails dug into her head and raked down her skull. The pain sent shivers through Andy’s body but she still reached for it, her chin and tongue nearing her goal.
She felt Miranda’s grip switch to her shoulders and she felt the Editor pushing her away forcefully. “What are you doing?” She demanded again.
She sounded firmer this time. It wasn’t a question anymore. It was an accusation.
Andy’s heart stopped.
Andrea jumped. Her lashes fluttered apart but she couldn’t see any determinable shapes. Her vision was hazy and she had to rub her eyes furiously to clear them. She wasn’t in Miranda’s room anymore. She was just outside of the door, in the same office chair she’d fallen asleep in. Her body was twisted uncomfortably in the blanket and her back ached from the position she’d slept in.
What was worse, towering above her in the door frame was the woman herself – Miranda Priestly, looking sophisticated and beautiful if only slightly unkempt. Her wrists were still clearly bandaged and she was looking at Andy with a slight sign of impatience written across her features. She was still in her robe.
It had been a dream. Thank god it had been a dream. She couldn’t bear Miranda pushing her away like that. Drawing her in and then casting her off like the assistant she was.
Andy brought her hands up to her cheeks to hide the burning blush that consumed her cheekbones and the circumference of her face.
“Well…?” Miranda asked, attempting to rest her hands on her own hips but failing as she winced in pain from the movement.
“Well?” Andy echoed, blinking out of total confusion. Had she missed something?
Miranda didn’t conceal the eye roll as she gazed down at her assistant. “I asked what you were doing here.”
“Uhhh… taking care of you….?” Andy tried, brushing her hands through her hair to tame the wild nest it no doubt appeared to be.
Miranda’s eyes swiveled in their sockets again. “Don’t be daft Andrea. I know why you’re here. I want to know what you’re doing outside of my bedroom, in a chair, at seven in the morning.”
Andy swallowed and scrambled to her feet. Unfortunately her legs were all caught up in the blanket and she fell backwards, landing with a thud on her backside. Her cheeks were still on fire as she slowly looked up to meet Miranda’s gaze.
She was surprised to see an amused lilt in the Editor’s expression, but Miranda still had her head cocked to the side in wait for an answer.
“I… well… I was just. I didn’t want you to fall again… like last night. And god knows you’re stubborn enough to try something twice, even if it didn’t work out the first time… and I knew I’d be able to find you quicker and ….” Andy froze again.
This hot and cold business was driving her insane. Why didn’t she just shut up? Why oh why didn’t she just shut up?
It really was only a matter of time before Miranda would grow tired of her incompetence and have her off’ed and dumped in the Hudson with the other garbage. But when Andy met Miranda’s gaze again, she was happy to see that the Editor hadn’t started pouring the cement just yet.
She almost looked amused. A small smile quirked her exquisitely soft looking lips before one perfectly groomed eyebrow rose slowly above her blue stare. “Well, I hate to cut the sleepover short Andrea, but it is Saturday and I do wish to have somewhat of a normal day today.”
Andy wondered what a normal day would be like for Miranda Priestly but she didn’t question it. She didn’t question anything. Instead, ever the obedient assistant, Andy rose to her feet and gathered the blanket under one arm and then began to retreat while rolling the office chair along with her.
Miranda cleared her throat and when Andy turned her way she was glaring impatiently. The Editor turned away then and headed back into her room, while Andy ran the remaining steps to the guest room and rolled the chair back into position. She tossed the comforter on the bed and rushed to get ready.
She even managed to set a new personal record for herself as she disrobed, showered and redressed herself all in a matter of minutes. There wasn’t any time to waste, and consequently any time to spend on really perfecting her look. She was wearing dark yoga pants and a matching yoga jacket with a loose olive green tank top underneath. They were comfortable clothes and she would be damned if she let Miranda expect her to wear anything more.
Andy didn’t have time to tidy the room so she closed the door behind her as she left, so that Miranda wouldn’t have to look at the disarray if she happened by. She was quick to her boss’s bedroom and when she arrived inside, Miranda was standing near the bathroom scrutinizing her reflection in the floor to ceiling mirror.
“Appalling…” the woman muttered under her breath as her chin tilted back.
Andy wanted to correct her immediately. Miranda Priestly – NEVER looked appalling. She never looked anything less than becoming. Even as she stood there in the grey bathrobe with her hair tousled and sticking out at odd angles, Miranda looked like a vision.
She didn’t know what possessed her to say it, but before she could stop herself – the words had fallen from her lips.
“Maybe you’d feel better if you washed your hair…”
Miranda’s eyes widened and then lifted upwards to look at that particular part of her appearance with newfound interest. It was a tiny gesture of self consciousness and Andy felt pleased to have seen the small fleeting expression.
Miranda swallowed and pursed her lips, no longer looking at herself but looking at Andy’s reflection in the mirror. “And tell me… Awn-dray-yah.” Oh oh. She was drawing the syllables out, making them sound poisonous and sinful. “How do you presume I go about doing that?”
The Editor lifted her bandaged wrists in front of her and then turned on her heel away from the mirror to stare at her dumbfounded assistant. Andy shrugged and dug her toe into the carpet.
“I could uhh.. do it for you.”
Miranda’s expression was indecipherable. She stood for a long moment, the silence having returned between them. Miranda finally broke the silence by turning and strolling into the bathroom. When Andy didn’t follow, Miranda grunted impatiently.
Andy rushed after her then, pausing when she got inside and she looked from the shower and to the tub before blushing furiously. Oh god. The fantasies flooded back to her. She couldn’t think about that though. She had a job to do. Focus, god damnit.
Andy looked around for a way to make this happen but the sink was too high and there was no way Miranda would be okay with her climbing in the shower or bathtub with her. Finally she hit upon an idea. “Wait… uhh.. wait here.”
Andy took the townhouse stairs two at a time as she rushed towards the kitchen. She dug through the cupboards filled with expensive cookware and dinnerware and found a large interestingly shaped bowl. Satisfied with her choice she rushed back upstairs and directly through the bedroom into the bathroom. Miranda hadn’t moved.
Andy placed the bowl on the edge of the lowered vanity counter and then disappeared back outside. When she returned for the second time, she was carrying a chair she had taken from the hallway. She put it down so that it faced away from the counter and picked up the pitcher of water sitting next to the sink. Dumping the still water down the drain, she turned the faucet to hot and slipped the pitcher beneath the stream.
Miranda watched in amazement as Andy moved before making her way over to the chair and sitting herself down. The younger woman turned off the water and set the pitcher next to the bowl. She moved over to the bath tub and looked at the shampoos she saw there. “Uhh… do you have a…? I mean do you prefer one?”
Miranda shrugged and tilted her chin down to look at her wrists, apparently leaving the decision in Andy’s hands. Andy smiled and picked up one with a beautiful fragrance that smelled somewhat like a perfume she owned of Alfred Sung. She carried it back over and then set it down beside the water pitcher.
“Okay... uhh.. I’m just… if you could just lean your head back, into my hands. I can manage the rest.” Andy smiled down at her boss, who had begun to lower her head backwards into the cradle of Andy’s hands.
Miranda’s hair felt wonderful beneath her touch. So wonderful that she didn’t want to ruin the feeling by adding water - but since her boss was quickly becoming impatient in her hands, she had very little choice.
She kept one hand under Miranda’s head, supporting it while the other lifted the heavy pitcher. Ever so slowly she tilted the pitcher forward, allowing a stream of hot water to flow from its lip and down onto the Editor’s forehead where it spilled backwards over her hair, wetting the silvery bob in sections.
Miranda’s eyes fluttered closed and it allowed Andy time to gaze appreciatively at her features. Miranda was even more beautiful up close. She had hardly a single line on her face and even without makeup she looked healthy and entrancing. Her nose was exquisitely slender, eerily mimicking the profile of an Olympian goddess. It swayed only slightly off centered which made it that much more interesting; a mild imperfection. It made her unique, unlike anyone else in this world. In fact, the imperfection in its own little way was actually the cause of her ethereal perfection as a whole.
Andy’s smile widened as she placed the pitcher down on the counter and lifted the shampoo bottle into her hand. She clicked its lid open and then tilted it over Miranda’s forehead, very close so that the cool creamy liquid wouldn’t surprise her. Once she had enough there, she put the shampoo bottle back down and smoothed her hands over the Editor’s head. She worked her hands through her hair, the soapy suds creating a sensual aroma around them. Andy’s nails dug slightly into the roots, massaging Miranda’s scalp.
Miranda’s lips parted in a soft ‘Oh’ and her lashes fluttered lightly open, looking up at Andy with an unusual and unfamiliar look in her eyes. Miranda seemed to catch herself quickly, and she closed her lashes again, relaxing against Andy’s hands.
Andy suddenly felt very powerful with Miranda’s head cradled in her grasp. Her throat was stretched back, exposed to Andy’s lingering gazes as they traveled up the length of it. She massaged slow circles at Miranda’s temples and watched with interest as the Editor let out a barely audible sigh.
Andy smiled and dipped her fingers lower, spreading around Miranda’s ears and then massaging the finger tips just under her ear lobe. Miranda shifted, blushed and then much to her own horror – let out a soft moan. Her eyes shot open then. She stared up at Andy and Andy stared right back down at her. Andy’s smile widened but Miranda merely blinked as if couldn’t believe what was happening.
“It’s kinda fun… to do.. this…” Andy spoke, deciding that her babbling would probably annoy Miranda enough to allow her to relax again. It turned out she was right and Miranda’s blue irises hid themselves behind the veil of her eyelids.
She raked her fingers backwards through Miranda’s slick hair but Miranda’s jaw was clenched so no further sounds were elicited, much to Andy’s chagrin. Andy dipped her hand into the bowl below Miranda’s head and washed one of her hands off before picking up the pitcher of hot water and pouring it over top of the foamy white curtain across Miranda’s scalp. It washed away easily with the flow of water and Andy was careful to make sure that all of the suds were clear before putting it back down.
Miranda’s clean head remained cradled in her palms for a few more moments until Andy managed to manoeuvre the fluffy white towel around it.
The dark haired assistant walked in front of the Editor then and she lowered herself to her knees before her. Her dream came flooding back but she shook her head and contemplated dumping cold water over her head to clear it.
Focused again on the task, Andy began working the towel in her hands around Miranda’s scalp, doing her best to towel dry the hair. Once she was satisfied that the hair seemed dry enough, she lifted the towel away from Miranda’s face.
Miranda’s eyes opened then and both finally seemed to notice their proximity towards one another. Barely a breath apart, the two stared into each others eyes before Andy panicked and sat back on her heels, depositing the towel on the counter.
“All… uhh… all done.” Andy climbed to her feet nervously and then stepped back. Miranda didn’t move.
“Am I to catch a chill on top of everything else?” Miranda asked as she looked up at Andy. Her hair was definitely still damp and completely uncombed.
Andy shook her head. “No… no, no, no… do you uhh… have a hair – ”
Miranda had already hooked her working fingers around one of the handles on a drawer, pulling it open to reveal a very sleek hair dryer.
“… dryer.” Andy finished awkwardly. She took the hair dryer in her hand and picked up the brush sitting beside it. She noticed that the brush had a few silvery strands already woven through its tines and it made her smile. She couldn’t say why it did, but normal, every day moments involving her boss seemed to have that effect on her. She was human after all.
She plugged the hair dryer into the socket and then began dragging the brush across Miranda’s silver mane. It really was gorgeous. The brush moved easily through the older woman’s hair, raking across her scalp in fine even lines. Andy was so entranced by the movement that she’d brushed the Editor’s entire head several times before Miranda seemed to shift underneath her.
The movement caused Andy to remember what she was doing and she flicked the hair dryer on. It began distributing even heat over the Editor’s head and she worked it back and forth as she curled the brush in long strokes, layer by layer; strand by strand.
The task was completed all too quickly and Andy switched the hair dryer off with mild disappointment. It was a job she would have done for days if she could have.
Miranda’s hair looked warm, silky and dry; and before Andy knew it, her hands were gliding through its shining depths, caressing it and raking soothingly against the scalp below. The older woman let out a decadent sigh.
Andy’s fingers halted in their movements and awkwardly retreated. Miranda’s lashes had opened and she was looking up at her. Neither spoke again for a few moments. Time just seemed to settle and stop.
Finally in an act of self preservation, Miranda stood and breezed by Andy, vacating the bathroom completely. On her way by, a gentle “Thank you” fell from her lips, as if dropped like a penny on a New York street and forgotten just as quickly.
Andy smiled again and nodded but there was no one there to see it.
Miranda 1 – Andy 1.
She liked ties so much better.
Miranda Priestly: Indisposed – Part 7
The rest of the day had passed with relative ease.
Andy had received both breakfast and lunch from the cook and had taken it up to Miranda on separate occasions. Miranda, who'd had prior frustrations at being fed seemed equally as frustrated on the second day as she had the first. She ate very small portions and when she was done she didn't say a word - she merely looked away in disinterest and flicked the fingers on one of her hands.
Andy noticed that Miranda seemed slightly more distant as she went about her business during the day. First, the Editor had sent her away after breakfast altogether - telling her not to return until the cook had prepared lunch. Then Miranda had requested that Andy bring her the New York Times alongside her meal and once she was finished eating, she'd had Andy sit beside her in a chair and turn the pages of the Newspaper after she'd read them.
Miranda's eyes scanned the words so quickly that it was a wonder how she managed to retain any information. She spent a bit more time in the business sections then all of the others and even paused on one particular article of interest, to reread it.
Andy shifted next to Miranda and uncomfortably bent forward so that she could turn the page when requested. Once the very last page was turned, Miranda nodded her head and sat back.
"Anything interesting?" Andy asked as she folded the print between her hands.
"No." Miranda replied, looking at Andy's hands as they moved.
"Good... uhh... were you... I mean... is there.. anything about you in there?" Andy knew instantly that it was a bad idea to make small talk, especially if Miranda was feeling even more standoffish then usual, but she couldn't curb her curiosity.
Miranda's eyes lifted to Andrea's "No, should there be?"
Andy shook her head. "No... I just mean. You're kind of ... a big deal, and ... falling ... the ambulance and everything."
Miranda's lips curved into a small, wicked smile. "They wouldn't dream of it."
Andy couldn't help but smile back. Miranda narrowed her eyes in confusion, posing a question with the single lift of her brow.
"I... oh.. nothing! I just... think ... well... you're... well.... you're just... you."
Andy tried to swallow the smile but she was quickly losing control of her emotions in the presence of this woman. She wasn't sure when exactly her self control had first started to diminish, but she did have an inkling that it started when her hands first elicited a moan from her boss. The thought made her cheeks hot.
Miranda rolled her eyes. "And what do you mean by that?"
Andy shrugged, "I dunno... you just have such a power over people. I find it... really... neat."
"Neat?" Miranda asked in disbelief.
"Yeah..." Andy bit her lip and decided it was time to change conversation. Besides there was something she'd been meaning to ask and it seemed a perfect opportunity - at least when the Editor wasn't glaring daggers through her head. "You know... your wrists were pretty bad... you uhhh... you must have fallen pretty hard."
Miranda's eyes widened suddenly and her attention snapped towards her assistant. Andy's own eyes widened in reflection at the Editor's sudden jolt and it sent a prickle up the back of her neck. Now that reaction hadn't been expected.
Andy continued slowly, "I just meant... the grades of the sprain... were....quite... severe, for you know... just falling..."
Miranda's glare continued to bore through her, her jaw clenching unbearably tight. "I didn't realize you'd had time to acquire a medical degree. Perhaps I'm not working you hard enough."
"Well...no! Miranda. I didn't mean anything by it... I just mean... that was.... it must of... it must of been painful."
Miranda's eyes had begun to narrow as they peered down the bridge of her elegant nose. "That's all."
Andy's brows knit together in worry. "I'm sorry.. I didn't mean to... I didn't mean anything by it..."
Miranda's glare didn't recede but she looked as though she was growing more and more impatient with Andy's continued presence after her dismissal. Finally Andy stood, taking both the dish and the newspaper with her as she made her way towards the door. She half expected Miranda to call her back in. Perhaps to berate her even further or perhaps to even... apologize? Whatever it was, she counted on being stopped before she'd managed to leave. It had become a tradition that she had begun to enjoy - even if the summon was only to be the recipient of a biting remark.
Imagine her surprise when not a single sound came from the Editor; even as the door creaked close and caught in the latch behind her.
In that instant, Andy regretted everything.
She didn't see Miranda until dinner that evening and even then she'd managed to sit with the Editor for only five minutes before Miranda had lifted her wrist and flicked her fingers in dismissal.
As Andy had gone to leave she noticed Miranda had moved to her feet and was standing in front of the full length mirror, scrutinizing herself yet again. Andy shrugged. There was only so much self depreciation that she could handle, regardless of how Miranda felt about her now.
She took a deep breath, set the dinner plate down on one of the dressers and approached Miranda from behind. Miranda's eyes went to hers immediately in the reflection. Andy had expected to see anger flare up inside their depths so she was elated to find she was wrong. Miranda's dark blue eyes looked like they were withholding something and her lashes protected whatever it was like Yeomen of the guard.
"Miranda... again... I just wanted to apologize. I didn't mean to upset you.... I just..."
Miranda lifted an injured wrist, her fingers slowly knitting together in a signal which told Andy that she wasn't interested in hearing whatever further apology she was starting. "I need to bathe."
Andy's brow rose and she blinked, surprised by the quick change of subject. It was however, a lot better than her awkward apology would have been.
"Oh... well... the Doctor said, tomorrow, after the bandages are changed... that you could take a bath th..."
Miranda turned around and fixed Andy with yet another glare. "Nuh no." The muscles in Miranda's throat moved and she tossed her head back, sliding her forelock of silver back from her brow. "I want it now."
Andy's lips parted as her heart stopped. That particular sentence coming from the soft oval of Miranda's lips made her forget where she was. It was a phrase she would have to memorize and imprint in her mind to be used in fantasies later. It sounded feral, derisive and oddly sexual.
After she regained her composure, Andy nodded her head quickly. "Yes... okay then. Yeah... but... how about if I get some water, and a cloth..... and that way we can avoid the bandages... and..."
Miranda's eyes widened visibly and she looked at her assistant as though she'd never cease to be amazed. "You're suggesting a sponge bath?"
Andy blushed and lowered her glance.
Miranda seemed to take pity this time and the younger woman wasn't entirely sure why. In a voice that was mostly a drawn out sigh, Miranda agreed. "Fine."
When Andy glanced up, a look of pure surprise and fascination had taken over her expression. "Uhhh.. really? Oh... ! Let me just... you can... how about...if you just... "
Andy had begun stuttering incredibly badly once the specific ideas of what the whole experience would entail flooded her mind. She walked around in a circle in an attempt to go in three different directions at once before deciding on what her first step would be.
Miranda watched Andy rush into the bathroom and return only second later with a large white fluffy towel. The younger woman smiled sheepishly before cracking her wrists, allowing the towel to flutter outwards before settling comfortably on top of Miranda's bed.
She rushed out again, this time heading for the kitchen. Once she'd returned she clasped a much larger bowl then the one she'd used to clean Miranda's hair with. She took it into the bathroom to fill it and once the bowl was sloshing around, filled with hot, steaming water - she sat it on a chair next to Miranda's bedside.
The Editor had been watching her closely, not having moved from her place near the mirror until Andy turned to face her. The younger woman shoved her hands into the pockets of her hoodie before taking them back out again and clasping them nervously in front of herself. "Well.. I think it's... best if I... undress you standing... rather then...laying..."
Andy felt the color draining from her own face and she almost had to reach out and steady herself. She was now standing in front of the object of all of her desires (the object that she didn't have a chance with) and was expected to say things like 'undress' and 'laying'. It made her palms grow clammy and she had to run them down the front of her thighs to dry them.
Miranda glanced around the well lit room uncomfortably for several moments before demanding that Andy, "Turn off the lights first."
Naturally, Andy complied, and soon afterwards they were standing in a dark room with the bedside lamp providing the only glow. Miranda took a few steps closer and then moved her wrists so that they were limp at her hips.
Time seemed to slow down as Andy smiled nervously and reached out, untying the knot at Miranda's midsection. The band of fabric pushed back, allowing the sides of the robe to slink apart on their own. The Editor was still wearing the black lace bra from the night before and this time, Andy managed to see the pattern on the fabric. It was actually rather sheer with small swirling pieces of opaque material that seemed to fall in just the right places to conceal some of Miranda's finer details. Two details to be precise.
Andy's fingertips slid across the cool skin as she pushed the soft grey robe off of Miranda's shoulders. It fell to the floor behind her. Miranda tensed immediately but she wasn't looking away this time. Her eyes had found Andy's instead, looking deeply into their recesses. Andy shivered involuntarily and forced her eyes not to roam. "Uhh... you can... if you just want to... lay down there on your... stomach."
Miranda looked as though she wanted to say something, but she flicked her eyes towards the bed once and then complied. She reclined slowly, her shoulder blades pressing into the towel before turning over on to her stomach. The room was bathed in moonlight with only a minimal amount of artificial haze coming from the lamp. It spread across Miranda's skin like a rolling sunset, bathing her figure in a warm glow. Andy's tongue absentmindedly trailed along the inside of her bottom lip.
Miranda moved her head and the light caught strands of her silvery hair, shining like a beacon in the darkened room. Andy extended a trembling hand and took hold of a cloth, dipping it into the large, steaming bowl of water.
It was so hot in fact, that it stung her skin and she sucked a breath in through her teeth. Miranda's eyes peered curiously over her shoulder and she saw her assistant wince.
"Perhaps it's better if you don't --" Miranda trailed off. If she had access to her wrists she would no doubt be circling them dismissively.
Andy shook her head desperately "No, no, no! It'll be fine... just... uhh.. it's just a little warm!"
Miranda tilted her head to the side a moment, regarding her with interest before nodding her head and pressing her cheek back into the pillow.
Andy lifted the cloth from the water and squeezed it between her hands; the clear liquid showered down from the cloth, dripping into the bowl and caused ripples to roll along its surface.
Once the cloth was damp but no longer soaking, she held it above the back of Miranda's arm and then lowered it to her skin. Miranda jumped slightly from the contact before relaxing muscle by muscle beneath it. Andy ran the hot cloth up Miranda's arm, massaging the muscles beneath as she worked. Once she reached the Editor's shoulder, she took the cloth away from her skin and dipped it back in the water and then began working on her other arm.
She most enjoyed sliding the soft, wet cloth down the curve of Miranda's spine. She could feel every single vertebrae as she rolled the thin cloth along beneath her fingertips. Miranda's back arched into her at first but she stiffened and stopped when Andy had gotten halfway down. It took every bone in her body not to climb on to the Editor's hips and straddle them.It would be so easy, so perfect...
Andy swallowed without ceasing her efforts. Relax, slow down... clean thoughts. Andy's patience was running thin and she was becoming more and more frustrated with her inner monologue. Granted, anyone would feel the same way in her position, if presented with such a beautiful exhibition. Anyone. There was only so much she could be expected to take.
The assistant continued down Miranda's legs, one at a time. The cloth glided easily over her thighs and down towards her knees where Andy paused for another dip of water before moving over the woman's calves. Miranda's whole body had begun to turn red beneath her administrations and she couldn't tell whether it was from the heat of the cloth or something more. Once she'd finished moving around the Editor's perfectly manicured feet, she sat back and dipped a clean cloth into the bowl. "Uhh... Miranda, if I can just get you to... turn over."
Miranda let out an uncomfortable sigh before easing herself over on to her back. She looked up at Andy and even in the low light, Andy could see a delicate blush creeping along the slope of the Editor's cheekbones. She was exquisite. Andy had to try very hard to remember to breathe.
She worked on Miranda's arms first, finding them the most familiar territory of all the areas on the front of Miranda's body. After she'd completed those areas, Andy began to get the hang of the pressure that Miranda was comfortable with, and she softly smoothed the hot cloth down the column of Miranda's throat.
Miranda's head dipped backwards into the pillow and her eyes closed. Apparently she liked it. This realization brought a smile to Andy's lips and a newfound confidence as she trailed the cloth along the exposed area of Miranda's chest. Soon she found herself gliding it across Miranda's sloping abdomen. She had beautiful curves; lean and feminine yet rippled slightly by taut muscles. Miranda's breath caught in her throat when Andy's fingertips inadvertently swirled around her navel. She worked lower still, just skipping the edges of Miranda's panties.
Andy was enjoying the process so much that she couldn't tell when it was that the Editor had gone limp beneath her touch. Once she finally finished with careful strokes at Miranda's feet, she looked up to see the woman's chest rising and falling at an even pace. Andy's smile widened. She looked so peaceful with her eyes closed, bathed only in the evening light.
Andy placed the dirtied cloths into the bowl and went to Miranda's bathroom where she washed the water down the bathroom sink. She gathered the things that needed to go back downstairs and carried them towards the door and after setting the items down, she crept back to Miranda's bed side. Miranda had shifted to her side in her sleep and Andy was able to wriggle the towel out from underneath her without causing the Editor's eyes to open. She pulled the cover up around Miranda's shoulders and tucked it into the nape of the woman's neck.
An urge slowly built in her stomach and before giving herself time to mull over it too much, Andy bent down.
If time had slowed before it was positively crawling now as her lips pressed to the skin just to the left of Miranda's delicately parted mouth. Andy felt Miranda's jaw clench beneath her kiss and she realized in that moment that the Editor wasn't asleep.
Andy's eyes fluttered open and as she lifted her lips from Miranda's skin, two blue orbs peered back at her.
Andy's own eyes widened in horror; the large brown pools filling with gathering tears as her shaking hand came crashing over her lips.
Then her survival instincts kicked in and she ran.
Miranda Priestly: Indisposed - Part 8
The bedside clock whined noisily beside Andy as she stared into the glowing numbers. She had been awake most of the night, huddled in the darkened bedroom, contemplating her next move and she hadn't noticed that the alarm had been sounding for the past fifteen minutes.
She'd kissed Miranda. She had made the clear and conscious decision to place her lips on the small patch of skin just to the side of the Editor's mouth. She indulged. She enjoyed. She took a liberty she had had no right to take. The reiteration made her stomach ache.
She had to straighten things out. There had to be a way to explain herself. She could say it was a natural maternal gesture or a remembrance from a childhood moment. She could act like it wasn't a big deal, like it had meant nothing. She could pass it off as fleeting, or gone the alternate route and acted like it hadn't even happened. There were so many opportunities to create the perfect facade, or something close to it.
The only problem was, it had meant something. It had meant everything, and Andy wasn't a good liar.
She drew shaking hands through her matted hair and finally extended her hand to stop the alarm's incessant beeping. The silence haunted and horrified her. She could think of nothing else. Miranda hot beneath her; delicate and peaceful. She had loomed over the woman like a wild animal ready to sink its teeth into its prey, lowering her lips - stealing a kiss. She'd been caught, and like the coward she was she had fled to the guest room with her tail tucked firmly between her legs.
Now a whole night had passed. Miranda hadn't stormed into her room and demanded she pack her things or anything drastic like that; though god knew the woman was entitled to.
It felt like the calm before the storm as Andy showered and dressed for the day. She spent a little more time on her appearance, as though this minor attention to detail would somehow soothe whatever frustrations Miranda might have. She brushed her hair and dried it in long strokes, her long fringe kissing the tops of her eyebrows and highlighting the deep color of her eyes. She coated her soft full lips with a thin layer of flavored lip gloss and layered mascara over her long, curled lashes. She'd chosen to wear dark Armani pants (a gift from the closet) with a silk cream colored top that buttoned up the front and flowered in a feminine curve near her collarbone.
After one brief check of her appearance, Andy nodded to her reflection and dashed downstairs. She nearly collided with the cook who was midway up the first floor landing, carrying a large silver tray in her hands. Andy hadn't gotten her name yet and she would have questioned her own matters if her mind already wasn't busy wondering why the woman was headed upstairs.
"Excuse me... is that for Miranda?" Andy asked as she tilted to the side and leaned against the wall allowing the woman to pass.
The woman stopped and smiled warmly. "Yes. Ms. Priestly has asked that I deliver her meals to her today."
Andy's brow rose in a distinctly Miranda-esque expression. "B... but I normally bring her meals up to her."
The woman nodded her head and then continued up the stairs. "Yes, but she's asked me to do it today. She's also told me to tell you that you aren't to come in to her room until Emily e-mails the updates list she's expecting this evening."
Andy's eyes widened and then her lips parted in a silent 'Ah.' So that was going to be Miranda's strategy. Block her out, ignore the situation entirely and make her stew for the entire day, thinking about her wrongs. She'd have to busy herself for the whole evening until this 'list' arrived and then be forced to face her fear. Andy couldn't keep the stomp from her step as she marched back upstairs and closed the guest room door behind her.
She spent the rest of the day growing more and more angry and impatient with Miranda. 'How dare she?' Andy wondered as she lay back on the guest room bed, her neck angled over the side, her straightened hair stretching to the floor. Yes, she had made a mistake but at least she wasn't being childish about it and choosing to act like a petulant teenager, banning people from her room. Everything had changed between them once Andy had made the fatal mistake and there really was no way to alter what had happened. She'd have to own up to it.
Her fingers clenched into fists near her hips and she lifted one before driving it back down again into the mattress in an output of frustration. Her laptop sat on the bed beside her and she reached up to press refresh on the inbox of her e-mail for the hundredth time in the last ten minutes. No new e-mails.
A feral grow emitted from Andy's lips and she shoved the laptop aside, clambering to her feet. Fuck Emily and fuck Miranda - she was going to deal with this now.
Andy opened the guest room door and drew a great breath into her lungs. She felt empowered, just like a modern Joan of Arc or Elizabeth I. Andy set her jaw and walked full speed ahead, ready for a challenge. Miranda's bedroom door stood in front of her, seeming to get further and further away as she neared it, but still she ploughed on. There was no stopping and certainly no turning back.
Her hand was on the door knob. She knocked once in friendly warning and twisted, prepared to walk in and speak her mind, regardless of the consequences. She had gone too far not to. It was all hands to battle stations.
Her wrist jerked. The door knob clicked but didn't open. It was locked. Andy had to hold back a grunt of disapproval and a shriek of anger but she couldn't control her fist that pounded in quick successions on the white wooden door. She wasn't sure how many times she had knocked, but she knew she wouldn't give up until Miranda allowed her inside.
Finally she heard a click and the door swung inwards, her fist swiping cleanly through the air instead. Miranda stepped out from behind the door and faced her, a look of pure hostility written across her face.
Andy entered. It made no use; pretences aside she would face the dragon in her own lair.
Miranda slammed the door shut once Andy had passed through it and spun to face the woman who had so boldly entreated entrance. Her voice was dripping with venom. "How dare --?"
Andy's brows knit together. "No... no Miranda. This is ridiculous. Yes, yes I am sorry for what I did! I didn't mean to! It was accidental, uncontrollable... I did it. I'm sorry I did but I did it and it's over."
Miranda's eyes widened and she stepped forward quickly, surprising Andy who stumbled backwards several paces to get away. "How dare you storm in here and attempt this...?" Miranda flicked her chin down and up in reference to Andy's position. "I don't pay you to make a public display of the unintelligent thoughts that sweep through your mind. You are my assistant. I pay you to do just that and only that."
Miranda had rounded on her and was approaching quickly, a fierce stare glowing in the depths of her eyes. Andy took three steps backwards and felt her shoulders collide with the wall. Her breath caught in her chest as Miranda stalked towards her. "You are dispensable, like every other assistant I've had and when the time comes you will end up like rest of them. You will join the ranks of the many disappointments before you and the no doubt many disappointments to come."
Andy wanted to close her eyes, to pretend as though it was all a dream like the many other dreams that had haunted her since her arrival at the townhouse. She couldn't move, her expression frozen in horror as she listened. Miranda finally came to a stop just inches away from Andy, her eyes narrowed and fastened upon her. Andy bit down into the flesh of her own bottom lip willing to distract from the pain of Miranda's confessions. The Editor remained unfazed.
"You are nothing to me Andrea. Nothing." Miranda's words sliced through Andy like a serrated knife.
Andy's blood ran cold, forcing its way through frozen veins. It was the end. She prayed it would be quick and painless. Perhaps Miranda would simply fire her. Perhaps she would walk out and have Roy come in and physically remove her - not that he'd have a hard time doing it. At this point, Andy would have taken anything in exchange for the relief of the pounding in her heart and the sight of Miranda's icy stare burrowing into the depths of her soul.
Andy tensed when she felt Miranda's hands press against the wall on either side of her head. They were so close that their breaths were no longer their own but had melded into a mixture of both clean and expelled air between them. It was intoxicating and overwhelming. Miranda's dark eyes swirled with ferocity and unbridled emotion, glinting only enough to pick up the dim bedroom lighting.
"You are nothing." Miranda spat, the words shooting from her lips through bared teeth. Before Andy could recover, the Editor's injured hands flew to Andy's face and tightened over her cheekbones and ears. Then just as swiftly, Miranda jerked forward and crushed her lips firmly to Andy's in a rough, clenching and angry kiss.
"Muh..." Andy yelped against Miranda's lips but the Editor pressed on. Andy could feel Miranda's mouth moving against hers, her head gripped tightly in the woman's unforgiving grasp. Miranda's tongue forced its way between her lips, the searing hot slickness darting around in forced exploration. Andy tentatively tried to meet Miranda's tongue with her own but found it thrust aside by one quick, wet swipe.
She was being suffocated by the relentless kiss and she gasped and sucked Miranda's air into her lungs. Miranda sensed the shortness in breath and pulled back, staring deeply into Andy's eyes as her chest rose and fell with each pull of desperate air.
Andy could feel her cheeks burning as she eyed the woman of her infatuations, flushed from her own passion as she struggled to gain control of herself. Miranda's warm hands vacated Andy's cheeks and fell to her sides. She could see the older woman wince from the movement as if finally remembering the pain of her sudden actions. Miranda's eyes briefly lowered to the floor before returning, her silver hair caressing her hot skin. It was a valiant effort, but she still looked the same.
She wasn't the Dragon Lady, she wasn't even the Snow Queen. She wasn't cool, calm or collected. There were no more airs, no more graces, just one distinct and fatal look.
Miranda Priestly wanted to be fucked.
Miranda Priestly: Indisposed - Part 9
Andy stared at Miranda blankly for a moment as she tried to comprehend what she was seeing. There was always the threat of mixed signals, misunderstood intentions, glaring inaccuracies that could linger in an expression and cause doubt in the onlooker. However this was one time when Andrea Sachs could see exactly what the other woman was thinking. Her guard was down, the drawbridge was lowered. Miranda was weak to an attack and Andy knew that if she was ever going to take what she wanted, she would have to do it now.
Lunging forward, Andy slipped her hands around Miranda's slim waist and pushed her backwards until her calves met the edge of the bed. Miranda lost her balance and fell just as Andy had predicted. Andy slid on top of the Editor, straddled her hips and pinned her down by her elbows. She was careful not to go near Miranda's knees or wrists, but she still moved roughly on top of the older woman in a struggle to hold her in place. The anger that had seethed inside of her had mixed with the terror Miranda had instilled and now she wanted to take back some semblance of her own control.
She'd been belittled and degraded all for the sake of Miranda's selfish attempts at her own preservation. But as she stared into the woman's eyes beneath her she could see the pure, unadulterated lust. It took her breath away. All of her hesitations vanished in that moment. Everything she'd wanted since she'd first discovered her infatuation with Miranda had the potential to come true - was, in actuality, coming true.
Andy leaned forward and pressed her bruised lips to Miranda's without flinching. Their lips melded together as Andy pressed harder against Miranda's elbows, pushing them into the folds of the mattress. She could feel Miranda's body tense beneath her but could also feel the woman kissing her back; their tongues fighting angrily for dominance.
Miranda moaned against the kiss and it sent a chill up the length of Andy's spine. Andy's kisses left Miranda's lips, fired on by the noises as she trailed her tongue around Miranda's jaw, swirling to slip across the Editor's earlobe. She let her tongue flick at the delicate skin near the base of Miranda's lobe while her lips caressed the tender flesh around it. She was breathing tempestuously, each heated breath catching and sighing into the Editor's ear causing Miranda's lashes to squeeze together while her neck arched backward into the bed.
Andy was kissing down her jaw then, leaving searing marks as she went, each one branding into Miranda's skin. She nudged her nose beneath Miranda's chin, pushing her head back further and exposing the long lily-white throat. A shiver coursed through Andy as she allowed her lips to place a delicate kiss just beneath Miranda's chin before sliding her tongue out and trailing it down the center of Miranda's neck in one agonizingly slow lick.
Miranda's throat muscles moved beneath Andy's tongue, straining with each gasp that fell from her lips. She was writhing, fighting against Andy's grip but Andy knew that it wasn't a wholehearted struggle. She could read the passionate thoughts behind Miranda's expression, in her appearance and in the animalistic noises she made beneath her.
Andy snaked her fingertips into the tie at Miranda's waist and she pulled at it desperately until the fabric came undone. The material slowly shifted but Andy didn't let it slink apart on its own. Instead she thrust her hands down the front of it, pushing the robe aside in either direction, exposing Miranda's bare stomach which shivered as it met the air.
Andy recaptured Miranda's arms and returned to kissing her way down the woman's neck, swirling her tongue in the small dip at its base, framed between two exquisitely raised collarbones. As she moved her kisses along the graceful curve of one shoulder, both of her hands slid eagerly behind Miranda's back and her fingers eagerly fidgeted with the material of Miranda’s bra.
Once the clasps came apart, Andy tugged the garment's fastenings aside and pulled them off of Miranda's arms, throwing the bra carelessly away as her eyes feasted on the newly exposed skin. Miranda's cheeks were bright red as Andy looked at her and she turned her gaze away, burying her face into the flesh of her own arm.
Andy could sense the woman's discomfort but she couldn't for the life of her understand why. Miranda was more stunning out of her clothes then she was in them - and in reference to a fashion icon, that was certainly saying something. Her breasts were small, not tiny, and when she reached her hand up and placed it over one of the scandalously soft mounds, it filled her palm and the cup of her fingers perfectly. It was as if her hands were born to hold Miranda Priestly's breasts. The skin across them was as flawless as the rest, and just as porcelain white. Two small and pert, pink nipples decorated each breast, perfectly centered and painfully taut.
Andy smiled and stretched her neck downwards, her lips limply circling one firm nipple. Her tongue flicked lightly over the hardening flesh, eliciting a moan from Miranda's lips as her chest rose upwards against Andy's mouth.
The sounds Miranda was making and the way her soft, pale body rose and fell under Andy was enough to drive her over the edge. Her hand moved from Miranda's breast reluctantly and slid its way down over the curve of the older woman’s abdomen. Her fingertips stroked the sensitive flesh near Miranda's navel before traveling further down and slipping slowly beneath the waistband of Miranda's panties.
She wanted desperately to see every inch of the Editor. She wanted to memorize every curve and taste every bit of flesh.
Andy sat back on her heels as her fingertips slid around the waistband. She was surprised to see a different pair of panties this time, but remembered her absence and realized that Miranda had probably been too disgusted to live in the same underwear for longer than a day; let alone crossing into two or three days.
This particular pair was just as enticing as the one before it. It was black again, but the lace from the previous pair was replaced by a velvety material that was incredibly soft beneath Andy's fingers. With a tingling of nerves and a painful throb between her own legs, she flicked her wrist and began to pull the fabric downwards.
Miranda tensed and her newly freed wrists flew to Andy's hands; touching them, stopping them. Andy looked to Miranda, her features marked by confusion. The Editor had seemed pretty submissive to her movements and even still as she panted and swallowed beneath Andy's lithe figure, yet she was stopping it; stilling Andy’s hands with her own.
Miranda began squirming again and she angled herself beneath Andy so that she could push the younger woman off. Andy fell onto her side on the bed, still speechless as Miranda ungracefully shimmied off of the bed and held her robe weakly in front of her, shielding her beautiful body from view.
The silver haired Editor began walking backwards towards the bathroom but she stopped abruptly and jerked her head towards the door. Her voice was raspy. "That's all."
Andy's eyes widened. Oh no, no, no. Fuck ‘that's all’. What the hell was Miranda doing? Leading her along, indulging, giving in to her fantasies, making her feel like she finally cared about her and then sending her away when things got 'too serious'. No. This was not happening. Andy wasn't the lamb to Miranda's lion. There was no way she was going to give this all up without a fight. Not after what had just happened between them.
Andy scrambled to her feet. It was her turn to stalk forwards towards her prey. "Like hell, that's all Miranda..."
A noise sounded from the downstairs hall of the townhouse. A door opening wasn’t enough to have been heard with the bedroom door closed, but this particular noise was louder - as though something had been dropped heavily on the floor. Andy turned towards the noise momentarily and heard a door slam behind her. When she turned back, Miranda had vanished inside the bathroom and she could hear the distinct sound of the door locking.
This can't be happening; Andy thought as she angrily raked her hands through her hair and took off towards the lower level. She took the steps two at a time in her haste, the adrenaline pumping through her veins and edging her further and further down the spiraling staircase. When she reached the base she had to look both ways before she saw Emily in the corner near a vase of flowers, rubbing her ankle and cursing the heel that had broken off of her shoe.
"Are you hurt?" Andy asked, crossing towards her and plucking the small slender jump drive out from between her fingers. It was obviously the list of updates Miranda had requested.
Emily hadn't looked at her but was instead peering at a run developing in her stocking. "Oh for Christ's..."
Emily shrugged "I'm fine... I can't say the same for my Jimmy Choos. And these were my favorite pair..." Her gaze finally met Andy's and she dropped the shoe from her hand. It clambered to the floor.
"Oh my god." She muttered, her eyes widening considerably. Her fingers were trembling as she clasped her hand over her lips.
Andy watched her, her own eyes widening in reflection. She had seen Emily overly dramatic on many occasions but she hadn't seen her quite like this. "Emily?" she repeated but Emily just shook her head and then lifted her fingers from her mouth to point one shaking digit at Andy's mouth.
"Ohh... god. What is... why? What has happened?"
Andy's blood ran cold. She rushed the three paces down the hall to the entrance way mirror and studied her reflection. Her lips were red and raw, her lip gloss smeared across her face and down her chin. Her hair was tousled and her eyes were dark. There was no denying what she'd been up to. She scrubbed her hand across her chin to wipe the mess away.
"Emily..." Andy spun towards the redhead and stepped in front of her path to the front door. "I can explain..."
Emily stuttered and gasped as she blindly gathered her broken shoe and slipped it on before rushing forward in an attempt to evade Andy.
Andy thrust her hands out to stop her. "No... no.. Emily!"
Emily's eyes narrowed as she looked into Andy's eyes. "I can't believe... she'd... I mean... you! Of all people --"
"Emily! It's not what you think!"
Emily pushed past Andy and limped to the door with one 3 inch heel on one foot and a newly-formed flat on the other. "Oh I am quite sure I have the right idea about this."
Emily turned back to the door and grasped the handle in her hand. When she glanced back at Andy there were tears glowing inside their depths. "How could you do this?" She asked unsteadily, her weakness showing through in painful undertones. Her voice caught and she swallowed, biting down on her trembling lip before hardening her jaw to match her eyes, "More appropriately... how could she -- I mean look at you." Emily choked on a sob as she spun on her heel and left the townhouse, slamming the door behind her.
Andy shook her head. When had everything gotten so complicated?
Andy's fingers tightened around the metal jump drive in her hand. She couldn't think about Emily's reaction now. Granted, the British woman's reaction had both startled and surprised her, but she had bigger things to worry about. Things that made her heart thud faster in her chest, made her pupils dilate and her lips ache.
She rushed up the stairs and into Miranda's room, noticing that the bathroom door was still closed, a ray of light extending from beneath it in a thin stripe. She approached and let her knuckles fall against it twice in succession. There was no response.
"Miranda...?" Andy tried, her voice suddenly soft and soothing despite the events that had just transpired around her.
"Miranda... please. We have to...we... we have to talk about this."
Andy heard an indistinguishable noise from the bathroom before silence reclaimed it. A small sigh escaped her lips as she slid her fingertips down the door's surface and moved her cheek away from the cool wood. "Alright.... fine. I'm just... I need to tell you... I want you to know that I'm not sorry about what I did.” She swallowed. She wouldn’t cry. “…but I am sorry you don't feel the same way."
Andy's whole body slumped in defeat as she made her way backwards. Her feet carried her numbly towards the hallway but she paused in the doorway, looking back over her shoulder. She willed the bathroom door to open. She wished that she would see Miranda come through it, wished that she could make it all better, wished that a dream coming true could end much happier than it had.
She couldn't let this go. She was too far in, had too many chips in the pot. Andy realized that what she felt for Miranda wasn't just infatuation or a passing obsession. She was in love with her. Hopelessly, head over heels in love for the very first time in her life. It wasn't by any means a new revelation, but the weight of her own admittance to those hidden feelings made her heart ache.
She couldn't give Miranda up and, what's more - she wouldn't.
Andy swallowed as she looked from the bathroom door to Miranda's bedroom door. A breath found its way past her lips and she allowed it to fill and expand in her lungs for a moment.
She placed her hand on the door knob and lifted her voice towards the back wall. "Goodbye, Miranda." Then she pushed the door closed, with herself still secured inside. A small, satisfied smile snaked across her features and she crept quietly on the balls of her feet back to Miranda's bed.
Andy lowered herself to a seated position and crossed one long, slim leg over the other. She shook her hair back into place before leaning forward on her knee and waiting patiently, her palms sweating and her fingers clenching and unclenching to keep the circulation flowing. It seemed like hours had passed but eventually it happened.
There was a clicking sound and the bathroom door opened, bathing the dark bedroom in light. Miranda entered and then froze when her eyes found Andy, sitting on the bed staring up at her expectantly.
Miranda Priestly: Indisposed - Part 10
Miranda's eyes narrowed and Andy could see the older woman trying to form a concise sentence while her mind still reeled from shock. Unfortunately, Andy wasn't going to be patient. There were too many wrongs to right, and too many things that she needed to say before Miranda did something drastic like expelling her from her life or, perhaps, setting her on fire.
Andy rose to her feet and closed the distance between them. She tried to take hold of Miranda's arms but Miranda was too quick and she stepped sideways in an evasive manoeuvre before crossing to stand near the closet. Andy watched her go, her hands frozen around the open air for a moment before she twisted them together at her midsection. She surveyed their positions and was glad that this time she stood between the woman and the locking bathroom. Thank god for small mercies.
"Miranda... I know this is... is... all messed up..." Andy started, the stuttering returning no matter how hard she tried to sound calm and collected.
Miranda 's eyes widened in exasperation and she draped her forearm over her eyes in irritation. "Messed up? Andrea, we've quite surpassed 'messed up'. "
Andy couldn't help but smile at the whole ludicrousness of the situation. "I know... I just --"
"This is absurd." Miranda interrupted, pacing towards the bed and then back towards the closet.
"It's... hey... it's not absurd.... I just--" Andy stuttered, using her hands in an attempt to coax out the words she was trying to find.
"What exactly is this Andrea?" Miranda's pacing stopped and she reeled to face Andy. "What do you expect this to be?"
Andy swallowed the lump that was rising in her throat, her eyes flicking in both directions as she tried to find a way to describe how she was feeling. When nothing came, she merely looked at the Editor, speechless. Miranda's eyes narrowed again and she shook her head. "That's a--"
"I love you!" Andy blurted and immediately clapped her hands over her mouth.
Miranda's own lips fell open. Red blotches slowly spread across her cheeks. She closed her mouth, opened it and then closed it again as she stared at Andy. It was the Editor's turn to be speechless. "I...what on..."
Andy's heart was thudding loudly in her ears and her pulse beat an unnaturally fast rhythm. She tried to steady herself as her vision swam. The adrenaline was egging her on - forcing her off into oblivion with no hope of return. "I.... I love you and I can't change that."
Miranda moved to speak and Andy stepped in front of her, taking a firm hold of the older woman's arms. She looked sincerely into Miranda's eyes, her own filling with tears. Desperation threaded through her voice, causing it to sound weak and wavering despite the severity of her words. "Don't ask me to change that."
Miranda stared at her for a good long moment before shifting her eyes to the side and opening her lips. A small sound escaped but it was muffled as they closed again. She closed her eyes and pulled a deep breath into her lungs. "You are my assistant..." she reminded Andy, dropping her chin for a half a second before looking back at her.
The younger woman let out a gruff sound of protest and released Miranda's arms.
"God dammit Miranda. Yes... I understand that I'm your assistant! You remind me every single day. You tell me how far beneath you I am, where I fall in your order of priorities. But you've spent your whole life climbing to the top and struggling to become the great fashion icon that you are. That's great Miranda, but what do you have to show for it? Three failed marriages and no one but your assistant to take care of you."
Miranda was so shocked by Andy's outburst that rage didn't have time to develop. No one had ever spoken to her in that way, and it set her mind spinning. The worst feeling of all was that both of them knew that Andy's assessments were horrifically accurate.
Andy pushed forward, "I'm sorry if it sounds harsh - but how do you think I feel? When you call me 'nothing', when you send me off to accomplish the impossible and make a snide remark when I fail. And you know what? It wouldn't even bother me if I knew... if I knew you didn't give a shit about me. But I look into your eyes every day, Miranda. You can't pretend that you don't see something worthwhile in me... you can't pretend that I'm 'nothing' to you. One day... you're going to wake up and find that you have everything you want... and nothing you need."
Miranda's slender brows rose above her eyes and then her chin tilted forward and she looked down at her feet for a moment in silence.
"Miranda.... say something. Defend yourself, yell at me... FIRE me! Just do something passionately for once in your personal life and make it count!"
Andy didn't have time to react. Miranda's neck snapped up and she hooked her bandaged wrists behind Andy's neck, pulling her forward in an obscenely intense kiss. Andy's knees gave out and she grasped on to Miranda to keep from falling down, but neither were very good at balancing and the pair tumbled back on the floor. Andy's shoulders hit the carpet first. It was remarkably soft and it cushioned her body as Miranda's came down on top of her. Miranda's thighs were straddling one of Andy's as she explored the younger woman's lips with wild abandon. The line between want and need blurred and Miranda seemed to determined to experience what she'd been hiding from.
Miranda's attempted to paw at the buttons on Andy's blouse but her fingers were still not up to the task. She moaned in frustration as she sat up, giving Andy a clear hint and Andy's own fingers tore at the buttons, pulling off the garment and shrugging it aside. Miranda's lips pulled upwards in a satisfied smile when she saw that Andy was wearing a lacy pink La Perla bra. She'd obviously learned more fashion sense then that which showed on the outside. She leaned down and placed several tentative kisses along the slope of Andy's neck, trailing down her chest until her lips met the soft lace border of the bra. She took it between her teeth and pulled back, the material snapping against Andy's skin.
"Off." Miranda grunted as she motioned to the bra. Andy nodded and angled her arms backwards to give her fingers access to the clasp. It came undone with minor fiddling and she tossed it into the growing pile of abandoned clothes. Miranda's gaze moved easily over Andy's newly exposed skin and she touched her fingertips to one breast carefully. Andy moaned and arched towards her, the feeling of her boss' hands upon her making her ache with desire. Miranda bent down and took one of Andy's nipples between her lips and pressed them together, her tongue swirling around the small tip of flesh in her mouth.
Andy writhed and moved her hands back to Miranda's robe, untying it for the second time that evening. It slipped back easily and when Miranda's lips finally left her breast, she pulled the robe down and off of the Editor's shoulders. Miranda tensed immediately and lifted her arms in front of her chest, hiding the taut pink buds. Andy let out a soft sigh and took Miranda's arms into her hands, pulling them carefully away. Andy smiled warmly up at the Editor before allowing her eyes to ravish the soft white skin she had been concealing.
Miranda moved off of Andy, sitting on her hip as she attempted to get up without grinding her bruised knees into the carpet. Andy sat up immediately, halting her actions. "Miranda... no... not again... what did I--?"
"I feel disgusting."
Andy's lips opened in protest but Miranda interrupted, "I haven't had a shower in days now. I need to have a shower before..." She blushed.
Andy grinned. Modesty suited Miranda.
Her concern melted away immediately and she got to her feet, offering her hand to Miranda in a chivalrous gesture to get the woman to her feet as carefully as possible. Once they were both standing, Andy led the way into the bathroom and reached into the shower, turning the handles and adjusting the temperature. Hot water sprayed out from both shower heads, filling the small glass room with steam. Miranda moved to stand in front of it, still holding her arms across her chest. Andy smiled and stepped closer to Miranda, sliding her hands down the curve of the woman's side and along the rise of her hip. Her fingertips slid beneath Miranda's panties and Miranda bit down into her lip as Andy pulled the soft fabric down her thighs and calves. Her eyes were drawn to the newly revealed skin and she was admittedly surprised to find that Miranda didn't have any hair where she had pictured it.
In her fantasies, she'd never been able to imagine what color it was, because of Miranda's prematurely silver bob. She had imagined that maybe it was blond, or light silver... perhaps even red if her children's hair color was taken into consideration. She shook her head, not wanting to even think of Miranda's children as she stood, admiring her exceptionally naked body.
She lifted her fingertips to the dip between Miranda's legs and pressed them to the extremely soft skin. Softer, she noted, than the velvet panties she was wearing previously. "Oh my god..." Andy smiled, her voice rasping sensually as she finally drew her eyes up to Miranda's. The Editor turned away from her and stepped into the shower, angling herself so only her side could be seen. She kept her hands above her head, pressed to the glass to keep them away from any moisture and she looked over her shoulder at Andy.
Andy smiled warmly, "Can I come in?"
Miranda's own lips turned up in a soft, shy smile and she nodded her head. Andy ran her hands down her own flat stomach to the line of her trousers, seeking out the button with her fingers. Once she'd managed to unbutton them, she slid the grey material off of her hips and kicked them aside, following the same process with her panties only moments later. She stood before Miranda then, completely naked, and was pleased to see the Editor's eyes make a slow journey from her toes to her face in one appreciative gesture. A smile spread across Miranda's lips and she stepped further into the shower, signifying that Andy should follow.
Andy did as expected and stepped behind Miranda, pressing her naked body to the back of Miranda's in one electrifying movement that made both of them gasp in unison. Andy could feel her nipples harden as they slid over Miranda's wet skin, and she snaked her hands around the Editor's waist to stroke at her warm abdomen. Miranda arched into her, resting her head against Andy's shoulder and turning her glance heavenward as Andy's fingers made hot trails up and down her slick skin.
Andy's heart fluttered wildly in her chest. Everything she wanted and needed was coming true in this very moment. Miranda was letting her guard down, welcoming Andy in and for once not treating her like an 'assistant'. She felt a strange sense of pride swell in her chest, that of all the affections Miranda could have in her position, of all the people she could have chosen, she chose her. It was exhilerating to think about and she was breathless as her hands lowered to glide down in between Miranda's thighs.
Miranda let out a moan which she caught in her mouth by biting down into her lower lip. Andy was still standing behind Miranda, her arms circling her slender waist. The Editor's thighs parted and she leaned forward, bracing herself on the shower glass. Andy's smile widened and she stroked her fingertips over Miranda's delicate flesh several times before sliding her fingers between the slick folds. Miranda's body betrayed her and she let out another moan, this time uncaught and she herself seemed surprised by how vocal she was.
Miranda's whole body stiffened beneath Andy's touch and her damaged fingers clawed at the glass desperately, very much reminiscent of her earlier dream. Andy lowered her chin the way she'd imagined Stephen doing it, but unlike his boarish appearance in her ealier fantasy, Andy nuzzled her nose against the slender column of Miranda's neck and nipped at her sensitive skin. Her fingers began to slide more quickly, in deep strokes and she circled Miranda's clit in firm circles. Miranda's hips were griding against her palm and it encouraged Andy to press even more firmly, her own hips moving in time as she rolled them against Miranda's.
"Oh god... oh go..ohh ... And.....rea!"
Steam billowed around them as Miranda's neck arched back, the muscles working hard within her throat, strangling a cry as it passed through her vocal chords and out past her lips. She came with a very audible moan and her whole body went limp beneath Andrea's touch, her breath coming in short jerks and gasps as she turned around in the younger woman's grasp. Their breasts pressed against one another's and Andy's eyes closed softly, savouring the feeling.
Andy grinned and with great reluctance, pulled back so she could finally admire all of Miranda's body. Her eyes roamed over her beautiful legs, the curve of her thighs, the way her abdomen pulled taught over her muscles. There was no way this woman looked like she could have at one point been pregnant. Her gaze travelled upwards then towards Miranda's breasts, over the slope of her elegant collarbone and then up the length of her swan-like neck to her face. When she arrived there, she noticed that Miranda's glance was cast away from her again, and her cheeks were blotchy and red.
Andy slid two fingers under Miranda's chin and edged it upwards. Miranda's eyes remained fixed elsewhere and Andy spoke tenderly, her fingers stroking small circles under the curve of Miranda's jaw. "Miranda, look at me..."
Miranda's eyes lifted slowly, and her dark lashes seperated to reveal her glittering blue eyes. Her cheeks were still flushed, and Andy saw an overpowering uncertainty pooling in the royal blue depths. "You are absolutely beautiful." Andy smiled delicately and lowered her lips to Miranda's. Their mouths moved passionately together; both of them savouring the way it felt. When they pulled back, Andy's chest was rising and falling as it pulled air back into her lungs. "You literally take my breath away."
The corner of Miranda's mouth lifted in a smirk and her own bandaged wrists rested against the nape of Andy's neck. Andy pressed Miranda backwards so that the whole length of her glistening, wet body could press against the cool shower glass. Their lips found one another yet again and Andy could feel the wet fabric of the bandages at her neck. The makeshift, 'nurse' side of her knew that the bandages would have to be changed, but they had lots of time to do that. Now that she had the object of all her infatuations, dreams and thoughts, limp beneath her grasp, looking into her eyes with a mixture of lust and passion - little else seemed to matter.
She hoped things could stay like this forever. She didn't even think about Emily, about the reprecussions of what the British woman knew. She didn't think about Miranda's secrecy about the way she'd damaged her wrists. She didn't even pay a single thought to her own relentless, painfully raw confession of love or the way she had basically torn a strip off of Miranda for her shortcomings.
There were things she'd have to apologize for and still an endless amount of wrongs to right. But all that mattered now was the feeling of Miranda's warm skin beneath her caress; the blue eyes that sparkled sincerely back at her and the gentle weight of the beautiful woman in her arms.
Miranda Priestly: Indisposed - Part 11
The water had run cold before Andy and Miranda stepped out of the shower together. They hadn’t spent the entire time having sex, though both of them had not been able to stop caressing and admiring the other. It was as if neither believed that what they were experiencing was true.
Andy was first to get out and she left wet footprints across the floor as she padded over to the towel rack and removed both white fluffy towels. She wrapped one around her body and tucked the flap firmly at her breast while she took the other towel over to the shower and held it open for Miranda to step into.
Andy folded the towel around Miranda’s skin and brushed her hands over the fabric, and incidentally Miranda’s curves below, as she dried the Editor’s porcelain-white skin. Once Miranda’s torso was dry, she wrapped the towel around her and picked up a third towel to remove the droplets of water from Miranda’s legs, her décolleté and eventually her hair.
Andy then gathered the spare dressings from the bathroom counter and carefully wrapped both wrists the way they had appeared before. Miranda had watched her with interest, a small appreciative smile showing at her lips.
Andy went for the hair dryer but Miranda opted to go without blow drying this time and instead, whispered “Bed.” to Andy in a low, sultry and promising tone.
Andy walked behind Miranda, waiting for the Editor to lead the way. Butterflies fluttered around in her stomach as she saw Miranda turn to her when she arrived at the bed, sliding her fingers carefully over her own breasts. Andy’s brow rose with interest and Miranda locked eyes with her as she parted the towel and let it slip to the floor.
She stood before Andy then, completely nude excepting the bandages at her wrists; and looking absolutely, genuinely perfect in every sense of the word. Andy couldn’t resist approaching, a large grin on her lips as she captured Miranda’s for a sensual kiss. Moving carefully with one hand on the small of Miranda’s back, she managed to lower Miranda down to the bed and crawl on top.
Miranda looked mildly frustrated with Andy taking the lead again but, with two wrists completely out of commission, there was little she could do to argue her point. Andy touched her lips to Miranda’s pulse point just below her chin and then began leaving a hot trail of kisses down it, through the valley between Miranda’s breasts and along the fine muscles of her abdomen.
Andy had never been with a woman before, but something about Miranda always seemed to bring out the best in her and this particular task was no different than the others. Her lips pouted as she traveled over the triangle of skin nearing the equidistant point just south of Miranda’s hips. She could feel the texture change as she glided her lips lower, where the hair was absent, leaving only a velour-soft expanse of skin. Even lower still she moved until she felt moisture, wetting her lips and heard the telltale sign of Miranda’s moan from somewhere near the headboard.
With enhanced anticipation, Andy let her tongue slide between her lips and descend through the breach in Miranda’s skin. Miranda cried out and her hips jerked forward as Andy’s tongue was coaxed along the sleek passage of heat, over the hardening hood and down into the deeper recesses between Miranda’s legs.
The Editor bit down into her lip to quiet herself but only succeeded in muffling the cry, her thighs spreading further apart as she ground herself deeper into the mattress. Andy seemed to be grateful for the increased access and she showed her gratitude by gliding her tongue further down until it dipped lower still, eventually disappearing completely beneath the surface.
“Ohhh Annddr…..” Miranda whimpered as her back arched completely away from the mattress, her head rolling back on her shoulders, pushing deeply into the pliable pillow.
Andy’s tongue slid lower still, her eyes almost rolling backwards at the sheer taste and sensation of the new experience. Unchartered territory, Andy mused as the tip of her tongue rolled along Miranda’s searing inner walls until it could go no further. She wriggled her tongue back and forth slowly, delighting in the way Miranda’s muscles contracted around her, feeling a new rush of heat as it tingled around her taste buds.
“Oh god.. please… jus… please.. Andrea!!” Miranda cried, her hands flying to Andy’s head in an attempt to push her down harder. Andy would have none of it and she withdrew her tongue, looking at Miranda with a gleam in her eye. “Huh uh… I want to make this last.”
Miranda growled and retracted her arms. “You’re going to kill me…” She said breathlessly before crying out again as Andy returned her tongue to her clit, swirling it around the hardening bud and sliding up its protective hood with her teeth. She had just barely touched the tip of her tongue to the sensitive crest before Miranda’s body stiffened beneath her and her breath came to a skidding halt in her throat.
As Andy watched Miranda’s orgasm approach, she felt a pounding and tightening throbbing at the aperture between her own legs. She swung her left leg over Miranda’s and squeezed her thighs around Miranda’s calf, desperate for the small amount of pressure. It didn’t take much and Andy’s tongue and lips faltered in their assailment of Miranda’s scalding, tensing flesh to part with her own cries in a crescendo of “Miranda, Mir… Mira… oh… ye….”
Miranda was completely silent for a second, her lips frozen open in a silent scream, her eyes tightly shut and her back arched completely off of the bed. Then her voice came back and she let out a strangled shriek of “Ohhhhhhhh god!“ before falling back limp and breathless, her lungs working overtime to draw in short gasps of air.
Andy came at precisely the same time, collapsing down upon the Editor, her cheek pressing to Miranda’s stomach, her thighs quivering at the slightest movement beneath her.
After a few moments to reclaim their breath, Andy crawled up and laid next to Miranda, sliding her arm just at the base beneath the older woman’s breasts, pressing herself against Miranda’s hip. Miranda’s neck rolled to the side, facing Andy as she managed to slowly pull her eyes open. She blinked several times, trying to focus before she let a long lingering sigh escape from her oval lips.
“Andrea… that… you…” For an Editor, it was surprising that she couldn’t find the words to piece together a sentence, but Andy had rendered her completely speechless and Miranda didn’t seem to mind. A smirk crept across her lips and turned the corners upwards before an exquisitely stunning, full-out smile lit her entire face. Andy couldn’t believe her own reaction as she felt tears prickling her eyes.
Miranda noticed the tears and the smile faded, concern drawing across her brow. “Andrea?”
Andy shook her head incredulously, smiling as two tears escaped the ridges of her eyes and slid down her cheek toward the pillow beneath. “I…. it’s just… you are so, fucking beautiful.”
Miranda’s smile returned and she tilted her chin towards Andy who met her halfway, their lips meeting in a slow and decadent kiss. When they parted, both lay silent, gazing into each other’s eyes, imprinting the way each other looked in the warm, sweaty afterglow.
Finally, Andy raised herself up, propping her head on her elbow as she trailed her fingers down Miranda’s abdomen and back up before following a path along Miranda’s arm towards the bandages at her wrists. She opened her hand, protectively cupping it around Miranda’s and allowed her eyes to find their way back to hers. “Miranda…?”
Miranda’s eyes traced Andy’s before murmuring, “Mmm?”
Andy traced the bandage’s borders with her fingertips. “Will you be honest with me?”
Miranda paused momentarily but then nodded slowly and seriously. “Always.”
Andy’s lips rose at the corners in a tender smile. The smile was brief but her eyes were aglow with sympathetic sincerity “It wasn’t really the fall that did this, was it?”
Miranda stiffened and her lips thinned as her eyes swivelled away from Andy, towards the ceiling. They rested there for sometime as the muscles in Miranda’s jaw clenched and unclenched under the faint line of her skin. Andy was about to take the question back when Miranda finally spoke, her eyes still focused away.
“No – it wasn’t.” Miranda admitted.
Andy nodded and remained propped on her elbow as she traced slow circles over Miranda’s injury, allowing the woman to elaborate if she felt inclined. Andy wouldn’t push, but she couldn’t help wonder how everything had come to pass.
Miranda let out a shaken sigh and then began.
It was Friday morning at the Priestly townhouse and Miranda was just descending the stairs in her favourite pair of violet, closed toe Louboutin’s. The girls had already gone off to school and she knew Roy would be patiently waiting outside in the car. With a quick glance to her appearance in the mirror and one gentle glide of her palm across the side of her silver hair, she was ready to go.
A knock pounded against the front door and she turned towards the offending sound, her eyes narrowing even in the absence of anyone there to see it. She had really hoped it would be a good day and if Roy was going to do something outrageous like hurry her along, she was going to have to spend the rest of the day sending Emily to all of the reputable chauffeur companies in New York to find a suitable replacement.
Miranda’s heels clacked loudly beneath her stride as she crossed to the front door and pressed her thumb against the lock. The metal clicked beneath it and her fingers turned the handle, swinging the door open while an ice-cold look of distaste spread glacially across her face.
It wasn’t Roy at all.
The man who stood outside of Miranda’s townhouse, taking his own life into his hands as his hand froze midair to the buzzer, was none other than Stephen. Miranda’s eyes widened and she looked both ways to see if anyone was around before zeroing in on him. Her teeth gritted together in a desperate attempt to remain calm and logical but the fire in her eyes revealed her inner rage.
“What – are – you - doing here?” Miranda asked, annunciating each word as if it were the last she’d ever speak.
Stephen ran a hand through his grey hair and stumbled forward towards her before catching himself on the door frame. He peered at her through half lidded eyes, the alcohol wheezing from his lips with every breath. “Miranda… I need to talk to you.”
Miranda’s scowl never faltered, and her eyes narrowed further as he came closer. Roy had apparently noticed Stephen’s movement and he’d flown out of the car and was standing near the luxury vehicle, watching the scene with concern. “Ms. Priestly…?”
Miranda’s eyes flicked to him and she saw that he was offering his assistance, but she shook her head slightly. Roy relaxed only a fraction before turning away to face the other direction, still clearly listening for any signs of distress but at the same time, giving his employer the privacy she both deserved and demanded.
“Stephen, you are not supposed to be here. In case you missed the papers served and signed to you by the courthouse, you are not to be anywhere within my vicinity. You have been awarded the slight sum the judge offered you and you have no claim over anything else, ever again.”
Stephen’s lips parted and he struggled, swaying mildly as he spoke. “Miranda… I know. I know. I’m sorry. I just needed to speak to you… I’m in… well… I’m in trouble, and… please Miranda. Have some… pity at least. You used to love me once; don’t you think it was for a reason?”
Miranda’s expression remained glacial, but as she looked over his tousled hair, to his shirt that was buttoned up incorrectly and loose from his trousers, she managed to find a trace of benevolence. She jerked her head towards the car and stepped out on the landing. Her key turned in the lock behind her and she breezed past Stephen’s staggering body as he moved to follow. Roy opened the door for Miranda and she slid in, her Louboutin's the very last to enter and he closed the door firmly behind her, right on Stephen who had been attempting to squeeze in behind.
Roy fixed him with a glare of his own, motioning for him to use the other door – which he did not open – before climbing into the driver’s seat.
A few moments later, Stephen had managed to get himself in the backseat and Miranda caught Roy’s eyes in the rear view mirror. She nodded her head once and he responded in kind, pressing a button on the dash that raised a dark privacy screen between them.
Once they were alone, Miranda turned to Stephen, her eyes dull and disinterested as she waited for him to speak. When he didn’t, she spoke with agitation. “Well?”
Stephen stuttered and moved closer to her on the seat. Miranda turned her gaze away from him, choosing to look at the passing scenery as the car rolled along the New York streets to Elias-Clarke.
His voice rasped unattractively in her ear, “Miranda… I’m… I’m a mess without you. I’m sorry I even… started this whole damned thing in the first place…it’s you I really want. Not that blond… stu…” He stammered.
“Prepubescent.” Miranda offered.
Stephen’s lips closed and she could hear him swallow before continuing “… she was nothing. I’m really sorry. God damnit. Mira….”
“Don’t call me that.” Miranda snapped, her eyes darting back to his with seething intensity.
Stephen momentarily moved back in shock but soon had pressed forward, towards her again. “I just… I need you.”
“Don’t insult me Stephen. We both know the real reason you’re here. Your unintelligent mumblings repulse me.” Miranda’s glare burned into him. “You need money.”
Stephen at least managed to hide a small bit of his defeat before Miranda shook her head. His expression grew firmer, his whole face flushing before her eyes. When he opened his mouth, his voice had hardened, gone was the apathetic, grovelling of before. “You fucking got everything! I have debts to pay, Miranda; debts that I can’t meet with the goddamned settlement I got. Three years of marriage and you walk away with not a single dent in your bank account and I’m scraping to get by, with investors giving up on me, the bank attempting to freeze my assets… ”
“Pathetic…” Miranda spat, shifting closer to the door and further away from her encroaching ex husband.
Something flicked in Stephen’s eyes at the word. He sneered, his eyes forming dangerous slits beneath his lowered eyebrows. “What?”
Miranda turned to meet his gaze, her own eyes flaring with anger. “You are pathetic. Get out of my car.”
Her hand moved to the privacy screen button but Stephen was too quick.
He grabbed her wrist and twisted it roughly behind her, pressing her back against the car door as his other hand grappled to claim her free one. Once he caught it he pushed her lower on the seat, roughly shoving her wrists behind her back and holding them there as he moved his heavy body on top of hers.
Miranda yelped as she felt the ligaments tearing beneath her skin, her eyes squeezing shut as the plain flashed angrily through her body. She struggled beneath him, her knees pinned below his girth as he lowered his face to hers. His voice was gruff, and small flecks of saliva touched her face as he spoke mere inches away from her turned head. “You fucking bitch… cold, heartless… ice queen. The papers have it all right about you. Bet they’d like to know you’re frigid as well…” His mouth descended on her neck and he kissed her roughly and sloppily, the alcohol filling Miranda’s nostrils as she squeezed her eyes shut.
The weight of Stephen on top of her - with her wrists restrained, twisted behind her back and forcing more pressure on the already strained soft tissue - made Miranda cry out in pain. It seemed to surprise Stephen and a sickening grin spread across his face. “Well that’s the first time I’ve heard you make noise when I’m on top of you...” He bent down towards her chest and Miranda felt a surge of strength course through her veins.
In a moment of drunken weakness, Stephen had shifted downwards to get better access at her blouse and Miranda had managed to slide her knees upwards towards her chest. Using the precisely placed heel of one Louboutin right into the juncture between Stephen’s legs, she kicked forward with all of her might and Stephen flew backwards, howling in pain.
Miranda scrambled to a seated position, glancing out the window just as the car rolled to a stop outside of Elias-Clarke. She went to push the door open and let out a cry of her own when the pain shot up both of her arms at the slight movement. She bit down on her lip and used a combination of elbow and damaged fingers to open the door and scrambled out of it quickly, banging into Roy as he was rushing around to open it for her.
He looked at Miranda, noticing her distress, having also heard the muffled screams from the back. “Ms. Priestly… are you hurt? I thought it was just an argument, I wasn’t sure."
Miranda shook her head and looked at Roy with a painful but piercing expression. “His apartment is five blocks away, drive him there and circle back. I will need you to be here to pick me up in ten minutes. Tell no one anything. I will deal with this another time.”
Roy obeyed and he made sure all the doors were locked before climbing into the front seat and steering the car back into traffic. Miranda held her head high as she strode forward, in a half run, her heart beating quickly from what might have happened if she had not managed to get the upper hand in the situation. Her mind was reeling.
She’d have to press charges, but then there was also the matter of a very public trial and she could just see it dragged through the press. It would affect the twins deeply who had looked at Stephen as another father figure; and would no doubt cripple her reputation as being completely undaunted. Too much was at stake if it came out like that. There had to be another way…
She passed through the glass doors and moved through the building, people parting for her and averting eye contact almost immediately. An idea suddenly came to her and her eyes darted around the lobby for an unsuspecting victim. She spotted a young man with a music device in his ear travelling across her path, and she had to swerve to collide with him.
She went down quickly, slamming her knees into the floor and falling forward on her wrists painfully. She cried out and the young man froze when he realized what he’d done. His feet took off in survival mode before he could think and he dashed towards the guard station, flagging one down and motioning in Miranda’s direction before heading for the front doors and disappearing into the crowd of people on the sidewalk.
Miranda was hunched over in blinding pain, but a small smile managed to play at her lips. She would prevail.
Andy’s eyes were opened wide in horror as Miranda finished. Her lips were dry and the tears that ran from her eyes were no longer from happiness. “Oh my god Miranda… That’s… oh my god. You have to… stop him. You have to turn him in. I can’t believe he did that to you! That fucking bast… oh my god.” Andy sat up, her eyes flicking back and forth as her mind reeled over ways that Stephen could meet his demise by her own hands.
Miranda’s voice was soft below her. “Andrea… I have thought long and hard about this --”
Andy turned to gaze at her, wiping the tears from her cheeks with white fingertips. “I'll kill him myself!”
Miranda couldn’t help but let a low chuckle escape from her lips. “You won’t need to. I’m going to press charges. He’ll get what’s coming to him.”
Andy’s stiffened muscles relaxed slowly at Miranda’s words and she lowered herself back to Miranda’s side, cradling Miranda in the safety of her arms. “I am so sorry… so sorry that you had to go through that. God Miranda… I don’t know what I would do if… he… if anything happened to y--”
“Andrea, nothing happened to me. I am fine. My wrists will heal and Stephen will get exactly what he deserves.” Miranda pushed the elegant ridge of her nose against Andy’s neck and a contented sigh escaped her lips. “Now go to sleep or I’m sending you to the guest room – or better yet, back to that chair in the hallway.”
Andy couldn’t help but smile and she pressed a kiss to Miranda’s temple, squeezing the older woman tightly in her arms. “I’ll be good.”
“Good.” Miranda echoed and promptly fell asleep. After much contemplation, Andy did too.
Miranda Priestly: Indisposed - Part 12
The sun stretched over the New York skyline, casting a beautiful glow over the entire city as the early morning traffic made its way about in the streets below. It was another Monday, like every other Monday and New York City remained constant in its tradition, filling its subways, streets and expressways as people rushed towards their workplaces.
For Andrea Sachs it was a very different day. It was a day unlike any other. It was a special day, one that awoke her with a smile as she blinked back the night's sleep. The first thing she could focus on was a small sea of silver, so close to her eyes that she couldn't make out any definite details. She inhaled. It was intoxicating; the smell of cleanly washed, tangerine scented hair. She tilted her head forward, her nose slipping between the silky strands, delighting in the way they felt.
She lay that way for awhile, breathing in the beautiful smells and feeling the soft texture of delicate hair as strand by strand it caressed her curve of her skin. Her arms rested on a slender hip bone and her fingers trailed lazily over a bare stomach ever so carefully as not to wake the sleeping form. Andy could hear Miranda breathing, the air being drawn in and pushed out in even cadence. It was a soothing sound; peaceful. She smiled and shifted to a sitting position on the bed, angling herself at the headboard so she could peer down at Miranda's sleeping body.
She looked so small, so defenceless. Her throat was bared, curved forward against the pillow, her hair tousled around her face from sleep. A soft blush decorated her cheekbones and Andy delighted in taking a closer look at the woman she loved. Yes, Andy admitted to herself, she loved Miranda. The very words and meaning behind them felt incredibly good to think, though she would never say them aloud. She wouldn't frighten away Miranda, especially not at such a crucial time. So many things had happened in the past few days. It was indescribable. The emotions, words and actions that had all passed between them, changing them forever. There was no going back and only uncertain steps in what would be a long journey forward.
Would this be permanent? Would Miranda want what Andy wanted? Did she feel the same way? There were so many questions plaguing Andy's mind, but the questions didn't touch the constant smile on her face as she stroked the hair back from Miranda's forehead. She loved Miranda, and that was good enough for right now - regardless of the what ifs and the what coulds.
Miranda shifted ever so slightly in her sleep, her muscles moving beneath her skin in soft patterns. Andy watched them move until Miranda stilled and her eyes traveled towards the bandages tightly binding the Editor's wrists. Her smile faded.
All she could think about was that bastard and how he had hurt Miranda. Stephen. The name sent a fierce jolt of anger down to the very deepest reaches of her soul. Her eyes narrowed and she bit into her lip. He plagued her thoughts. The scene replayed in her head on a permanent loop, narrated by Miranda's soft voice as she revealed what had happened. Miranda had given him the benefit of the doubt. She'd accepted that he needed help and had even contemplated giving it. But Stephen had pressed on, obviously knowing that he could humiliate Miranda in very few ways. He had decided that the way he could humiliate her most had been by taking all sense of control from her. He had pushed himself on her. He'd pressed her down, he'd given her pain. If Miranda hadn't gotten the upper hand he could have even...
Andy stopped herself. She couldn't allow her mind to go there. She tried so hard not to let it, but the images were there, haunting her just like they had when she had spent the first night in the townhouse. Only now the images were violent.
Stephen in the shower behind Miranda, sneering over her shoulder as he forced her against the glass. Stephen pressing Miranda into the very bed she was sitting in, thrusting into her, her head colliding viciously against the headboard; thudding as it met the wood. Stephen at the stairs, holding Miranda's hips impaling her on him as she cried out in pain; jerking and pushing as she tried to struggle free. Stephen and Miranda on the kitchen counter, his large hand in her hair pulling back the silver shanks as her lips parted in a silent scream of horror. Stephen was everywhere; growling, grinding, grappling and forcing himself on the woman she loved.
When she blinked she felt tears sliding down her cheeks. Her lip quivered and she sniffed quietly, clearing her throat very softly. Her hand went to her own cheek, the back of it collecting the tears to hide them before Miranda woke up. It wouldn't be fair on her. She needed to be here for Miranda now, more than ever. She would worry about the repercussions of what she knew at a later time. Maybe it was an isolated incident. Stephen had been drunk after all. But it didn't matter, Miranda had at some point shared a home with a man that hadn't thought twice about restraining her and causing her immense amounts of pain.
Her finger trailed back over Miranda's cheekbone and around one ear before burying itself in the silver strands, stroking Miranda's scalp. Miranda's lashes fluttered slightly at the touch and parted to reveal dark, blazing blue eyes as she slowly awoke from slumber. She looked so vulnerable to Andy, so innocent and so fragile, with all of her walls let down and Andy smiled softly. "Good morning...."
Miranda didn't jerk out of her grasp or pull the walls back up around her, like she had been slightly worried she would. Instead, Miranda's lips curved up at the corners in a soft smile of her own as her blue eyes focused on Andy's darker ones. "Good morning..." Her voice was raspy, low and luxurious and it made Andy's stomach flutter which spread quickly down to the apex between her thighs. Miranda's head turned on the pillow and her eyes swivelled to the alarm clock. They widened when she realized the time and she went to sit up but Andy's hands pressed into her shoulders holding her down. "Nuh uh..... you stay there." Andy commanded softly, her smile widening as she moved to straddle Miranda's hips.
"It's ten thirty, I have things to do Andrea..." Miranda protested but Andy clapped her hand over Miranda's mouth. "No you don't. You're out of commission for a good twelve more days at least, so spending a Monday in bed, isn't going to kill you... I promise."
Miranda's muffled response caught at Andy's fingertips and she let out a huff of air, narrowing her eyes. Andy grinned and leaned forward placing a kiss on Miranda's forehead before moving her hand away and capturing Miranda's moving lips with her own. Andy's dark russet hair slid forward, billowing around her shoulders and caressing the circumference of Miranda's face like a halo. Miranda's lips parted, her tongue sliding against Andy's as their lips melded together seamlessly.
Andy sighed and rolled her hips against Miranda's, delighting in the way her naked skin felt as it brushed across the Editor's sensitivity. Miranda let out a surprise 'Oh' and she watched as Andy moved over her. Andy shook her hair around her shoulders and stretched backwards in an elegant arc as she began grinding against Miranda, feeling their warmth pressing against one another. Miranda's expression of surprise darkened sensuously as her eyes clouded with lust. Andy's hands cupped the sides of Miranda's breasts and she kneaded them softly beneath her fingertips, squeezing her own fuller breasts between her arms in the process. When Andy stole a glance downwards she could see Miranda watching her intently, the Editor's breath coming in shorter gasps, her cheeks caressed by a warm blush. Miranda was looking at her as though she were the sexiest woman alive and it allowed her confidence to bloom beneath the gaze.
She continued to move against Miranda, grinding her hips slowly and firmly against her as the warmth between both of their legs met each other with each enticing movement of their hips. A rhythm had formed between them, developing in speed like a horse switching from a canter to a gallop. Their lips were parting, their cries coming out in soft waves, almost in time with one another as they felt the exact same experiences at the exact same time.
A wetness had developed between them allowing their skin to glide more effortlessly together, the warmth growing hotter each time their apexes touched. Andy moaned, arching further back as she felt Miranda's hands lightly on her waist. She picked up the pace, moving against Miranda more deeply with each circle of her hips. Miranda's eyes were shut, her neck thrown backwards, her lips parted. A muscle worked in her cheek and down the length of her neck as arched below Andy.
It was amazing. They moved as a pair, completely in unison, just like any straight couple would during the very same act. They could feel every single dip, swerve and lift of one another as they pressed together, rocking back and forth in tandem.
Andy could barely hold on any longer. She needed to release and she didn't think she could hold out any longer. Luckily for her Miranda was stiffening beneath her, her own cries getting louder as she bucked and thrust against Andy, begging her in silently staggered sentences to "Please... ple.. please let me....co..." Andy was more than happy to oblige, even without hearing the words directly and with one final, lengthy jerk of the hips, both women were crying out in a duet of uninhibited pleasure.
They were still pressed together as their orgasm erupted between them and they could each feel the pulse beneath the other's skin as their muscles contracted and released in long luxurious waves. The moisture between them was warm and wet, a combination of their own mixing essences coupled with the sweat from the heat of what they'd just experienced.
Andy collapsed on the bed beside the older woman and took her into her arms listening to Miranda's racing heartbeat as she pressed her ear to the Editor's chest. Neither felt compelled to move and Andy was fairly certain she'd convinced Miranda that staying in bed had been a good idea, after all.
The morning had been lovely. Miranda had given up all hope of protests of leaving the bed early and had only just finished being dressed by Andy at one o'clock in the afternoon. Andy would have protested that too if there weren't bigger issues to face that day, so she had agreed with Miranda that they would get ready and prepare to speak to the police station.
Andy had made the phone call for Miranda, as Miranda's assistant and the man on the other end of the phone had told them that they would send a police officer over within the next few hours to take a statement. When Andy had explained the imparity of complete and utter confidentiality, the officer had told her that she could be assured of it. The case was immediately marked high profile as soon as Miranda Priestly's name had been spoken and she'd been given rush access to the best officer at the station to take over the case.
Andy smiled. It really paid to have a name like Miranda's. A surge of pride swelled in her chest and she couldn't help but turn a glance towards Miranda who was pacing the floor in front of her.
"Thank you officer. We will expect her shortly then? Alright. Thank you. Goodbye." Andy placed the receiver back in the holder and looked up as Miranda turned to face her, her features written with anxiety. Andy stood up slowly and crossed to her. "They said you don't need to worry about anything. It won't be publicized. Once your statement is given, they will take Roy's - being that he was the only witness - and then they will question Stephen. He seems to think it'll be over very quickly for you."
Miranda let out a sigh as she ran the fingers of her 'good' hand over the more damaged wrist. "I wish it were over now."
Andy nodded and wrapped her arms around Miranda's waist from behind. "I know... I know." Her chin fit easily into the nook of Miranda's shoulder, her nose nuzzling back into the Editor's hair. "They wanted to know why you didn't do it sooner."
Miranda bit into her lip, tensing beneath Andy's grasp but she didn't pull away. "I didn't want to hurt the girls. If this gets out - and god - it will get out --"
Andy's hands softly stroked Miranda's abdomen beneath her silk blouse. "It won't... they said you can expect full confidentiality..."
"It always gets out Andrea." Miranda turned in her grasp and regarded her a moment as if she wanted to say something else. Miranda's eyes said enough in themselves and Andy moved back only slightly to give the Editor space. They both knew what Miranda was thinking and Andy was glad that she hadn't voiced it. What they were doing, what had developed between them - would get out. It would become public knowledge without either of them consenting to it if it what they were doing was going to continue. Please god, let it continue. But they were safe now. No one would find out until much later and even then...
Oh God... Emily.
Andy had been so caught up in everything that she'd forgotten that Emily knew. Or at least, she thought she knew. But then, really she did know, because what she thought she knew and what Andy knew that she thought she knew, she was right about. Andy shook her head, not quite sure if any of it made sense. Regardless of that, she had to talk to Emily - to convince her of a likely story; anything to make certain that Miranda's first assistant knew nothing.
Should she tell Miranda? No! Definitely not. Andy knew it wasn't a good idea. Especially not with the stress already piled high on the Editor's shoulders. She didn't need more to think about. She would deal with it when Emily brought the book. It was the only way she could make things better, to ensure that whatever it was that her and Miranda shared, could last. It had to develop into a relationship at least before the press got their groping, greedy hands on the story - if they ever did. If the press got word before that then it would surely hurt what chance they had at surviving as a couple. A couple. The word seemed impossible to think of. Something out of reach.
Andy forced a genuine smile and placed a soft kiss to Miranda's cheek. "It'll be fine... we'll get through this." Andy winced slightly. She hadn't meant to say 'we'. How dare she include herself in Miranda's life like that, by pure assumption? There was no 'we' officially yet. In fact, Andy had very little to do with Miranda's life at all. She hadn't been there when it happened and she hadn't known the background between Miranda and Stephen. She hadn't done anything but help Miranda as an official assistant while she recuperated, and somehow somewhere in there she had fallen head over heels in love with her. Andy swallowed "I... mean...uh... "
Miranda's stare penetrated Andy and her lips pursed together before finally parting. "Yes, we will."
Andy's eyes widened as Miranda's smile did the same.
Miranda Priestly: Indisposed - Part 13
The interview was over more quickly than Andy had imagined. She'd expected them to be there for several hours, but in actuality they had been and gone within the same hour they'd arrived.
The officers had arrived within the hour following the phone call and had taken Miranda into a separate room to collect her statement. Andy had taken the free time to check e-mails on the computer in the study.
She felt awkward as she lowered herself into Miranda's leather chair behind the large sweeping desk. She felt out of place and intrusive, despite Miranda's permission to use it.
Andy swept her hands across the desk and powered the computer up, her eyes roaming over the framed photographs on the Editor's desk. Andy had never seen Miranda's study, or at least not from this angle. The only other time she'd actually been in that particular room was during a visit with the book over a month ago, when Miranda had called her upstairs. At the time, Andy's stomach had been in such tight knots about Miranda's summoning that she had stood on pins and needles, not paying much attention to anything except for the pointed toes of her own Jimmy Choos. It turned out her worry had all be for naught when Miranda merely asked for the book to be handed to her before dismissing her.
The photographs were mostly of the girls in various poses with one another. Some of them were clearly professionally done but the one that stood out the most was a small frame filled with the squished faces of both girls as they tried to take a picture of themselves. It made her smile instantly.
Her eyes moved to the other photos and stopped when they arrived at a photo of Miranda.
It was the only photo of Miranda on the desk, and in fact, it was likely the only photo of her in the entire house. Anywhere that was visible, at any rate. She lifted the dark frame into her hands and looked at it.
The picture was clearly taken by an amateur photographer and it was completely candid.
She was sitting on some steps in what appeared to be a garden, with one leg crossed expertly over the other, her posture as regal as a Queen’s.
What was very different from the Runway Miranda is that this Miranda was sporting a large radiant smile as she held three fingertips at her lips, the other hand extended towards the camera as if to stop the photographer from capturing her image.
Her silver hair was swept casually over one eye and her blue irises were so bight that they practically leapt off of the page. She looked happier than Andy had ever seen her. It was breathtaking.
The bottom of the picture had children's writing across it. ‘To Mommy. We love you.’
Next to the heart-warming message were little signatures, the type that children do when they first discover that signatures exist. The 'i' in Caroline's name had a flower where the dot should be and Cassidy's 'y' swirled in a flourish beneath the rest of the letters.
Andy had an intense urge to take the photo. It was something so beautiful, so unique, so unguarded.
A thought occurred to her.
Her eyes roamed the top of the desk and beneath it until they spotted the large fax, print and scan device, tucked neatly in the corner. When she checked the paper tray she wasn't surprised to find it already loaded with professional quality photo paper. Feeling incredibly guilty and embarrassed, Andy lifted the top and placed the photograph, frame and all, in the scanner's bed. She pressed the "COPY" button on the side and watched as the scanner's light made work of the photograph, mimicking its patterns before lifting the paper into its teeth and sliding out a pristine copy of the photo.
Andy placed the frame back on the desk where she had found it and lifted the copy into her hands. She admired the image that stared back her. The line of Miranda's throat; the fact that she had designer trousers on, folded up at the ankles with beautifully bare feet; the way her blouse's top button was casually undone with her sleeves rolled back to be quarter length on her arms; the way the sun caressed her skin and reflected off of the sweep of silver just above her brow.
A small shuffle sounded outside in the hallway and she could hear the voices of the officers as they walked down the hallway in the opposite direction. She quickly slipped the photograph between the pages of the folder she'd brought with her and tucked it neatly under her arm as she walked towards the door.
By the time she arrived in the hallway, the officers had already left the hallway and she could hear the door clicking shut in the entranceway, signalling their departure. She walked towards the sitting room, folder still tucked under her arm as she rounded the doorway. Miranda was seated inside, her eyes set on the floor, her jaw fixed tightly as she studied the pattern on the rug.
She didn't hear Andy approach and when Andy's hand descended on her shoulder she tensed beneath the touch and jerked backwards. Her blue eyes shot upwards and Andy could see the defences raise and slowly begin to lower again when she realized who it was. Andy smiled warmly and she kneeled down in front of Miranda, collecting her hands within hers. Miranda, still getting used to the newness of the situation seemed reluctant to allow their hands to clasp but finally her muscles relaxed under Andy's fingers.
"How did everything go?" Andy asked casually, being sure not to push.
"It was... fine." Miranda answered, her eyes seeming to look anywhere but at Andy. Andy sighed softly and gently stroked Miranda's fingers.
"So what happens next?" Andy asked, her hand leaving Miranda's to glide along the dip of hair at the Editor's forehead, collecting it away from her eye and sweeping it aside to sit further back along her hairline.
Miranda's eyes finally met Andy's "They speak to Roy and then to Stephen."
"Oh..." Andy's chin dipped down and when she looked back up at Miranda there was anger swirling around in the depths of her deep brown eyes. "I'd like to be the one to talk to Stephen... though I doubt there'd be much talking. I'd like to grab the asshole by the b--"
"Andrea." Miranda interrupted. Her voice sounded tired and agitated. She lifted her hand and turned her head to the side, closing her eyes.
"Well, it's true! Miranda I --" Andrea started but Miranda slid her hands out of Andy’s, stood and walked towards the door to the sitting room.
Andy turned her eyes wide with confusion and she scrambled to her feet awkwardly "Where are you going?"
"I have work to do." Miranda said simply as her retreating figure disappeared down the hall. Andy rushed afterwards, catching up after several quick strides.
"Miranda! I'm sorry; I didn't mean to upset you!" When Miranda kept walking, Andy reached out and took Miranda by the elbow, surprised when the Editor spun to face her at a breakneck speed. Her cool blue eyes flicked down to the hand at her elbow and then slowly moved back to Andy's face.
Andy observed Miranda's narrowed eyes and she let go of the older woman's arm her own eyes still filled with anxiety. Miranda turned and continued on her way up the stairs leaving Andy standing near the base, looking up at the Editor's back. Her heart was pounding in her chest, desperately looking for the words to make everything better, the panic clouding her thoughts forcing all clarity deeper inside. What was Miranda doing? She couldn't possibly be ending all of this, retreating because of one simple thing she'd...
There was a sound of a throat clearing two floors up, interrupting Andy's thoughts, and then a soft voice spoke from over the banister. "Well are you coming or are you going to prove correct my doubts in your capabilities as an assistant?"
Andy stretched to the side, peering over the railing up towards the spiralling ceiling. She met Miranda's gaze, as Miranda stood two floors up, looking down at her. Andy could see an amused smile playing across the Editor’s lips. Andy's own lips lifted in a smile and the lines of worry that had creased between her brows began to melt away.
She took off up the stairs, hitting them two by two as she hurried afterwards.
The day had gone reasonably quickly as Miranda conducted most of her work from home. Andy was glad to have programmed the majority of Miranda's contacts into her blackberry, so she could easily reference and call them when the Editor asked.
Miranda made the usual demands of "Get me Patrick", "Call Valentino", "I need Mark." - and Andy had diligently gotten a hold of the people requested, passing the phone to Miranda each time once she'd gotten past their assistants.
She had also become Miranda's hands and had taken the seat next to the Fashionista, her fingers flying across the keyboard in a flurry as Miranda dictated to her. They worked like this for hours until their dinners had been delivered to them in the study by the cook.
They ate in peaceful silence, and Andy even managed to get a smile out of Miranda when she refused to let the older woman eat by herself, regardless of the fact that Miranda had almost full use of the fingers on one of her hands. Andy's argument was that it was simply quicker if she did it, but secretly it was because she liked watching Miranda's mouth part in subconscious anticipation of each bite.
She liked it even more when she could trick Miranda into opening her mouth before pulling the fork away at the last second, causing the Editor's lips to close on open air, a glare forming around her eyes in the process. The game had only been successful twice before Miranda stopped opening her lips at all until Andy relented and gave her the fork.
Much later, when Andy went to return the plates to the kitchen, she caught a flash of blue on the entrance way table and she quirked her eyebrow with interest, depositing the plates in the dishwasher before heading back to the table to see what it was.
It was the Book, Andy realized, surprised that Emily hadn't made any noise delivering it. It was earlier than expected but she lifted it into her arms and made her way back towards the study.
Her thoughts remained on Emily and she knew she was going to have to have that discussion sooner or later.
They were going to have to talk about it before Miranda returned to Runway, that much she was sure of. How she was going to bring it up in the first place, she was slightly less sure of. She was going to have to think of an explanation for her appearance, and for not better explaining herself at the time.
Her mind spun as it turned over possible solutions to the problem, coming up empty handed in the end. She'd arrived at the study so she shook away the thoughts, deciding to think about it later when could think more clearly.
She crossed to Miranda who was seated behind her desk, reviewing a few e-mails on her computer. She put the Book down on the desk and smiled warmly at Miranda whose brows were creased in distaste at whatever she was reading.
"Can I get you some tea, Miranda?" Andy asked, drawing her hand through her own hair to sweep her fringe out of her eyes.
Miranda looked away from the screen as she regarded Andy over the brim of her glasses. Her lips quirked up in a soft smile and she nodded her head in compliance. Andy smiled back and turned away, heading towards the kitchen.
It took her very little time to find the tea and to prepare it. It was Twinings of London's Earl Grey, Miranda's favourite, she had discovered. It surprised her that Miranda had the simple tea in her cupboard, let alone that it was a favourite.
It was a very common tea, only a few dollars for an incredibly big box.
She'd pictured Miranda being more likely to order something from some endangered rainforest, or the rind of an organic bergamot orange plucked from the garden of some ruling monarch of some exclusive country somewhere.
Andy looked at the Twinings box noticing that the company also made a tea called 'Lady Grey'. Andy smiled at how fitting that name was and decided that the next time she was out she would be certain to try and locate some.
The tea cup was more like Miranda, made of exquisite bone china, white with a black star gazer lily painted at its base with loops and swirls sneaking up the tea cup towards the lip. It had a matching saucer and Andy was very careful as she poured the piping hot water inside and dipped the tea bag into its sizzling depths.
Once the tea was prepared she made her way back towards the study and pushed the door open with her back, balancing the cup carefully on its saucer. She smiled as she placed it down before Miranda and made a little presentation sign with her hands, proud of her accomplishment of not spilling over the edge.
Miranda didn't look up at her. Andy tapped her finger to the table "Voila! Pour toi Madame Priestly!"
When Miranda didn't budge a second time, Andy's smile faded. "Miranda...?"
She circled around Miranda's desk and saw that the Editor was peering down at the Book. Her cheeks were red and a small vein had appeared at her temple. The Editor's jaw was clenched tightly and her knuckles were white as they clutched the pages.
"That bad?" Andy asked, half in jest as she tried to lighten the mood.
She had wondered if the Book was going to be a problem, there having been a full business day without the Boss there to crack a whip with the usual shooting glances of pure disappointment aimed at her employees.
But apparently it wasn't the book that held Miranda's attention. Instead, it was a single white sheet of paper sheathed between the book’s thick pages. Andy didn't have time to read what the paper said because Miranda had lifted it and was holding it tightly beneath her white fingertips.
Miranda's glare rose and Andy swallowed roughly when the glare settled upon her. Suddenly it felt like she was back at Runway, having just made a comment about ridiculously similar accessories.
She opened her mouth to speak but she realized she hadn't done anything wrong and therefore didn’t have an excuse to mutter. There wasn't anything that Miranda could possibly have to criticize her about. She hadn't even been at work for the weekend! Miranda knew that. So why was the Editor looking at her with an ice cold stare, sending a shiver of raised alarm up her spine?
Miranda thrust the paper out. Her voice was dangerously low. "Can you tell me the meaning of this?"
Andy reached shaking finger tips out to take the paper out of Miranda's hand and turned it around so she could see it right side up.
There was a date at the top, matching today's and beneath it was Miranda Priestly's name followed by a comma then a few short sentences. Andy's hands began to sweat and her eyes widened considerably, her trembling fingers making the paper flutter.
It was a letter of resignation with a tendered two weeks of notice and it was signed by Emily Charlton.
Miranda Priestly: Indisposed - Part 14
"Miranda...I...." Andy stuttered, searching her mind for an explanation to Emily's very real resignation letter, shaking between her fingertips. So many thoughts rushed through her mind and she tried to capture them, but each one evaded her.
Miranda attempted to tear the paper out of her hand, but winced with what was obvious a tremor of pain coursing up the length of her arm. "Andrea..." Her tone was low, threatening.
There was no escape, guilt was written plainly across her face and Miranda looked like she could smell it in their air between them.
Andy's hand shot to her forehead, her voice coming out quickly, in a mismatch of broken sentences. "Well... uhh... see... she. We were.... you know..." She blushed furiously, motioning between herself and Miranda.
"And she was... with the Book. And I... but she, and her shoe was broken! And there she was with the broken shoe, she saw me, and suddenly she knew! And I didn't know what she knew, but I was pretty sure that.. uhh.. that she thought she knew, and that I knew that she thought she knew and what she actually knew, was right!" Andy forced her finger in the air as if she'd just punctuated the clearest monologue known to man. A monologue of Shakespearean proportions so well thought out and so clearly designed that the very words would go down in literary history.
Sadly, Miranda's brows had knit together in confusion and she pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly not having understood a single thing that Andy had explained. Andy closed her eyes.
Miranda's voice cut through the silence abruptly. "Once again, in English Andrea... you do still speak English, don't you?"
Andy nodded furiously though she couldn't help feel a prickle of pride tingling up her spine making her want to say something snide back. She refrained however, which was probably for the best. Miranda didn't seem in the mood for a verbal sparring match.
Her second attempt was much better. She took it slowly, forming each sentence in her mind before speaking it, but she found herself unable to look into Miranda's piercing blue eyes. "After you... kissed me." Miranda flushed. "I ... went downstairs to get the schedule from Emily. She took one look at me and knew we were... doing something. I had lip gloss all over my face and my hair was a mess. She accused me of... well... doing exactly what I was doing and then didn't give me a chance to explain before storming out!"
Andy's eyes rose slowly to assess Miranda's expression and she wasn't surprised to see the tension written all over the Editor’s face.
Miranda’s lips had parted and her neck was strained as she listened in slight horror to Andy's admission. They hadn't even been together for a full day and already someone knew. It never failed.
Miranda's eyes narrowed, her throat working at a rough swallow. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Andy answered before thinking, "Oh I dunno Miranda... maybe cause it sort of slipped my mind when you locked me out of the bathroom and wouldn't talk to me!" Her heart raced inside her chest and she fixed Miranda with her own version of 'The Glare'.
Miranda, much to Andy's shock, didn't react. Instead, the Editor fidgeted in her seat and then stood, sliding past Andy to pace to the other side of the room. A moment of silence seemed to hang between them while both of them tried to outlast the other for having to be the first one to speak.
It was Andy who finally spoke as one of her hands kneaded into her shoulder. "What do we do now?"
Miranda's chin jut to the side and her eyes squinted as she considered her own options. "I don't know... but I refuse to accept this."
She shook the paper in her hand, the sheet rattling as the air caught beneath it. Her jaw clenched fiercely together and she set her eyes on the phone, perched on her desk top. Andy's gaze followed Miranda's and she reacted instantly, flying forward to pick up the receiver before Miranda got to it first.
Miranda looked at her with an incredulous expression and Andy put the phone back in its cradle, her hand still resting on top to protect it from the inevitability of Miranda's tensed fingers.
"Miranda, please... let me talk to her. I know where she lives; I had to go over to her house one time to pick up a schedule when the internet was down at my apartment. I'll talk to her... maybe I can make her see that this is a little act of..." Andy made a gesture in the air as if she was trying to come up with the appropriate word.
"Stupidity." Miranda finished for her.
"Impulsiveness." Andy corrected her.
Miranda's eyes squeezed shut. She looked exhausted and now, thanks to Emily, even more stressed out then she had been before.
Andy looked at the clock. It was almost 9:30pm. "I'll go as soon as we're finished your notes in the Book."
Miranda looked at her for a long moment before nodding her head.
They went to work immediately and once Andy had placed the last sticky note that simple read, "Vile." on the final page, the Book was closed and she collected it into her hands.
She placed it on the table in the entranceway and convinced Miranda to follow her upstairs. She had been thinking about this part of the night all day, looking forward to the moment when she would be able to undress Miranda Priestly and worship her body in the process. She'd even thought of placing little feather light kisses over every single piece of skin as it was revealed to her.
Unfortunately for her, Miranda wasn't in the mood for anything but a clinical change, and Andy knew better then to attempt to get frisky with her.
From the way Miranda laid in bed and turned away from her without so much as a word, Andy quickly realized that her own fate relied on getting Emily to reconsider. Miranda couldn't do without her first assistant. She was a necessity. She did everything Miranda wanted without question. She never challenged her or second guessed anything Miranda said. And even though Miranda would never admit it, Andy was sure that the Editor had grown so accustom to having Emily around. Emily was irreplaceable.
"I'll... uhh... be back soon Miranda." Andy stuttered quietly before turning the bedside lamp out and walking with her hands out in front of her until she found the bedroom door.
She hurried down the stairs and took her coat from the hall closet, shrugging it on and adjusting the collar around her neck. She buttoned up the front and tied the belt at her middle. With book in hand and the night's cool caress on her face, she was off down the street towards her destination.
She had one hell of a miracle to make.
It took Andy three rings on the buzzer outside of Emily's apartment to get a response and when it finally came it was a gruff, "What?" shouted through the phone.
"Emily? It's Andy..."
"Fuck." Andy cursed, pressing the buzzer yet again. There was no response so she pressed it again, and then another time for good measure.
"Go away!" Emily growled through the intercom but Andy interrupted with "Don't hang up!!! Let me just talk to..."
"Oh no fucking way, bitch..." Andy growled, her feet killing her from her decision to walk most of the way there - in heels of all things. She pressed the intercom again, again, again and once more. No answer.
Finally, having enough of Emily's dramatics, Andy decided that two could very easily play at that game. If Emily wanted theatrics, she would get them.
Andy stepped backwards away from the building, peering up at the windows and counting the floors up. Emily's apartment was on the third floor and from the view that Andy had looked out on from her living room way back when, she knew roughly which window was hers.
Andy cleared her throat, set her jaw and began yelling. "EMILY?!?! Emiiillllllyyyyyyyy?”
A few lights went on in the building and Andy could see a face appear at one of them. It wasn't Emily, but at least she had an audience.
"Emily?!? If you don't let me up there, I am going to damn well have this conversation right now, with all of your neighbours here to play stenographers! I'm sure they'll all be happy to take notes for you."
Emily still hadn't appeared and Andy knew that the bluff wasn't enough. She managed to yell a little louder, her voice a growing crescendo as it made its way skyward. "Okayy...... here goes. Now... I know that you’re in love with MIRA --"
Andy couldn't hold back a grin and she hurried forward, opening the door to the apartment building and rushing forward to the narrow stairway jutting off of the lobby.
She knew there'd be a way to get in and public humiliation about Emily’s love for Miranda, or any woman it would seem was enough to convince the British girl that taking this personal call was a really good idea.
She arrived at Emily's door a few minutes later, in a confident position with tempered nerves, albeit slightly out of breath. She'd only just lifted her hand to knock when the door swung open.
Emily stared at her, her red hair surprisingly pulled back in an unfashionably loose pony tail wearing a matching set of silk pajamas. Andy would have called her cute, but she had an inclination that it wasn't the way to get on the assistant's good side.
"Emily... we need to talk." Andy stated, and Emily stepped aside, gesturing her in with the agitated sweep of her hand.
"By all means... god knows what other scenes you intended to create out there."
"Look I know what you're going to say." Emily snapped, rounding on Andy as she shut the door behind them. "I'm being a fool to give up Runway - this job - as easily as I did... well I will have you know that it was a very hard decision to make but one I thought long and hard over and just so you know, you had nothing to do with it. So don’t think you deserve all of the credit."
Andy could swear she heard Emily's 'harrumph' as she tilted her chin towards the ceiling and averted Andy's gaze.
Andy stepped closer, her voice serious but soft, a genuine concern pooling in her eyes. "Emily, I didn't come here because I wanted to gloat... I... came here because we need to talk about this."
"What's there to talk about?" Emily said as she moved to the couch and sat down rather ungracefully.
"This... this whole thing!" Andy said with exasperation as she came closer and sat down next to Emily. The British woman tensed visibly. When she didn't say anything, Andy took a deep breath and continued. It was time to lay out all of her cards on the table.
"Emily... what you saw last night.... you were right about it. Everything. Me and Miranda... it... it just sort of happened."
Emily huffed and rolled her eyes but Andy went on.
"I can't explain it. I just know that... I love Miranda and I think, she might... have feelings for me in some way and... I just... I don't think you or anyone else should try to change that."
"Oh please, Andy. I don't need all of the drivelling details. I could care less about ... who Miranda's sleeping with."
Emily winced even at the words coming from her own mouth but she continued. "I’ve worked for everything I’ve ever gotten. But you... You waltz right into Runway and walk all over everything that I've tried to achieve. I've put myself on the line day in and day out for that woman and not a single thank you is sent my way. Then you come in here, to a job you didn't even bloody well want in the first place, without a bloody scrap of qualification, not even knowing who Miranda Priestly: Fashion Icon, even bloody the hell was!"
Andy’s eyes were soft as she listened, the bricks finally falling into place. "But Emily, I never meant to replace you... I can't replace you!"
"Well that's sure saying a lot, considering you already have. It wasn't me that Miranda requested to care for her in her hour of need. It wasn't me who went to Paris with her, to be at her side through fashion week. It wasn't me who she let into her home and into her life... who she trusts like no other..."
Emily's admissions were as much a true statement as they were a blinding reality, for the first time sinking into Andy's conscious mind. It was true. She had been all of the things Emily said and Miranda had been more open to her then she had realized.
Everything that had finally come to a head this weekend, the passion she had experienced with Miranda the night before... the long lingering looks, the assessments. There had been blatant displays all along. They'd been spiralling towards the inevitability of their actions for over a year and something struck Andy to the core when she realized as if for the first time - that her own feelings were not one sided. Miranda's feelings, if possible, were just as strong if not stronger than her own.
She looked to Emily, trying to find words but her voice had failed her.
"I won't even be missed. Miranda will have a new assistant in no time. As you know, a million girls would kill for my job."
"No." Andy stated, finding her voice. "No... no one else will do. Miranda needs you Emily."
Emily's eyes narrowed and she raked her fingernails over the back of her hand. "No she doesn't need me. She doesn't need anyone."
"How do you know?"
"She told me."
"What?" Emily asked, shocked by the admission.
"She said that she needed you more than anyone at Runway. That you were irreplaceable."
"She said what?" Emily choked her blue eyes wide as she stared at Andy.
Andy's head tilted to the side "Well not in so many words."
Emily's expression fell, smacking her lips together as she rose and then lowered her eyebrows. "Ah."
Andy leaned forward using her hands frantically to convey a point. "No Emily... you should have seen her. She said she wouldn't accept your resignation and then she just shut herself off. She just shut down; she would hardly even speak to me... like it was my fault!"
Emily seemed to be selfishly mollified by that and she let a satisfied smile creep across her face. "She did?"
Andy nodded, running her hands through own hair. "She's so infuriating! It's not like I control anything anyone else does, and suddenly it's my fault you decide to resign at the drop of a hat. And now she expects me to come over here and make this all right, at god knows what time it is, while she lays home, confident that I can make the impossible, possible."
"She's incorrigible" Emily smiled, a hint of wistful admiration clear in her mind.
"She's impossible." Andy growled in frustration. "And what's worse, I know there's no way I can get you to come back... I'm sure that whole Harry Potter thing was a lot easier then this ridiculous task is supposed to be. I just wish sometimes that I could --"
"I'll come back." Emily stated, blinking a little in surprise at her own quick change of heart.
Andy stuttered, mid sentence and looked at Emily "I'm sorry?"
Emily tried to swallow a smile, doing her best impersonation of a Miranda glare. She was frighteningly good at it. "Oh Andy... do try and keep up. I said I will withdraw my resignation."
Andy closed her mouth and then pulled together a sentence."But... what... I mean... why did you change your mind?"
Emily shook her head. "It is as Miranda said... I'm irreplaceable. It'd hardly be fair on the woman if I up and left her during one of our busiest times, when she will need me the most. And if I try to teach someone to be my replacement, they'll just end up doing everything wrong anyways. And I don't even want to imagine what horrors would come of you attempting to make decisions for Miranda when she's out of the office. I can imagine the color combinations you'd suggest... horrifying."
Andy grinned; completely ignoring the disparaging remarks aimed her way. She could definitely handle Emily back to her old, arrogant self.
They talked for a few more minutes before Andy left the Book in Emily's hands to be taken to Runway in the morning, happy in the knowledge that Emily's mornings at Runway were no longer numbered. She couldn't wait to give Miranda the good news. Maybe the impossible just wasn't so impossible after all.
Andy made her way down the stairs of Emily's apartment complex and out in to the street.
She did not see Emily watching her from the window three stories above, the Book firmly clasped between her darkly manicured hands; nor did she hear the words "Well played, Andrea." fall from the British woman's lips.
Miranda Priestly: Indisposed - Part 15
It was just after midnight when Andy finally turned her key in the lock of Miranda’s townhouse and slid through its front door. The light was still on in the entryway, as was one on the upstairs level, guiding her easily upwards towards her destination.
She felt elated about what had transpired at Emily's and the entire trip home she'd walked with a new bounce in her step. She couldn't wait to tell Miranda. Absentmindedly, she wondered if the Editor would be asleep, having gone to bed hours ago, but somehow she found she was not surprised to see the sliver of light shining out from beneath her bedroom door.
Andy turned the knob in her hand and slipped inside the room. Miranda was sitting on her bed, in a comfortable nest of duvet and pillows, with a magazine propped awkwardly on her lap. Her blue eyes rose to Andy when she entered, and her lips pursed together as she awaited the news.
Andy's own lips spread into a wide smile and she closed the distance between them, lowering herself to her knees on the bed and crawling towards Miranda. "Emily has decided to reconsider, and has withdrawn her letter of resignation."
Miranda's eyes traveled over Andy as she crawled closer, a flicker of lust making itself known in the recess of her cool blue eyes, but the smile Andy had expected didn't come. Instead she sniffed lightly and tilted her gaze back to the magazine, flipping a page with disinterest. "It's too late."
Andy's lips parted and a line worried her brows. "Uhh... what?"
Miranda didn't look up. "You heard me Andrea..."
Andy's eyes widened. "What the.... Miranda? But... you told me..."
"I said nothing of the kind. Besides, I've had time to reconsider and have come to the conclusion that she is easily replaced. That little display of disloyalty brought to light her true feelings about the job, and I believe she is doing me a disservice by being in my employ."
Miranda's eyes met Andy's on the last few words.
Andy was doing an impeccable impersonation of a goldfish. "But... but... Miranda.. I went all the way... and she.... she said yes! And she wasn't going to and you should have seen her... she is the most loyal person you could --"
"I won't defend my decisions Andrea. This discussion is over. Emily will have to seek other employment."
Andy was enraged. She had traipsed across the city, in the final hours of the evening. She’d embarrassed herself outside of Emily's apartment and, to top it all off, she had spent valuable time trying to convince a woman, almost as stubborn as Miranda, to return to her.
She sat back on her heels before folding then quickly unfolding her arms. Her eyes were defiant as her mind reeled with anger. Of all the arrogant things the woman could do...
It was time for Miranda to see what the end of Andy's rope looked like.
"No Miranda... we are talking about this right now…. Uhh no… I will be talking and you will be listening. I have done a whole hell of a lot for you in the time I've worked for you, and all that I have done could not even begin to match up to what Emily has. She has been fiercely loyal to you since day one. She idolizes you. She agrees with your every decision and will follow you to the end of the world and back without batting an eye! I mean for god's sake Miranda, she would throw herself off a cliff if it meant making you happy! And now, one wrong step on her part... and not even a wrong step... just an impulsive step based on feelings - which were so intense for you, by the way, that she couldn't stop her own irrational decision - and you wanna toss her away like you would one of the other mindless assistants you've named after her!"
Miranda's eyes bore into Andy as she stared, speechless as the girl ranted on mid-tantrum.
"And another thing... it wasn't very hard to convince her to come back either, because she's so damn considerate of you that she probably couldn't help but be grateful for a chance to change her decision! Miranda... if you're ever going to look past yourself for a minute... make it now!'
Andy sat back, her hands that had been wildly gesturing with every measured point in her tangent, finally lowered to her hips and her eyes softened, waiting for Miranda's reaction.
Miranda's thin nose tightened and she breathed through her nostrils as though she was about to release streams of flames from them. She said nothing, clearly using the time to formulate a concise and clear retort.
Andy however, didn't give her the time. Other feelings, spurred on by the rage, seemed to take precedence and she lunged forward, pressing her mouth against Miranda and stealing an intensely passionate kiss as her hands tangled in strands of silver.
Miranda's lips moved initially in protest against Andy's firm pout, but it didn't take long for the Editor to melt under the woman's administrations. When they pulled back, both women were panting, the look in Miranda's eyes one of pure, unadulterated want and need.
They stared at each other for only a few seconds of silence before both moved forward in a powerful embrace, fighting for dominance as their tongues slid along one another's, tangling and gliding within heated mouths.
It was both infuriating and extremely erotic to Andy that they could be drawn together in the middle of an argument. If she'd had time to think, she might have even wondered what other possible arguments at Runway might have lead to scenes just like this one, if she'd had the guts to go for it.
But now wasn't the time for thinking about missed opportunities. Now was the time to explore every bit of Miranda that she offered up, to devour her and enjoy every single sinful second of it.
Andy made quick work of removing Miranda's clothes, tossing each bit of silk somewhere on the bedroom floor. She smiled when Miranda urged her forward onto her lap, where she sat straddling Miranda's thighs while her own hands crossed above her, hooking into her shirt and yanking it off in an awkward fashion.
It too was discarded quickly and she left Miranda's lap as she struggled with her pants. Miranda tried to help but her wrists stopped her from being of much assistance, and she grunted in frustration through gritted teeth.
The pants finally came loose from her hips and she wiggled out of them, kicking them aside before pouncing forward and wrapping her arms around Miranda's waist. Miranda's chin tilted backwards and her lips parted as Andy's mouth met hers, and she melted beneath the younger woman's gentle touch.
Andy's lips left Miranda's in hot trailing kisses that touched the woman's delicate skin as her mouth slipped around one slender shoulder. Andy repositioned herself behind Miranda, her lips finding a soft place beneath Miranda's hairline at the back of her neck where her tongue swirled in a slow, sensuous circle.
When a soft moan escaped Miranda's lips, Andy moved so she was sitting directly behind the Editor, wrapping her long legs around Miranda's waist. Her knees pressed against delicate ribs and the insides of her ankles touched to the soft skin of Miranda's outer thighs. Her hands started at Miranda's shoulders, which she held carefully as she trailed her tongue's swirling movements lower, assaulting the expanse of skin between her shoulder blades.
Miranda trembled beneath the feather light administrations and Andy smiled against a particularly sensitive area of skin. Her hands splayed and moved lower, down over Miranda's ribs until they reached the base, where her hands veered suddenly off course to slide around the Editor's abdomen.
Andy's head rolled back as she could feel her nipples pressing against Miranda's skin and she let out a sensual moan, which seemed to make the soft hairs at Miranda's neck stand straight on end. Her hands moved lower still, her long fingers gliding easily until they disappeared between the Editor's thighs, eliciting a louder moan as they met moisture.
Andy ground against Miranda's tailbone, her hips moving in a steady rhythm to match her fingers that drifted along Miranda's sensitivity. The Editor's jaw tightened and her lips parted, a series of small gasps falling out from between her lips while her head rolled backwards and rested on Andy's shoulder.
They moved together in unison with Andy's hips gyrating forward against Miranda's, the older woman's hips rolling backwards, guided by Andy's roving fingers. Their sounds grew louder in the otherwise silent townhouse, their moans mingling until they sounded as though they came from the same person.
Andy's fingers moved more quickly, driven by Miranda's ragged breaths and trembling muscles. Their hips continued to move together, and Andy's free hand snaked around Miranda's waist using it to keep them securely together.
Andy could feel her orgasm rising just as Miranda's body began to stiffen in her arms. She knew that the Editor was as close as she was and she swirled her fingers in exquisite circles, gliding around in Miranda's natural moisture as she felt the pressure from Miranda's tailbone against her own clit.
Before she could restrain herself, she felt herself tipping over the edge careening into oblivion, just as Miranda let out her own strangled cry. They came together, jerking gently but sporadically as they moved against each other, their cadence gradually slowing as their breathing began to return to normal.
Andy slumped forward, her fingers brushing Miranda's clit as they slipped by and the Editor jerked from the pressure against her newly unbearable sensitivity. Andy chuckled softly, tilting her head to the side, allowing her cheek to caress Miranda's.
"Is that how you intend to win every argument, Andrea?" Miranda asked, breathless from their activities only moments before.
Andy's smile widened. "That depends, did I win?"
Miranda's laugh was caught in her closed mouth, coming out as an internal snicker. "What do you think?"
Andy turned her head and pressed a warm kiss to Miranda's moist cheek, clammy from sweat. "I think I'm pretty good at debating."
Miranda's smile was evident in her voice, though Andy couldn't quite see her lips. "I think you're right."
Andy shifted Miranda in her arms, who protested for a minute before giving in and turning to face Andy. "So does that mean... Emily has her job back?"
Miranda's lips pursed together as they so often did in her office, however the expression in her eyes was much lighter than it generally appeared. "I suppose. However, if I detect even a hint of this type of impulsive behavior again, I won't just fire her - I'll single-handedly ensure that a career in fashion and journalism is no longer in her realm of possibilities."
Andy smiled, though she knew Miranda's off-handed comment was, in actuality, quite serious. She made a mental note to relay the information to Emily whenever they were back at the office and on more stable ground. Something suddenly struck Andy and she was surprised she hadn't thought of it before.
With the new relationship developing between them, their dynamic in the workplace was going to be completely thrown off balance. There was no way she was going to be able to continue working for Miranda if their relationship remained as it was. Even if it didn't continue- Andy shuddered at the thought -it was never going to be easy to be in the same place as Miranda, watching as she moved on around her.
She knew what had to be done, no matter how strange and how painful it felt to speak it out loud.
Andy swallowed, her smile having faded sometime during her inner monologue. "Uhh.. Miranda... I... I've been thinking and... It really isn't right if I continue... being your assistant... not after this..."
Andy had expected anger to flare in the Editor's eyes and she realized she should stop 'expecting' certain behaviour out of Miranda because her guesses rarely proved true. Miranda's lips pressed together and she regarded Andy before tilting her chin in a nod. "I've realized that as well."
Andy nodded. It felt so weird; to be giving up something she'd worked so hard for, all in the matter of a moment's decision. But when she thought about it again, she really wasn't giving anything up.
After all, she hadn't stayed at Runway because she liked the job. - Far from it. She'd stayed out of a sense of loyalty to Miranda and a need to be in the Editor's presence. Miranda had become like a drug that she was dependent on, something that gave up all traces of choice to an indestructible need. In essence, she wasn't losing anything.
Andy's arms tightened around Miranda protectively and she squeezed her softly, revelling in the way the Editor felt substantial and real beneath her touch. "I... love you... Miranda."
Miranda's lips curled upwards slowly at the corners and her eyelids lowered as though she were being pleasured by the mere utterance. She didn't say anything, and somehow that meant more to Andy than hearing the sentiment returned.
They sat staring into each other’s eyes for a long while before Miranda's lips parted and her nose crinkled as a yawn began to appear at her lips. She moved a hand to cover it. It was too late, the contagious action having already infected Andrea and causing her own mouth to open in response.
It was a clear enough sign for the both of them, and they lowered themselves against the bedding until their cheeks sunk into the thick pillows of Miranda's bed. Andy pulled the covers around them and snuggled closer to Miranda, breathing in the Editor's scent, all traces of any other life besides the one she was presently living abandoned for the feel of Miranda's beautiful body in hers.
For the first time since arriving in New York, Andy felt truly and honestly at home, and it was the last thought that passed through her mind before she fell into a blissful sleep.
Miranda Priestly: Indisposed - Part 16 (conclusion)
Four months later
"New York Mirror, Andy speaking."
"Hey Andy!" Pete's loud, New York-accented voice slipped through the receiver.
"Pete? Oh my god! What a pleasant surprise! How are you doing in there?" Andy tucked the phone in the crook of her shoulder, surprised to be hearing from him. She'd been doing a story on Pete months ago when he'd been arrested for a assault. He was generally a harmless guy but the victim had said something about his mother. You never said anything about Pete's mother. Andy had taken to Pete and had kept in touch with him since he'd been incarcerated.
"Remember that care package you sent three weeks ago?"
Andy smiled "Mmhmm.."
"Well, I finally found a way ta thank you for that!"
Andy's smile remained but her mouth parted in protest. "Oh Pete... you know I said that no thanks were neccessa--"
"But I want to Andy! Besides, I think you'll really like this one." Pete interrupted, his own joy given away in the tonality of his voice.
"Oh?" Andy couldn't help but be curious.
"Yeah... okay, remember I was tellin' you about Steel, that guy who bit George's finger off?"
Andy winced at the memory of that particularly gruesome tale. "Yes... Steel... right."
"Well... he got a new cell mate today, and you'd never guess who it was."
Andy's palm slipped over her forehead and she massaged at her temples. She could just imagine. "I'm sure I wouldn't... who was it?"
Andy's jaw dropped and she choked on her own saliva. After a small coughing fit she managed to pull together a few words. "It's not Priestl... it's Tomlinson... but.... go on."
"Whatever... anyways, Steely's gonna show him a real good time while he's in here."
Andy's lips crept up in a wicked smile.
Pete continued "He owes me a few favors...and I just thought... what a great way to do somethin' nice for someone like you Andy."
Andy couldn't think of a nicer thing.
"You want I should give him somethin' from you?" Pete asked.
"Ohh... if you wouldn't mind, I think maybe something starting at the wrists..." Andy's smile grew just thinking about the small bit of revenge that Pete and his cell buddies could do to the bastard.
"Yeah yeah... that sounds good! I think I know just the thing."
Andy couldn't help the nice side of her conscious sneaking through. "You and Steel aren't going to get into any trouble are you?"
"Nah... trust me... the guards are gonna look the other way with this one. Miranda Priestly's gotta lotta fans in here."
Andy was both surprised and yet unsurprised by his answer. Miranda had fans everywhere. "Oh well... thank you Pete. That's the best present I could ever ask for."
"Yeah, don't worry 'bout it." Pete grinned, the sound evident in his voice and Andy was certain he was going to have fun with this one.
"Oh and thanks for using one of your owed favors on me." Andy replied, appreciatively.
"You mean Steely? Nah... that guy aint just doin' it as a favor to me. He idolizes Miranda, never misses a month of Runway. Maybe, you could... send me an autographed copy in the next care package? I'd have some real bargainin' tools there..."
Andy's smile faltered only slightly. "Well I'm not sure about that Pete... but I'll uh... try."
"Okay, listen, I gotta go. I'll let ya know how it goes. Nice talkin' to ya Andy."
"And you too Pete. Thank you." Andy heard the man hang up on the other end and she lowered her own phone back to its cradle. A large smile swept across her features. She'd been waiting until the time was right to show Stephen her 'appreciation' of his handiwork, and the opportunity had just fallen right into her lap. Somehow, some things just had a way of working themselves out.
The streets of New York seemed calmer than usual as Andy made her way down them. The entire city was wrapped in a thick blanket of white and snowflakes slowly fell towards the ground, sticking to her hair and eyelashes. Her breath moved out of her mouth in puffs of swirling white fog and she dug her hands deeper into her coat pockets to keep them warm. It was four days until Christmas and the city, although busy with activity, seemed to blur around her, forgotten. She would be spending the holidays alone this year, a fact that filled her with dread making her footsteps heavier beneath her.
The snow was beautiful, pristinely white with the odd trace of silver and it reminded her of hair she'd once dragged her fingers through.
Andy shook her head. She wasn't going to think about it. She wasn't going to think about Miranda. She'd made a promise to herself that she wouldn't try to think about things that were beyond her control. They weren't together and she would have to deal with that painful self-admission and get over it.
She bit down into the soft skin of her lip, using the small dull pain as a distraction.
It wasn't long before she arrived at her apartment building, slipping her key in the lock and stepping in out of the cold. She brushed down her coat and bag as she headed up the flight of stairs until she reached her floor and let herself in.
The apartment was warm and cozy but uncomfortably quiet. She shrugged out of her coat and hung it on the hook behind her front door to dry, placing her bag on the hook right next to it. She took her sweater off of the back of the couch and slipped it over her cold shoulders, walking towards the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea.
Twinnings, Lady Grey. Andy smiled softly.
Deciding it was best to change while the water boiled, Andy abandoned the kitchen and headed towards the bedroom, stopping dead in her tracks when she rounded the corner.
Lying on her bed, on her stomach, completely naked except for a pair of black lacy panties, was Miranda Priestly.
Andy's jaw dropped for the second time that day as her eyes took in every single inch of the woman.
The panties were the very same ones she'd held in shaking fingertips in Miranda's closet, those many months ago. Now here they were, displayed so deliciously before her, laced elegantly over the swell of Miranda's backside. Andy had a hard time prying her eyes away but when she finally did, she saw the Editor's eyes peering over her shoulder.
"Really Andrea... I was beginning to think you'd never come home."
Andy's smile widened and she moved forward, her eyes appraising Miranda as though she were newly discovered treasure. "I... I... but... you... you aren't supposed to be back.. til after Christmas!" Andy managed, though her shock was making clear sentences an excruciating challenge.
Miranda's own lips curled into a smile. "I know perfectly well what my itinerary said, Andrea. I did however choose to alter the itinerary and arrange to return in time to spend the holidays with you, if you find that agreeable. Or is there another girlfriend I should be made aware of?"
A dream perhaps? Andy lowered herself to the bed, sliding one hand up the length of Miranda's side. Definitely not a dream.
She gently pressed her hand into Miranda's ribs, easing the Editor on to her back, her beautiful breasts finally coming into view. "Oh... god.. Miranda... I... this is... the ... wow. I ..."
"Nuh no...English, Andrea." Miranda warned.
Andy couldn't help but laugh as she moved to lie down next to lover. "I'm sorry... Miranda... this is the nicest... this is more than I could ever ask for."
"Well I've always been considered a 'nice' person." Miranda's lips curled up in a wicked smile before leaning forward. Their lips joined in a smouldering kiss that melted away every single last chill that Andy had brought in from the winter New York wonderland.
Once they parted, Andy's fingertips stroked Miranda's cheek softly, sliding upwards to tangle into her silver hair. "So... what is first on the new itinerary?"
Miranda's smile brightened, one of those genuine smiles that Andy lived for, and the older woman shifted so that Andy was lying on her back and she was leaning over her.
"Well now that I'm no longer indisposed, Andrea..." Miranda drawled and her lashes lowered to half mast over her darkened blue eyes. "I think it is high time I showed you an Editor's cunning use of dexterity."
She lifted her hands and fluttered her fingertips before lowering and pressing those skilled digits down the length of Andy's body
Andy shivered in anticipation and allowed her head to roll back into the deeper depths of the pillow. And as she allowed Miranda to make love to every single inch of her body, she couldn't help but revel in the old adage..
No good deed ever goes unpunished.