Saturday, March 15, 2014

Womanizer - 2demented_muses (republished w/o permission)

Disclaimer:  We don’t own them, we’re just playing with them for awhile.  No harm or infringement is intended.
Rating: M
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada

AN:  Please do not archive or publish this story anywhere else on the web without our consent.  The story came from an idea we’ve been tossing around for a couple of years now.  As with Coffee, we took liberties with movie canon.  Movie facts are mixed with book facts.  There is girl on girl sex, language and a smattering of violence.  You’ve been warned.  We’re posting the prologue now, in part as a teaser and in part because it can stand on its own.  We have not set a definite date as to when we’ll post the rest.  It won’t be immediately.  And as will become abundantly clear from the start, this story is not a sequel to The Trouble with Coffee nor is it along the same vein as that story so please do not expect it to be.  Last but not least, this story is long. Epic size within the TDWP fanverse.  Thanks for reading and we hope you enjoy it.   






Womanizer


Prologue


Red, four inch Jimmy Choo heels bit into the marble floor of the foyer at Elias-Clarke as Miranda Priestly stalked across the space unaware of the people milling about like house flies.  It was Thursday morning and she appeared to glow, nearly ethereal as she approached the bank of elevators.  The facial she’d received an hour earlier had left her disposition as close to decent as it was ever going to get.  She stepped into her elevator.  One leather clad finger reached out to press the button when it stopped. She was not alone.  Her finger hovered over the button while she waited for the unworthy interloper to vacate.  They didn’t.  Her head began a lazy yet deliberate cant towards the imbecile who clearly did not know that Miranda Priestly did not share an elevator unless it was with a favored designer or her boss, Irv Ravitz and only then if she was feeling benevolent.

The being was too slim to be Irv.  Miranda peered over her tiger striped Fendi glasses and nearly gasped when a hand shot out past her and pressed the button her finger was hovering near.  The doors slid shut.

“Good morning, Miranda.” Andy chirped, amused at the scathing look the editor shot her before recognition set in.  The gaze still had the power to turn her knees to rubber but she no longer worked for the woman and Miranda had insisted she drop by for a meeting on this particular day even if she did not remember.  A scalding latte was thrust at Miranda, along with the internal acknowledgement that she still had the ability to shake her to the core.  As always Miranda looked impeccable and smelled even better.  Andy loved the way the glasses were whipped off and slowly folded while revealing those piercing blue eyes.  She wanted that unflappable cool, that control, for herself.  “We have a meeting this morning.”

“Do we?”  Miranda countered dissecting Andrea’s wardrobe - that sounded so much better than mentally disrobing her.

Andy tried not to squirm under the visual inquisition. Miranda was the only person she knew who left fingerprints with a gaze.  A crimson streak appeared on her neck as she endured the scrutiny.  Damned if the woman didn’t have the gall to look pleased at her obvious discomfort.

It had been six months since she’d left Runway.  Six months since Nate had moved to Boston and her life had changed.  They remained the sort of friends who called on special occasions.  Try as she might she couldn’t remember many occasions of late.  Work kept her scrambling and too busy to think about a social life.  It was a sad, sigh worthy life at times though there had been one date with the guy from circulation, but that was better left scrubbed from the memory banks.  It was the only time she’d ever used food poisoning as a get out of the date from hell free card.  

Three months had passed since she’d been assigned her first fashion centric story.  Her insight had allowed her to submit an article that impressed the higher ups and more and more she was the go to girl for any fashion related story.  She didn’t mind.  It gave her an excuse to keep one foot in her old world, which admittedly she missed.  Not Elias-Clark per se, but Miranda definitely left a void in her wake.  The first contact from her former boss via one of the Emilys had stunned her so certain was she that Miranda would not deign to even recall her name.  

As it turned out she found herself in Miranda’s orbit on occasion and after Miranda had not filleted her on their first such encounter, they’d settled into a wary but civil relationship of sorts.  She would ask for a quote and Miranda would often supply it.  Okay, she’d supply it if it suited her.  Either way, it counted.  

“Yeah.” Andy didn’t expect Miranda to recall their appointment.  Remembering such details would be unlike her. “9:15. You said um, you’d give me fifteen minutes.”

The coffee was piping hot, enough to peel the skin of the tongues of mere mortals. Miranda sipped it without hesitation.  “I see.”

The elevator jolted.  An ungodly howl of pain bounced off the walls when Andy’s drink spilled on her shirt. The hot drink became less of a worry when the elevator went into a freefall.  Stomach jumping into her throat, all she could do was try and hold on. When they stopped cold she spilled more of her coffee.  The lights went out for several seconds.  Between the spillage, the lack of lighting and most of all thoughts of plummeting to her death, her voice turned into a girly squeal when she squeaked out, “Shit, what was that?”
            
Perfectly poised, Miranda released an aggrieved sigh. “Clearly Irv has been hiring subpar maintenance people. How disappointing.” She tapped on the buttons that were no longer lit up.  A small auxiliary light cast them in sepia tones.  When they did not start moving immediately her expectant gaze landed on Andy.

Andy was too busy doing a little dance from where the coffee had burned her to notice the stare.  She set the drink down in the midst of it then unbuttoned a few buttons on her blouse in an attempt to get the scalding liquid away from her skin.  When the sting began to lessen the familiar crawling of her skin caused her to glance up.  Why was Miranda staring like that?  “What?”

“This never happens when I travel alone.” Miranda glanced around for the little notice about weight capacity.

Following her gaze caused both eyes to twitch when they landed upon the sign.  Attempts to defend herself weren’t likely to get her anywhere but neither could she let the connection stand.  “I may not be the skinny girl on the block but we are not over the weight limit.”

“This is not the time for excuses, just gets this thing moving.”

Andy’s mouth dropped open. “Sorry, Miranda, I do not happen to have a certificate in elevator repairs.  Damn.”  The angry red skin on her chest made her forget all about the oft employed tactic of placating the woman. “I burnt myself.”

Miranda wasn’t listening.  Cell phone in hand, she began rattling off demands to Emily.  “Do not bore me with the mundane details, Emily.  I am stuck in this elevator with An-dr-ea.” She drawled it out like it was a dreaded disease.  “If the doors do not open in thirty seconds pack up your desk. That’s all. I do not understand why it is so challenging to find someone who cares about their job.”

“Um, Miranda?  Did Emily happen to mention what the problem is?”  Andy would bet a month’s salary that was one of the mundane and crucial details Miranda did not want to be bothered with.

Mmm, through hysterical yapping she did mention something about a bomb and a complete evacuation of the building.”

“Bombs and evacuation?”  Her eyes bulged out as Andy dispensed with the soaked shirt and pulled her fitted, caramel colored leather jacket back on and proceeded to zip it. The zipper stuck part way up.  Miranda was giving her the look again.  She could stop that anytime, please and thank you very much. “What?”

Miranda’s index finger poked at the lacy strap of Andy’s black bra. “What is that?”

Too stunned to do anything but answer, Andy stuttered out, ”Um, a bra?”

“You sound unsure. Little wonder.”  Deft fingers unzipped the jacket. “Where did you get that thing? Goodwill?”

Macy’s bargain bin but she sure as hell was not going to tell Miranda goddamned Priestly that fact. No way, no, how.  Damn the woman’s hand was warm and still far too close to her breast. No, no, she was wrong.  That hand was now clasping her breast…shit, fuck damn this was not happening. Her earlobes blazed crimson.  She pleaded for death when her nipple hardened and jutted out. Of all the people in all the world to be stuck in an elevator with while her body did…that.  Andy tried to melt into the wall.

“Um… did you uh, say bombs and evacuation?”  Those words should have had sirens going off in her head screaming danger, danger and ordinarily they would have except that all the blood from her brain had clearly drained straight to the nipple she could swear Miranda’s thumb just brushed over, twice. On purpose.  Except that wasn’t possible.  Delusions.  Terrific, just terrific.  There were already bomb threats, an inoperative elevator, an unreasonable Miranda, scalding coffee, burned skin and a misbehaving nipple.  Did the world really have to hate her so much that it added delusions to her issues list?

“Not only is it ugly, it is ill-fitting. Really, Andrea, did you learn nothing while at Runway?”  She tugged at the cup in emphasis.  “We could die today and they’ll find you in this. How sad.” The weight in her hand aside from the bothersome scrap of material was quite lovely and it had not escaped her attention how prominently the nipple now stood out, nor the fact that Andrea would rate as adorable with the way her skin was flushing.

The mention of death snapped Andy out of her stupor even if her aching nipple didn’t follow. “Die? Did you say we are going to die?  Why are we going to die, Miranda?”

“Andrea, were you raised by wolves?” Her free hand was held up and waved. “Consider that a rhetorical question because clearly you were or you mother would have warned you to always wear nice underwear and no polyester ever, in case you were in an accident.  You should assume that carried over to wearing the likes of this.”

Andy stared in disbelief as Miranda reached around like it was no big deal and removed her jacket and bra then tossed the offending lingerie into the corner of the elevator.

“Better.”  She stated as she stepped back and tapped her watch. She picked up the phone and redialed. “Em-mil-leee.  I am still stuck here in the elevator with Andrea.  And what is it you are doing to fix this, Emily, standing around gnawing on chunks of cheese? You shouldn’t it goes straight to your hips.”

Groaning, Andy made a quick grab for her jacket then slid back into it and zipped it up.  The leather felt cool against her now overheated nipples.

Miranda shook her phone. “We got disconnected.”

Andy plucked the phone from her former boss.  Thoughts of impending death or perhaps Miranda’s close proximity repressed all those normal pesky uncertainties that would have kept her from ever daring to grab her phone.  “No, she hung up on you.”  All right, that was kind of funny.  Since they were going to die Emily decided it was safe to hung up on the demanding one.  Served Miranda right or it would have if she weren’t stuck in the elevator of doom with her.  Putting aside the desire to do a little gloating, Andy hit redial.  

“Emily!  Emily.  It’s Andy.  No, no it is not possible for Miranda to crawl through the phone and kill you…at least not today.  What’s going on?  Calm down…breathe.”  A three minute conversation followed Andy offering assurances that yes, they were fine. She slumped against the wall when the call ended.  Under Miranda’s continued glare Andy started to wilt.  Sheer will caused her to straighten when she handed her phone back, a sheepish gaze transforming her face.

Perfectly sculpted eyebrows raised and then pinched ever so slightly when Andy didn’t provide the information she wanted. “I don’t have all day.”

“Maybe not all day but, uh… you have at least three hours.” Instinct caused Andy to take a step back.  The small, confined space they were in sunk into her consciousness.  Miranda might not possess a violent streak with which to kill her but she could damn sure make her wish she were dead upon delivering bad news.

An odd little smirk touched Miranda’s lips and turned them upwards.  “Have you always been prone to such ravings when you are hysterical?”

The situation finally got the best of Andy and she took a step forward. “Hey! We are not stuck in here hanging precariously because I’m the fat assistant. We are here, Miranda, because your last assistant snapped. Really snapped when you fired her. Like woo fucking hoo the engineer on the crazy train.  The little detail you ignored about the bombs.  Well, a rather critical detail. We’ll be here for at least three hours while they check the integrity of the building, remove any other bombs… oh yes and find a way to stabilize this elevator because...”

As Miranda continued to stare like she were reciting a tedious grocery list Andy grew more animated and irritated. “What is wrong with you?  This isn’t a deadly glare, Miranda. This is serious.”

“What is wrong, Andrea, is I am going to have to reschedule my appointment with Marc Jacobs which is going to cause a delay in the reshoot which will result in an expensive overrun in the budget.” Hawkish blue eyes narrowed, their gaze piercing. “This is your fault.”

Incensed, Andy straightened but it still seemed Miranda was peering down her arrogant patrician nose. “How the hell can this be my fault?”

“You left me in Paris. Quit.  I would never have needed to hire…” Miranda reached for a name that never came.  Further search for the name was dismissed with a wave of her hand.

“Janet, her name is Janet.” Andy snapped, her good natured reserves tapped out.

“With a name like that it is little wonder things have gone awry. Clearly, her parents loathed the creature from the time she was born. What sort of people name a child Janet?”  Miranda shuddered the look of distaste curled her lips. “She did have better fashion sense than you though.”

“Fabulous, as long as she was wearing the right bra while trying to blow you up!” Andy rolled her eyes and threw her hands in the air.

At the mention of the bra Miranda’s eyes dropped to the discarded garment on the floor then scanned her from head to toe once again.  For a split second Andy empathized with the fat little field bunnies that fell prey to the ravenous wolves.  Then she shook her head and folded her arms defensively across her chest.

Miranda’s naturally soft voice, grew softer and adopted a new lilt.  “You seem tense.”

Miranda goddamned Priestly was commenting on the fact she appeared tense?  Evidently they were going to die in a moment. There was a click as one heel struck the floor bringing Miranda closer. Andy made a concerted effort not to hug herself tighter or to press her back harder into the wall. “The thoughts of freefalling several stories and ending up news fodder does that.” Damn how was the woman keeping it together so effortlessly?  Did nothing shake that steel interior?  It wasn’t fair.

“I see.”  If one strained their ears they would have heard the quiet little click as Miranda’s other heel moved forward.

Why was Miranda standing in her personal space?  Andy refused to squirm and dug her nails into her palm in order to remind herself to resist the temptation. Brown doe eyes however could not help but to widen in response to the invasion.  There was being aware of Miranda and being…Oh my god they were mere inches away from doing a full body press aware of Miranda. Andy’s nose twitched as Miranda’s perfume tickled her nostrils and burrowed into her brain.  Her eyes narrowed in alarm when the nipple that Miranda had accidentally brushed earlier jutted out.  She slumped in relief, just a little, when she realized that she was wearing her leather jacket and it concealed any inappropriate reactions her evil body was having to the Devil in heels. Unable to hold Miranda’s penetrating gaze for a second longer, Andy hissed in a small gulp of air and looked down. 

The Devil in lovely red Jimmy Choos. Perfect heels that accented her calves.  With that stray thought Andy just barely managed to keep her hand from slamming over her eyes. She could not however do a thing to prevent the dark pink blush from coloring her cheeks and neck.  She peered through her heavy lashes only to collide with chilled blue ones.  The idea of being blown to smithereens took on a new appeal.

Miranda watched the girl, bemused, as she wondered if she was remotely aware of how her thoughts flitted across her pupils.  They all but jumped up and danced in her eyes.  “Does the fear of personal injury always arouse you?”

Arouse?  Did Miranda freakin’ Priestly just accuse her of being aroused? Nope, that was im-freaking-possible. She shook her head to try to clear away the fog. “Pardon me?”

“Really, Andrea, get a grip.” As she spoke one perfectly manicured hand reached out and tangled in Andy’s hair.  It twisted just enough to pull Andy’s head back so that her neck was exposed.

Andy’s eyes bugged out.  She stood stone still half expecting Miranda to don fangs and rip into her throat. Hmm perhaps she was on to something.  That might explain how her skin always looked ravishing. Ravishing? Did she just think ravishing in regards to Miranda? Clearly, it was well past time to sign up for therapy. Then again why was the woman a hairsbreadth away with her hands tangled in her hair? Andy bit back a small yelp of protest.

Miranda seemed to watch with an impassive eye, but her fingers were twitching.  The girl wasn’t without her charms.  She had a very pleasantly drawn mouth, was delightfully responsive despite herself and she was young. Youth was something Miranda could appreciate, it tasted divine.

“What are you doing?”  She managed to squeak out a split second before mentally slapping herself.  What was she doing?  That was pretty damned obvious wasn’t it?  No, no actually it was not because this was Miranda Priestly, she of the unflappable ice who most certainly did not go around grabbing people’s hair for any reason that the other mere mortals might.  Brilliant.  Miranda had reduced her to arguing with herself.

“You need to invest in a decent conditioner.  Straw is not attractive not even on scarecrows.” She sifted several strands of the silken strands between her fingers without releasing her hold.  “I believe I granted you fifteen minutes.  Ten of which have expired.”  A pristinely manicured nail made a light pass down the curve of Andy’s neck. ”Are you going to keep me in suspense the entire time or do you plan to enlighten me as to the topic you wish my expertise on today?”

Good question.  One that would be easier to answer if she had either a puppet master, co-writer or at the very least someone to remove Miranda’s intruding, distracting as all get out, finger.  Something about some upcoming gala or another.  Great, now that was settled but the question of why she was responding to the woman remained.  “The Winter Solstice gala.”

Miranda’s thumb took up residence on Andy’s pulse point.  The gentle beat was as exhilarating as it was erratic. “Is this to be a game of twenty questions or are you going to assume your role of journalist?” Her voice softened as she elongated the last part, teasing it with her tongue.

“Twenty questions.  New perfume?”  It must be because despite everything she knew the exact smell of her old perfume.  This was new and playing havoc with her senses or… Not.  No, it could have been the sudden, unexpected, shocking feel of her tongue.  Yes, that was it.  Andy’s eyes fluttered shut.  No orders to the contrary, had she bothered to give them, would have stopped her neck from arching to give the woman better access.

The small gesture both pleased and disappointed the editor, her eyelids fluttered for a breath.  “I’m baffled what my choice of perfume has to do with the gala, but to assuage your curiosity, yes.  It’s a new formula.”  An imperceptible shift and one of her hips pressed against Andy’s.  “Your skin care regime...” The whispered words wafted between Miranda’s lips and Andy’s earlobe, “is successful.”  The word “lovely” was spoken so quietly it might well have been imagined.

Miranda,” She heard herself breathe.  Later would be time for reprimands over her behavior but in the now it was impossible not to get caught up although she did try.  Heat insisted on branding itself to her senses right along with the iciness of Miranda’s demeanor.  Perhaps the editor was just the type to find life or death situations...stimulating.  The reasons why had begun not to matter.  “You’re...”

Miranda moved her head back so that she could peer into Andy’s eyes.  Her glacial fa├žade remained fixed into place.  “I’m what, Andrea?” Her gaze dropped without apology to the girl’s lips.  

“You’re,” she repeated then shifted.  The movement brought a new awareness beyond Miranda.  Her clit throbbed and worse than that she was soaking wet.  “Unexpected.”  So much for being a writer with a vast vocabulary.  “Distracting.”  No, no, bad word choice.  “Confusing.”  Andy chomped down on her tongue for that slip.  All the wrong words were coming out.

“I’m getting the impression that you were not all that well prepared for our interview today. That’s disappointing.”  The way her blue eyes glittered a little too brightly coupled with the fact that she purred the words, made it seem more a proposition rather than a reprimand. Her fingers released their grip and raked through Andy’s hair before moving to rest firmly on the young woman’s hip. 

“No one ever prepares for an interview with you.  The best you can do is to have your ducks in a row then sit back and wait for you to drown them all.”  Score one for the home team.  Ha! That sounded coherent.  It might have even been believable as such if her eyes weren’t glued to the hand on her hip - or if she didn’t find her own fingers reaching out to skim Miranda’s side; inexplicably needing to touch the woman. 

Miranda caught the hand invading her space.  Surprisingly strong fingers wrapped around the wrist and pressed Andy’s arm back into the wall. Her fingers tingled and there was an audible hitch in her breathing.  “Is that what you are waiting for, Andrea...for me to drown your duckies?”  The sound of the girl’s zipper being tugged downward echoed in the confined space.

What was happening elsewhere became background noise as Andy’s eyes tracked to the hand trapping and holding hers.  A whimper keened in her throat.  She was human after all or that’s what her mind whispered.  That her reactions weren’t normal for her meant little to her body which arched toward Miranda.  “Yes.”  Yes what didn’t matter.  She had no idea what she was agreeing to and cared a little less with every passing moment.  “Are you going to kiss me now?”

The zipper kept giving way as Miranda talked. “Is the interview over?”  Her voice didn’t waver regardless of the erotic images flashing rapidly through her head.

“I hate you.”  And for a meaningless moment, she did.  The woman seemed intent on doing everything she wasn’t ever supposed to do and doing it well enough to turn her brain to mush.  And in the next moment the opportunistic journalist in her reared its head.  Arching a little more, just enough to bring the delightful heat of Miranda closer, Andy squirmed before asking, “How old are you?”

“I’ll blame your rampant arousal for that lapse.” Her wrist flicked and the zipper detached.  The jacket fell open. How old was she? Impertinent little bitch. When she allowed their lips to finally meet it was a study in possession.  Andy’s mouth was ravaged with greedy abandon.

All the warnings in the world as to why not would not have been enough to stop Andy’s arm from snaking around the woman’s neck in order to pull her closer.  She moaned and writhed against Miranda yet inexplicably made no move to take control.  Instead she let near joyous exhilaration lead her straight down the path to hell and into willing submission.  The taste of her rewrote what she’d come to expect from a good wine for all time.  Miranda was soft where she’d expected hardness and hard where she’d expected softness.  Her lips felt like touching the skin of a newborn baby while still managing to pull off a velvety steel of possession that left Andy weak and unabashedly wanting.  Miranda, the path that led straight to hell and by god if Andy didn’t find herself reaching for a bag of marshmallows to take along for the ride.

Miranda savored the moment.  Her mind recorded every nuance, texture and taste. She ended the kiss long before either were satisfied.  Her own lips marked her a traitor as she took one rather warbled step backwards.  “Finish disrobing, Andrea.” Her voice was more alluring than a flute of the finest champagne, seductive ambrosia.

“Huh?”  Slowly prying one eye opening, she tried to focus.  Miranda had dared to start that and then move back.  The flush that had been working its way over her skin deepened when the words, order, began sinking in.  A protest began to form then died away at the look in Miranda’s eyes.  This very instant she wanted whatever was being offered.  Her fingers trembled when she began to peel the coat off.  The mind asked what the hell she thought she was doing and the devil on her shoulder flipped it off then gagged it.  “You’re too far away.”

Voice deepened by her own arousal two fingers reached out and traced the line of Andy’s breastbone.  She didn’t bother shielding the fact that she found her visually pleasing.  “You’ve lost weight, but not too much. You look very...” She cocked her head slightly to one side her eyes branding her touch on the now bared skin, “appealing.”

“Do I?”  Honest curiosity laced her voice already made smoky by arousal.  Her eyes flickered over Miranda several times then down to her fingers before finally settling on her lips.  Fumbling fingers worked at the button of her slacks.  This just wasn’t her.  The way her walls clenched when the button finally popped loose suggested otherwise.  One tentative glance turned into three before she met her eyes.  A whisper of material moving became a prelude to her slacks pooling at her ankles.  In an instant a powerful blush colored her cheeks, barely concealed by the dim lighting.  Thinking she was wet before didn’t begin to cover it - a fact revealed when the pants were gone and warm air began to caress her wet thighs.  Andy couldn’t have been more stunned.

Being honest cost her nothing and so far the dividends had been most enjoyable.  The young woman who had walked away, stood in front of her now in nothing but scant silk panties, arousal oozing out her every pore.  Miranda sucked in a deep breath as her own nipples hardened in response to Andy’s easy compliance that ignited a delicious heat deep in her belly. “You have an attractive body Andrea, own it. Don’t hunch.” Her hand reached down and lightly smacked the inside of the younger woman’s thigh, directing her to widen her stance.  She then peered at her from several angles and emitted a small but definite groan of appreciation.

“You didn’t used to think so,” Andy couldn’t help but to remind - anything to cover the hiss she expelled and instant compliance.  Goose bumps appeared across her stomach.  Her thighs trembled once as she resisted the urge to cover her very obvious reaction to Miranda.  Want and need merged in seamless supplication.  “Few people can own it like you do.”  An undeniable truth.  Miranda might not be the most beautiful person in the world but given ten seconds with anyone and they wouldn’t agree.

The elevator creaked but Miranda gave it no mind as she closed the small distance between them.  “You’ve changed. I notice.” The suit she wore was becoming a sauna which she also ignored as she set upon the ripe lips taunting her every time Andy spoke.  Fierce claim was laid to them as both her hands tangled in Andy’s hair for purchase.

Her remaining, tentative hold on reality slipped away.  Andy moaned like a porn star hoping for an award.  Arms sliding around Miranda, she yanked her closer, pressing against her until a grain of sand couldn’t have slipped between them.  Acutely aware of aches that seemed like they were everywhere she couldn’t help but to rub against her, seeking some sort of relief.  Her nipples had gone past aching into painful need to say nothing of her throbbing clit.  The more ravishing the kiss turned the deeper she melted and ground against Miranda.  A sigh of pleasure escaped when the feel of hardness she expected in sex was there, pressing against her.  “You’re stunning.”

Teeth teased an earlobe while both Miranda’s hands made room enough between them to palm a nicely weighted yet perky breast.  “Very good Andrea.” Her tongue traced the lobe she nibbled on.  Each marble nipple was pinched in turn. “Do you always make such pleasant sounds?”

“No.”  Never actually.  Why she had now she didn’t have the higher brain function to think about.  Moaning, twisting, and begging with her body took precedent over such mundane things such as thinking.  Turning her head, she brushed her lips over Miranda’s cheek then nudged the woman, trying to get at her lips.  Being kissed like the world was at end, and hoping it would end before the kiss stopped rated right up there with the top five things she’d like to do over and over again.  Right behind coming that was and it began to rank higher than...  Andy went still, eyes popping open.  They widened to the size of saucers then blinked at a fast clip before again widening.  Miranda shouldn’t have anything hard to grind against.  Eyes darting downward then back up “Miranda” squeaked out while her gaze continued ping ponging.

“Andrea, moaning your appreciation is an acceptable sound. Squealing like a rodent getting rundown is a mood killer.  Is it your intent to kill the mood?” She sniffed in distaste even as her hands circled the girl and pulled her back.  Her lips hovered, tongue tracing the outline of Andy’s.  “You do know how to give a proper blowjob don’t you?  Competent lovers are so difficult to come by. I’ve always been confused by that.  It isn’t as if it requires a degree in rocket science.”

Her lips worked but no sound came out.  Ironically, she’d been just about to suck on the end of Miranda’s tongue.  And then that had been asked and the world screeched to a halt.  Questions about proper blowjobs did not come out of Miranda’s mouth, ever.  For that matter neither did Miranda go around wearing...cocks.  She hoped.  Did she?  For a split second that the editor would not have appreciated in a million years, Andy wondered if perhaps she had a hermaphrodite secret she kept carefully tucked away.  The thought was released as ridiculous but only just slightly more ridiculous than Miranda wearing a strap-on to begin with.  One tentative press forward however proved the latter was not so ridiculous.  Miranda fucking Priestly had...strapped on.  Dear god.

Andy nearly shrunk back before realizing that ultimately, that wasn’t such a bad thing.  Better that than trying to figure out the mechanics of being with a woman.  Much better in fact than having to overcome long held ideas.  Being with Miranda wasn’t distasteful but the neither was the thought of going down on a woman something she found appealing.  In college, she’d always shuddered with friends over it much as many lesbians shuddered over the idea of giving a blowjob.  In light of that, Andy found herself nodding, tone bordering on insolent when she said,  “That depends on if you know how to use it.”

The predatory, triumphant gleam flashed to the salacious. She found Andy’s nearly petulant acceptance thrilling. This really was too easy, but that did not dull her enjoyment or the lightening flash of heat between her thighs. “Tell me Andrea, has there ever been an accessory that I have donned that did not then seem to become part of me?”

“No, but those lion print Fendi shoes were as hideous off as they were on.”  Damned arrogant woman could put that in her mind altering pipe and smoke it.

Unexpected, full, rich laughter filled the space and bounced off all four walls, increasing in volume as the seconds passed.  That more than anything told of how very much she was enjoying the encounter. Her eyes dropped pointedly to the discarded bra before shifting back to drink Andy in.  Gaze brazen, she stared as if the young woman had been put on earth for no other reason.  “Is that your way of covering for your inadequacy in the art of cock sucking?”

Confidence began to seep back in from wherever it had been hiding.  Being baited by Miranda?  No...not unless she wanted to be by god and this was just a little too one-sided for her tastes.  Hands settling on Miranda’s shoulders, she trailed them downward until her fingers were scrapping hardened nipples.  Ha and double ha.  The woman wasn’t unaffected.  Good.  “Not at all.  I’ve probably sucked a lot more cock in the last five years than you have in twenty.”  Andy chomped down on her traitorous tongue that had gone a wee bit past the point she’d intended.  But really now, Miranda hitting her knees often?  She just couldn’t see it - Not for anyone.

“Perfect. Then I won’t have to tell you what to do.”  The words tripped lightly over swollen red lips that were painted the color of seduction. Andy’s bold touch left her wanting further satisfaction. A tilt of her silver crowned head had her lips once again claiming Andy’s.  Her tongue darted in and out of her mouth in a purposeful demonstration.

“You’re...”  Something.  Different.  Yes, different was a good word; a very, very good word.  Arm snaking around her neck, she forgot all about the request until she’d had her momentary fill of kissing her.  Slowly breaking away, Andy glanced down.  A light blush crawled up her neck.  She hadn’t ever explicitly imagined Miranda in bed.  Had she, this still wouldn’t have entered into the equation.  Her hands resumed their trek downward.  “Anything else you want, Mrs. Hyde?”

By her count they had another two hours. A lot of her want list could be covered in that span Miranda mused as her hips jutted forward in impatience. The jacket she wore finally proving too much, she carefully shrugged out of it before letting it fall carelessly to join Andy’s discarded garments. “You, Andrea, I want you.” The way the words were purred defied anyone to deny her.

Being told in such unequivocal terms that Miranda Priestly wanted you had a way of shutting down all the internal protests and reasons why not.  If it somehow didn’t, the tone of her voice that was all aged scotch, honey, and raw sex sealed the deal.  Eyes drooping and running heatedly over her soon to be lover, Andy memorized all the new facets of the editor while her hands slid progressively lower until there was nothing left to do but drop to her knees.  Now that she was paying attention, the protrusion was obvious.  Her fingertips skimmed along the visible length of it while her other hand found itself crawling up and down Miranda’s calf.  “You’re wearing too much.”

“It is warm in here.” Eyes remaining fixed on Andy’s, Miranda found no cause to argue the point. One hand snaked down her own torso and tugged out the tails of the pristinely white, starched Thomas Pink shirt.  The way her fingers engaged the buttons put one in mind of an illicit peep show in the red light district. Crystalline blue eyes started to disappear behind heavy lids that seemed to flutter in amazement as each button opened.

Unconsciously shifting, the journalist licked her lips, eyes glued to the tantalizing glimpses of skin.  Miranda was confident in her body and that then erased whatever imperfections age and childbirth had left her with.  Reaching around behind her, Andy ran her hands over the band of the slacks until she felt the subtle zipper. A few inches up and she located the hidden button and released it.  The zipper slid down next.  A twist, a pull that she didn’t remember and the pants pooled around her ankles.  Whatever she expected, however aroused Andy was, having a large cerulean blue cock unexpectedly in her face put a temporary halt to all thoughts of sex.  Head falling back, ribald laughter shook her shoulders, making it difficult to speak.  “No ident-i-cal yet s-o diff-er-ent cock to ch-oose from?”

“I’m fond of the color. It’s striking. Reminds me of you.”  Her voice dropped half an octave on the word you as she licked her lips.

Andy couldn’t think of a thing to say to that or even whether or not to take it as a compliment. In the long run it didn’t really matter as a surge of desire struck that would have taken her to her knees had she not already been there.  Nails trailing up the back of Miranda’s thigh, she wrapped her hand around the base of the cock and lifted.  One steadying breath and her lips closed around the tip.  The unusual taste of rubbery latex wasn’t particularly pleasant but neither was it all that different than giving a blowjob through a condom.  A tiny shrug appeared before her mouth began to encompass more of it, eyes glued on Miranda’s.

The thrill that always came, roared through her so powerfully that she staggered slightly and had to put an arm out to steady herself against the wall. The endless pool of brown staring at her did not convey the all-American sweet little innocent girl she’d been expecting.  Those eyes were full of a fire all their own, a promise that perhaps she was as competent at this as she had boasted and something more. The look even more than the action drew a moan from Miranda that would have sent every nun into seclusion within five hundred square miles.

“Nice,” Andy drew back enough to purr, speaking more of the moan than the cock that she went right back to.  She would have sucked her off a dozen times over if it meant Miranda would fuck her, right here, and soon.  Her nose twitched.  She inhaled slowly, adjusting to the different smell of Miranda’s desire - neither bad nor what she would think of as particularly enticing but then neither did she consider most cocks enticing.  A reach for balls caused a slight smile when she came up with nothing but air.  Drawing back again, Andy ran her tongue over the head with infinite slowness before sucking more of it in.  The desire to catch her lover off guard demanded patience.  Twice more she repeated the act before trailing her fingers up her lover’s thigh to graze wet lips.

Miranda was very cognizant of how people saw her. Cold, removed, detached. And she was.  But sometimes it served her purpose to emote, express and catch people flatfooted and so she’d chosen sex as her vehicle to do this. Her lovers tended to be a small, closed mouth group and so her reputation remained unchanged while she rid herself of any pent up frustrations.  Lovers were enthralled by it, wanting nothing more than to draw one more moan or breathy groan.  Giving them that cost little and the rewards were priceless in her estimation. “Exquisite,” she breathed out as her hips jumped into the action. Andrea’s mouth was designed for fucking.

Eyes fixated to the point of drying out, Andy watched for every move and twitch while letting her fingers idly rub up and down the woman’s sex.  The feeling was undeniably different. It went against the conversations she’d had with friends that had already been forgotten.  Silky wetness coated her fingers; the perfect texture for Miranda to the journalist’s mind.  By accident or pure dumb luck the lips parted under her fingers.  The blowjob didn’t cease but she couldn’t help blinking, several times, at the feel of her engorged clit.  That Miranda might just want her finally sunk all the way in.  “Fuck me.”

Miranda reached down with both hands, took Andy’s arms and pulled the younger woman up and towards her as the request sank in and wreaked havoc with her clit sending it into a frenzied state she’d not experienced in recent memory.  “You’re supposed to ask nicely.” She said in a dry tone, eyes belying every word as she pinned a slightly unsteady Andy against the wall.  The heel of her palm pressed firmly against her mound while two fingers slipped between engorged lips into slick heat. “Anxious Andrea? You seem anxious.”

“God.”  Andy’s head slammed painfully against the walls from the instant arch that was supposed to bring them closer, not endanger consciousness.  Quick pants ruffled her hair and hung heavy in the still air.  She slipped a leg around Miranda’s waist then bucked toward those wonderfully evil fingers.  Anxious?  Only if you counted wanting to be fucked every way but loose by the woman who exuded femininity then drowned all those around her in seductive power.  “Whatever gave you that idea?”

Long fingers trailed the length of Andy’s breastbone then abdomen. The impossible soft, supple skin beneath her fingertips an aphrodisiac. She cleared her throat before her thumb skimmed down and parted Andy’s lips, scraping almost imperceptibly over the younger woman’s clit.  “It was the way...” Her eyes bored into Andy’s, unadulterated lust on full display. “You uttered...fuck me.”

The power of speech fled as the journalist spiraled further down into the realm of lust that erased every doubt, hesitation and question.  Stomach tightening, she moved toward the touch and shifted.  The air felt cooler as it pressed against her dampened skin.  Watching Miranda and being watched in turn gave new meaning to her definition of seductive.  Groaning, Andy draped an arm over Miranda’s shoulders, yanked her close then moaned wantonly while slithering against her.  “I did but you’ve turned talkative.”

The girl moaned like a cheap whore Miranda noted somewhere in the recesses of her lust obsessed mind. Talkative was not on the agenda. Miranda leaned forward and splayed her stance enough to attain a solid balance.  Her partner, she realized with a self congratulatory smirk, was copiously wet. “Lovely,” she huffed before both hands found their way to grasping at Andy’s slender hips.  She pulled them downward as her hips pressed upwards, pushing the full length of the dildo into her lover. She gasped in pleasure as when their pelvises ground together.

Later Andy would be embarrassed about the way she all but shrieked her approval.  Embarrassment would also come at the way she thought nothing of who Miranda was when lifting her other leg to wrap around the woman’s waist.  Who knew if she could support her.  Andy couldn’t care less in the moment so long as Miranda didn’t stop.  She moaned again at the shift, delightfully full and undeniably enthralled as her head dropped back to the wall with a hard thump.  Her hips ground once before her eyes fell shut in appreciation.  “Should talk with your...dick more often.”

“This..” she thrust in emphasis as her skin erupted in a glistening sheen from the exertion, “is no excuse to be uncouth.” Using the wall as leverage Miranda found her balance as her hands slid around to cup Andy’s taut ass.  Damp silver hair fell across her eye but she didn’t notice as she dipped her head and latched onto one of Andy’s sassy pink nipples and bit down.

Mmm,” was her moan of uncomprehending agreement.  Delicious heat spread across her body having no beginning or end.  Andy rocked against her while her hands held her head in place.  The moment continued until just before her body began to zip along toward orgasm, Miranda’s words penetrated.  One glazed eye pried itself open and glanced down.  Speaking while panting became a monumental effort. ”Uncouth?” The woman had no problem repeating the word fuck but dick she found uncouth?  Miranda needed a good therapist.  Best not to tell her that though or she might stop.

Andy’s words were lost in a haze.  There was nothing the woman could say that could remotely compete with the heat pounding like a flash flood through the Miranda’s veins and seemingly electrifying every nerve ending.  Every thrust of her hips sent mind numbing surges through Miranda’s clit. Her loud shallow pants bounced off the pebbled skin around Andy’s swollen nipple. Strangled moans poured in a near constant litany from her throat as their pace reached frantic.

Momentarily pulled out of her haze, she found herself noting the surprising silkiness of Miranda’s skin, the tautness to it that defied age and gravity alike, the prurient way the little sounds coming out of her throat affected every facet of Andy’s responses and the unequivocal sexiness she exuded that sat in direct opposition to her normal ice breathing dragon routine.  Unable to resist, she brushed the fallen lock of hair back then fell right back down the well of desire.  The way her body verged on trembling said she’d never really left it.  Her eyes slammed shut again as her body took matters into its own hands when it synched itself to the rhythm that had been set. “Harder.”

Harder she could do. Pressing Andy hard into the corner, Miranda kissed her and used the wall to hold them in place while her hips slowed down but pushed forward with much more powerful and intent thrusts. The way the younger woman was wound around her, invading all senses, but mostly importantly the unreserved way she responded drove Miranda over the brink. She bit down on Andy’s throat to stifle her cry of relief when the orgasm hit her in wave after torrid wave.

It struck Andy for a single, solitary second that Miranda freaking Priestly had just come, while fucking her, with a cock, against the elevator wall in the literal middle of the Elias-Clarke building.  If their coupling hadn’t been enough to send her over, the thought alone would have.  Bucking like a prize bull, she reared up in an intangible need to keep the woman from moving or more importantly leaving then came like it was her first time - all sticky sweat, unabashed cries and trembling muscles that both begged and demanded Miranda not dare think of this being over.

Leaning into the wall kept Miranda’s knees from buckling and then later from turning to Jell-O as the relaxing pleasure rushed over her soaking ever pore.  “Lovely hors d’oeuvre.” Her lips were too relaxed to muster a smirk, instead it came across as a very pleasant smile. At this point she would normally get dressed and send her choice of the month on their way.  The situation with the elevator put a crimp in her regular MO so Miranda improvised, which in this particular instance meant Andy became the main course for her insatiable appetite.

Over two hours later the ringing of a cell phone forced a break that neither had been able nor willing to take prior to the intrusive ringtone blaring its way through small, overheated space.  They paused just long enough for both to realize it was Miranda’s phone not Andy’s.  A barely audible curse left Andy’s lips as Miranda began rooting around to find it.  Uncomprehending eyes glared at Miranda for leaving the thing turned on.  It took several attempts before she got her now gravelly voice to cooperate enough to say, “Please shut that up.”

Uncooperative fingers fumbled with the phone when she hit talk and thrust it in Andy’s direction. Speaking was not something she deemed to do yet. Her eyes fluttered shut instead.

“What the?”  Left with no choice but to take it, Andy cleared her throat and glanced at the caller id display.  Emily.  It just figured that she’d find a way to interrupt.  She was probably in a panic over the air temperature being off by .1 degree.  One long exhale, a glare at her useless companion and she pulled the phone to her ear.  The harsh rebukes that came to mind, demanding to be spoken, were lost alongside the question of why she was answering Miranda’s cell phone and worse, the unequivocal, lust killing announcement that they were all back in the building and the elevators were mere minutes away from being restored.  Whatever else Emily might have said was cut off with the disconnecting of the line.  Only then did Andy gasp and toss Miranda’s cell phone back as if it were a snake.  

“Elevator’s coming back online,” she managed to get out while pushing on Miranda to get her off.  Hours spent riding the drug of arousal proved no competition for the way that announcement killed it quicker than if her mother had arrived to find her losing her virginity while attending church in the middle of Christmas mass.

“I see. I don’t understand how it could take that long to find someone competent to do the job.”  Miranda’s mask of cool returned in a heartbeat as she methodically collected her clothes and re-donned her armor. Once dressed she opened her bag and removed a compact. One glance and she could barely conceal her look of horror. She looked like she’d been fucked. One deeply sniffed breath and she set about repairing what damage she could. The hair was damp and limp, an utter write off but her face she fixed in record time. “We will have to postpone our meeting for another time.  This... debacle has wrecked absolute havoc on my schedule. Call Emily and book something for next week.”

Andy paused in tying what had once been her shirt, around her head.  Adjustments and readjustments were made until she was fairly certain it would pass as a head scarf under all but the closest scrutiny. More importantly it would hide the tangled mass of out of control hair that she’d found it to be in after just one pat.  Unlike Miranda’s methodical dressing she’d been a whirlwind of chaotic movements spurred on by internally screaming sirens that blared out their warnings of impending doom.  Hastily zipping her jacket back up, she glanced around, not once gazing at Miranda head on.  They could fix their appearances somewhat but nothing short of decontamination would rid the walls of their stench of sex.  It dripped from them like it had been painted on.  The knowledge burned bright red spots into her cheeks then blazed its way down her neck.

Mortification dueled with horror.  Andy fidgeted then glanced around again.  The scene didn’t get any better.  This was so far past unacceptable that she didn’t think she’d ever venture back around to acceptable.  She’d been out of control and worse, libertine with Miranda of all people.  Oh dear god.  One prayer turned into three despite her never quite being certain what she was praying for.  She hadn’t even lost control to this degree with Nate and they’d been lovers for years.  And she certainly didn’t play the submissive.  That was for other people, not young feminists who didn’t go around handing over control to other people.  Well, hell.  And, because the mind insisted on listing a thousand and one ands, she did not lose her mind in elevators then proceed to hit her knees and suck some woman off.  

Woman.

Miranda Priestly was a woman.  

A big, silver haired, gilded tongue, manipulative, immoral woman who would rather turn cannibal than have her clothes be ill fitting.  That she happened to be good with a cock was neither here nor there.  She remained a woman.

W. O. M. A. N.

Andy shook her head to try and clear it rather than continuing to spell out woman as was her mind’s want.  She did not do women thank you very much.  The mind latched onto that and issued a big HA! Technically she hadn’t done one now, Miranda had done her.  The triumphant ha swirled down the drain like bathwater.  But wait.  Did hitting your knees for a fake cock count as doing someone?  Since it was fake, no it did not.  There, that she could mollify herself with - somewhat.  All right so she’d enjoyed it, humans could be trained to enjoy electroshock therapy given the right circumstances which meant that couldn’t be counted against her either could it?  No, no, no, that she could dismiss too.  

Scrubbing her face, Andy glanced at the woman then willed the doors to open.  This would go into the do not speak of again file, oh yes it would.  It could stay there and stop bothering her.  There she wouldn’t have to look at her responses to the w. o. m. a. n. or deal.  And she most certainly did not want to deal with what had happened here which essentially constituted as Miranda turning her world upside down.  Good. There.  That had been dealt with in a different way and was decided.  Giving a brisk nod more to herself than Miranda, she brushed her clothes off and tried to ignore the scent of the place.  Walking out would be a problem.  She was sore and her legs were barely agreeing to stand.  

She gave them a stern lecture until she felt reasonably sure that she could at least make it outside into a taxi before collapsing.  She’d just go home and have a nice soak in the tub until she no longer felt like she’d been fucked inside out and around the bend.  Yes, that was the best way to handle this except for that tidbit where she had to say something, anything, to Miranda.  Well perhaps not since Miranda was Miranda after all but she didn’t want the arrogant editor getting the wrong idea either.  She didn’t do this sort of thing dammit.  Torrid trysts were for other people.  Chin lifting, she willed herself into acting like a grown up then drug her tumbling thoughts behind until she had some semblance of a response.

It took two tries to convince her voice to work again.  ”This was interesting but I’m sure you’ll understand when I say its best forgotten.  I don’t uh, like you like that.  We can be friends or something if you want.  If you did friends.  But this is better left in that unspoken box.  Um, it’s not that you’re not a nice enough person.  Well, you’re not really but I just got away from you and you suck people in like an F5 tornado, straight down the garden path to hell.  You’re beautiful and all but um no offense, I don’t do women and you.....um, friends maybe.  If you want.  Dinner or call or something.  But this...it wasn’t that good.  No offense.”  Biting down on her tongue to keep from rambling more, Andy linked her hands behind her back and rocked forward.  Okay, maybe it had been that good but not good enough to turn into a card carrying Republican much less a lesbian by god.  Brain, still thy self, she chastened.

Miranda peered over the top of her Fendi’s certain she had heard wrong. There must be a problem with a lack of oxygen because Andrea...her former assistant, who could give whores a lesson in moaning, had dared...dared to...all the synapses in her brain collapsed in on themselves in an apocalyptic fit. Had that girl used interesting, friends and wasn’t that good? No, that simply was not possible.  Andy had been nothing more than another trifling conquest.  A name to be added to the ever growing list.  Not that good?  Miranda stepped back.  The lights were restored and she picked up the coffee she’d set aside hours earlier before straightening.

A sickeningly sweet smile transformed her face into something most would run in terror from. “I can only imagine how much more quickly you would have hit your knees if you had liked women. Really, Andrea, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you more...competent at following orders.” Miranda stiffened. The elevator smelled like what she could only imagine a brothel would be like. She reached into her bag and spritzed several shots of her signature perfume into the space.

“Great, now the place smells like sex and perfume.”  Expression frozen into place Andy thanked god, divine intervention, too much coffee and even too tight of a space for helping her refrain from revealing too much.  Miranda’s comment burned.  It made it hard not to look at what happened and by god so did who said it.  Not once did it occur to her to wonder or ask why Miranda had been packing.  Her mind was denied its request to strike back at the woman in a similar manner.  ”Be that as it may, you’ll return to your world and I’ll return to mine.  You’ve not offered and I’m um, turning you down.  We’re on the same page.  It’s all good.  See?  Great.  Glad we got that straight.”

Miranda tried not to stare at the clearly simple younger woman.   No one left Miranda Priestly and no one sure as hell dismissed her. Andrea was her conquest, nothing more.  And conquests did not, simply did not dismiss her.  A dark little voice piped up and reminded Miranda that, that was precisely what her oh so young and pliable little plaything had just done. Dismissed her out of hand.  The elevator started moving. Miranda kept her gaze locked on the doors. “Friends it is then.”

“Have a good day,” Andy replied after forcing a reasonably pleasant expression on her face since they were now playing at friends.  How had this happened exactly?  All she’d wanted was a few minutes of the woman’s time to discuss some inane fashion thingamajigbob or another.  It couldn’t have been that important because had it been she would have been able to remember what, precisely, had been her reason for coming.  God, she needed to be home post haste.

Miranda spared her a glance as the lights cycled though the elevator floors. They were nearing her floor. As soon as the doors opened she stepped out as though she’d not just been stuck in there for three hours fucking her former assistant. She was poised and in control. She handed the waiting Emily her cold coffee. “My coffee is cold.  Why is a simple little thing like hot coffee is so impossible to get consistently. Is it really too much to ask for?”

Emily practically tripped over herself as did everyone else as they awaited the public eviscerating Miranda would deliver. “Not at all, Miranda.” She motioned for some poor peon to step forward and take the coffee as the woman made a beeline to the doors. Everyone keeping pace with Miranda hardly gave them time to think about the way perfume and sex wafted off her in equal proportions. As per her normal habit she’d rattled off twenty changes to the schedule and orders for rescheduling before she got to the door. “And Emily. Speak with Andrea...reschedule our appointment for next Tuesday at 9:15. That is all.”

Andy was already furiously pressing the down button by the time the order to reschedule was given.  Never had she been more relieved than when the doors slid shut.  The relief was short lived however.  The smell of what they’d done pressed in on her from all sides.  Since Miranda was gone she slumped back against a wall only to jump away as if scalded.  The last time she’d done that they’d been....  Operation get the hell out before she touched anything else or her legs gave out commenced immediately.  Mentally urging the elevator to go faster wasn’t enough.  Andy began and continued to jam the button like it was her last hope in the world until the doors finally opened again.  She did not look at anyone as she stepped out. She didn’t wave or say hello to the security guards.  

In fact she didn’t even take time to give them her badge by stopping.  The visitor’s pass flew across the turnstile to land on the desk and then she bolted out the door, painfully aware of their encounter with every step.  All she had to do was make it home.  Away from that blasted woman who stomped all over her brain then marched across every sense.  Home where she wouldn’t hear from Miranda again.  Home where she could hide out, relax, unwind and will all memory of the event into the farthest recesses of her mind.  Friends?  With Miranda?  The idea was as absurd as the unexpected coupling has been.  Ha and double, triple ha.  


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