DISCLAIMER: The Devil Wears Prada and its characters belong to Lauren Weisberger and 20th Century Fox. No infringement intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: 1 of 2. The next in this short series will be called Second Chapter. Enjoy! (this one is from Miranda's POV)
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
By The Raven
Miranda Priestly was not a stupid woman. She had spend considerable time and effort, not to mention money amassing her power, her prestige and her fashion empire.
Why was it then that her Achilles Heel was a twenty five year old girl with the fashion sense of a walrus?
Andrea Sachs. Her assistant. Her consternation. Her muse.
It was madness.
This is the sort of thing that cheap magazines warned against. Not that Miranda spent time reading those magazines, but it never hurt to remain informed even of the trash in the world of publishing.
But there she was, with her porcelain skin and her brown eyes, her beautiful brown eyes. Possessed by a power that she could not define, Miranda had given up resisting. The best she could do was hope that her mask and guise of professionalism remained intact.
It would not do to be opening the doors that would lead her to Andrea. Ruin was sure to follow. Or maybe salvation?
Did Miranda was to be saved?
Or was she in fact drawn to ruin....
Mentally shaking herself back to awareness, Miranda regarded the object of her thoughts. Andrea was dressed smartly today. Designer clothes that revealed just enough but that left even more to the imagination.
Miranda pondered if Andrea had finally managed to gather up some fashion sense from someplace. Probably not. The look had Nigel written all over it. No matter. Andrea was beautiful.
So much so that Miranda could feel her mind fray and her nerves jump as she regarded the younger woman. So close, but so far away. So very close, but so very far away.
In her mind, Miranda could envision reaching over and running the tips of her fingers along the exposed collarbone of her assistant. Where did it lead to? Was that pristine skin so perfect where clothes hid Andrea's body?
Miranda's hands ached to know. She hungered to know. And it was driving her mad. Not quickly, but with delicious slowness that left her with lots of time to think about her decent into this coveted insanity that was lust and infatuation. That could even be love.
Was Miranda capable of feeling love? Aside from the love that she lavished on her children that is. Many exes and many friends were testament to her inability to maintain relationships, so why was ever considering it now.
She had not even touched Andrea yet, but she was already planning their second date in her mind. A date that involved little by way of clothing, and a lot by way of champagne and strawberries dipped in chocolate, to start with anyway.
Yep, this was madness.
But Miranda could not help herself. Could not help herself anymore than she could stop breathing. She wanted Andrea and each moment only made it intensify.
Maybe she needed to distance herself from the younger woman? That would never work. As surely as exposure to those eyes and that smile was making Miranda go crazy, the lack of it would only expedite her ruin. Of this Miranda was certain.
Miranda was convinced even more now that she was attracted to ruin, and not to salvation. And it seemed that insanity was going to be her companion on her journey...
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