Work Text:
Miranda’s personal cell phone rang. This, in itself, was not impossible, but it was extremely odd considering the time of day. She frowned slightly at it, watching as it rang again before picking it up.
“Hey, boss! It’s Andy - just calling to let you know I got the burgers but they were out of onion rings so we’re stuck with fries for today.”
Miranda hung up.
A prank call? Or simply a wrong number. She shook her head and turned back to the quarterly budget she was sorting through. The quiet sound of Vivaldi played through her Sonos speaker system she’d set up and she settled back into adjusting the spreadsheet.
The phone rang again.
Miranda stared at it for a long moment, heavily considering letting it go to voicemail. With an annoyed sigh, she reached for it. If it was the twins, she would regret not answering it. They mostly called her work phone, but on rare occasions, they’d call her personal cell phone if something was wrong.
“You hung up before I could tell you the best part of my lunch run! Some guy in the new Valkyrie pulled up beside the light I was stopped at and I got his card and an agreement to go for a test drive for November’s issue!”
Miranda racked her brain for what the new Valkyrie could possibly be. Not that there was any way this phone call was for her, but still - she liked to think she had a handle on anything new that was of some cultural relevance.
“Boss?” The chipper voice came across the line again. “I didn’t mean to overstep I just know you were drooling-”
“You have the wrong number.” Miranda finally found her voice and interrupted. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call this line again.” She hung up.
“Emily,” Miranda’s voice was quiet, but even still her first assistant arrived at her door seconds later. “Get my cell phone number changed and have it programmed into both the girl’s phones when they get home from school. That’s all.”
That should handle that.
Except, it didn’t handle it. It didn’t handle it at all. Over the next three weeks, the same person called Miranda at least four times a day. Her phone rang morning and evening, and of all things; what seemed like a drunk bootie call at 3 am on a Friday night. Miranda’s cheeks warmed at the memory of a sultry voice asking her when she’d be home to play.
None of the calls were intended for her. Yet the same woman called each time, and each time Miranda hung up without so much as a word returned. Eventually, she was sure the mystery caller would get sick of this game and stop calling.
The calls kept coming anyway.
-
“Hey! I’m on my way home, I picked up some brie cheese to celebrate -” Click.
-
“Boss, I got a call back from the Ferrari guys -” Click.
-
“Hey! Just calling to say I got held up at work, I’ll be there in an hour or -” Click.
-
“Nate, you better be gone with your shit by the time I get home.” Miranda hesitated on this one but ultimately hung up. She didn’t know who this anonymous caller was, but it became clear weeks ago that they had no idea Miranda was subject to all of their calls - and regardless of the inconvenience, Miranda was a woman who could understand kicking a lover out of both your bed and your life. It was never easy, even if the other person had essentially packed their own bags.
The editor stared blankly out her office door. The girls were away at their grandmother’s for the week and the house was silent. The voice of her mystery caller joined the haunting echoes of the ghosts of her ex-husband’s whining.
The phone ringing had become a constant in Miranda’s life. As had picking it up. The editor wasn’t sure when she’d become so attached to her mystery caller - essentially becoming a voyeur into the other woman’s life, but whatever the reason? She continued to pick up.
“Lily, I get that you think I’m the reason we broke up, but I would like to point out that the man interviewed for a job in Boston while I was working what was arguably the busiest week of my life, without so much as a hint that he was looking to ‘broaden his horizons.’ If you want to throw away twenty years of friendship over a boy with more hair than brain cells - enjoy your life I guess.”
The line clicked off before Miranda could hang up. She wasn’t sure why she was staying on these calls longer and longer these days, but it seemed very clear that the person on the other side of the line had no idea she was the one receiving all of the calls, and sometimes it was nice to listen to something that had absolutely nothing to do with fashion or Runway or the drama surrounding her life. There was something comforting about conversations that required no response or acknowledgment from her.
It had been arguably, the hardest Paris fashion week of Miranda’s life. On top of the lack of focus and competence from her team, the night before they flew out, Miranda’s phone rang at 3 AM. She’d just fallen into bed an hour before, having been kept long past her 15-minute regular appearance when Donatella had placed a flute of blue bubbly in front of her. Unsure of what possessed her - Miranda found herself stumbling through her hotel door a little after two in the morning, already dreading her 5:30 AM alarm to get up and ready to leave for the airport. She’d just dozed off when the phone started ringing.
“ ‘allo?”
There was rustling on the other end, and then a soft moan came across the line. Miranda felt her cheeks go warm at the sound. She knew she should hang up, but it was late and Miranda felt her body responding to the fast breaths and soft moans coming across the line. Her hand had been resting on her stomach as she slept, but now crept slowly down to the waistband of her pants. She listened to the sound of skin sliding against sheets, to heavy breaths getting faster and faster, and finally, she listened as the woman on the other end whisper a rough ‘fuck’ before making a keening noise and then a silence falling over the call.
Miranda bit her lip hard to keep from making a sound as her fingers slipped through warm wetness. She couldn’t hold back a gasp as she dipped a finger inside of herself, her hips pressing down, body eager for release. She moved in time with the noises of her mystery caller, her eyes pressed tightly closed, her imagination painting the picture of the woman above her, breaths in time with her fingers curling inside of warm heat.
Miranda knew it wouldn’t take long. It had been months since she’d taken care of her body, and much longer since someone else had touched her (and longer, still, since someone else had made her cum.)
“Oh shit, who did I call?”
The voice on the other end of the line broke Miranda’s concentration. She heard the sound of sheets rustling and then three beeps signaling the call had ended.
“What am I doing?” Miranda muttered to herself. She reluctantly pulled her fingers out of herself, wiping them on the sheets beside her before rolling over and letting out an uncharacteristic scream into her pillow.
Sleep did not come quickly.
The flight home from Paris was always chaotic as Miranda had staff members fluttering back and forth to share their notes and thoughts with her, bringing potential layout ideas and article ideas to be approved so they could hit the ground running as soon as they returned to United States soil. The September issue would not write itself, after all.
Miranda was distracted though. Her mind drifted to the memory of the sound of sheets against bare skin, her imagination trying to fill the faceless voice with imagery of what she’d listened in on while drunk the night before. Miranda refused to acknowledge that for the first time in years she was distracted from her work because she was horny. Like a prepubescent boy! It was ridiculous and she reminded herself of that often as her thoughts drifted away from the Chanel line and back to the way the mystery woman moaned the word fuck, or, as she pulled The Book into her lap, the thought about having the breathy moans whispered into her ear while her unknown caller sat in her lap, wrapped around her fingers.
It was ridiculous.
Yet, it continued throughout the entire flight. Miranda climbed into the back of the town car, flush and annoyed at how behind she was on her work. Roy slid silently into the front seat, waiting for Miranda’s direction. He knew better than to assume they’d head straight home.
The editor contemplated going back to the townhouse. The twins were with their father for another week, and she could use the quiet to catch up on the work she’d missed doing because of her traitorous hormones - but instantly the thought of home brought flashes of her bed and the vibrator that sat, woefully underused, in her top drawer.
“Take me to the office.” She hissed out, her cheeks turning red. If she had to sleep there to get her work finished, she would. Hormones be damned.
The drive was as smooth as it ever got, working through NYC traffic in rush hour. They’d flown out at 7 AM, Parisian time, and landed in NYC at 9:45 in the morning. She had a full workday, and at least four Starbucks runs, ahead of her.
While Roy headed to Starbucks to get coffee for his boss, Miranda stepped into the lobby of Elias and Clarke. It was a Sunday morning, so aside from security and a lone woman standing at the elevator bay, the building was eerily quiet. Miranda tapped her pass, picking up her pace slightly to slide into the elevator behind the other woman, just as the doors were closing.
Miranda’s eyes swept over the brunette in the back corner. She had her long hair in a high ponytail with straight bangs, carelessly tousled. A beaten-up Diesel leather jacket layered over a white shirt, dark wash jeans, and combat leather boots that tied the outfit together. All in all, a simple, but effective style for her frame. Arguably, the most impressive thing was that the girl hadn’t so much as flinched when Miranda had stepped through the door which meant she either had no idea who the editor was, or she had a spine of steel.
“What floor?” the taller woman asked with a bright smile. Miranda’s eyes swept the woman again, trying to place why she recognized her voice.
“Seventeen.”
The woman grinned, leaning past Miranda to press the appropriate button, and stepped back to bring herself level with the editor. The white-haired woman nodded her thanks, raising an eyebrow at the girl as she blew her bangs out of her eyes and gave the editor a wink. Miranda glanced at the switchboard, noting that the woman was heading to the tenth floor. Three of the smaller publications Elias Clarke owned shared that floor, PETS!, the landscaping one she could never remember the name of, and Auto Universe.
“Shoulda’ guessed that one. You look phenomenal in that suit, only makes sense you’re on the Runway floors!” The brunette said brightly. “Dunno how y’all balance in those heels and look so elegant doing it. I’d make it about two steps before I landed flat on my face.” The woman chuckled to herself, content to carry on the one-sided conversation as the elevator rose up to the tenth floor.
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Miranda’s eyes tracked the woman as she slipped out of the elevator, half turning to give Miranda a wave and a grin.
“Enjoy your Sunday, Suit. Don’t work too hard!”
The door closed before Miranda could think to respond. She glanced down at the 95’ vintage McQueen suit she was wearing, brushing her hands down the soft fabric. The oversized jacket was comfortable enough to travel in while still commanding a presence and was one of her favourite pieces that she owned.
Miranda smirked, it never hurt to have someone admire her simply for what she was wearing, and not for who she was. It happened so rarely these days. The elevator stopped at the Runway entrance, and Miranda made her way into her lair, a pep in her step that hadn’t been there in the lobby of the building.
Roy wasn’t waiting at the curb when Miranda exited Elias and Clarke that night. She’d sent him home for the day after he’d delivered her coffee, encouraging him to enjoy some time with his wife before the work week officially started again. She stood at the curb, a small frown on her face as she tried to wave another taxi down, watching as it blew right by her.
“Suit!” Someone behind her called out. “I didn’t think you’d still be here this late.” A black Ferrari pulled up beside Miranda with its passenger window down.
“Need a ride somewhere?” It was the brunette from the elevator that morning. Miranda took in the car for a long moment before nodding silently and stepping to the side as the door swung up. The editor slid into the leather seat with a small nod.
“Thank you.”
“Not a problem. I’m always happy to drive a stunning woman home in a stunning car while I have it. Where to, boss?”
Something about how the brunette said the word boss stirred the recognition in Miranda’s brain again, but she still couldn’t place it. “East 73rd.”
The brunette nodded, pulling easily into the flowing traffic. Soft indie music played as the car purred silently along the New York streets.
“Your boss must be a hardass to have you in the office all day on a Sunday.” The brunette said after the song on the radio ended.
“I could say the same for you,” Miranda responded, her finger dragging along her collarbone, mouth twisted in a smirk - amused yet again at the obliviousness of this woman to who exactly she was. “I didn’t get your name.”
The brunette glanced at her passenger. “Andrea, but my friends just call me Andy.”
Miranda’s brain placed the final piece of the puzzle back into place.
“Hey, boss! It’s Andy - just calling to let you know I got the burgers but they were out of onion rings so we’re stuck with fries for today.” “Boss, I got a call back from the Ferrari guys -”
“It’s you!”
Andy swerved to avoid a pothole she’d nearly hit at Miranda’s outburst.
“What’s me?” The brunette looked confused.
“The phone calls. For months you’ve been calling me.”
Andy looked even more confused at this. She pulled into a turning lane and flicked her signal on before turning back to look at Miranda.
“Suit, I don’t know what you’re on about, but until this morning I’m almost positive we’ve never met before, let alone spoken on the phone.”
Miranda blushed red, grateful that the light had changed and Andy’s eyes were back on the road. She was silent for the next few moments as they navigated onto her street and in front of her house. She may have never spoken, aside from the initial ‘don’t call back’, but she knew more about this woman’s life than she’d care to admit. Including, but not limited to, what she’d been doing the night before. Andy pulled up in front of Miranda’s townhouse, putting the car in park before turning to look confused at the older woman.
Miranda paused, her hand resting on the door handle. She cleared her throat, her cheeks burning. “I have been receiving… phone calls, for a little over a month now, that were very clearly not for me. Your name is Andy. Your partner left you three months ago to move to Boston to be some sort of fry-cook. Your best friend broke your heart more when she ended your friendship over your relationship ending, you eat burgers and onion rings with your boss for lunch and you work with cars in some capacity which I’m guessing is why you drove me home in a brand new Ferrari.”
Andy stared, her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth slightly open as she processed everything the older woman had just said.
“That’s just about every phone call I’ve made on my personal cell since I got my New York number.”
Miranda could feel her chest heat up, knowing the call that she hadn’t mentioned.
“I wasn’t aware it was you. Not until you just gave me your name. Well. The butchered version of your name, Andrea.”
“Jeeze, Suit. You know pretty much my entire life and I don’t even know what you do in Runway. I’d accuse you of having my phone tapped, but you seem just as surprised as I am.”
Miranda rested her hand against her burning chest, sinking back into the seat. “I have no reason to have tapped your phone, Andrea.”
Andy flashed Miranda a charming smile. “Well sure you don’t, clearly you just charm your way into your victim's car before you kidnap them.”
“You offered me a ride!“
“The phone thing was just a fun accident to pick your next victim, huh? Do you hide the dead bodies in the basement of this big ol’ townhouse?”
Miranda felt like a fish out of water. There was no good explanation for the phone calls but this was absurd. She searched for the words, so focused on figuring out how to defend herself that she almost missed the twitch at the corner of Andy’s mouth.
“You can’t be serious. There are no dead bodies!” Miranda swatted at Andy’s arm as the younger woman broke down laughing.
“Not even a little bit. The bit about not knowing your name or what you do at Runway was real though, Suit.” Andy rested her hand on the shifter. “You can serve me your finest whiskey and we’ll call the stalking bit even.” Andy raised an eyebrow at Miranda, daring her to say no.
“I’ve got a bottle I stole from Irv during the last company white elephant. He was apocalyptic about losing it so I can assume it’s at least half-decent.”
Andy grinned. “Well if you’re stealing whiskey from the CEO then I look forward to my glass. After you, Suit.” She turned the car off, pressing two buttons in the door - both her and Miranda’s doors popped open.
“Luxury cars - making chivalry as easy as pushing a button.” Andy quipped, following Miranda up the stairs as the car chirped behind them, auto-locking as the keys went out of range. Miranda unlocked the front door to her townhouse and disabled the alarm before turning back to Andy, just in time to watch her leather jacket slide down toned arms, revealing a full floral tattoo sleeve wrapped around her left arm. Miranda cleared her throat, biting at the inside of her lip as she reached a hand out to take the jacket.
Andy’s eyes didn’t leave Miranda once as she led them through the house to her study and poured out generous servings of a whiskey bottle she pulled from her bar set.
As she handed the brunette the heavy crystal glass, she nodded towards the chairs. They sat, both taking a long sip of their drink.
“Miranda,” the editor said as she swirled the dark liquid around, her eyes trained on the younger woman. Andy just grinned.
“I figured you must be the formidable Miranda Priestly I’ve heard so much about when you gave me the address and told me you stole whiskey from the CEO.”
Miranda sunk into her chair, a disappointment filling her. It was rare to not be recognized, but even more still to not be recognized
“It was good while it lasted.”
Andy watched her curiously, sipping at her whiskey while her eyes stayed locked on the editor. The silence stretched on between them until Miranda felt herself growing slightly annoyed that the younger woman hadn’t said anything. She could feel her lips pulling into a sharp line.
“I’m just waiting for you to explain why you don’t want to be recognized, Miranda. No need to get cranky over there.”
Miranda set her glass down, narrowing her eyes at the younger woman. “It is a rare thing, Andrea, to become as prominent as I am, and to not be known - moreover - to have someone want nothing from me just for who I am.”
Andy chuckled.
“Well, you’re wrong there, Suit.” She pushed herself out of her chair, towards Miranda, dropping to her knees in front of the editor. “I did want something from you, just for who you are.”
Andy’s hands loosely wrapped around Miranda’s ankles, sliding along the tailored legs of her pants. She dug her fingers into Miranda’s calves, tugging the editor's legs apart.
“Not because you’re Miranda Priestly, the formidable editor-in-chief of Runway magazine, queen of the fashion world.” The brunette pressed forward, finding her place between Miranda’s legs. Her hands pressed into the editor's thighs as she leaned up, her lips brushing aside white hair as she whispered into the editor's ear.
“I wanted to watch the hot, white-haired, badass woman in a tailored suit, fall apart and scream my name.”
Miranda’s whole body shivered, her hands digging into the arms of the chair, fighting for control as she felt her entire body throb with want for the younger woman in front of her. When was the last time someone had been so bold with her? Not a single one of her husbands had made her this desperate with nothing more than a firm touch and a whisper?
“Andrea -”
“Besides,” Miranda could hear the grin in Andy’s voice. “It seems only fair, all things considered.”
“All things… considered?” Miranda’s voice caught in her throat, her mouth bone dry. Her fingers dug into the chair harder, desperate to be grabbing tattooed arms, a muscular back, Andy’s face - truly anywhere her hands could reach, Miranda would like to be touching right now, but she fought against herself, unwilling to participate without telling the brunette the whole truth about the phone calls.
“Considering,” Andy’s mouth hovered over Miranda’s racing pulse, “the twenty-minute phone call I had last night with an unknown number.”
Miranda couldn’t hold back the moan or herself. Andy knew. She knew that Miranda had been on the other end of the call. Her hands released the chair and were buried in Andy’s soft hair, pulling her face flush with Miranda’s, their mouths meeting in messy, desperate kisses before she could think about what she was doing. Every fantasy Miranda had been distracted by since being awoken by her phone in Paris that day raced through her mind, only this time with Andy’s face replacing the shadow figure. Miranda felt feral.
Her hands were everywhere, squeezing Andy’s arms, pulling her closer and closer - but never close enough. To Andy’s credit, she gave as good as she got, her mouth like fire against Miranda’s, pulling away only to nip and suck at the older woman’s jawline, her moans filling the space with the editors as Miranda yanked at the white t-shirt, pulling it out of Andy’s jeans and over her head, flinging it away carelessly towards the abandoned chair. The plain black Calvin Klein sports bra that the brunette was wearing didn’t last long - quickly torn from Andy’s frame and tossed in the general direction of the shirt.
Andy’s hands found Miranda’s hips and she pulled the older woman forward on the chair until her core was pressed against Miranda’s center. Andy could feel the heat radiating from the older woman as she scooped her hands under Miranda’s ass and in one swift motion, lifted her into her arms, mouth never once leaving the editor's neck. Miranda gasped, as much from the shock of being lifted as from the pleasure of the younger woman sucking a dark mark into her neck – her nails dug into Andy’s shoulders as her legs wrapped around the younger woman. Miranda couldn’t stop herself from grinding against the younger woman’s toned core, desperate for some kind of friction.
“Miranda -” Andy growled. “Bed. Now.”
The editor unwrapped her legs from the younger woman’s waist, turning to lead her out of the room. Andy’s hand caught hers, tugging her back into a frantic kiss.
“First, lose the suit.”
Miranda slipped out of the red pants, draping them over the back of the chair. As she worked the buttons of her shirt open, a blush crossed her cheeks.
“Andrea -“
“If you’re about to make some comment about your age or your body, I don’t want to hear it, Miranda. I want you. Desperately.” Andy’s eyes were dark as they watched the older woman’s fingers work on the last button.
“I was going to mention that I haven’t had a chance to shower since I was in Paris yesterday.” Miranda slid the shirt off, tossing it over the discarded pants. Andy’s smile was hungry as she stepped into Miranda’s space, catching her lips in a smoldering kiss.
“We’ll start in the shower then.”
Andy’s hands didn’t leave Miranda’s body once as they slowly bumped their way to the bathroom attached to Miranda’s room. Clumsy hands started the shower, and softer hands peeled away the remaining layers on each other’s bodies.
Andy urged Miranda towards the counter, lifting her into a seated position on it as the brunette once again dropped to her knees in front of the elegant woman. Miranda made a small noise of protest - still wanting to shower, but it quickly turned into a moan as Andy’s lips kissed along the inside of her thigh, her thumb rubbing circles into the other one. Miranda's palms dug into the edge of the counter, her breath hitching as the brunette bit into her thigh, sucking a dark mark into the pale skin.
The only thing Andy could think about was how hot it was that Miranda would have that mark all week. Whenever she crossed her legs and felt it, she’d think of Andy. Any time her thighs brushed together - and thank god they would, Andy did not understand this whole thigh gap trend - she’d remember what Andy was about to do to her. Leaning in, the brunette slowly dragged her tongue up Miranda’s center, taking her time kissing and licking everywhere but Miranda’s clit. The older woman keened, her hips raising up off the counter, desperate for more contact with Andy’s mouth as the brunette teased her, hands pressing her back down into the counter. Miranda retaliated by wrapping her legs around the brunette, using them to pull her face firmer against her as moans fell from her lips. Andy wrapped her lips around Miranda’s clit, sucking it into her mouth as she flicked her tongue over it, relishing as a soft ‘fuck’ fell from the editor’s lips.
“Not yet, but soon.” Andy had pulled back just enough to slide her fingers into Miranda before diving back in to lick and suck at her clit, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Miranda’s breathing was ragged as she felt herself climbing higher, her body like a live wire that was ready to explode as Andy curled her fingers, hitting the rough patch just right - sending Miranda careening over the edge, a gasp falling from her lips as she came around Andy’s fingers.
The brunette took her time before she withdrew, standing up, using Miranda’s thighs as leverage to get herself off the ground. She leaned in, stealing a quick kiss before helping the older woman off the edge of the counter.
“Shower?” Miranda couldn’t help but laugh at the cocky smile on the brunette’s face. Just for that, she wasn’t turning on the heated tiles. Andy could be cold while Miranda took her time helping her wash her back… her hips…
“Shower.” The white-haired woman grinned.
Miranda slowly woke up to the warmth of a sunbeam on her face. She was unusually comfortable, a weight pressing across her back. Slowly, the white-haired woman turned, coming face to face with a sleeping brunette. As the night before swept over her, Miranda couldn’t help but cup the younger woman’s cheek, leaning in to softly capture her lips. Unlike the frantic kissing from the night before, where it felt like neither of them could spare a moment to breathe, frantic to be touched and held, this kiss was tender, soft, and exploratory. Before, fireworks exploded behind both sets of closed eyes, but now… it was a rolling wildfire.
Andy’s hands roamed down Miranda’s back, tugging the older woman on top of her as they kissed, rubbing her hands softly over the editor’s naked back, just barely grazing the skin with her fingertips. Miranda practically purred as her mouth latched onto Andy’s neck,
“We’re both going to be late for work,” Andy chuckled, her hands moving slowly down to Miranda’s waist, her hands gripping the older woman’s hips as she flipped them smoothly over, adjusting so her knee fell between the editor's open legs. Miranda let out a low moan, bucking up against Andy’s leg.
“I’m the boss. I’m never late, everyone else is simply -” Miranda let out a whimper as Andy’s fingers found her wetness, teasing her opening lightly. “Simply unaware of the schedule.”
Andy chuckled, raking her teeth over Miranda’s collarbone before pulling away completely from the white-haired beauty.
“Unfortunately, Suit - I don’t have that luxury.”
Miranda’s eyes tracked the brunette as she made her way to the washroom. Andy tossed her hair over her shoulder, glancing back and catching the editor watching her.
“Doesn’t mean I don’t have time for a shower. You know what they say, four hands are better than two…”
Miranda was out of bed in a flash.
Andy hummed lightly along to the soft music coming from the radio as she navigated the Ferrari through NYC morning traffic with one hand, the other scratching lightly at the nape of Miranda’s neck as the editor quietly marked away at The Book with a red pen. It was oddly domestic, despite the rolling fire the editor felt in her core at Andy’s touch.
The brunette navigated them into the loading dock of Elias and Clarke, quietly turning off the sports car, and taking Miranda in. The editor capped her red pen, dropping it and The Book unceremoniously into her bag, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Andy watched, amused, while the white-haired woman built up walls she hadn’t realized she’d let down. Silently, Andy unbuckled herself and got out of the car, zipping to the passenger side to open the door for Miranda with a flourish.
“Miranda.” Andy held her hand out, grinning as the editor ignored it and stepped gracefully out of the car unassisted. Her hand was halfway to her face to pull her sunglasses off when Andy caught it, pulling her closer, wrapping the editor's arm around her waist.
“I was considering getting rid of my personal cell phone now that I have my work line, but I feel like I’ve got a lot more incentive to keep it now that I know it’s a direct line to a pretty woman in a suit.”
Steel-blue eyes locked on amused dark brown globes as Andy leaned in for a quick kiss.
“I’ll call you around lunch to see if I can slip myself into your very very very busy schedule, Ms. Fashion Queen. I hope you have a wonderful day at work.” Andy kissed Miranda again. “Try not to decide that last night was a mistake, okay? I have plans to repeat it before I have to return the Ferrari.”
A weight fell from Miranda’s soul. She laid her hand lightly on Andrea’s sternum, leaning in for a soft kiss.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Andrea. You’re already on my lunch schedule. I do believe I have some catching up to do from the shower this morning.”
With that, Miranda smirked, turning on her heel and walking away with a sway to her hips, heels clicking with each step.
“Hey, Suit!” Andy called after the woman. Miranda paused, looking over her shoulder with an eyebrow raised at the writer, her eyes dragging up the woman’s body, admiring how she looked leaning against the black sports car.
“Don’t work too hard.” Andy blew Miranda a kiss, laughing to herself as the woman’s eyebrow raised higher, accompanied by an amused eye roll. The brunette watched her walk away, grinning at the view. Pushing away from the car, she pulled her cellphone out, flipping through to find the number of her cell phone provider.
“What’dya think the odds of something like that would be?” Andy asked, taking a big bite of her salad as she looked around Miranda’s office curiously.
“Insurmountable, I’m sure,” Miranda said, amused. Her steak was perfect as always, but somehow the company made the meals all the better. Andrea had called the cell phone provider that morning and discovered the calls that had connected them were coming through because they’d somehow double-printed the SIM card each woman was using, and each call was being conferenced together. Quite literally a statistically improbable situation, but Miranda wasn’t complaining. They’d both received a six-month credit on their phones for the inconvenience and now
“Well we mounted them,” Andy said with a straight face, her eyes catching Miranda’s for a long moment before a goofy grin broke out on her face as she wiggled her eyebrows, pleased with her terrible joke.
“I should kick you out just for that.”
Andy grinned, pushing back from the table. “Yeah, but you won’t. You like me too much.”
“So you think. I do need to get back to work though - what time will you be finished today?”
Andy collected her and Miranda’s plates, taking the opportunity to lean down and brush her lips against the editor’s cheek softly, grinning at the shiver that traveled down the older woman’s body at the contact.
“You just let me know when you want the Ferrari out front. I’ve got plans for you.”
Miranda watched with a grin as Andy left her office with confidence in her step. Once the journalist was out of sight, Miranda swung her chair around, her eyes surveying the slice of New York City she could see. Miranda wasn’t a particularly religious person, but she believed in something. Whatever that something was, she wasn’t sure why it was watching over her and why it had given her the opportunity of a lifetime with the sim card mix up, but she knew she wasn’t about to squander it.
Fin.