Miranda stormed upstairs slamming her bedroom door behind her with a mighty force rooted in her solar plexus.   It opened again mere seconds later to reveal Stephen’s heaving figure. “Don’t you walk away from me, Miranda,” he boomed. 

The editor huffed out an irritated breath. She sat down on her bed and stared up at him with utter distaste. 

“They kept apologizing—‘It looks like she’s not coming Mr. Priestly.’ Mr. Fucking Priestly.  I had to pull out my license to prove that my last name was Glass! I swear to God, Miranda! I swear to God—do you have any idea how humiliating that is?” Stephen paced at the entrance and rolled up his sleeves. 

“Obviously it was humiliating enough for you to drown your sorrows in a bottle of booze. Honestly Stephen, sober up, and then we will resume this conversation,” Miranda reasoned. She was getting bored of her husband’s little tantrums. Early on in their marriage, she felt guilty for having to stand him up. But now, things were different. 

“Fuck you,” he mumbled. 

Miranda felt a small flame ignite within her belly. “Are we done here?” she snapped. 

He wiped the sheen of sweat from the tip of his brow. “I’m tired,” he breathed.   “I’m tired of eating alone.”

Miranda’s mouth twitched. “Don’t be dramatic, Stephen. You might not be eating with me, but you certainly aren’t eating alone, are you?” she accused in an even, quiet voice. 

His dilated pupils snapped up to meet her gaze. He had officially been caught. Miranda’s breath hitched at the thought. Of course, she knew of his infidelities—they were obvious occurrences. But to confront the issue—that was an entirely different matter. Now she wanted to hurt him, and she wanted it more than anything she’d ever wanted before. 

“Who is she?” Miranda asked. Stephen turned away and she continued. “Whoever she is, I feel sorry for her. I mean, you’re charming at first. But after awhile, after listening to your whiny little voice and forcing herself to sleep with you—after all the fake orgasms—it’s somewhat burdensome, isn’t it? You fucking sorry joke—“

She wasn’t sure what happened next. All she remembered was the explosion of skin against skin and a distinct burning feeling all over her face. 

***

She awoke some time later to the tickle of soft breath against her neck. Her cheeks were wet, though she knew that she hadn’t been crying. The silver-haired woman stirred, her eyes fluttering open.

“Miranda? Oh, thank God!” a familiar voice wailed. 

The woman gained focus and glanced to her right where she found her dutiful little assistant with those big, innocent doe eyes—eyes filled with tears. “Andrea?” she heard herself rasp. “What…”

“Sh… it’s okay. He’s gone. He’s gone, okay?”

Stephen. Miranda knew that she was talking about Stephen. She sat up, and a rush of pain shot through her head.

Andy cried out, and Miranda saw a reflection of her own agony in wide brown eyes-- eyes that she'd grown fond of looking into over the past few months. In a moment of insanity, the girl had the audacity to clutch her boss in a desperate embrace.

Miranda flinched. Although the warmth of the girl’s body was undeniably comforting, she still wasn’t accustomed to affection-- Lately, the girl had gotten bolder with her physical attention. Miranda forced herself to pull away, slightly mortified. She knew that her face must be betraying her—or perhaps Andy had felt the pick up in the woman’s heart rate when they’d been close—because the brunette closed her eyes, leaned in, and placed a kiss dangerously close to the corner of her mouth. 

Miranda went rigid.  Her eyes flashed menacingly on her assistant and she cleared her throat. 

Andy stumbled backwards in an attempt to rectify her boldness. “I… I should get you some ice. I’ll just—“

“Andrea,” came Miranda’s cool voice. 

“Yes?” the girl squeaked. 

“Why were you in my home in the first place?”

Andy turned crimson and ran her tongue over her lips. “I um… the Book. It was late and… Emily told me that she told you. And then I was downstairs and the yelling—And the noise you made when he hit you—“

“Go home,” Miranda cut in.

“But—“

“I’m not asking,” Miranda cautioned. 

“Right. Okay. I’ll just see you tomorrow then.   You should um… get some ice.”

“Goodnight Andrea.” Miranda groaned as she attempted to stand. 

“Bye Miranda.” Andy gathered her things from the floor and scurried out leaving her boss broken and embarrassed. 

***

The next morning, Miranda Priestly was late for work. Late. For the first time in over twenty years. She avoided the look of utter horror on her first assistant’s face by throwing her coat and bag almost directly on the poor girl. “Emily, cancel my lunch with Annie Leibovitz. I won’t be leaving the office today.” She turned to her second assistant (who wasn’t really a second assistant at all) and instantly gasped at her distressed face. “A- Andrea. In my office.  Now.”

With that, Miranda sashayed into her private office. She put her reading glasses on and sat behind her desk just in time to see Andy fumble in after her. The girl shut the door and shifted her weight several times as she waited to be addressed. 

“Why are you so jumpy?” Miranda asked, her voice dripping with disapproval. “You’re making me nervous. I thought that you’d outgrown this juvenile behavior.”

“Sorry,” Andy exhaled. She composed herself and relaxed into an armchair across from her boss. “How do you feel?”

“It took me over an hour to conceal the gargantuan bruise on my face this morning.”

Andy’s eyebrows arched at the confession. “You did a good job. I told you to put ice on it—you wouldn’t have a bruise if you’d listened.”

“If I’d listened?” Miranda challenged. 

“Yeah,” Andy countered with an amused smile. 

The editor felt her lips curl into a smile in spite of herself. “Yes, well… it looks worse than it feels.” Andy nodded in acknowledgement. “Stephen has checked himself into a rehabilitation center. I won’t have that kind of behavior around my children.”

“I don’t blame you,” the brunette agreed. 

Miranda felt her confidence waver. Andy seemed almost indifferent to the situation. She didn’t even know why she was explaining herself. This whole conversation was … awkward.   Just as she began to overanalyze the situation, the girl spoke again. 

“So, I’m guessing that he’s never done this before?” she asked with a sad smile on her face. 

“Never,” Miranda whispered. “I’m… lucky… that you showed up when you did. Who knows…”  Her voice dropped off. “Anyway, thank you.”

Andy gasped, though she tried to conceal her shock immediately. “You’re welcome.”

They shared a look of mutual admiration. This time, it was Miranda who leaned in for a kiss, her target unmistakable. Andy met eager lips with her own, and emitted a strangled moan as Miranda’s tongue ghosted along her bottom lip. 

The kiss deepened until they needed to break away for air. They sat, panting, for several moments, their eyes hungry for each other. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” Andy whispered.

“I…” Miranda struggled, but her face went cold. “That’s all.”

Andy’s heavy breaths slowed and her eyes drooped with regret. She composed herself and left the office, unsteady in her Manolo Blahniks. 

Miranda let out a heavy exhale and stared into the blank space of the doorway. She was convinced that she’d finally lost her mind. She’d made a move on her much younger female employee. And she wasn’t even a lesbian! She buried her face in her hands and groaned. “Emily?” she called. 

Her assistant was there in an instant. “Yes Miranda?”

“Reconfirm my lunch with Annie.” 

“Of course, Miranda.”

She was going get out of the office today, after all. Far, far away—as far as possible.

***

The following day, Miranda shared her town car with her two assistants. They were on their way to the James Holt showroom for a preview. Emily was reviewing her schedule for the rest of the week.

“Shall I try to get Stephen added to the guest list for the Zac Posen party tomorrow night?” she asked, glancing between her suddenly tense boss and colleague. 

Miranda pursed her lips and pulled her sunglasses down over the bridge of her nose. “Stephen is away.”

The rest of the ride was silent until they got to their destination. On their way into the building, Andy pulled Miranda back to whisper in her ear. “I’m serious about what I said before. This collection is lacking. It’s a waste of your time—“

Emily snatched Andy’s wrist. “Don’t put ideas into her head. You wouldn’t know fashion if it shagged you from behind—“

Andy blushed, folding her arms across her chest, and the three of them resumed their trek up to the showroom without further argument. 

***

Several hours later, the three women left the James Holt showroom. Miranda and Andy were a step ahead of a cowering Emily.  Surprisingly,  Andy’s assessment of the collection had been correct.. Miranda pretended not to notice when Andy fell behind and started whispering with Emily. 

“Who doesn’t know fashion?” She drew out her words for emphasis. 

“Shut up, Chub,” Emily spat.  

“Kiss my size 4 ass, Emily,” Andy snickered.

Miranda allowed a smirk to melt into her features for a brief moment. ‘Size 4 ass’ indeed. She turned to face them right before they got in the car. “Will you two stop bickering and get in the car?” 

The assistants obeyed. Once they were inside, Miranda turned to her second assistant. “Andrea,” she drawled, the name tasting delicious on her tongue. “I would like you preview all collections for me in the future. I don’t have time to waste.”

“Yes, Miranda,” Andy beamed before shooting Emily a pointed glare.

***

That night, as Miranda stripped herself of her make-up, she heard a timid knock on her bedroom door. It startled her—the twins were still at their fathers’, and Stephen was in a clinic upstate. She pulled on a robe and opened the door to find Andy. “What do you think you’re doing here?” she demanded.

Andy smiled despite her boss’ anger. “I don’t know what to wear to the party tomorrow, and I wanted get your input. Oh, and here’s the Book.” She offered the mock-up to her boss who snatched it away. 

“Next time, leave the Book in the foyer where it belongs,” Miranda growled. Andy blushed, and the editor’s heart clenched. “Wear that sexy little Michael Kors number – the tweed one—with your gray Christian Louboutins,” Miranda sighed in defeat, before she could stop herself. 

Andy’s eyes widened, her mouth hanging open.  She nodded in agreement before bringing her fingers up to the bruise on her boss’ face. “That son of a bitch,” she gasped. 

“I told you, it looks worse than it feels,” Miranda chided.

Andy exhaled. “Okay… But you know that I’d beat him up for you. All you have to do is say the word,”

Miranda smiled—genuinely smiled. “My hero,” she whispered. She put her hand on her cheek over Andy’s and they stared at each other. 

Andy smirked. “So, you really think that dress is sexy?”

Miranda rolled her eyes. “Goodnight Andrea. See yourself out of my house,” she sighed, stepping out of the contact. 

Andy nodded with an unstoppable grin on her face and turned to leave. 

***

The Zac Posen party had been dull at best. Miranda and her assistants had made an appearance, and she’d said her obligatory hellos. But the minute that Irv Ravitz and his cronies cornered her, she deemed herself defenseless. Besides, Andy had arrived wearing that dress, with hair pulled up—and Miranda had to remind herself not to drool like a horny teen-age boy. 

She watched as her alluring assistant disappear into a dark hallway and arched an eyebrow of interest. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” Miranda said, cutting some one off mid-sentence in a voice as thick as molasses. 

She glided into the hallway after Andy, who was nowhere to be found. On a whim, she went into the nearby ladies’ room. When she opened the door, she saw familiar Christian Louboutins under one of the stalls and waited while she pretended to fix her makeup in the mirror. 

Andy popped out moments later, an audible gasp escaping her lips when she saw Miranda. “Hi,” she greeted, still in shock.

“Hello,” Miranda answered.  

“You look… so amazing,” the brunette rasped.

“Andrea…” Miranda warned. 

Andy ignored the words of caution and confidently wrapped her arms around the shorter woman’s slim waist from behind. Miranda moaned and turned in Andy’s arms, pulling her in for a hungry kiss. 

“Mmmph,” Andy whimpered against soft lips.

“What are we doing?” Miranda whispered. 

“Kissing and touching… In a bathroom,” Andy teased as she slid her tongue along Miranda’s earlobe. She placed kisses down her neck in an excruciatingly slow pace. 

“You cheeky little… Ah!” Miranda gurgled, but she couldn’t even compose herself enough to be insulting. She felt nimble fingers unzipping her black Valentino dress. Her breasts spilled out and Andy quickly devoured them. 

The brunette bunched up Miranda’s dress to reveal flawless thighs. She touched the wet spot that rested at the center of Miranda’s beauty. “Oh God!” The older woman gasped in a pained delight. Andy hooked her fingers into the sides of her boss’ black and pink lace panties and helped her to step out of them. Miranda flushed scarlet, while her assistant took an eternity to analyze her—all of her. 

Andy finally gave into Miranda’s bucking hips and touched her. It was soft at first light and steady to match the editor’s breathy gasps. But, as gasps became moans, brushes became thrusts—or perhaps it was the other way around. Either way, it didn’t take long for Miranda to cry out, “Andrea,” a little too loudly. 

She came twice, in big waves before Andy even considered stopping. By the time Andy finally relented and placed a soft kiss on Miranda’s right thigh, her arousal was dripping down it. Andy “mmmm’d” her appreciation. “You taste so good, Miranda,” she said in awe. “Was it all for me?”

Miranda whimpered, convulsing from the aftershocks as long, delicate fingers teased at her opening. 

“I felt your eyes on me all night,” Andy continued. She switched thighs to lap up some more of Miranda’s wetness.

The editor’s moan caught in the back of her throat. “Yes! God, yes!” She grabbed at the head between her legs and pulled it closer to her. “It was all for you…” She could feel Andy’s lips smile against her sex, but before she could scold her, she was being licked and kissed in places that made her blush. 

They ended up tangled in each other’s limbs on the bathroom floor. An indeterminable amount of time had passed during their exploration of each other’s bodies. Andy traced slow circles along the small of Miranda’s back to calm her trembling figure. 

When Miranda could finally coordinate her brain and her body again, she pulled away and sat up, huddling in the corner. In her peripheral vision, she could see the rise and fall of Andy’s chest, still not fully settled. 

“Is this the part where you kick me out?” the brunette asked, finally breaking the silence. 

Miranda’s eyebrows drooped as if she were in pain. “I… The party.” She gathered her clothes and started to put them on.  

“Here, let me help,” Andy offered. She stood and zipped Miranda’s dress up for her. 

Miranda began to reapply her makeup in the bathroom mirror, with Andy’s eyes heavy on her reflection. 

“You look perfect… As if nothing happened,” the taller woman commented—more to herself than to her boss. She zipped up her own dress and began to fix her face. 

Miranda sighed and leaned against a stall door. “I… I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’ve never—“

Andy’s jaw tensed as she turned to face the woman. “Don’t worry about it. It was my mistake.” She turned back and began to reapply. 

Miranda’s throat went dry at the girl’s coldness. She knew that it came from a place of pain. “It was not your mistake. It’s just that…” glanced at her watch and pursed her lips. “Shit,” she gasped. 

Andy smiled at her choice of words. “Shit?” she asked. 

Miranda rolled her eyes. “Yes, I have to get back to the party before people begin to wonder… Listen Andrea, obviously what just happened wasn’t one-sided. We can… discuss ‘it’… whatever ‘it’ is.”

“Really?” Andy asked hopefully, looking every bit as young as she should. 

Miranda gave a slight nod and opened the door. “Leave in two minutes. It will look less suspicious.” And with the swing of a door, she returned to the party. 

***

The next few days were pure torture. Every time they found themselves alone, Andy would look up at Miranda with those damned hopeful eyes , with unspoken questions resting on her lips. And every time, Miranda would shake her head to let her know that now was not the time. The editor wasn’t sure that there would ever be right time for the discussion that she had promised. 

Nearly a week later, they found themselves on their way to Irv Ravitz’ annual birthday gala. Emily had regretfully called in sick, so they rode alone in silence in a rented limo. 

“Do you have any big plans for the weekend?” Andy asked, feigning indifference. 

Miranda flashed her a look that said “shut up” with no words. 

Andy shrugged. “Just wondering… Some guy from the gym asked me out, but I haven’t decided if I want to go yet.”

Miranda felt a flame ignite in her belly, no matter how much she told herself to let go. “Why is that?” she heard herself ask. 

“Because I’m interested in some one else, but I’m waiting to see how it goes,” Andy emphasized. 

The car had pulled up to the curb, and Roy opened the door just in time for Andy’s escape. But her plan was foiled as Miranda pulled her body back down into her seat. “Don’t play games with me, Andrea,” she roughly whispered into her assistant’s ear. Andy shivered and nodded, her confidence seemingly dissolved. They slowly exited the vehicle and made an entrance into the ballroom side by side. 

Miranda cursed herself for caring. She was forced to acknowledge that losing Andrea would be unbearable. The girl had proven to be valuable in every way. And now, she knew that—like it or not—she would have to claim Andrea as hers before some one else beat her to it. 

Fin