Work Text:
Hitting speed dial 3 in her contact list, Miranda put her work phone down on the bathroom counter and reached for the cleansing lotion and cotton wool pad while the call connected.
“Welcome back Miranda,” Nigel answered in a chipper voice on the second ring, “how were the Hamptons?”
“Hot and full of sand,” she complained, as she started to wipe away her makeup.
“Your favourite” he replied sarcastically knowing full well how Miranda Priestly felt about both of those things. “I bet the twins had a wonderful time though?” he added, hoping his boss's dislike of hot weather and beaches didn't mean complete hell for the staff of Runway tomorrow.
Miranda smiled thinking about the precious time she had spent away with her girls as she reached for another cotton wool pad. “It's the only reason why I go,” she admitted distractedly as she inspected her face under the harsh bathroom lighting. She frowned at what she saw. More fine lines around her eyes. “The girls were devastated at the suggestion of selling the Hampton house after Steven left and they have been disappointed enough.” She sighed feeling that twinge of sadness she always felt at disappointing her girls. Reaching for her night cream she began a thorough application to her face and neck.
“The twins love you Miranda,” Nigel said, slightly taken aback at his usually reserved boss's admission. “They know everything you do, you do it for them.”
Miranda rolled her eyes as she threw the used pads in the bin. “Really Nigel,” she sighed feigning annoyance. “Bryan Adams!”
“Busted,” he replied, laughing out loud at the catch. It had become a game between them during a rather long, boring and uninspiring, Madrid fashion week last month to get song lyrics into a conversation to pass the time. “Guess I need to get up pretty early in the morning to get one past you.”
“Hmhm,” Miranda replied to her reflection, contemplating if it was time for plastic surgery. “Page 42,” she barked, reaching now for the hand cream as she continued her nightly routine.
“Come again?” Nigel asked trying to keep up with the conversation.
“Page 42 Nigel, seriously? Did you fall down and smack your head while I was away? It's only been 4 days, and I've returned to find Runway has become Burlesque Monthly, you hate the main stage at the Golden Nugget so whatever possessed you?”
“Ah yes that….” Nigel replied cautiously, wondering how this conversation would go. Miranda waited, envisioning her Art Director scratching his head as he figured out how to explain his quite frankly appalling decision for this spread.
“Miranda what the hell are you doing in there?,” came a low muffled shout from outside the bathroom.
“Who is that? Is that Six?” Nigel asked incredulously, sensing gossip in the air.
“Page 42 Nigel,” Miranda snapped, cutting off any further questions “FIX IT!” she barked again before ending the call in her usual abrupt manner.
Running a brush through her hair Miranda took a deep calming breath, checked her reflection in the mirror, adjusted her silk robe and picked up her phone before leaving the bathroom.
“Must I gag you as well?” she asked, as she entered her bedroom. Her voice had dropped to her lowest register as her eyes traced over her ex-first Assistant who was currently laying naked, hands tied above her head to her bed.
“I...” Andrea stuttered swallowing hard as she recognised the danger in that tone “I was just wondering what you were doing.”
Miranda narrowed her eyes as she padded over to the bed. Placing her phone on the bedside table she turned to inspect the white shibari rope around Andrea's wrists. Happy there were no obvious marks or actual signs of discomfort Miranda gave a hard tweak to the nearest nipple to her. “Have you forgotten the rules Andrea? You never ask Miranda anything” She replied as Andrea arched off the bed at the Editor's touch.
As First Assistant to Runway's infamous Editor In Chief Andrea knew all about the damn rules. Never get in an elevator with the Editor, always wear high heels, coffee must be center of the sun hot, steak cooked medium to rare, be invisible when you deliver the book and never ask Miranda anything to name but a few. And what a dumb rule that last one was! How Miranda expected her staff to know what she was thinking was still beyond her. Andrea sometimes thought Miranda would be happier if they were a collective mind like some kind of Borg set up from Star Trek.
She pressed her thighs together, the pain from her nipple going directly to pleasure in her clit.
“No, no,” Miranda said, tapping Andrea's thighs apart, “none of that.”
Andrea groaned and shifted on the bed. “Please,” she whined “I've missed you.”
Miranda raised a perfectly sculptured eyebrow “Is that so?” she replied, sounding unconvinced as she moved to the foot of the bed. Keeping her eyes on Andrea's she slowly removed her robe revealing a new silk La Perla underwear set in Cerulean Blue. The balcony bra hugged her breasts beautifully and the bikini briefs showed off her toned legs from years spent in high heels.
When they had first started their little…tryst, Miranda had felt very self-conscious of her much older body. At fifty-two years old, two children by c section, and two not so complementary ex-husbands, her self-esteem was not exactly as high as you might expect for an editor of the world's most revered fashion magazine. Clothes hide a multitude of sins and if Miranda knew how to do one thing exceptionally well it was how to look good in clothes. The idea of shedding those barriers and showing her vulnerable side had been terrifying, the fact she had done so to her much younger female First Assistant was quite frankly...groundbreaking.
Paris fashion week was the most important week of Miranda Priestly's year. This year Paris had also been the most distressing and…well…life changing. She had sacrificed Nigel’s dream job in favour of saving her own. Steven had decided he no longer wished to be Mr. Priestly and texted to say he wouldn't be flying to Paris to join her but would in fact be moving out of the townhouse and filing for divorce. And as for Andrea? Well, her First Assistant had been so disgusted at the thought she was becoming someone so deplorable as Miranda, she had thrown her work phone in the fountain outside their hotel at Place de la Concorde and had walked away leaving the older woman more lost and devastated than she should be considering everything else that had happened that week.
“Jesus Miranda,” Andrea moaned, straining to lift her head to drink in the sight before her, “you should come with a hazard warning, you're so fucking hot.”
“Language Andrea,” Miranda scolded lightly, as her left hand caught her robe before it fell to the floor. She flung it towards the chair under the window where it landed perfectly. “Do you remember our first time?” Miranda asked, her voice like silk as she slowly trailed her fingers lightly up the inside of Andrea's calf.
Andrea rested her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes thinking back to that night. “Of course I do,” she said softly, smiling at the memory “The hottest sex of my life. You were drunk and couldn't keep your hands off me. Insatiable!” She jerked at the hard pinch Miranda gave her inside thigh.
“Really?” Miranda replied, drawing out the word, her tone dropping to Ice Queen level.
“Yes,” Andrea replied matter of factly, before her eyes and voice softened. “But what I remember most about that day is how much I just wanted to hold you and remove the sadness from your eyes.”
“Sweet talker,” Miranda smiled blushing, slightly as she thought back to that day and night in Paris.
***
After the eighth missed call to her First Assistant’s phone, the fear that Andrea had indeed left her was starting to feel real. She was now sat on a bar stool at the end of the hotel bar nursing her second double scotch on the rocks still in the dress she wore to the luncheon. She cast her mind back through the events of the day. The Valentino show had been sublime, then came the satisfaction of getting one over on Irv by announcing at the luncheon that Jacqueline Follet would be heading up the James Holt account leaving her safe in the position as EIC of Runway. Everything had gone to plan, until she had paid what she thought was a compliment to the young woman in the car. “I see a great deal of myself in you,” she had told Andrea en-route back to their hotel. Andrea had made it clear she was not happy Miranda had sacrificed Nigel’s dream job and had clearly taken her statement as an insult. She was not behind her when she left the car to enter the hotel, and she was not taking her calls. Miranda downed the rest of her drink, placing the glass on the bar. Was the idea of being like her so deplorable?
She sensed someone sit down beside her and was about to let rip in full La Priestly mode at the audacity when her heart rate picked up.
“I'll have what she's having,” Andrea said to the barman gesturing to Miranda's drink, as she sat on the bar stool beside her. “What are you drinking,?” She asked, picking up the bar menu and scanning it.
“Double scotch on the rocks,” Miranda replied signaling for another.
Andrea pulled a face, she hated scotch. “Actually, make that a double vodka and coke, I'll also take a chicken club sandwich and fries please.”
“Certainly Mademoiselle,” the barman smiled, his eyes briefly roaming over Andrea's black dress.
Miranda glared at the barman then rolled her eyes at the change in order. “Heaven forbid you drink the same as me.”
“Not everything is about you,” Andrea snapped back, surprising the older woman. “I just don't like scotch ok, and don't you dare mention the fries.”
“It's your waistline,” Miranda replied as she watched the barman place their drinks on the bar in front of them. Picking up her glass she downed the amber liquid in one, feeling Andrea's eyes on her as she did. Her stomach rolled and she tried to remember the last time she had actually eaten something.
Andrea took a sip of her own drink and almost choked as she watched her elegant boss down a double neat scotch in one go.
“How many of those have you had?” she asked, nodding at the now empty glass.
“What do you care?” Miranda snarked, cringing at how childish she sounded on Scotch. “You left.” The ‘me’ was left unsaid.
The two women sat quietly for a few seconds while Miranda played with the empty glass seeming out of sorts. “Where did you go?” She asked so quietly Andrea almost missed it.
“For a walk," Andrea replied, taking another sip of her drink for courage. “I needed to clear my head; it's been quite the week hasn't it.”
“Understatement,” Miranda laughed without humour as she tried to signal the barman again.
“Seriously,” Andrea said with concern lacing her tone, “how many have you had?”
Miranda raised an eyebrow at the sudden bravery her First Assistant was displaying. Ex-first -assistant she corrected…possibly? She was here now, but Miranda didn't know what that meant. Hope flared. She once told Andrea she lived on it.
“Why are you here?” She demanded, not understanding why she cared so much.
Andrea sighed as she shifted on the bar stool. “You answer my question, and I'll answer yours.”
Miranda frowned at the negotiation. She was Miranda Priestly for goodness’ sake, she didn't negotiate, she asked the questions and her minions fell over themselves to answer.
“Three,” she answered before she could stop herself. She couldn't bear the thought of upsetting her Andrea again. Her Andrea?! The Scotch was obviously starting to take effect. It had been a while since she had drunk this much.
Andrea frowned as the barman placed the sandwich and fries down in front of her. She had worked for the Editor for six months now and had never known her to drink more than half a glass of champagne at a time.
“Can I get you anything else mademoiselle?” He asked, smiling, a hopeful look in his eyes. Miranda shot him her coldest glare. Was he flirting with her Andrea?!
“A bottle of still Pellegrino water and some ice please” she replied, smiling back.
“Certainly” he replied before moving down the bar to fulfill the request. Returning, he opened the bottle, pouring the water into a glass with ice. He was still standing there when he had finished.
“That's all,” Miranda said, in her best “La Priestly” tone.
The barman visibly paled and moved down the bar. Andrea picked up the glass of water and placed it in front of Miranda. “For you,” she instructed before picking up her sandwich and taking a delicate bite.
Miranda narrowed her eyes and turned her full glare on Andrea. “How dare you,” she started, “you don't… “
“Please,” Andrea asked softly, stopping the tirade that she knew was about to come. “I know I don't have any right to ask but I'm worried about you, so please drink some water,” she pleaded. “For me?”
Miranda's harsh reply died on her lips as she heard the care and concern in the young woman's voice. Damn the Scotch, she thought as she picked up the glass and drank half. Putting the glass down she snagged a fry off Andrea's plate and moaned at the first bite.
“Tell no one,” she hissed as Andrea's eyes went wide with shock then flashed with desire at the sound of her moaning.
“Your secret is safe with me,” Andrea replied, taking another bite of her sandwich. She was beyond pleased that Miranda had drunk some water at her request, but the fry stealing had made her heart happy. And the sounds the woman had made had gone straight to her clit.
“I can't remember the last time I ate fries,” Miranda hummed with pleasure as she stole another one, “it was possibly 1982.”
Andrea continued to eat her club sandwich while Miranda was steadily making her way through Andrea's fries in a blissed-out state. Andrea didn't say a word, she couldn't remember seeing Miranda eat anything at the luncheon and with the amount of scotch she had drunk she needed something else in her stomach.
“I did leave,” Andrea confessed, feeling Miranda stiffen beside her. “I was really angry that you couldn't at least warn Nigel what was coming. Nate and I broke up just before we flew to Paris and my friends have not been happy with me since I took this job. Then there was my less than stellar decision to sleep with Christian Thompson,” she sighed as Miranda actually growled.
“That womanizer doesn't deserve you” she spat.
“I know,” Andrea agreed, taken aback at Miranda's reaction to that piece of information. “When I found out what he and Jacqueline and Irv had planned I felt sick, all I could think about was you, finding you and telling you as quickly as possible.”
“I was impressed at the lengths you went to warn me.”
“Was all pointless though wasn't it as you already knew. I should have known, nothing gets past you when it comes to Runway.”
“No, it doesn't” Miranda replied firmly taking the last fry. “But the fact you tried so hard made me feel…” She hesitated at finishing that sentence.
Miranda looked down at Andrea’s hand suddenly on hers. She couldn't remember the last time someone other than her girls had wanted to deliberately touch her.
“Made you feel?” Andrea prompted not moving her hand away, her thumb absently stroking the soft skin.
“Made me feel cared for,” Miranda whispered, not able to meet Andrea's eyes. “Foolish old woman” she added, shaking her head at herself.
Miranda finally caught the barman’s attention and for one second Andrea thought she was about to order another scotch. “La facture s'il vous plait,” Miranda said, indicating them both. She signed her name and room number on the bill that was presented to her and slid off the bar stool with more elegance than one might expect. “Have a pleasant night Andrea” The older woman said, feeling tired and embarrassed as she picked up her clutch bag. She needed a strong coffee and to get herself together. What had she been thinking sitting in a bar drinking scotch, feeling things, she had no right to?
“Wait,” Andrea all but shouted in panic. “Please don't leave.”
Miranda narrowed her eyes at the outburst, “You will lower your voice,” she hissed, quickly glancing around the bar to see if that outburst had drawn attention to the pair. “I thought we had established it was you that had left,” she whispered, her tone frosty.
“But I came back,” she offered weakly. “Please,” she implored, “let me at least escort you back to your room?”
Miranda seemed to contemplate her answer before she came to a decision and nodded her agreement. Their rooms were in the same corridor after all so where was the harm in that.
“I can't wait to get out of this dress and these heels,” Andrea said for something to fill the silence as they rode the elevator up to their floor. Together!
“Indeed,” Miranda said, giving Andrea one of her long slow once overs. So beautiful, she thought.
Andrea laughed nervously, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment and desire from the heat in the Editor's eyes. “I…i just meant couture…it's not exactly comfortable to wear all day is it, I don't know how you do it?”
“You get used to it,” Miranda shrugged, as the elevator stopped at their floor and the doors opened.
When they got to the door of Miranda's room Andrea produced a key card from her own clutch bag and pressed it against the card reader. Miranda watched as the light turned green. “You have a key to my room?” she asked, surprise evident in her tone.
“Um yes,” Andrea replied, forgetting Miranda might not know that. “Just in case… you know” she laughed nervously again. “Good to be prepared.”
“Indeed,” she said, as she opened the door to her suite and turned on the main light, she turned back relieved to see Andrea still waiting in the corridor but looking unsure. Looking back, she would blame the scotch when she barked, “Were you born in a barn? Really Andrea, get in here and close the door.”
Andrea opened her mouth to ask if she was sure then decided against it. Miranda was always sure. Closing the door behind her she watched when Miranda moved about the lounge area of the suite putting on the three lamps before turning off the main light. The room was now bathed in a soft warm glow.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Miranda said, as she headed towards one of the bedrooms off the lounge. “I'll be right back.” As she got to the door of the bedroom she turned to look over her shoulder back at Andrea. “Oh, and feel free to take off your…heels,” she grinned before disappearing through the door.
Andrea shook her head at the salacious comment. Who knew Miranda could be playful! Today had been a rollercoaster ride of emotions. Finding her cool, calm, collected boss knocking back glasses of double scotch still in the dress she had worn to the luncheon and looking so lost and sad, had floored Andrea. Slipping her heels off, she groaned at the relief and flexed her toes to get the circulation going again. Looking at the sofa, she remembered back to yesterday when she had found Miranda sitting there visibly upset after receiving a text message from her second husband. “He doesn't deserve her either,” Andrea muttered to herself, as she looked around the suite. Spying a coffee machine on the table behind her she got to work on making coffees for the both of them. Somehow, she had gotten away with the water request at the bar but she might be pushing her luck now with coffee. She would take that risk, Miranda didn't need any more alcohol tonight despite any potential protests the older woman might make. Just as she was finishing the drinks she heard movement behind her.
“Hope you don't mind I made us coffees,” Andrea stated, as she turned around. The next words stuck in her throat as her mouth went dry. Miranda had taken a shower and had changed into the same soft robe she was wearing yesterday. Her hair was wet and slicked back with that stubborn S curl just starting to rebel and fall over her left eye. She looked breathtakingly beautiful. Andrea's mouth hung open. Miranda noticed the young woman's reaction and swallowed at the raw heat in her young assistant's eyes. She felt a blush rise from her neck. “Thank you Andrea,” she said softly, as she padded barefoot across the plush carpet and reached for the cup. Andrea picked up the correct one and handed it to her, their fingers brushing as they did.
“Close your mouth Andrea,” Miranda said, with amusement dancing in her eyes, “you are not a cod fish.”
Andrea quickly closed her mouth, embarrassed, openly ogling her boss before bursting out loud. “Are you quoting Mary Poppins to me?” she asked, teasing slightly. She picked up her own coffee and moved to the sofa, needing space to cool down.
“It's the girl's favourite film,” Miranda replied, taking a seat on the sofa next to Andrea, crossing her legs. As she did so the robe parted, showing off a toned thigh. Andrea nearly swallowed her tongue at the sight as Miranda readjusted her robe to cover herself up. Andrea took a sip of her coffee, trying to hide her emotions that were quickly spiralling.
“You're very transparent,” Miranda said bluntly, watching Andrea trying to hide behind her coffee cup.
“I'm sorry,” Andrea replied sheepishly "it's just you're…”
“I'm what?” Miranda bristled, preparing for a blow.
“Stunning,” Andrea whispered, “and smart and funny,” she laughed. “I mean really funny, and so totally out of my league, and straight,” she added quickly, “it's insane to think about it.”
“Think about what exactly?” Miranda asked, not correcting the straight comment. Surely the young woman couldn't be suggesting what she thought she was!
“That anything could…never mind, it's probably for the best,” she said, as she dug her fingers into her scalp. “I should have left my hair down, these hairpins are evil,” she said, changing the subject.
“Come,” Miranda said, setting her coffee cup on the table besides her. “Sit in front of me and I'll remove them for you.”
Andrea was taken aback by the offer, had she entered the Twilight zone or something? But even as she tried to wrap her head around what was happening she had already moved to sit crossed legged on the carpet in front of Miranda, who had uncrossed her own to make room for her.
They sat in silence as Miranda very carefully removed each hairpin until they were all out and in a little pile on the table next to her coffee cup. She then, without thinking, combed out the brunette's hair with her fingers, reveling at the softness of the silky strands as they passed through her fingers. She continued long after it was needed not wanting to break contact just yet.
“If Nigel could see us now,” Andrea giggled as she leant into Miranda's touch. It felt so good, and much more sensual than it was probably intended to be. “I once joked that we had brushed each other's hair and gabbed about American idol,” she confessed.
“Really?” Miranda said, her fingers now starting a gentle head massage. “So, who do you think will win?” she asked seriously. “My money is on Taylor Hicks.”
“OH MY GOD!” Andrea gasped, turning around to stare up at Miranda. “You're a closeted Idol fan!”
“I am not,” Miranda sniffed, trying for nonchalant and failing “No one has ever asked my opinion on the matter.”
Andrea continued to stare up in amazement until her head was turned back around by Miranda's strong hands.
“You never cease to amaze me,” Andrea moaned as Miranda's fingers started a light scratching of her scalp.
“Likewise,” she said, leaning down to speak softly into her ear.
As she leaned down, Andrea turned her head towards Miranda, causing the Editor’s lips to make contact with her ear. Andrea's breath caught as Miranda couldn't stop the kiss she placed there, her eyes fluttering closed, heart pounding.
Andrea let out a small gasp, as she went very still. A million thoughts ran through Miranda's head before she shut them off and placed another kiss this time on the brunette's cheek, then another on the corner of her mouth. Andrea whimpered, as she tried to understand what was happening. The first kiss had to have been an accident but the other two were very deliberate. Taking a chance, she turned her head and caught Miranda's lips with her own. They both moaned at the contact before Andrea moved away and made to get up. Miranda sat back slightly, her heart plummeting at seeing Andrea pull away from her. Before she could apologise profusely, the young woman had turned around and was up, kneeling between her legs, pulling her down by her robe and into a heated kiss. This one was most definitely deliberate as she pressed her lips firmly into Miranda's. Her mouth moved slowly against the older woman's, she cupped her cheeks in both hands to keep her close, her tongue tracing Miranda's bottom lip seeking permission. At the first contact of tongues, they both moaned again before heat flared in between them. The kiss became deep and frantic as tongues dueled and teeth clashed, as Andrea pushed Miranda back against the sofa so she could sit astride her lap. The editor growled deep in her throat at the feeling of having Andrea in her lap and pulled her down by the back of her neck as she reared up for another bruising kiss. Minutes were spent devouring each other's mouths until Miranda's hands moved to the zip at the back of Andrea's dress.
“Allow me,” Andrea said, her voice low, reluctantly pulling away and sitting back slightly so Miranda could watch.
Miranda sat back against the sofa, her lips swollen and her eyes slightly unfocused as she watched Andrea slowly pull her dress forward and down off her arms to pool at her waist. Her gorgeous breasts were barely covered by a black satin strapless bra and Miranda's mouth watered at the sight.
“I'm a bit bigger than the Models in Runway,” she said, biting her bottom lip awaiting judgement.
Miranda's hands immediately came up to cup them, her thumbs stroking over the material. “You certainly are,” she said, her voice raspy with desire.
Andrea arched into the older woman's touch needing more. As if reading her mind the editor slid her hands around and undid the bra with ease, pulling the fabric away. Andrea's breasts swayed gently as Miranda cupped them again, enjoying the weight in her hands. This time as she stroked, her thumbs found tight nipples, Andrea's hips jerked forward. Miranda smiled at how responsive the young woman was and rolled both peaks between her thumb and forefinger pinching slightly. The sound Andrea made had Miranda wet as she did it again this time tugging gently. Miranda played for the longest time, pulling, pinching and twisting both nipples with varying degrees of pressure, pushing Andrea's pain barrier until she finally brought an abused nipple to her mouth and sucked it deep. Andrea writhed in her lap, her hands in Miranda's hair, hips rocking trying to ease her aching clit and finding air.
“Oh fuck,” she moaned at the feel of a hot wet tongue lavishing her nipple. “Do you have any idea how I've dreamed of your mouth on me, how many times I came to those thoughts.”
Miranda moaned around a nipple at the thought of Andrea masturbating to thoughts of her, before releasing it with a soft pop. “I confess to similar dreams.” She admitted before turning her attention to the other nipple, sucking and biting while she twisted and pulled at the other.
Andrea's brain was quickly turning to ash. Never had a lover spent so long worshiping her breasts, the border of pain and pleasure had her writhing and building towards a quick orgasm.
“Oh god, I'm close” she moaned. Hands gripping tighter in Miranda's hair, hips still fucking nothing as the older woman sucked and pulled harder. “How,” she stuttered, “Oh god how can you?” She cried out as she arched her back and came. Miranda continued her worshiping, her mouth softer now bringing her through the aftershocks with gentle licks.
Andrea was breathing hard, her brain now definitely ash at what had just happened. “How the hell Miranda?” she asked, completely shocked at coming just from her breasts being pleasured. “I didn't know it was possible!”
“There are many ways to come my dear Andrea,” Miranda said, feeling slightly smug. “I intend to utilize them all,” she added, her hands sliding up the inside of spread thighs pushing the pooled dress in Andrea's lap up higher. Andrea gasped as Miranda's fingers brushed against her soaked thong. Before she could reply Miranda had pushed aside the soaked fabric and had pushed two elegant, strong, fingers inside the brunette holding still.
“My goodness, you are soaked,” she breathed, at the wet heat she found. “So open and ready to be fucked.”
Andrea let out a cry at suddenly being filled and hearing the word “fuck” fall from Miranda’s lips.
“Is that what you want Andrea?” She asked, voice like silk, “do you want me to fuck you?”
Andrea found it hard to answer because of the sudden overwhelming pleasure she felt.
“That was a question Andrea,” Miranda said, her voice commanding, "Answer me or I’ll stop,” she added, as she started to withdraw her fingers.
“No!” Andrea cried out, this time at the loss. “Yes, yes, fuck me please, oh please!” She wailed her head rolling from side to side.
“Look at me,” the older woman demanded. Andrea looked into bright blue eyes as Miranda pushed two fingers back in deep, stroking at that spot that made Andrea's eyes go wide and her hips immediately rock.
“That's it,” Miranda hummed in approval, starting a slow, deep, thrust and building up until Andrea was riding her hand harder and faster. “Beautiful girl,” she praised, “you look exquisite fucking my hand.”
Andrea couldn't speak. Still on a high from her first orgasm, she was now being filled and fucked by the woman she had been dreaming about for months. Miranda's wicked mouth, strong hands and that commanding tone had her hurtling towards a second orgasm in as many minutes.
“You feel so good Andrea,” the editor crooned, “so tight and delicious, I have wanted you since the day you wore those Chanel boots.”
Andrea gave a strangled moan as her walls squeezed Miranda's fingers tighter.
“How distracted I was by thoughts of throwing you down on my desk and ravishing you long and hard in just those boots,” she punctuated the words with a hard thrust of her hand. “Do you wish to come for me again?” She asked lightly, as her other hand joined to stroke Andrea's clit in time with her thrusts.
“Yesss,” Andrea continued to moan, her blissed out state evident on her face. “Always for you,” she added, biting her bottom lip as Miranda stopped thrusting and started rubbing that spot again. The pleasure of having both her G-spot and her clit rubbed at the same time was enough to make Andrea scream as her back arched and her hand grabbed onto the arm of the sofa. Miranda watched in awe as the young woman's climax ripped through her, soaking the editor's hand and wrist.
Miranda carefully removed her fingers, both women groaning at the loss as she gathered Andrea into her arms as she slumped forward completely spent.
“You were wonderful,” the editor murmured, kissing the brunette's temple before she encouraged Andrea to lie down with her on the sofa.
Andrea went willingly, her knees and thighs protesting at the exertion. “You're incredible,” she replied sleepily as she snuggled against the older woman as warm arms wrapped around her holding her close.
They stayed that way for long moments, Miranda gently stroking the brunettes naked back feeling her breathing slow to a deep and steady rhythm.
“You had better not be falling asleep on me young lady,” Miranda said, poking the young girl in the sides. “I am not finished with you yet.”
Andrea lifted her head to look up at the editor. “You're gonna be the death of me woman,” she teased with desire shining in her dark eyes.
Miranda continued stroking up Andrea's back then up to her neck moving into her hair. “Youth is wasted on the young,” she complained before pulling the brunette up to fuse their mouths together. The kiss was soft and filled with tenderness. Miranda pulled away, sighing in contentment. “Come to bed?” she whispered, her words sounding like an order but her eyes a pleading request.
“As if I could say no to you,” Andrea said, as she reached out to tuck Miranda's enticing S curl behind her delicate ear.
Miranda's eyes hardened, as she pulled back suddenly. Andrea immediately sensed she had said the wrong thing.
“You always have a choice Andrea,” she said with a distinctly “La Priestly” edge to her tone. “I would never demand that of you. I would never force you,” she bit out the words as they caught in her throat.
Andrea was horrified at the implication as she scrambled to sit up on the sofa pulling her dress up to cover her breasts. “Miranda…what...no!” She spluttered, trying to understand what was going on. “I would never think you would demand sex from your assistants,” she shouted. “Do you really think I allowed what just happened because I didn't have a choice? I wanted you Miranda. I still want you,” she corrected herself.
Miranda pulled the top of her robe closed where it had opened slightly and sat up on the sofa just as Andrea stood up. She watched as the young woman paced the lounge clutching her dress to her chest.
“You seriously think I allowed you to fuck me because I felt controlled? Because you're too powerful to say no to?” She spat, her anger rising. “Or do you think I was trying to get ahead? Is that it? Work a year for Miranda Priestly and you can get any job you want as long as you put out first.”
Miranda's eyes flashed as she went to reply to that comment.
“No!” Andrea said, cutting her off as she angrily pushed her arms through the sleeves of her dress and half did up the zip. “I don't want to hear some Ice Queen retort, and to think I came back because the thought of leaving you hurt too much.” Forgetting her heels, Andrea snatched her clutch bag from the side table and turned to face Miranda. “You and your magazine are welcome to each other.” With that Andrea walked out of the suite and away from the editor for a second time that day.
No sooner had the door slammed shut, Miranda had shot off the sofa radiating fury, her hands balled into fists at her sides. How dare Andrea speak to her like that, who the hell did she think she was? She would blacklist the impertinent child from every publication across America and Europe! Andrea would be lucky to flip eggs at Dennys when she was through with her! Miranda stalked to the mini bar and poured 2 fingers of scotch downing it in one. The sight of the scotch enraged her further as she hurled the glass against the wall, satisfied with the sound of the smash it made. Talk about manipulating behavior, hadn't Andrea done just that? Curbing her alcohol intake, tricking her into drinking water and eating fries. The suggestion that she, Miranda Priestly, only promoted those employees that slept with her was ludicrous when the girl had no doubt only slept with Christian Thompson to help further her own career. She paced the lounge, vibrating with anger as she collected her possessions that were scattered around the room. The Runway crew were due to fly home tomorrow evening affording them all a very rare morning off. Stalking into the bedroom, she dumped everything on the bed before she started to methodically pack away everything that she didn't currently need. The task helped to focus her thoughts as the red mist started to clear. Picking up her dress off the chair where she had discarded it in her haste to quickly shower, she was reminded of the luncheon and Nigel. She had done what she had needed to do in order to save the magazine, but she would see to it that her right hand man got something better. His loyalty deserved to be rewarded. Unlike an ungrateful First Assistant!
Moving into the bathroom Miranda packed away the makeup she didn't need and tidied up her toiletries. Glancing at herself in the mirror she noticed her bruised swollen lips from kissing Andrea. She had kissed Andrea! Andrea had kissed her back!
She sighed, as she braced her hands on the sink unit. Thinking back to their argument in a less rage induced state, Andrea hadn't actually accused her of sleeping with her staff. Miranda had been fighting her attraction to her young assistant for weeks but no sooner had she brought Andrea to two amazing orgasms, her insecurities had kicked in and the thought crossed her mind Andrea had only agreed to it out of fear. She was well aware of her reputation and the idea that Andrea felt forced made her feel sick. Closing her eyes, she replayed the event back. The look in the brunette's eyes had been one of pure lust and not that of reluctant agreement or fear. Had Andrea genuinely wanted her? It was possible. And what of that comment about her leaving hurting too much? What did that mean? Was it possible she really did care? Miranda opened her eyes and touched her lips; you didn't kiss somebody like that and not mean it.
Furious at herself, humiliated and out of sorts Miranda picked up Andrea’s shoes from the lounge floor and left her suite for a room three doors down. She banged on the door until it was flung open.
“Jesus Miranda break the door down why don't you,” the brunette seethed giving Miranda a puzzled look.
Miranda pushed past Andrea and into her room, noticing she had changed into a ratty grey Northwestern T-shirt and black yoga leggings, her half-packed suitcase on the bed.
“By all means come on in,” Andrea said sarcastically with a sweeping gesture of her arm.
Miranda gave her a cold stare and threw the shoes on the bed. “What did you mean when you said the thought of leaving me would hurt you too much?” she demanded.
Andrea moved the heels to the side of her case and continued packing, turning her back on the older woman. “What do you think I meant Miranda?” she bit back, frustration lacing her tone.
“Just answer the question,” Miranda snapped harshly.
Andrea threw the blouse she was folding on the bed and spun around to face the editor. “You know what?” she said with a heat in her eyes that made Miranda squirm a little “that Ice Queen persona act you have going on right now isn't nearly as effective when you're standing there naked under that robe.”
Miranda pulled herself up to her full height and raised her chin as she subconsciously checked the knot on the belt of her robe. Andrea took a step forward; she had two inches on the Editor when they were both without heels.
“Do you know why I left today?” Andrea asked, her tone even.
Miranda rolled her eyes. “Because you do not wish to become someone like me.”
Andrea rolled her eyes in return.
“No,” she replied. “I left because I realised if you could throw Nigel over like that, your right-hand man, you wouldn't hesitate to do the same to me, your lowly assistant.” She took a deep breath. “I realised today I've come to care a great deal about you, more than I probably should.” Andrea said. “I came back because I didn't want to leave you, I couldn't leave you.”
Miranda continued to stare up at the brunette in surprise as she explained.
“When I told you I can't say no to you, I was referring to my not being able to resist you. I would never sleep with you to further my career; I want you, Miranda not La Priestly.”
Miranda gasped softly at the confession, her hands trembling where they still laid over the knot of her belt.
“Please Miranda” Andrea asked, running the backs of her fingers down the stunned woman's face, “say something, tell me what you're thinking.”
“I want you too,” the older woman breathed without hesitation, “I…need you.”
Andrea cupped Miranda's cheek before crushing her mouth down on the editor's, immediately pushing her tongue inside. She swallowed Miranda's moan as she made to undo the knot holding the robe together. Miranda returned the kiss just as passionately. She felt Andrea walk her back two paces until her back was against the wall.
“You have a bed,” she gasped as the young woman moved her mouth to the editor's long pale neck, kissing and sucking lightly.
“Wall first then bed,” she growled.
Finally getting the knot undone, Andrea went to remove the robe just as Miranda prevented her.
“Are you ok? Andrea asked, stepping back slightly to give Miranda a little space. “It's ok if you don't want me to,” she added gently, thinking Miranda had changed her mind.
Miranda looked like she was contemplating her answer before she said, “I'm not twenty eight anymore, I've had my girls and clothes…they hide…imperfections.”
Andrea was taken aback at what Miranda was trying to say. Miranda was self-conscious over her looks and body. Miranda! A woman so beautiful she could put herself on the front cover of her own magazine every month and sell a million copies.
Andrea cupped the editor’s face making sure she had eye contact when she replied, “You are so beautiful you have no idea. So, you're not twenty-eight! I don't care. You are the sexiest woman I've ever seen. You felt how wet I was earlier, that was all you Miranda, I never get that wet and I flooded your hand and wrist, which was a first by the way.” Andrea took the hand Miranda wasn't holding her robe closed with and slipped it into her leggings and straight into the wetness there. Miranda moaned at feeling all that wet heat again. “If you don't believe my words, believe what you feel. I want you so much, please let me make you feel wanted?”
Miranda's answer was to drop her other hand letting her robe fall open. She started to play in Andrea's wet heat before the young woman gripped her wrist, removing it from her leggings. “Oh, no you don't beautiful,” she tutted, as she put Miranda's wet fingers in her mouth and sucked them clean. Miranda's eyes went wide as Andrea removed her hand and pushed her back into the wall kissing her hard, letting the other woman taste her through their kisses. Miranda sucked on Andrea's tongue as the young woman parted the robe fully and placed her hands on slender hips.
As they kissed, Andrea's hands moved from hips slowly up Miranda's ribs and back down again before travelling up her torso and separating to cup both breasts as she squeezed gently. Miranda broke the kiss to tip her head back as she pushed her breasts further into warm hands. Andrea watched the pleasure flit across the Editor's face as she pinched and pulled both nipples.
“More like the size you find in Runway,” Miranda tried to joke, referring to her small breasts.
“Perfect for my hands,” Andrea replied, lifting them up as evidence, “and perfect for my mouth,” she added as she sucked a dusty pink nipple into her mouth before flicking her tongue rapidly over the hard peak.
“Oh,” was all Miranda could say as she arched into her assistant's hot, wet, mouth, her hand reaching out to hold the girl's head in place, she moaned loudly, the sound going directly to Andrea’s clit.
It was fair to say that up until that day in a hotel room in Paris, Miranda hadn't really cared much for sex. She didn't find it enjoyable and being an extremely busy woman rarely had time for it. She had used it mostly to placate her husbands’ when she had cancelled too many dinners. Neither husband seemed interested in her pleasure and so it became a tool to use. She had been called frigid and a prude for her lack of enthusiasm. At fifty two, in a hotel room in Paris, Miranda finally understood the problem.
She wasn't into men.
Andrea continued her oral assault on Miranda's breasts, as one hand dropped to trail her fingers up the inside of a pale thigh. She could feel Miranda trembling slightly. Releasing a nipple, she moved her mouth up to speak into her ear.
“You are stunning,” she whispered, as her fingers reached higher up Miranda's thigh. “Your skin is like silk,” she continued, as she reached the juncture of the editor's thighs, feeling the heat covering the coarse hair. “Spread your legs beautiful, I want to be buried inside you.”
Miranda did as she was asked and moaned loudly as she felt soft fingertips playing in her arousal.
“Is that all for me?” she asked sweetly.
Miranda nodded, not able to form words, her hips moving seeking elusive fingers.
Andrea pushed one long finger inside before pulling out to replace it with two. Miranda's mouth opened in a silent gasp as she hooked her leg over Andrea's hips, her own hips rocking in counterpoint to Andrea's thrusts. Andrea had intended to be gentle with the older woman, for it to be sweet and slow. As soon as her fingers were enveloped in exquisite heat she couldn't stop herself, she needed Miranda to come undone under her hands. The hard deep thrusts had Miranda's eyes rolling back in her head as she got even wetter, Andrea moaned as their sounds filled the room. She pulled out adding a third finger gently, testing, as Miranda opened for her she pushed in to fill her completely.
“Fuck Miranda,” Andrea moaned again, as the editor’s walls gripped her fingers tight. “You take me so well, you feel amazing.”
Miranda couldn't speak, she couldn't think, the feeling of being filled and taken by her young assistant was overwhelming, her senses were overloaded. Andrea was really fucking her now with two…no three fingers as she continued to whisper in her ear. Suddenly, she stopped thrusting and removed her fingers. Miranda groaned at the loss and lifted her head ready to reprimand the girl just as she sank to her knees. The visual both blew her mind and scared her witless.
Surely Andrea wouldn't want to do that?
Her experience with oral sex had not been great. Her first ex-husband had tried and when she had not climaxed he had stopped, complaining of jaw ache. When she had suggested on another occasion, they try again she was met with a “why bother.” Steven had flat out told her he didn't like the way she tasted during one particularly spiteful drunken argument, leaving her feeling humiliated.
Andrea sank to her knees needing to taste the older woman. She could smell Miranda's arousal as white curls glistened. She licked her lips as she looked up Miranda's body, the sight was magnificent. Covered in a sheen of sweat, Miranda's chest was heaving slightly, her eyes wide as she stared down in disbelief and fear. Andrea leaned in and flicked her tongue over a hard clit. Miranda held her breath and braced herself, but Andrea just flattened her tongue and ran it up the length of her sex before flicking back over her clit. At the first full taste of Miranda's arousal Andrea was all in. She buried her face and ate like a starving woman, her tongue pushing in deep as her hands grabbed the back of the Editor's thighs pulling her in closer.
“Oh fuuuck,” Miranda all but screamed, as Andrea sucked her throbbing clit into her mouth, causing the editor to buck hard.
“Jesus you taste so good,” Andrea mumbled, as she came up briefly for air. Pushing two fingers back inside she set a punishing pace as her tongue was soft and light on Miranda's clit.
Miranda's legs began to shake as her heart rate picked up. She felt hot as something powerful started to build inside her. What was Andrea doing to her?
“Oh there,” she moaned loudly as Andrea hit a particularly sweet spot, “there…don't move…oh god Andrea…oh…oh…”
Miranda came with a cry as a powerful wave washed over her and her whole body shook. Andrea brought her through the aftershocks as she placed small kisses across Miranda's C section scar.
“Oh my god,” Miranda said, breathing hard as she brought a shaky hand up to cover her eyes. “I can't believe…finally.” She said laughing.
Andrea frowned as she stood. “What's finally?” She asked, not sure how to quite take that comment coupled with the laughter.
“I think at 52 years old I just had my first orgasm.”
Andrea's mouth dropped open.
“You...um…what?”
Miranda's cheeks flamed with embarrassment at the confession as she covered herself up with her robe and re-tied the belt.
“You… how have you never…?” Andrea stuttered, dumbfounded.
“Don't you dare presume to judge me!” Miranda hissed as her walls went up. She pushed away from the wall and away from Andrea to stare out the window.
“I'm sorry,” Andrea said softly, seeing the embarrassment on the editor's face. “I swear I'm not judging you, I'm just surprised, and a little sad.”
“I don't need your pity,” Miranda snapped, wrapping her arms around her waist as she protected herself.
“I don't pity you Miranda,” Andrea replied, “I'm sorry that for whatever reason you haven't until now, but I'm not sorry your first time was with me, it was amazing…you are amazing.”
Andrea took a few slow steps towards the older woman and gently reached out to place a hand on her shoulder.
“Please don't shut me out,” she whispered as Miranda tensed under her touch, “please.”
After what seemed an eternity, Miranda's shoulders dropped as she sighed. Andrea took a chance and stepped into the editor, wrapping her arms around her waist and drawing her against her chest.
“Your husbands and any lovers you've had are idiots and not deserving of you,” Andrea said into Miranda's ear. “You are worthy of love and affection.”
Miranda snorted her disagreement. “I am a hard woman to love Andrea. I am ambitious and career oriented. The magazine is my priority and everything and everyone gets sacrificed to it. Sometimes even my girls.”
“That doesn't mean you are not deserving of a loving supportive partner, or a lover that wants to rock your world.”
Miranda let out a short laugh. “I'm better off alone, I don't need anyone except my girls.”
Andrea found that hard to believe, maybe she just needed to show the older woman how a relationship could be with the right person.
“Will you lay down on the bed with me?” Andrea asked tentatively, resting her chin on Miranda's shoulder as she tightened her hold. “I would really like to hold you.”
“I don't cuddle Andrea,” Miranda replied, not sounding convincing even to her own ears.
“Please,” Andrea pushed, feeling this was exactly what Miranda wanted but wouldn't admit to.
“Fine,” she huffed after several silent minutes. “If it will stop your incessant complaining.”
Andrea quickly moved to the bed as she threw the shoes in the suitcase and zipped it up before lifting it off and pushing it against the wall out of the way. Turning down the bed she noticed Miranda hadn't moved and was still staring out the window, playing with the belt of her robe. Approaching slowly, Andrea gently stroked down Miranda's arm taking the hand playing with the belt in her own as she tugged the editor towards the bed.
Andrea got in bed first and opened her arms wide as an invitation. “Come here,” she requested as she watched Miranda hesitate before sliding into bed next to her. Andrea wrapped her up encouraging the older woman to bury her head in her neck as she subconsciously rubbed her back. She stayed quiet just enjoying the feeling of holding the Editor as gradually she felt Miranda relax and mold into her, her breathing becoming slow and steady until eventually the brunette realised Miranda had fallen asleep in her arms.
***
“Remind me again why you tied me to the bed?” Andrea said, bringing Miranda out of her musings.
Miranda looked down at her lover and narrowed her eyes. “Because I wish it,” Miranda said her tone causing Andrea to break out in goosebumps. “And you are all about giving me what I want, aren't you Andrea?”
“You bet Baby,” Andrea replied grinning, “as many orgasms as your little heart desires.”
Miranda rolled her eyes, “You are insufferable.”
“And yet you can't get enough of me,” she teased back, “demanded I be here when you returned from the Hamptons because you missed me sooo much.”
“And now I am seriously regretting that decision.” Miranda deadpanned.
Andrea pouted.
“Aw, my poor assistant,” Miranda mocked as she ran her thumb over Andrea's pout.
“Ex-assistant,” Andrea corrected, “you slept with me then fired me!”
Miranda hummed in agreement, “Well, I can't very well have you in my employ, Andrea, when I want you in my bed,” she replied dipping her head down to suck a hard nipple into her mouth.
Her phone rang.
“Don't you dare answer that call,” Andrea cried out in frustration, “tell them to piss off.”
“I shall do nothing of the sort,” Miranda replied, as she picked up her phone from the bedside table and checked the caller ID.
“Nigel,” she drawled in a sickly-sweet voice, as she sat on the side of the bed next to Andrea. “I hope this isn't some feeble attempt to win me over regarding page 42.”
Miranda's fingers wandered up the inside of Andrea's thigh as she spoke to Nigel, cool as you like.
“Burlesque Monthly!” she said with a frown as her fingers reached the juncture of Andrea's legs. She tapped a silent order for Andrea to spread her legs. “You do realize I was joking,” she continued, as she started to play with Andrea's clit.
Andrea couldn't believe what was happening. Was Miranda seriously going to have a conversation while she did this? The older woman pushed two fingers deep inside. Andrea arched off the bed and made a strangled noise. Miranda shot her a death glare.
“Just the TV,” Miranda replied, as her fingers started a slow thrust.
Andrea pulled against the rope as Miranda continued to fuck her.
“It possibly has merit,” she continued, as she removed her wet fingers to play with Andrea's nipples.
“Cher!” She suddenly blurted out. “How do you know Cher?” She asked, incredulously as she twisted and pulled at Andrea’s nipples as the young woman writhed on the bed. Miranda smiled, remembering back to when she had brought Andrea to orgasm by her breasts alone. Miranda raised an eyebrow as she continued to listen to Nigel. “Well, if you can bring me Cher, I shall be most…impressed.” she said, as she trailed her fingers down Andrea's chest and back between her legs.
“I suggest you put a mockup together and present it to the board,” she said, rubbing hard at Andrea's hard clit.
The brunette's eyes went wide as her hips rocked in time.
“Yes Nigel you,” she said, in frustration as she gathered more wetness from Andreas sex to rub over her clit, “What do I know about Burlesque?”
Andrea moaned again then bit her lip at the sound when Miranda narrowed her eyes and slapped her sex in a reprimand. Andrea bit her tongue at the pleasure that washed over her, and Miranda made a note to explore that further. Slipping two fingers back inside, Miranda set a punishing pace as she continued her conversation, she felt Andrea was close.
“Bring me some figures and we can go over them,” she said, as Andrea's walls gripped her tight. “Come for dinner, we can discuss it then.” The word ‘come’ Andrea knew, was meant for her and she came with a strangled cry, as she tried to keep quiet.
“Lovely,” Miranda said, as she swiped her thumb over Andrea's clit, enjoying watching the younger woman twitch in aftershocks. Andrea didn't know if lovely was directed at her or Nigel.
“I shall see you bright and early tomorrow. Have a lovely evening, Nigel” Miranda said. There was a brief pause before Miranda smiled and replied, “Oh I intend to.” Before she hung up the phone.
***
Across Manhattan, Nigel hung up knowing exactly what he had heard. “I knew it,” he laughed to himself. “cheers to you Six.”