DISCLAIMER: The Devil Wears Prada and its characters belong to Lauren Weisberger and 20th Century Fox. No infringement intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: "A (wo)man's library is a sort of harem and I observe that tender readers have a great prudency in showing their books to a stranger." Ralph Waldo Emerson, The Atlantic Monthly, January1858 (http://quotationsbook.com/quote/23309/)
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
FEEDBACK: To http://marygriggs.livejournal.com/
By Mary Griggs
There was a glass fronted barristers bookcase in Miranda's bedroom, which Andy had never really paid any attention to. She had been too busy being astounded by Miranda's closet and awed by the bathroom to think about books. All the rest of the furnishings were seen and judged strictly for their utility.
There was the bed, of course. Custom built with a Thai silk upholstered headboard that Andy was regularly pressed against when Miranda fucked her. The uneven texture felt so good against her skin. There was the chest of drawers that Andy had once bent Miranda over to take her from behind. Then, there was nightstand with the locking drawers that held toys for all occasions and orifices.
In short, there were always so many other things for them to be doing in the bedroom that finding something to read never became an issue.
Then, Miranda gave her a key.
There was no pomp or circumstance involved. Miranda merely pushed a copy of the townhouse key across the crisp white tablecloth during a conversational lull one Sunday at brunch. Andy had nearly choked on her watermelon mimosa but when she looked up at the trembling smile and into scared eyes, she could do nothing else but pocket the key.
She made sure to let Miranda know later, in the privacy of the bedroom, just how much it meant to her to be granted such access to Miranda's life. With her hands and mouth, she tried to show what neither of them had found the words to say. For hours that Sunday, Andy loved Miranda with her entire being and was well satisfied to be loved in return.
The next evening, Miranda had been in the bathroom removing her makeup and Andy had been watching from her perch on the tub. Andy was endlessly fascinated by the slow reveal of the woman behind the public persona and it took her a moment to focus on Miranda's words.
Miranda shook her head at her distracted lover and repeated, "I want you to be comfortable here. Feel free to come over, even when I'm not here. The girls adore you and I trust you."
Unable to contain herself, Andy had launched herself across the room to grab Miranda in a bone crushing hug. Miranda was winded but laughingly allowed herself to be dragged to bed for more show and tell.
So the weeks passed. Now, instead of spending the time between when she was done for the day and Miranda's day ended alone at home, she found herself at Miranda's. Many times, after she had finished her story blocking or online research, she would randomly pull books from shelves all over the house.
As she began exploring, she thought it was cute that Miranda divided her books into subjects that closely mimicked the Dewey Decimal System. She couldn't help but roll her eyes to find that everything within each category was strictly alphabetized. Compared to her own shelves, which had books shoved willy-nilly into any available crevice, Miranda's was a librarian's wet dream.
Miranda's literary tastes were catholic and her books were all read, as Andy found out when she asked about the section on architecture. For her snarky remark, she received a twenty-minute lecture on the cultural symbols of buildings and engineering as art that pinned her ears back.
It wasn't just the foundation of construction that Miranda could talk about. She was willing to converse on the rituals of medieval nobility, the structure of scientific revolutions and the different ways that natives used natural elements to color their world.
Andy almost resented how her body reacted to these discussions. Like Pavlov's dog, she had been trained from the discussion on the evolution of cerulean to respond when Miranda used her voice and eyes to lay bare her psyche.
The conversations usually resulted in damp underwear and, if the girls were occupied elsewhere, a carnal coming together of mind and body. Andy could tell from the glint in Miranda's eyes that she intensely enjoyed their interactions and that gave her the impetus to keep learning.
Andy began to search out new things to talk about, both in and out of the bedroom. She never wanted Miranda to be disappointed in her knowledge again or to feel that theirs was a purely physical relationship.
There was another benefit that Andy soon realized. Raising the bar with Miranda also improved her writing. As time went on, her assignments got better since she was able to integrate more information and broaden her analysis.
After a year and a day of their becoming a couple and one month after a story she wrote was picked up by the New York Times, Andy moved into the townhouse.
In preparation for the big day, Miranda had reorganized her closet and bought an armoire and dresser so as to give Andy's wardrobe room. She had also added another chair to her study and turned one of the guest rooms into a private space for Andy to work. She offered to completely redecorate but Andy's Midwestern frugality had balked at the unnecessary expense.
There wasn't that much for Andy to move. She had eliminated a lot of stuff. The salvaged couch had no sentimental value and was placed back on the same corner where she had originally found it. She didn't want the memory of the furniture she had bought with Nate in her new life and donated those to Goodwill. The rest were cheap things she had found to fill the empty places in her home when she was alone.
Now that she had a life bursting with love and a family of her own, she found she didn't need those things anymore. In fact, the only concern Andy had about the move was her books.
Andy was not looking forward to the merging their libraries. In the first place, most of her books were paperbacks, bought used. She figured they would look terribly out of place among the hard covers, leather bound classics and first editions that made up the majority of Miranda's library.
Worse, she was worried about her less than literary collection. She blushed just thinking about the amount of smut she had acquired after her breakup with Nate. Not that she hadn't purchased a few titles prior to and throughout their relationship but the largest expansion came after he had left for Boston but before she and Miranda had found each other again.
There were pornographic pulp novels and trade paperbacks that aspired to the classification of erotica. She had scores of anthologies that ran the gamut from lesbian to het and every permutation in between. The collection ranged from vanilla to kinky as well as sexually explicit romances and bonkbusters. In short, she had quite a selection of dirty books.
Most of them had been kept in milk crates in her bedroom but she was nervous about sullying the fashionista's space with sexually explicit material. She didn't want to hide them in her study and she certainly didn't want to get rid of them.
"Is there a problem, Andrea?"
Andy jerked upright and grabbed a pillow off the bed and threw it on top of the stack. "Nope. Nothing wrong. Nothing to see. Move along."
"You're acting strangely and I would bet my bottom dollar that it has something to do with what you so cleverly tried to hide."
Scratching the back of her neck, Andy realized that she wanted to build a foundation with Miranda of open communication. That meant that she had to risk tremendous embarrassment to make sure that they didn't start cohabitation off with secret keeping.
Girding her loins, she removed the pillow and waved at the crates. "Um, take a look."
Miranda squatted down and began pulling out books. "The Rosebud Sutra, Herotica one through five, Macho Sluts." She glanced up with a smirk. "This is quite a collection."
Turning bright red, Andy tried to keep from hyperventilating by focusing on the circular breathing meditation techniques taught by her yoga instructor.
"Oh, I have this one," Miranda said, holding up a copy of NT Morley's The Parlour.
Andy broke off the breathing exercises in shock. "Sorry, what did you say?"
"I said I have this one." Miranda stood up and walked over to the bookcase and lifted one of the glass fronts. "Come here."
In a daze, Andy obeyed and found herself bending over and reading titles out loud. "Rode Hard and Put Away Wet, True Lust, Best Lesbian Erotica from," she counted. "1998 to 2010." Turning to face Miranda, she sputtered. "You you you."
"We're adults here, darling. You can call it porn."
"I had no idea."
"Well, my encounters with Stephen were less than climactic for me. Seriously, prior to you reentering my life and rocking my world, I had been responsible for my own orgasm for more than a decade."
Andy felt a different sort of heat rising at that revelation. Swallowing thickly, she asked, "Would you show me how you do it?"
"Yeah. Touch yourself for me, baby."
Miranda licked her lips. "Really?"
"I think that would be totally hot." Andy kissed her hard and took her hand, leading her to the bed. "Take off your skirt and unbutton your shirt. Leave everything else on and let me see you pleasure yourself."
Biting her lip, Andy watched as Miranda climbed on the mattress and made a comfortable nest among the pillows.
Miranda then leaned back and took a deep breath. Using both hands, she stroked her breasts through her silk bra. "I feel a little foolish," she said.
"You look marvelous. Please, go on," Andy encouraged.
It wasn't long before Andy could see Miranda's nipples pressing against the fabric panels. She longed to take the hard nubs into her mouth but she forced herself to stay at the foot of the bed while Miranda glided one hand down her belly to draw circles over her underwear with her fingernail.
Andy could see the damp spot growing on Miranda's panties. Her mouth watered at the thought of Miranda's juices soaking through the flimsy fabric.
She nearly whined when Miranda moved her hand to touch herself under the panties. The bulge of her knuckles and hidden movements were tantalizing and Andy whispered, "Please, take your underwear off."
"Why?" Miranda teased.
"I have to see you."
Miranda hooked her thumbs in the elastic and worked them off her legs. With a wicked smile, she tossed them at Andy.
Catching them in midair, Andy brought them to her nose and drew in a deep breath of the heady aroma. Her eyes fluttered shut and, when she opened them again, she saw that Miranda was using her left hand to spread her pussy lips. They were glistening in wanton arousal.
"You're so wet."
"I don't ever recall getting this wet so quickly before. Your eyes on me are making me feel so much." With her fingers, Miranda gently traced the outline of her pussy.
Andy could only moan as Miranda slowly massaged her clit. "Oh, yeah, baby. That must feel so good."
"It would feel better if you were touching me," Miranda panted.
"Soon, my love. Show me first how best to love you."
"You already love me so well."
"I want to do better." Andy crawled onto the bed and knelt between Miranda's open legs. "Go on, Miranda. Make yourself come for me."
Letting her head fall back, Miranda lifted her knees up, giving herself a better angle as she moved the fingers that were rubbing her clit down to dip inside, spreading her juices around her pussy. Her other hand was busy lightly pinching her nipples.
Andy's eyes followed Miranda's movements and she squirmed as her own clit and breasts throbbed. She watched as a flush traveled up Miranda's chest and neck and those strong legs tremble as Miranda's pleasure grew.
With a sharp intake of air, Miranda's body stiffened. Her left hand kept moving until she arched up from the bed and then collapsed back against the pillows.
Moving quickly, Andy enfolded her lover into her arms and cooed softly into her ear. After a few moments Miranda opened her eyes and smiled. They tenderly kissed until Miranda reached between her legs and, an embarrassingly few strokes later, left her a trembling mess.
After she recovered from the aftershocks, Andy said, "I was surprised to see you using your left hand."
"I didn't want to come too fast," Miranda answered. "Also, when I have a one handed read, I have to hold the book in my right hand."
Andy laughed. "Me, too. I usually end up using a toy then as my left hand is just too clumsy."
"We can always work on your dexterity, darling. Practice makes perfect, they say."
"I'm willing to practice for the rest of my life." She paused then said, "Thank you."
"For being willing to do that for me. For letting me into your life and your heart. For loving me."
"You silly thing," Miranda answered. "Loving you has been the greatest thing I've ever done. I'm thankful for every day, every moment with you."
They spent several hours, cuddled there on the bed, talking about everything and nothing. As Andy later drifted off to sleep, she tightened her arms around Miranda and vowed to work hard to never lose this loving feeling.
The next day when Andy returned from work, she saw the empty milk crates stacked beside the back door. She wandered upstairs and changed clothes before walking over to the bedroom's bookcase. Peering inside, she saw that Miranda had integrated their two collections, with the occasional double copies snuggled against one another.
And, of course, they were all in alphabetical order.
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