DISCLAIMER: The Devil Wears Prada and its characters belong to Lauren Weisberger and 20th Century Fox. No infringement intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is, shall we say, one of the more unusual stories I've ever written. Thanks to Xander, beta-extraordinaire. Final thoughts and inspiration are listed at the end.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Andy couldn't understand what Miranda was up to.
A few weeks ago she started watching Andy in a weird way that made her more than just uncomfortable. And it wasn't the fact that she was looking at Andy like she wanted to tear off her clothes. She'd been looked at that way before, and it didn't really bother her. Besides, Miranda was hot. More than hot, if Andy was truthful. The fact hit home when Andy started having dreams a while back. Her memories of the dreams were a little fuzzy, but the orgasms that woke her on countless nights were crystal clear. Andy knew that Miranda was responsible for the sopping wetness between her thighs, the ache in her breasts that only one mouth could satisfy. She could picture that silver hair, those ice-chip eyes. She had a vague recollection of Miranda's white teeth, bared and glistening in the moonlight.
Even now, Andy shivered, loosening her collar. She glanced up from her computer screen. Miranda was not looking at her, but Andy knew, somehow, that Miranda felt her gaze.
So, it wasn't exactly a sexual thing. But Andy had no words to describe how Miranda stared. It was as though she was being assessed for something. A lover? At this stage, Andy was ready and willing. Nate was long gone, and she was in the midst of a self-imposed dry spell, caused by both her job's demands and her own desires for her very unavailable boss.
On the other hand, perhaps it wasn't sexual at all. Perhaps Miranda was considering Andy for a promotion.
And monkeys might fly out of my butt, she thought.
In any case, it was bizarre. She'd rather have Miranda lust over her than question her abilities as an assistant, or anything else.
The phone rang, and she shoved the thoughts out of her head.
"Andrea, you'll deliver the Book tonight."
Andy nodded. "Of course, Miranda. As soon as it's ready."
Miranda swallowed, staring down her nose at Andy's breasts. Andy fought the urge to wet her lips. Jesus, she's not even pretending. Does she have no shame?
"I'll need you to bring it upstairs." Miranda said with a sniff. "I think you know the way."
Andy blushed. "Yeah, um, okay. I can do that."
Miranda breezed off, an Hermes scarf tied loosely around her throat. Andy had a sudden vision of herself, wrists tied to the bedposts of her own bed with two such scarves, as Miranda's lips traveled unmercifully down her belly. Miranda halted for a moment in her stride and turned to watch Andy over her shoulder. Her expression was inscrutable. Eyes wide, Andy waved. She can't read minds, can she?
But Miranda continued on her way, as though nothing at all had happened.
Whatever, Andy decided. She was just going to do her job, come what may.
The Book in hand, Andy unlocked the door of the townhouse. The place was quiet tonight, even though it was earlier than usual. Either the girls were in bed or they were elsewhere, at their father's or grandmother's. Andy didn't much care. They were miserable little wretches, and she was glad not to have to deal with them tonight.
She removed her shoes, leaving them near the door, and crept carefully up the stairs. Near the top, she called out softly, "Miranda?"
There was a moment of silence, and Andy quailed. Maybe Miranda hadn't meant it when she asked her to come up the steps. But then she heard a voice reply, "Come in, Andrea."
Andy's stomach flipped. The smoke in Miranda's voice made it sound as though she was in the midst of having sex. Andy chewed on her lip and tried not to drool.
But Miranda wasn't fucking anyone. She was seated on the sofa, her black sweater cut far lower than proper. A banquet of cleavage was on display, and Andy was unable to tear her eyes away. "Here," Miranda said, holding out a hand.
Andy stumbled forward, tripping on the edge of the rug. "Sorry," she said, catching her balance.
Miranda simply lifted an eyebrow. She took the Book, but did not open it. Instead, she set it to the side, and waved for Andy to take a seat. Andy's stomach flipped over again. "Andrea, I have something to ask you. Something important."
Andy focused her full attention on her. "All right."
"If you had the opportunity to live for a very long time, would you?"
Of all the things Miranda could have asked, this was certainly the oddest. "Um, a long time?"
"Yes." Miranda inspected her perfectly manicured fingernails. "Centuries, rather than decades. Perhaps millennia."
Huh. You just never know. She took a shot at an answer. "Yeah, why not?" Andy said lightly. "Might be fun. Not having to worry so much about danger, and dying. Assuming I didn't have to." Miranda looked up at her, and the expression was unpleasant. Andy's mind raced for something less vapid. "I mean, it would probably be weird, watching all my friends and family die off, unless they lived that long too."
"No," Miranda said. "They would not."
"Oh," Andy said, understanding nothing of the conversation. "Well, that would be the hard part, wouldn't it? Losing people." She shrugged. "I still think it would be pretty great. Like a superhero, right?"
Miranda blinked back at her. "That's all."
Off-kilter, Andy stood on unsteady legs. "Okay. Good night."
The next night, she brought the Book upstairs again. Miranda awaited her, this time in a deep purple silk blouse that was unbuttoned one button too many. Andy's eyes searched the room frantically for something else to look at.
"Are you a Christian?" Miranda asked as she held out her hand.
Andy gave her the Book. "Not really. My dad is Jewish, and my mom was a Methodist but she stopped practicing. I never went to church much, or temple, as a kid. Just at holidays. I'm kind of agnostic. But I thought about exploring Buddhism." Andy clamped her lips shut before Miranda struck her dead for babbling.
"Reincarnation. An interesting concept."
"I agree." Not that Andy had done much reading about it. But Tina Turner was a Buddhist, and she looked fucking great for 68. There must be something to it.
"Very well." Miranda opened the Book, and Andy left.
The following night: "Are you afraid of flying?"
Andy blinked. She'd been on a flight to Paris with Miranda less than three months ago and had been fine. Not that Miranda would have paid any attention. "No."
"Do you faint at the sight of blood?"
Jesus Christ. "No."
"Are you certain? Have you ever seen large quantities of it?"
Andy frowned. "Yeah. I helped a bike messenger after he got hit by a car last year, and his whole face was a mangled mess. It was disgusting, but I didn't pass out."
Miranda nodded. "That will do."
"If you had one person to spend the rest of your existence with, who would you choose?" Miranda asked.
Andy furrowed her brow, and tried not to scream. "Pardon?"
Eyes narrowed, Miranda said, "Do you honestly need me to repeat it?"
"Uh, not really. I guess I'd want it to be with someone I loved."
"No," Miranda said, her tone razor-sharp. "Someone you've already met. Out of everyone you know, who would you select?"
"Is this a trick question?"
Miranda sighed. "That's all."
"Wait a second, what the hell is this about?" Andy said, finally cracking. "What is up with all these psycho questions you're asking me? What are you getting at?"
"Andrea, you may leave." Miranda did not look up.
Fine, have it your way. "What if I told you I'd want to spend the rest of my life with you?" Andy challenged. That caught Miranda's attention. "What if I said that out of everyone I knew, or even looked at, that you were the most captivating, beautiful, amazing person I ever met? And that even a hundred years wouldn't be enough time for me to get to know you the way I really want to?"
"I'd wonder if you were saying that to appease me."
"Well, take it however you like it. Go ahead and fire me. This is too weird."
Andy turned on her heel and left. It was the first time she'd departed without being dismissed.
Andy called in sick the next day. Emily threw an apoplectic fit. When Andy slammed the phone down, Emily was still shouting into it.
The next day was Saturday. Maybe she could shake some of the chaotic emotions swirling inside her if she could be away from Miranda for more than a few hours at a time.
That, unfortunately, did not happen. Andy's dreams Friday night were consumed by Miranda. In them, there was a great deal of sex. Very good sex. Better sex than Andy had ever had awake. Enraged, she threw her alarm clock across the room when she woke on Saturday morning, thighs practically stuck together.
She went to Central Park to relax. She ran a few miles, and when she was done, she pulled a blanket from her backpack and spread it on the grass. A book kept her occupied until her cell rang, and she spoke to her parents for a while.
But she had trouble concentrating. Thoughts of Miranda continued to distract her.
Lily called a little later, inviting her to a birthday party in Brooklyn, but Andy couldn't convince herself to say yes. She blamed the long train ride, and Lily understood.
As the sun began to set, Andy packed her stuff and returned home. The first thing she saw after locking the door behind her was Miranda, who was seated on her couch as if she'd been waiting there all day.
"Holy shit!" Andy exclaimed, hand going to her heart in a panic. "What are you doing here?"
Miranda peered at her closely. "I thought I might explain my recent behavior. But I realize now that it will have to wait."
"For you to shower."
"Ha ha, very funny. You break into my apartment and then insult me because I stink? No way. You can just take your lily white--"
"Andrea," Miranda said, and then she was directly in front of Andy, who had barely seen her move. "The reason you must shower is not that you smell unpleasant. But it would help me tremendously--" Miranda held out a shaking hand, almost touching Andy's hair-- "if you would do this for me. Now."
Andy blinked rapidly, her belly warming with tension and lust. She'd never been so close to Miranda, and she felt dizzy. "Okay," she breathed.
She stumbled sideways and hurried to the bathroom, where she stripped off her clothes and showered in a flash. Peeking out of the bathroom door first, she tiptoed to her room and pulled on sweatpants and a tank top. If Miranda wanted to judge her fashion sense, then she could go right ahead. Andy didn't care anymore.
After pulling on her fluffiest socks, she looked in the mirror. Well, she'd looked worse.
Andy went back into the main room, where Miranda still sat calmly. "Is that better?"
Miranda didn't say anything at first. But then she inhaled, and let out a little moan. "Not much," she croaked.
"Sorry." She shook her head, and flopped down in the overstuffed chair she'd found at a sidewalk sale a few weeks before. "So, what's up?"
Miranda centered herself, and leaned back against the couch. "I have been searching for someone for many years. A companion. Unsuccessfully, I might add."
Andy frowned at her. "But you've hardly ever been single. Your husbands--"
"Were for show. To maintain a certain illusion."
Andy's mind leapt forward. "Are you a lesbian?"
Miranda looked surprised at this, then tilted her elegant head back and laughed. The sound of it skittered down Andy's spine, settling somewhere between her legs. "My goodness. I suppose you could say that. But gender is irrelevant. I was looking for someone that I could be with indefinitely, shall we say." She looked at Andy hungrily. "And I have found that someone. If you are willing."
"Me?" Andy squeaked. "You want me?"
"Oh yes. Very much. But there is a price."
Andy quivered, and at once was afraid. "A price."
"A great price. But Andrea," Miranda purred, "it will be well worth it."
"Oh?" Andy said weakly.
Miranda stood, and crossed the room to kneel at Andy's feet. She sniffed the air, and for a moment Miranda was like an animal, investigating her prey. "Let me show you," she said, and Andy leaned forward.
When their lips touched, Andy was lost. Caught in a maelstrom, unreal and stunning in its power, and she gasped for air as heat rolled over her body. And when Miranda's tongue swept into Andy's mouth, her blood went molten hot, racing through her limbs fast enough to make her wonder if she would live through the night. Only seconds passed before Andy was on the verge of orgasm, and when Miranda brushed one hand across her nipple, she came with an astonished cry. She broke away, panting in disbelief.
Miranda's mouth hung open, and her nostrils flared. "I knew it would be like this," she growled. "From the moment I saw you."
She leaned in to kiss Andy once more, sucking strongly at her mouth. Andy melted into her arms until she felt a quick stab of pain. "Ow!" she said, yanking back. She touched her mouth, and her fingers came away red. She looked up at Miranda.
Whose eyes rolled back in her head ecstatically as she licked the blood from her lips.
Bewildered, Andy stared at her. And when Miranda smiled, a preternaturally long, white canine came into view. "What the fuck!" Andy whispered. "What the fuck is this?" She shoved Miranda out of the way to escape, but her legs weren't working very well.
"It won't hurt, darling," Miranda said, crawling on hands and knees as Andy scrabbled backward. "I'll make it so good."
"Holy fucking shit, oh fuck, what the--"
"Stop," Miranda commanded, and Andy did so without thinking. "You told me you wanted to be with me, didn't you? That you wanted to know me, that a hundred years wouldn't be long enough. I'm giving it all to you, Andrea. Your heart's desire, and mine. An eternity. Together."
Eternity, Andy thought. She'd only been with Nate two and a half years. How could she manage an eternity with anyone, much less Miranda?
"But what about my family? And my friends?" Andy cried. "Will I want to suck their blood? And how did you have children? I thought--" she stumbled over the word, "vampires couldn't have children? And they can't go out in daylight, or look in mirrors--"
"Myths, darling, proliferated by my kind, of course. Misdirection equals preservation. Your life will seem, for all intents and purposes, the same. But it will not be so. You'll never grow old, and you'll never die, unless you choose to." At that, Miranda paused. "I thought of ending my own existence many times before you came to me, Andrea. But now, I want to go on. With you at my side." Miranda exhaled her hot breath onto Andy's face. "Tell me you want that too."
"But," Andy said, terrified, "won't people notice if--"
"Andrea," Miranda said firmly, "I have lived over two hundred years. I am well versed in keeping secrets."
"I'm afraid. This is crazy. It's crazy."
"I love you, Andrea. Say yes."
The word "love" made Andy start. "You love me?"
"Would I take such a risk if I did not? You could run out the door screaming, 'Murder, vampire!' if you wanted. Not that anyone would believe you."
"Or you could just kill me."
Miranda blinked. "There is that, too."
Andy swallowed. Me and my big mouth.
"But I would not," Miranda assured her. "There are ways to help you forget."
Andy tilted her head. "Did you make me have those dreams?" she accused.
The sensual expression returned to Miranda's face. "No. But I was present."
Andy covered her eyes, face flushing in embarrassment. "Oh geez. This is not happening."
Miranda pulled her wrist away. "It is happening. You were meant for me, Andrea. Say yes. It will be your greatest adventure."
Andy had a thought. "Will I still get to, uh, eat? Food, I mean." Andy blushed again. "I really like food."
Incredulity colored Miranda's expression. "Food. You're worried about food."
"Yeah!" Andy cried.
"Yes, you can eat food."
"Oh, good," Andy said, relieved. Being a vampire might not be so bad. She could still have pizza, and bagels. Maybe she wouldn't even gain weight. Maybe she could eat whatever she wanted--
"Does this mean
" Miranda prodded, "that you're considering it?"
"How long do I have to decide?"
"About thirty seconds," Miranda said haughtily.
Andy blew a strand of hair out of her face, irritated. "If we're going to do this, you'll have to be more patient. No more bossing me around."
Miranda rolled her eyes. "Fine."
"And someone else is getting your coffee. I quit."
"No," Miranda said firmly. "A promotion, perhaps. Associate features editor."
"Is that a trade-off for becoming a vampire?"
"No, but if you insist on no longer getting my coffee, concessions will have to be made."
A promotion. Eternal life. And great sex at the drop of a hat. All with Miranda.
"You know, I told Nigel once that you'd have me for dinner if I screwed up one more time. I didn't realize how right I was."
Miranda smiled. Her white teeth shone in the dim light, and Andy bared her throat.
This story was inspired by the brilliant "There is a Light" zombie crack-fic by atrata.
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