“Where have you been?” a voice demanded down the phone, and Andy winced when she remembered she had promised Emily she would catch up with her…weeks ago. Before New York fashion week, in fact.
She pulled her phone away from her ear and looked at the date. April 16. More like months ago, she winced.
“God, Em, I’m sorry. I’ve been a little tied up,” Andy apologized as she paid for her bagel and walked out onto the street.
“Dare I ask?” Emily said, a hint of disgust in her tone.
Andy laughed. “Do you want to catch up this week? I really am sorry I haven’t been in touch. I really have been busy with the state congressional since you all got back from Paris.”
“Fine, fine,” Emily said. “Nigel wants to see you too. Drinks on Friday?”
Andy did a quick run through her schedule in her head. “You mean tomorrow?”
“No, Andrea. I mean in 6 months’ time. Of course I bloody mean tomorrow.”
“All right, all right. How’s 8:00pm?”
“Should work. Right, I’ll call you later,” Emily said before ending the call.
Even after leaving Miranda’s office the red-head still hadn’t managed to shake some of the bad habits she’d picked up, and Andy shook her head, taking a bite of her bagel.
April 16. April 16. Why was that bother—
“Oh, fuck!” Andy swore. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit!”
A woman glared at her and she ignored it, grabbing her phone and dialing Nigel. “Shit!” she swore again.
“Nigel Kipling’s office,” his assistant said snappily.
“Lana? It’s Andy Sachs, is he available?” Andy said quickly.
“Not right now, Andy. He’s in meetings all afternoon, but I can get him to call you when he’s out. Is it urgent?” Lana asked.
“No, I suppose it’s not,” Andy said. “Actually, tell him not to worry about it, I’ll see him tomorrow.”
“Whatever you say, Andy,” Lana said before hanging up.
“Shit,” Andy swore again, before she took a stress bite from her bagel, turning back in the direction of her office. She had forgotten the twins’ birthday was on Tuesday, and it was now Thursday. Things had been going exceptionally well so far, but she had little doubt that forgetting a birthday could throw a spanner in the works.
What did 14-year-olds like? She thought back two plus years, and the only thing that sprung to mind was Harry-fucking-Potter.
Andy stuffed the rest of her bagel in her mouth and dialed Amy’s direct line.
“Miranda Priestly’s office,” a familiar voice greeted her.
“Amy, it’s Andy,” she said.
“Oh no, what is it? She’s had a bad afternoon, I’d prefer not to have to give her more bad news,” Amy groaned.
“No, no. Nothing like that. In fact, don’t even tell her I called. I just need to know if the twins are still interested in Harry Potter,” Andy asked.
“How on Earth should I know?” Amy said.
“It’s your job to know,” Andy sassed back. “Or at least it was mine and Emily’s.”
“Look, I vaguely recall some mention about the next movie, but it’s not out for another 3 months,” Amy said matter-of-factly.
“That’s fine. Thanks, Amy,” Andy said before hanging up.
As she tossed her empty wrapper in trash can, she pulled up another contact.
“Tricia? It’s Andy Sachs. Everything is fine, but I have a favour to ask you.”
“Spill,” Nigel said the second he sat down, and Emily rolled her eyes.
“I just finished work, can’t I have a single night off that doesn’t involve Miranda-bloody-Priestly,” Emily groused, getting up from the table to go to the bar.
Nigel stared after the red-head. “What’s her problem?” he said, as he watched the Assistant Creative Director storm off.
“Bad day at the office,” Andy said, waving it off. “She’ll be fine.”
Nigel shrugged. “I haven’t heard a word from you, Six. And to think, after all I did for you,” he lamented.
“Well, I suppose it’s about time I said thank you,” Andy said.
“Yes, you should. You look good by the way, and the Devil has been quite amendable, so all in all in turned out to be beneficial for us all,” Nigel chuckled.
“Yeah, I think it did,” Andy smiled shyly.
“Oh good lord, she’s smitten. What has come of the world?” Nigel said dramatically, clutching his chest as Emily returned, dumping a tray of drinks down in the centre of the table.
“Are you two finished yet?” Emily said, as she took her seat.
“I was just saying how happy Andy looks. Doesn’t she look happy Emily?” Nigel said with a mischievous grin as he picked up his glass.
“Well, she could have worked some of that happiness on her girlfriend today,” Emily snapped.
Andy glared in warning.
“Oh do calm down Andrea, no one knows what we’re talking about, and you’ve confirmed nothing. Don’t get your knickers in a bunch,” Emily said.
“All right, all right you two. Let’s table that discussion for the time being,” Nigel said.
“Thank god,” Emily said, and Andy rolled her eyes.
“I do believe we have at least two months of gossip to catch up on,” Nigel said as he raised his glass in toast.
“Must you always be such a stereotype, Nigel?” Emily said, biting back a smirk.
“God, I’ve missed you two,” Andy laughed, clinking her glass up against Nigel’s.
“Sap,” Emily said, as she nudged Andy with her shoulder, a smile on her face.
“Can Andy come to our birthday dinner?” Cassidy said.
“Hmm?” Miranda said, as she looked up from the Book. It was Friday and she and Cassidy were alone for the evening. Caroline had decided to go to a friend’s house, and Miranda thought it would be a good opportunity to spend some time alone with her youngest by twenty three minutes. Things had been quite hectic, and it wasn’t often she got to spend time with the quieter of two twins. It wasn’t uncommon for Caroline to do the majority of the talking, and Miranda was always wary of treating the girls as a single entity.
“I said, can Andy come to our dinner on Tuesday?” Cassidy repeated, peeking over the top of the novel she was reading. “I know you probably don’t want her at the party next Saturday, but it’ll only be us on Tuesday.”
Miranda closed the Book and put it off to one side. She had a tendency to forget just how perceptive Cassidy was. Caroline had been extremely outspoken about Andrea, ecstatic about inheriting a new soccer coach and enjoying teasing her about her age. Andrea was a great novelty for the time being. In comparison, Cassidy had been strangely quiet about the whole thing, as though reserving judgment.
If Miranda was honest, it made her nervous. Although the opinions of both of the girls counted in the matter, Caroline had a tendency to make rash decisions, have dramatic outbursts, and had a habit of changing her mind on a whim. She was very much like Miranda when she was younger, until she had trained herself in the art of the iron-clad self-control she was now famous for.
Although there had admittedly been a few slips in that façade in the last six months.
Cassidy on the other hand was more cautious, and calculating. Once she had her mind set on something, she was like an immovable force. She followed along with Caroline’s hare-brained schemes, and was still just as cheeky in her own way, but there was a sharp intelligence there which had always made Miranda a little wary.
“I can certainly ask her if you would like. Have you spoken to Caroline about this?” Miranda enquired.
Cassidy shrugged. “She won’t care.”
“She might,” Miranda said, getting to her feet and moving to sit at the end of the sofa her daughter was sprawled out on, pushing her glasses up onto her head as she sat down.
“She likes Andy,” Cassidy said.
“As I’ve heard. Multiple times. And you?” Miranda said, holding her daughters eyes.
“She’s nice,” Cassidy said.
Miranda stayed silent, waiting to see if her youngest would be more forthcoming.
“She’s smart, and she talks to me about stuff,” Cassidy said.
“Stuff?” Miranda queried.
“You know, politics and things. And she gave me a book, because she thought I might like it.”
“So you don’t mind me spending time with her?” Miranda said.
“No, why would I?”
“That’s a good question. However, if you have any concerns, I want you to know you can come to me at any time,” Miranda said seriously.
Cassidy nodded. “So, you’ll ask her?”
“Yes, I’ll ask her,” Miranda confirmed.
She watched as her daughter looked satisfied by that, before she turned back to her book. Pride and Prejudice. Miranda shook her head. It appeared her youngest and Andrea shared an equal passion for ridiculous love stories. However, she counted her blessings that Elizabeth Bennet was at least a reasonable role model.
After Cassidy went to bed, Miranda picked up her phone and dialled Andrea.
“Ahhhndreyah’s phone,” a voice drawled down the line.
“Emily?” Miranda said before she could stop herself.
“Oh, fuck! Bloody hell!”
“Eloquent,” Miranda said. “Put Andrea on please.”
“Hello?” a familiar voice said down the line.
“Did my Assistant Creative Director just mock me?” Miranda asked.
Andrea laughed down the line. “I do believe she did.”
“You cow!” A voice echoed out in the background, and Miranda rolled her eyes. “Where are you?” Miranda asked.
“With Nigel and Emily, having a few cocktails,” Andrea replied.
She sounded merry enough that Miranda considered questioning the few, but thought better of it. “Yes, well do be careful, Nigel has a habit of coaxing people under the influence into saying things they sincerely regret the following day,” she said in warning.
“I have a suspicion there’s a story behind that statement, M,” Andy chuckled.
“Not one you’ll ever hear, I can assure you,” Miranda said sternly.
“Who’s that?” a male voice enquired in the background.
“No one,” Andrea said.
“Bullshit,” she heard Nigel say, before there was an apparent scuffle over the phone. “Hello my dear old friend, and just where might you be this evening?” Nigel said.
“At home, which is where all of you should be by the sounds of it,” she said sarcastically.
“You should join us,” Nigel said.
“I have Cassidy this evening, and I think Andrea and Emily are making enough of a dent in your credit card without the addition of mine,” Miranda said. “Now, put Andrea back on.”
“You might have a good point there,” he laughed before handing the phone off.
“Sorry about that,” Andrea said. “What were you saying?”
“Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow. Go and have a good night, but remember what I said about Nigel,” she said with a hint of amusement in her voice.
“I consider myself warned,” Andrea replied. “I’ll let you know when I’m home.”
“Thank you, I would appreciate that,” Miranda said sincerely. “Goodnight, Andrea”
“Goodnight, M,” the woman replied before she ended the call.
Miranda shook her head. She would simply have to ask her tomorrow.
As Miranda made gently folded the omelette in the pan, she heard her phone go on the bench behind her.
“Cassidy, can you get that? It might be important,” Miranda said as she moved to grab the plates she was heating out of the oven.
“It’s Leslie,” Cassidy said.
“Answer it,” Miranda said quickly, as she flicked off the stove and moved quickly to grab the phone from her daughter, barely dodging Patricia in her haste.
“What is it?” she snapped, her heart rate flying through the roof.
“Whoa, morning to you too,” Leslie replied down the line as Miranda walked out of the kitchen and closed the door behind her. “Relax Miranda, this is just a courtesy call. Sorry, I didn’t mean to set off alarm bells.”
Miranda took a deep breath and composed herself.
“I just thought I would check in. I’m in the office today, seemed as good a time as any,” Leslie explained with a chuckle.
“You’re not as funny as you think you are, Leslie,” Miranda said waspishly.
“Glad to see you’ve got that heart attack under control,” Leslie said. “I noticed the girls’ birthday is coming up. I had my assistant send something,” she said.
“How very thoughtful,” Miranda said sarcastically.
“I was interested to know how Andrea was going to be involved there,” Leslie said. “As I seem to spending a lot of time speaking to Amy lately,” she said knowingly.
“Yes, well I’ve been busy Leslie, as you’re well aware,” Miranda said.
“Oh that’s good, I was honestly beginning to think you were avoiding me because of my suggestion last week,” Leslie said bluntly.
“I don’t have time to discuss it this morning Leslie, call my office on Monday,” Miranda said.
“No, I think we should discuss it right now, Miranda. You wanted to be kept in the loop, and being in the loop means not burying your head in the sand.”
“I’m doing nothing of the sort,” Miranda bristled.
“Well fine, then give me five minutes to explain why I think we need to bring the girls in on this, and you might reconsider your answer,” Leslie said.
“There will be no reconsidering on this matter, Leslie. My thoughts are exactly the same as they have been since the day I took you on as my representation. I don’t know why you insist on pressing the issue,” Miranda snapped.
“Miran—“ Leslie began.
“No. Come up with something else,” Miranda said curtly, before ending the call.
Her phone began ringing again but she ignored it. She knew exactly what Leslie had in mind. She had contacted her last week to discuss the strategy her and Tricia had devised. Cart them out like one big happy family; picnics in the park, walking the dog – Her, Andrea and the girls would be a veritable Hallmark card.
She had said no then, and she had meant it.
Patricia groaned, causing Miranda to jump. Apparently the dog had tailed her out into the foyer. The St. Bernard dropped ungracefully onto the Persian rug Miranda had acquired for the foyer. She couldn’t care less that it was hand-knotted in Iran, apparently.
“My thoughts exactly Patricia,” Miranda said, gathering her thoughts.
She had promised herself the day the twins were born that she would never parade them out for the press. Of course, back then there was some distance and respect granted to public figures, particularly in New York. The dawn of the internet and the increased pace of the news had torn that unspoken agreement asunder. However, she had succeeded thus far.
Miranda turned to look at the door she had exited not five minutes ago and thought of the almost 14-year-old behind it. She then thought about the screens of young women who had fallen spectacularly off the wagon with the whole world lying in wait to lap up the photos.
Right now her persona eclipsed the two red-heads. The press didn’t care about the two barely teenaged girls behind her. They were boring. They went to school, they came home, did their homework, and played soccer on weekends. They weren’t stumbling drunk out of clubs all over the city or having very public meltdowns, and Miranda intended to keep it that way.
No, the press could write what they wanted about her, but she was not involving the girls.
Her phone rang for a third time and she steeled herself, picking it up. “This conversation is over, Leslie,” Miranda said curtly.
“Look, don’t hang up. I know you don’t want to use them, Miranda,” Leslie began, “But can you at least hear me out?”
“Look, happy families are boring. An attractive young woman hanging off the arm of a much older, well established, wealthy woman is not,” Leslie said. “And although it will certainly have its impact on you Miranda, it’s not you I’m worried about.”
“Andrea,” Miranda said solemnly.
“And I quote, ‘If you don’t hire her, you’re an idiot’,” Leslie said.
“How on Earth did you get that?” Miranda demanded.
“It doesn’t matter how I got it. One reference Miranda. Just one reference and there are going to be serious questions about how Andy managed to rise so quickly and so fast. Senior Politics Correspondent? Less than two years? Unfortunately, the way this looks, she has a lot to gain from this relationship. The reason Tricia is pushing for so hard for the girls is because it drastically softens that angle. People don’t spend time with someone’s kids if they’re just after a career boost, or money,” Leslie said matter-of-factly. “I know you don’t want to think about it right now, but these are things you are both going to have to consider if you ever want to go public; and that’s assuming you are given a choice in the matter.”
“So what you’re trying to tell me is that it’s Andrea or the girls?” Miranda said.
“No, what I’m telling you is that right now is that our biggest unknown is how the public will take to Andy. Tricia is confident her image and her work will hold up to scrutiny, I mean there’s little doubt that the girl is a talented writer, but I have a little less faith in the idiots of America. She’s been in the game for a little over two years. She’s not established. Something like this could destroy what little she’s managed to build. You hired Tricia to protect her. This is what Tricia is suggesting. I just want you to be aware of all of the options on the table, and our reasons for choosing them,” Leslie finished, tactfully.
“How very diplomatic,” Miranda said, a hint of anger in her voice.
At that moment Cassidy poked her head out. “The omelettes are getting cold,” she said.
Miranda stared at her daughter. The twins didn’t have a care in the world outside of the fortress Miranda had built around their lives since the divorce. She had worked so hard to make them a family again, to give them a happy life with as few interruptions as she could manage with her work commitments. Things were better than they had ever been, and for the first time since she had decided to bring Andrea into their lives, she realized she might be putting all of that at risk.
Not to mention Andrea’s career.
The sliver of doubt which she had been so readily ignoring began to worm its way back into her mind.
“Yes, thank you Bobbsey,” she said, “I’ll be there shortly.”
Cassidy nodded and went back into the kitchen.
She stared at the door her daughter had just come through.
Yes, Andrea was important to her. Very important.
However, the girls were her life. She wouldn’t put them in firing line.
“I won’t do it Leslie, and that’s the last time we’re going to discuss it,” Miranda said with a resounding finality.
“Okay,” Leslie said. “Well, we’ll just keep moving along as we have been for now, and I’ll let Tricia know it’s off the table. She will have to consult with Andrea on this, just so you’re aware,” Leslie said.
“Of course,” Miranda said.
“Can I speak plainly, as your friend for a moment?” Leslie asked.
“Go ahead,” Miranda sighed.
“I know I warned you off her, but I like Andrea. I’m also beginning to think she would throw it all away for you,” Leslie said, the warning clear.
“I understand Leslie,” Miranda said, leaning heavily against the bannister.
“All right. I’ll let you get back to it,” Leslie said, ending the call.
Leslie may have gone, but her words were ringing loudly in Miranda’s ears.
As Miranda and Cassidy finally sat down to their breakfast, her phone rang again.
“It’s Andy,” Cassidy said with a smile as she looked at the display, reaching for the phone.
Miranda was faster however, hitting ignore.
Cassidy looked at her, puzzled.
“I’ll call her back after breakfast,” Miranda said, forcing a smile towards her daughter.
Cassidy eyed her for a moment before shrugging. “Don’t forget to ask her,” she said, cutting a piece off her omelette and plopping it in her mouth.
“Of course,” Miranda said evenly as she turned back towards her breakfast.
Having Andrea at the girl’s birthday was now the furthest thing from her mind.
In fact, all she could think of was how to get Andrea as far away from this situation as possible. She should never have listened to the reporter’s protests that night in her apartment. She should have gone with her gut instinct then and there. This was a mistake, and one that could have damaging consequences for all of them.
She should never have allowed it to go this far.
As Miranda got into bed that evening, her phone vibrated next to her.
She picked it up and swiped to open the message.
Hey, everything okay? I was positive you would want to rub my nose in the fact I’ve been ill for almost an entire day :p Sorry if I was a bit of a mess last night! The message read.
Miranda felt the guilt clench at her stomach, and her hand started to tremble. There was a heavy weight in her chest as she hit reply. Everything is fine. Caroline came home and I got a call from work. Just busy, you were fine. I’m just heading to bed, I’ll speak to you soon. Goodnight, she typed before hitting send.
The response came moments later. Fine? God you must have been busy, I’m almost disappointed to be let off so easily. Sleep well, M. xx
Miranda clapped a hand over her mouth as a sob threatened to escape from her chest.
No, she should never have allowed it to go this far.
Andy stared at her phone.
Something was up.
She didn’t know what it was, but something had happened between the time she had spoken to Miranda on Friday night and when she had tried to call her on Saturday.
It was now Sunday evening and she still hadn’t heard from the editor-in-chief.
She stared at the bootleg copy of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince which Tricia had managed to secure for her. The twins’ birthday was in two days. At this rate she would have to courier their gift to them.
She couldn’t for the life of her work out what on Earth she could have possibly done to be met with the wall of silence that had suddenly erected itself in their relationship.
There was only one thing she knew for certain and that was that Miranda Priestly was avoiding her.
Andy tossed her phone to the side. If the editor needed some space, she would give it to her. It had only been a day really, perhaps she was legitimately busy.
Something told her that wasn’t the case, but she chose to ignore it for the time being.
“You okay?” Alice said.
It was Monday morning, and Andy was agitated. She had tried calling Miranda at the office this morning, but had been fielded by Amy. It had been her third attempt to contact the editor-in-chief, after being directed straight to voicemail on her personal cell, twice.
“No,” Andy said.
“Jesus, you look like shit, what’s going on?” Alice said.
“That’s the problem, I don’t know,” Andy said, as her cell began ringing. “Sorry Al, I really need to take this.”
“Hey, go ahead. You know where I am if you need me,” Alice said.
Andy nodded in thanks before answering. “Tricia, what the hell is going on?”
“Andy? I don’t know what yo—wait—hold on. Have you spoken to Miranda at all? I assumed she would have called you. I’m just following up on Leslie’s phone call from Saturday,” Tricia said.
“Saturday?” Andy said.
“Yes. What’s going on Andy?” Tricia.
“You tell me. I haven’t heard barely a thing from Miranda since Friday,” Andy said.
“Oh,” Tricia said quietly.
“Yes, oh. It sounds like you know more about this than I do.”
“All I know is Leslie spoke to her on Saturday in regards to future strategy. I was pushing Leslie to try and get Miranda on board with involving the girls a little. Just for a couple of photos,” Tricia explained.
“Well I can predict what the answer to that one would have been,” Andy scoffed. “That doesn’t solve my problem though.”
“Well actually it might,” Tricia said. “The reason I really wanted the girls was to protect you,” the publicist said.
Andy fell silent for a moment. “That idiot,” she said finally.
“I’m sorry?” Tricia said.
“Not Leslie, Miranda,” Andy explained. “Tricia, thanks for your call. I’ll talk to you soon,” she said before ending the call and dialling Miranda’s personal cell again.
As it clicked over to voicemail once again, Andy tried to reign in her anger. “Miranda, you can’t avoid me forever. I spoke to Tricia this morning. Call me back. If you think this is going to work you’ve got another thing coming,” she finished curtly before ending the call.
Miranda listened to the message before putting her phone down next to the copy she had been looking over.
Apparently she had been less than subtle in her avoidance tactics.
Miranda had thought staying away would help her get a clear perspective on the situation. However, her mind had been going around in circles for two days and kept coming back to only one logical solution. End it.
It didn’t matter which way she sliced it, not a single situation was viable long term.
They could go public without involving the girls, causing irreparable damage to Andrea’s career.
She could put the girls in the line of fire, with absolutely no guarantee it would help anyway.
Alternatively, they could carry on in secret until both of them grew so tired of sneaking around that it broke them; or the press found out and blew all of their lives to hell, putting Andrea and the girls in the centre of the battlefield anyway.
Miranda knew that some battles weren’t worth pursuing. Sometimes the cost was too high, and this time, it was much higher than she was willing to pay. She wouldn’t put the people she loved at risk like this.
It was better for all involved if they ended it right now, before she found herself any more attached to silly girl.
She reached for her phone and called Andrea back.
“She lives,” Andy sassed down the phone, the anger evident in her voice.
“Can you come to the townhouse this evening?"
“Yes, what time?”
“After the girls have gone to bed, preferably. I’ll have Roy pick you up.”
“Tonight,” Miranda said. “I don’t want to have this discussion over the phone,” she said before ending the call.
As Miranda put her phone back on her desk, she took a deep breath and clenched her fist to steady the tremble that had crept in.
It wouldn’t do to fall apart now.
Andy walked into the townhouse with zero trepidation and a shit tonne of anger. It was after 11:00pm and the house was quiet. The girls were definitely in bed.
Hedging a guess, she headed directly for the study, and as the door opened on her approach, Andy immediately noted the rigid posture and business like demeanor before her as Miranda beckoned her in with a polite, “Come in, Andrea.”
La Priestly was in the house and Andy resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the older woman as she closed the door. She had seen Miranda naked, clinging desperately to the sheets as she moaned and begged for more, and she expected the Snow Queen act to fly? Not likely.
“Before we beg—”
“Oh, stop with the bullshit, Miranda. Let’s cut straight to the chase shall we? I’m well aware you have no intention of involving the girls in this. That has always been your position, as I have reaffirmed with Tricia this morning.”
“No. Let-me-finish. I would never expect you to put the girls on the line for me.”
“Your career will be left in tatters,” Miranda said curtly.
“My career will be fine. What are you? A fortune teller? You can’t predict that,” Andy snapped as she stepped into Miranda’s personal space, forcing the editor to take a step back towards her desk. “Was that your grand plan? Matyr yourself out over my career? Can I just reiterate myself for a moment? My career. So how about you let me make the decisions,” Andy said sharply. “They should give you an Oscar. You certainly deserve it for this unnecessarily dramatic performance.”
Miranda bristled, but Andy ignored her, taking another step forward until the backs of Miranda’s thighs hit her desk.
Andy stared straight at the editor, her breathing heavy, before she launched forward and pressed her lips firmly against Miranda’s.
It wasn’t gentle.
Hurt, anger, relief, fear, and a culmination of a hundred other different emotions forced their way into the exchange and Andy soon found the tables turned as Miranda pushed herself forcefully away from the desk before slamming Andy back against it.
The reporter moaned as the highly polished wood dug painfully into her thighs as Miranda forced her legs apart so she could step in between them. She pushed Andy’s blazer off her shoulders and tore her shirt out of her dress pants and scrambled to undo the buttons.
It was frantic, and desperate, but she pushed any doubts aside as she assisted the editor in divesting her of her clothing. Her shirt had barely hit the floor before her bra quickly followed.
Miranda pushed her back over the desk and Andy moaned as the editor-in-chief latched her mouth around an already taut nipple while her hands began unbuckling Andy’s belt.
Miranda pulled away from her breast, only to force their lips together once more. Andy could taste the sharp, metallic tang of blood even as she felt Miranda’s hand slip beneath the hemline of her underwear and then press two fingers deep inside before she even had a chance to protest.
She gripped the edge of the desk desperately as Miranda fucked her forcefully. The editor-in-chief growled before using her thigh to increase the strength of her thrusts. She swallowed Andy’s moans as she began crying against her lips and grinding desperately against her palm.
“Miranda,” she cried desperately as the editor pressed impossibly deeper. She was relentless, giving no quarter as she drove into her insistently until Andy felt her muscles clamp down, catching her off guard before throwing her straight over the cliff.
They were both breathing heavily.
Miranda was resting her forehead against Andrea’s, her fingers still embedded deeply in the young reporter. She could feel the warmth trickling down her hand, and watched as Andrea winced, letting out a whimper as she gently withdrew.
She backed away, holding her damp hand away from her body like it was weapon over which she had no control.
Andrea was staring straight at her, watching her and Miranda saw the fear begin to creep into the reporter’s features.
“Miranda,” Andrea said desperately then. “Don’t do this.”
The editor-in-chief raised her hand and drew it shakily across her brow. She took in the half naked 26-year-old leaning back against her desk, her career dangling by a thread.
Andrea Elizabeth Sachs was ready to sacrifice her dream of being in the trenches, fighting the good fight, and for what? For a thrice divorced, 53-year-old woman with two children and a big dog.
No, Miranda thought. Absolutely not. “I’m sorry Andrea, I can’t do this,” she said.
Andrea stared at her.
“Miran—“ she began again, the pleading note in her tone cutting straight through to Miranda’s chest.
“No,” Miranda said sternly, taking a deep breath and straightening her spine. “Andrea, I need you to leave.”
“Miranda, for Christ’s sake! Can you just calm down for one minute and think about this?” Andrea demanded, the anger returning
“Don’t you get it?” Miranda snapped. “I have thought about this. This was a mistake Andrea. You were a mistake. I don’t know what on Earth I was thinking,” she said, taking a breath and drawing herself up to full height.
You’re an awful human being, she thought, even as she school her features and stared down at her damp hand with disgust, wiping it on her skirt with a sneer. “A 26 year old ex-employee? Whilst your services were quite enjoyable, Andrea, I think we’re done here,” Miranda finished, before turning and walking towards the door.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, Miranda,” Andrea said in quiet anger.
Miranda opened the door and turned. “You can see yourself out,” she said coldly, before passing out of the door and closing it firmly behind her.
Andy stood there, abandoned in the study, her body firing with rage and her mind gripped in disbelief. She felt a chill settle across her body as the sweat cooled across her chest.
Reaching down she grabbed her clothes and threw them back on before leaving the study, and Miranda, for good.