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They were lost and, despite what Miranda claimed, it was not Andy’s fault. As they sped through the Colorado wilderness, all the trees looked the same, especially as the snow came down, harder and harder with each passing minute. Andy’s knuckles turned nearly as white as the snow as she gripped the steering wheel and attempted to hold steady in spite of the four inch heels on her Dior boots. The atmosphere in the car was tense, Miranda, for once, choosing to hold her tongue after reading the map wrong and sending them into the mountains in what Andy was now sure was the wrong direction.
Andy’s cell phone buzzed in the center console for the fourth time in an hour, vibrating as it rang with the ringer turned all the way down. Andy glanced at it only briefly, keeping her attention on the road, but Miranda, annoyed by the continual buzzing, picked it up.
“Who could possibly be calling you,” she grumbled, glaring at the caller ID. She read aloud, “Nate.”
“You can just ignor-” Andy began.
“Hello?” Miranda said, accepting the call and pressing the phone to her ear. “She’s not available at the moment… Miranda Priestly. She will be returning to the city Thursday.”
Andy wanted to bang her head repeated on the steering wheel in front of her. In the rush to schedule everything, it had totally slipped her mind to tell Nate that she was going to be gone for three days- and now he was finding out from Miranda of all people. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Miranda ended the call, setting the phone back in the cup holder before saying, “He says he hopes we’ll be happy being frigid workaholic bitches together.”
“Miranda I’m so so sorry-” Andy said, cringing, but Miranda cut her off again.
“It is also apparently your anniversary with that… charming young man,” she said with an eye roll Andy could hear.
“It sort of sounds like we just broke up,” said Andy. Miranda didn’t respond. The tension in the car seemed to grow, if that was even possible, until the air felt heavy and the silence somehow loud. Andy didn’t dare glance at the woman in the seat beside her.
Everything about the trip was a disaster, beginning with its inception when Miranda scrapped the Winter Wonderland shoot (“Not very wonderful”) and declared they needed to redo it in a hurry. So at the irritation of Irv and the accounting department, they flew everyone out to Aspen for a brand new shoot that needed to go to print in only three days. But despite Andy’s best planning- and she was excellent at planning- Miranda’s plane had been diverted to an airport three hours away due to inclement weather. She scrambled to figure out secondary transportation, trying desperately to find another flight out, but finally was forced to tell Miranda that the only way they were getting to the shoot was to drive.
Finally, amidst the big, fluffy flakes and snow dusted pines, Andy saw a neon sign that read Lost Lake Motel, Vacancy, with the second A in vacancy burnt out. Without consulting her travel companion, Andy pulled off into the parking lot.
“What are you doing?” Miranda said, voice rivaling the icicles hanging from the motel roof.
“It’s snowing too hard and I’m too exhausted to keep driving,” said Andy. She stomped inside, not waiting for a response.
The lobby was dimly lit, faintly smelling of smoke. Andy glanced around at the wood paneling and linoleum floors, knowing right away Miranda would detest everything about it, from the yellow lightbulbs to the rickety coffee station in the corner. Behind the desk was an older man, asleep.
Andy hovered for a moment, debating, when the man snored, choked, and woke up sputtering.
“Um,” said Andy once he’d finished coughing, “I’d like to get two rooms please.”
“Sorry kiddo, we only have one left. Room 109, queen bed. It’s the snow see, got everyone stranded,” said the man- Earl, according to his name tag. He scribbled something down in a book then said, “Name?”
“Andy Sachs,” Andy said, "You're sure you only have room, I really need two.”
“Sure as the nose on my face,” said Earl, setting a card reader on the counter, “That’ll be $57.”
Andy swiped her corporate card and accepted the pair of keys- real keys, not the electronic key cards usually used at the types of hotels Miranda usually stayed at- and worried her lip, glancing back through the window to the rental car.
“There’s a fifty dollar list key fee, so don’t lose ‘em!” Earl called after her as Andy headed back to the car.
“We’re in room 109,” said Andy, handing Miranda a key before heading to the trunk.
“Room?”
Andy grunted as she heaved first Miranda’s bag, then her own from the back, “They only had one room.”
And, as if to collaborate her story, the “vacancy” portion of the neon light flickered out.
…
Across the street from the motel was a diner that looked as if it was stuck in a time loop, perpetually reviling 1957. As Andy picked her way through the ice and snow, Miranda crossed with confidence, not wavering despite wearing Manolo Blahnik heels. If Andy hadn’t been so tired, cold, and frustrated, she might have been impressed.
“Don’t expect me to send search and rescue if you fall in a snowbank,” Miranda snapped, glaring at Andy before jerking the door to the diner open.
With a sigh, Andy hurried to catch up, her toes feeling ice cold with the little protection her designer boots offered. The diner was a burst of light and sound. More booths were full than Andy would have suspected in a snow storm, but she guessed they were all motel guests. There was a steady sound of pots and pans clanking in the kitchen, a waitress in a teal uniform barking orders to the back, and All Shook Up playing on a jukebox in the corner.
Miranda had taken a booth near the back, facing herself towards the door. Andy slipped into the seat across from her, shedding her coat in the warmth of the restaurant. Then she pulled out her map, laying it out on her half of the table and trying to figure out where they were and how to get back on track.
“Okay I think we turned here,” she pointed at one junction, “Right, when we should have gone left.”
Andy kept to the royal we despite the fact that it was Miranda who insisted that they turn right.
“Perhaps that is what happens when one travels with a frigid bitch,” Miranda said, her tone light even though the words were anything but.
Embarrassment crashed over Andy again, “I am so sorry he said that. Nate was totally out of line-“
“No no, I’m sure he was simply repeating something he’d heard before,” said Miranda, glancing over the menu.
Andy froze. Wait, what? Miranda couldn’t possibly think that that’s what Andy thought of her. Her lips parted in shock, but before she could reply, the waitress approached their table and flipped open to a new page of her notepad.
“What can I get you ladies?” She asked. The waitress was an older woman, older than Miranda, with light blue hair and a name tag that read Cathy.
“Ribeye, rare,” said Miranda.
“I’ll have the- uh-“ Andy skimmed the menu quickly, “Southwest Chicken Salad.”
“Sorry sweetheart, we’re fresh out of chicken,” said Cathy, not sounding sorry at all. Miranda looked pleased.
“Uh,” Andy looked back at the menu.
“I’ll bring you a burger, you look like you need it,” Cathy said, and departed back to the kitchen before Andy could respond.
“That uniform is an affront to my retinas,” Miranda muttered, sipping her black coffee- something she somehow already had in hand when Andy had joined her at the table. Andy wished from a mug of her own.
“How much time have you lost us?” Miranda continued, and Andy bristled.
“It’s two hours back to the turn, then two more hours to Aspen,” Andy said. She bawled her hands into fists under the table. “Look, Miranda, I would never-“
“That’s all.”
Andy leaned forward, whispering, “Miranda-“
“That’s all, Andrea,” Miranda snapped, “I have an awful headache from this entire… ordeal.”
Miranda waved a hand dismissively, sitting back in the booth with an air drama. But there were dark circles under her eyes, and, even through her anger and frustration, Andy felt a pang of concern for her. Rooting around in her purse, Andy pulled out a bottle of Advil, passing over first two capsules, then pushing the glass of water closer to Miranda. Surprise flickered across Miranda’s features, before she recovered and took the pills.
Andy watched the snow fall through the window. Everything looked so soft and bright, new and magical in the fresh snow. But it showed no signs of stopping, and Andy hoped this would be the only night they’d have to stay in the dingy motel- especially when Miranda was in such a mood.
…
They had eaten dinner in silence, Miranda laying down her credit card before Andy could pull her corporate card out, then leaving her at the table while Andy tried to sort out the tip. The show was higher as they crossed back to the motel, Andy shivering as she fumbled with the room key.
The room was small, just as dark as the lobby with one dim lightbulb in the overhead light, and two warm lamps beside the bed that Andy immediately turned on. Then she looked at the bed, the single queen sized bed. One bed that they would have to share. And Miranda was barely speaking to her.
“I’m going to just…” Andy began, gathering her pajamas- an old sweatshirt from Northwestern and a pair of soft cloth shorts- and nodding towards the bathroom. Miranda waved her off again, balancing against the flimsy desk to take off one ruined heel then the other.
Andy changed quickly into her pajamas, shivering in the chill of the room, before brushing her teeth and ceding the motel bathroom to Miranda. The sheets were threadbare and the comforter didn't offer any of its namesake. She sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, waiting for Miranda to return.
The water in the bathroom turned on and Andy did everything she could not to think about Miranda in the shower. She shivered yet felt flush. She thought about the way Miranda had grabbed her arm when Andy had almost slipped on black ice, her grip bruising but reflexes fast enough to keep Andy from falling on her ass. Then there was the way the neon lights made Miranda’s hair look, all soft and glowing.
Andy closed her eyes, leaning her head against the headboard. She thought about that morning, what felt like a lifetime ago, when they’d experienced turbulence on the flight. Andy had gasped, heart racing, clenching her hands into fists with anxiety. Then, a warm hand wrapped around her wrist, thumb gently stroking her pulse point. It calmed Andy, centering her, and Miranda had continued to hold fast to her until they landed.
A bang of a door slamming in the room next door made the wall shake, and startled Andy from her thoughts. The walls were thin, and as she lifted her head, she could hear their neighbors stomping through the room, then angry voices began arguing.
Miranda chose that moment to exit the bathroom, hair still damp and face scrubbed clean of make up. She was clad in a matching pajama set, light blue that made her eyes look even bluer and brighter. Andy stared.
There was another thump from the neighboring room, drawing Miranda’s attention, and the shouting continued.
“Lovely,” Miranda groused, stalking towards the bed, flinging back the covers over side and slipping between the sheets.
“At least shouting is better than the silent treatment,” said Andy, “You just get it all out there. Like therapy, or whatever.”
“Is there something you wish to say, or rather shout, Andrea?” Miranda said, arching an eyebrow. Andy held her gaze defiantly.
“Well if you can’t beat ‘em-“ Andy began, and then the sounds changed.
Another thump, this time closer, the sound of a headboard hitting the wall and then a long, loud moan.
“… join them,” Andy finished.
Her face was hot with embarrassment. The thumping and banging continued, more rhythmically now, moans growing louder and grunts adding to the nearly pornagraphic sounds coming through the wall. Andy’s eyes widened, but she was frozen to the spot on the bed, unable to break eye contact with Miranda’s equally wide gaze.
It lasted only minutes- yet felt like an eternity- culminating in a loud groan and a high pitched whine before silence descended.
“You were saying, Andrea?” Miranda said. Andy distantly thought she was trying to be snarky again, yet there was something low and husky about her voice that shot straight to Andy’s core, giving her the nerve to say what she said next.
Andy swallowed thickly, tongue darting out to wet her lips. Miranda’s gaze followed her tongue, blush spreading across her usually inscrutable features.
“Well, we could give them a taste of their own medicine.”
Andy wasn’t sure where the frigid allegation had come from, because Miranda’s gaze was all heat.
“Two minutes to fruition? Anyone could do that,” said Miranda.
“I think we would last longer than that.”
The tension in the room crackled, far more intense than it had in the car. Andy couldn’t tear her gaze away from Miranda’s, the space between them on the bed feeling both desperately vast and far too close.
Miranda shifted on the bed. Reaching forward with shockingly fast speed, Miranda grabbed Andy’s ankle, pulling her down the bed until she was on her back, then tossed a leg over Andy’s middle, straddling her. The air was knocked from Andy’s lungs. She lay, breathless and trembling, staring up into Miranda’s eyes, shocked at the hunger she saw there.
Leaning in, Miranda caught Andy’s chin in one hand, turning her head to the side and exposing her neck. Andy’s heart raced as she felt Miranda shift on top of her, lowering herself until her lips brushed Andy’s throat.
“Will you moan for me, Andrea?” Miranda’s mouth moved against Andy’s skin, “So loudly that everyone can hear you?”
Andy couldn’t help it, she whimpered.
“Mm that’s nice, but not exactly what I had in mind,” she slotted a knee between Andy’s splayed legs, pressing up against Andy’s already molten core. “You do tend to need a little motivation.”
Andy squirmed against Miranda’s thigh, grinding, craving friction. Miranda kissed her neck, feather soft and teasing.
“Let’s see. Do you like it gentle?” Miranda asked between little kisses, “Or rough?”
She sucked hard on Andy’s pulse point, teeth nipping, making Andy arch up into her, a moan slipping from her lips and echoing through the room.
“Rough it is,” said Miranda with a low, throaty chuckle.
“Oh god,” Andy gasped.
“No my sweet,” Miranda soothed the tender skin she’d bitten, “Just the devil, the dragon lady, the frigid bitch.”
Andy rutted against Miranda’s thigh, chasing the friction she so desperately craved. Miranda slipped a hand under Andy’s sweatshirt, palming her breast. She peppered kisses down Andy’s throat, alternating between hot kisses and little bites that Andy knew would leave bruises and red marks all over her pale skin.
Each scrape of sharp teeth on skin made Andy moan. She was bucking erratically, making the cheap bedframe hit the wall. Then, Andy’s body tensed, and she cried out as she orgasmed.
Before she could recover, Miranda shucked off Andy’s sweatshirt and tugged down her shorts, stripping her before taking off and tossing aside her own pajamas. Miranda kissed her. Her mouth was all soft lips and sharp teeth, tongue licking into Andy’s mouth, pinning her to the bed as Miranda set the pace. She kissed her until Andy’s lungs screamed for air, all heat and desire. It was a hunger and intensity Andy had never experienced; she’d never felt so desired, so wanted before, and she never wanted it to end.
Miranda caught Andy’s bottom lip between her teeth, biting just enough to draw blood. They broke apart, Andy’s chest heaved. Miranda pressed a hand between Andy’s legs, smiling at what she found.
“So wet already. Is this all for me?” She asked, running her other hand down Andy’s throat.
“Yes,” Andy managed.
“Louder, sweet girl,” Miranda murmured, stroking Andy’s sex. “They can’t hear you.”
“Yes! It’s for you, all for you,” said Andy. She was panting and flush.
Miranda spread Andy’s swollen, sensitive folds, slowly circling her clit. Andy’s hips jerked.
“Did you think about me when you fucked that stupid little boyfriend of yours?” Miranda pressed harder, fingers moving faster.
The heat in Andy’s stomach coiled tighter and tighter as her second orgasm built faster than the first. She clawed at the sheets, wanting to touch Miranda but the older woman was just out of reach.
“Yes!” She cried, “Yes! Yes! Yesyesyesye-“
“That’s it, louder Andrea, let them hear exactly what I’m doing to you,” Miranda purred, pressing first two fingers into Andy’s waiting cunt, then three.
Andy clenched around Miranda’s fingers, meeting each of her thrusts with the press of her own hips, rocking in sync to drive Miranda’s digits deeper, harder, until Andy was sobbing with pleasure. Her world had narrowed to Miranda and Miranda alone, her scent, the weight of her body atop Andy’s, and the feeling of being filled again and again. Miranda curled her fingers, and Andy saw stars.
With a scream, Andy orgasmed again. Her eyes slammed shut as her body tensed, pleasure rippling through her. Miranda kept thrusting, making Andy’s orgasm last as long as possible.
Then she hooked one leg over Andy’s, moving in close so they slotted together, grinding against her sex. Andy moaned, unable to stop herself, the feeling of Miranda’s cunt roughly rubbing against her own making her dizzy.
Miranda was above her, hands braced on either side of Andy, bracketing her in. Andy stared up at her, unable to gaze away from Miranda’s. Her face was pink and her mouth was open, little gasps and moans escaping as she used Andy’s body wholly for her own pleasure. She’d never seen Miranda so open and unguarded and it was glorious.
“Yes, just like that, good girl,” Miranda babbled, growing louder as she fucked herself, grinding against Andy, “Andrea- my Andrea- you’re mine-“
Andy came again, not as intensely as the last time, but she arched and cried out, hand coming up to wrap around Miranda’s wrist. Then she lay in the boneless heap beneath her, blissed out and happy to be used however Miranda pleased.
Miranda lasted only a few moments more. Her silver forelock stuck to her forehead with sweat and with every movement she made her breasts bounced before Andy’s eyes, making her wish she wasn’t so exhausted so that she could cover the pale skin with the softest kisses. Then, Miranda’s limbs grew taught, orgasming with a loud moan that could surely be heard through the walls.
Gracelessly, she collapsed on the bed beside Andy, breathless and spent.
“Well,” Miranda murmured, running a hand across her face, “I believe we out performed our noisy neighbors.”
Suddenly, it was as if all the worry and stress from the day crashed down around her. Andy could only remember Miranda insisting things that weren’t true, angry at Andy, repeating Nate’s words-
“Miranda,” it came out far more strangled than she intended, her voice sounding pathetic and far away to her own ears, “Please, I need you to know that I don’t believe any of the things he said-“
Miranda rolled towards her, drawing Andy into her arms.
“Sssh, quiet, quiet sweet girl,” she said as she held Andy tight, gently stroking her hair. Andy bit back a sob, trying not to cry, hiding her face in the crook of Miranda’s neck and taking shaking breaths.
“I know,” Miranda said softly. “All those horrible things they say about us? I know they’re not true.”
Andy pulled away just enough to look up at her, beginning to feel calmer, “Promise?”
Miranda laughed softly, a real laugh that almost sounded fond. She gently smoothed Andy’s bangs off her forehead, kissing her there.
“Yes Andrea. Now go to sleep, we have a long day tomorrow after you got us lost.”
“Miranda!”