DISCLAIMER: The Devil Wears Prada and its characters belong to Lauren Weisberger and 20th Century Fox. No infringement intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
By quiethearted (QH Fletcher)
Propped up in the bed in her hotel room, Andy stretched and read over the entry she had just typed into her journal. It had been another ridiculously long day with Miranda being even more impossible to please than usual. Added to that was the fact that lately the woman had thrown the whole sexier than life fashion goddess aura into high gear for some reason. Men and women seemed to be crawling out of the woodwork to fall at Miranda's Prada clad feet, not that she noticed them in any way.
Still, Andy couldn't escape the feeling that Miranda was determined to attract someone in particular, though she didn't appear to have been successful -- a fact that had driven the woman's snark factor through the roof. That whoever Miranda was after hadn't responded- Well, Andy was having a hard time understanding how they managed it. It was all she could do to resist the pheromone cloud Miranda seemed to be walking around in lately and it wasn't aimed directly at her.
Her own reaction to the pheromones explained why she was sitting here typing in her journal instead of sleeping. Journaling should have helped clear her mind so she could sleep. Instead, it had turned into one long depiction of the fantasies that had recurrently floated through her mind all day, just as every entry had for months now. It was a flat miracle she hadn't fried the hard drive with some of the thoughts she had concerning her boss.
It didn't help in the least that Miranda had ceased touching anything, at least not in the accepted definition of that term. Oh, no, touching was no longer sufficient for La Priestly Super Vamp. Now, she caressed everything, fingertips gliding over whatever lay in her grasp. Which wouldn't have been so bad except for the almost uncontrollable urge Andy had to throw herself under the lightly stroking fingers. Their movements mesmerized her and made it even more difficult to maintain the aura of disinterested assistant.
Andy had already brought herself to two shattering orgasms since leaving Miranda for the evening, but it simply wasn't enough. She wanted Miranda's touch and there was no way she would be entirely satisfied until she had it, which meant she would never be entirely satisfied. Shoving the laptop away in disgust, Andy swung her legs over the side of the bed prepared to take yet another cold shower, not that that helped in the least. She felt like the water turned to steam the moment it hit her superheated skin.
The sound of a crash followed by a strangled cry made Andy pause. Miranda! How she knew it was her boss who gave out the sound Andy didn't question. She just knew. Hurrying across the room she threw open the connecting door only to find Miranda's side closed and locked. Damn, damn, damn! Snatching up the keycard to Miranda's suite, Andy hurried into the hallway and swiped the lock on her boss' door. She pushed it slowly open, peeking around it just in case she was mistaken.
"Miranda," she called softly. "Miranda, are you all right?"
She listened for a response, but heard only a faint groan coming from the direction of the bedroom. A quick perusal of that room still didn't produce the woman she was looking for.
"Andréa. In here," Miranda's voice came from behind the partially closed bathroom door.
Pushing the door aside, Andy could hear the water in the shower, but still couldn't see her boss. Oh, no. Please no, she thought. This could not be happening. Catching sight of her reflection in the mirror over the sink, Andy wished she'd taken time to at least throw on a robe over the boyshorts underwear and half tank she usually slept in.
"Uh, Miranda? Are you all right?" she called, hoping the answer would be in the affirmative.
"Of, course, Andréa. I always invite the world in for tea when I'm lying in the bottom of a tub naked," the rapidly chilling voice snapped. "Now turn off the water and help me out of here."
Hesitantly, Andy reached one long arm around the curtain and closed the faucet ending the deluge of water. Desperately, she looked around for something to cover Miranda with before opening the curtain. The words Miranda is naked played on an endless loop through her mind. Spotting a bath sheet on the counter, she grabbed it and closed her eyes. Only then did she reach for and shove the curtain aside.
Miranda's tone carried the roll of her eyes, though Andy couldn't see it. "You can open your eyes, Andréa. I promise I have no hideously defective body parts with which to scar your tender psyche."
"Hideous won't be the word and I'm definitely gonna end up scarred," Andy muttered under her breath at the thought of both seeing and touching Miranda's nude body without giving away her feelings towards the woman. Cautiously she opened one eye and then snapped it shut. No, definitely not hideous. Gorgeous. Glorious even, but not hideous.
"If you are entirely incapable of assisting me, then be kind enough to phone the front desk and have them send up a maid. I will not lie here indefinitely. This is a tub, Andréa, a cold, hard tub, not a lounge." Miranda's voice had dropped to that dangerous whispery tone that usually meant someone was about to beg to be allowed to die, instead of whatever Miranda had planned for them.
Andy wouldn't have been surprised to find that the faint coat of steam on the bathroom mirror had turned to frost. With a deep breath, she opened her eyes and, leaning over the tub, draped the towel over Miranda's body.
"If you're injured, it might be better not to move you until we get a doctor in here," Andy advised while trying not to let her eyes wander as they pleased.
Miranda, however, was making no such effort. Her eyes traveled slowly up endless miles of legs to a tight abdomen and on to the generous breasts now suspended over her. A sound much like a whimper escaped her throat.
"Are you in pain?" Andy asked, eyes liquid with concern.
Yes, but not the kind you're thinking of. "No. I simply had the wind knocked out of me. I'm in an awkward position and can't get up unassisted. So, if you would?" Miranda extended her hand.
One leg was twisted up under her and, with the narrowness of the tub, rising would prove difficult unaided. Miranda hadn't been pleased with the accommodations to begin with; this was definitely not going to improve her opinion of them.
"I don't think tugging on one hand is going to help much, Miranda. Hang on." Andy stepped over into the tub and settled her feet just below Miranda's hips. She squatted down, trying not to think about how close such a move brought their centers as she slid her arms under Miranda's and around her back. "Ready?" she asked and at Miranda's nod Andy used her thigh muscles to push them both upwards.
Once the weight was off her limb, Miranda was able to move both her legs to assist until she was standing upright, upright and pressed tight to Andy's chest. "Thank you," she whispered unable to still the sudden trembling that overtook her. She leaned further into Andy's body content in the feel of it against her.
Hands clasped in the small of Miranda's back, Andy supported her weight, in no hurry to end the closeness.
"You sure you're ok? I could call down for a doctor."
"Be quiet, Andréa," Miranda whispered before tucking her face into the younger woman's neck. This might be her one opportunity to be this close to Andréa and she had no desire to end it for something as frivolous as a doctor or potential injuries. She already had the best cure she could think of in her arms.
Andy stood quietly, enjoying the feel of Miranda in her arms and the warm breath on the side of her throat. The soft skin under her hands reminded her that Miranda was still essentially naked. The towel that covered her front was only held in place by Andy's own body. She pressed her palms flat against Miranda's lower back aware of the expanse above and the curves below. Andy fought the urge to explore, afraid Miranda would push her away and order her back to her own room, if not fire her outright. Nor was she willing to allow herself to ponder why Miranda was willing to stand virtually naked in her arms. Nope, no desire to question that one at all.
With a sigh, Miranda lifted her head to stare into molten chocolates that returned her look unflinchingly. She had tried everything she knew in the last months to get this young woman to respond to her, but Andréa was unceasingly polite and scrupulous about fulfilling her duties as assistant. Not once did Miranda receive even a flicker of a glance that wasn't completely appropriate to their roles. She had attracted everything breathing in a two mile radius, but nothing from Andréa. Even Irv had leered at her, which caused Miranda no end of nausea, but not Andréa. Nigel was straightening his tie and simpering, but still nothing from Andréa. She knew she wasn't a classic beauty, but she made the best of what she had and had never ceased to be able to attract whomever she wanted. Hell, gay men loved her! It was the ultimate irony that all she wanted was one exquisitely beautiful young woman who had no interest in her whatsoever.
Miranda slid her hands from their resting place on Andréa's upper chest up and around her neck while arching her body in closer pressing their hips together. She wanted a reaction, needed a reaction from Andréa. Even if it was a total rejection, Miranda needed to know before she made an even bigger fool of herself. If Andréa pulled away, if her expression was less than welcoming, Miranda could pass it off as a momentary dizziness, but that wasn't what happened. Hands that had remained still began to move, stroking over the length of her back, caressing skin and leaving a tingling awareness in their wake.
"Miranda?" It was a question, a seeking of permission, a need for acknowledgement that Andy hadn't misconstrued the situation.
Miranda heard and responded. Threading her fingers through silky dark hair, she pulled Andy's lips to her own, claiming with her mouth and tongue what she had been unable to with her words. "Andréa," she moaned the name into the depths of its owner's mouth.
Andy was sure she was in heaven. Miranda was pressed tight against, hands buried in her hair holding them together in a hot, wet kiss while Andy's hands roamed at will over luscious, slender curves. As first kisses went, the scale owed it points. There was too much pent up passion, too much unleashed hunger for the usual fumbling that accompanied such things. Lost in the moment, Andy moved her hands down and filled them with rounded curves, squeezing and kneading the flesh.
Abruptly, Andy found herself shoved away. Her chest rose and fell with the frantic pace of her breathing as she stared at Miranda who held the towel fisted against her chest. The terry cloth hung down her body covering only the most vital areas. Andy's eyes roamed hungrily over naked sides, hips and legs. She licked her lips tasting Miranda's kiss.
Miranda fought to gain control of her breathing, her body one enormous throbbing knot of want. For months she had thrown everything she had at Andréa and nothing, no response at all. Where had this come from? More importantly, was it sustainable? Miranda's heart was more engaged than she cared to admit and she had never been one to risk being hurt willingly. With a trembling hand, she tried to bring some order to her wet hair while trying to drag her eyes away from Andréa's breasts. Where they had been pressed against Miranda's upper chest, the half tank was damp enough to allow the dark shadows of areola to show through. Tight nipples stood out in stark relief begging Miranda to tear the thin material away and free them for her mouth and hands. She moistened her lips as she tore her eyes away before she did just that.
Stepping from the shower, she winced slightly from the tenderness in her hip knowing it would be dark with bruises by morning. She wrapped the towel tighter around her body though it in no way made her feel any less naked to do so.
"We-we should talk," she attempted.
Andy shook her head, stepping from the tub to press herself against Miranda's back.
"We should finish what we started. Then we can talk," she disagreed, slipping her arms around Miranda to cup her breasts as she closed her lips around the curve of Miranda's shoulder sucking lightly.
"But-" Miranda began to argue but stopped as long fingers plucked at her sensitized nipples. She didn't notice as the towel hit the bathroom floor so focused was she on the delicious sensations radiating from her chest to her groin. She pressed back against Andréa, grinding against her seeking an even more intimate touch. It came in the form of a hand sliding between her thighs to cup her in a warm palm. She could feel the wetness that had started with the kiss increasing, collecting in the hand that held her.
They moved together into the bedroom and towards the bed. Miranda turned and felt herself pushed gently onto the mattress. She lay propped on her elbows watching as Andréa stripped off her clothes.
"You're so beautiful," Miranda breathed as she took in every inch of smooth skin. She had known Andréa was well endowed, but that knowledge had not prepared her for seeing what lay beneath the clothes. Andréa's breasts were sinfully perfect and Miranda's hands itched to touch them.
"You're the beautiful one, baby," Andy corrected as she began to crawl onto the bed and over Miranda's body. "You've been making me crazy for months. It's been all I could do to keep my hands off you."
Relaxing onto her back as Andréa moved over her, Miranda was thrilled to know her seduction had worked. She simply had not counted on Andréa's will being equal to her own.
"You weren't supposed to," Miranda confessed. "I wanted your hands on me, Andréa. I've done everything I could think of to get you to notice me, to want me." Since they were both naked and about to make love there seemed little point in being coy about her efforts to attract Andréa.
Andy froze, stiff armed and stared down at Miranda. She shook her head and gave a wry smile.
"Miranda, you were luring the paint off the walls, but you didn't do or say anything to make me think it was me you were aiming at."
Miranda managed to look as disdainfully aloof as ever, even though she was lying naked beneath her equally naked assistant.
"Really, Andréa, did you expect me to take out an advertisement in Runway? I've had you accompany me everywhere it was feasible for the last two months. Did you honestly think I required your services as my assistant on this trip? There are any number of inconsequential individuals on this shoot who can fetch coffee and call for my driver." Miranda could not believe how dense the normally intelligent young woman was being.
Andy's face reflected her shock as it occurred to her what Miranda was implying.
"You wanted my company, not as an employee, but me, as a person," she concluded amazed that Miranda would go to such lengths to secure her companionship.
"Yes, Andréa," Miranda huffed. "And as it seems we're going to have that discussion right now, perhaps you should let me up."
"Oh, no," Andy grinned lowering her body until she achieved full skin contact. "Open your legs, Miranda. Let me in." As the silky thighs parted she settled her hips between them groaning at the wetness that bathed her lower abdomen. "Damn, you're wet. Is that for me, Miranda?" she asked caressing a delicate jaw with her lips.
"Y-yes," Miranda gasped flexing her hips in an attempt to achieve a firmer pressure where she needed it most. She had dreamed of this, often at the most inappropriate times. She closed her eyes so that she might better commit to memory the weight and feel of Andréa's body atop her own. She arched her neck, giving the soft, full lips room to roam. Without thought, her legs moved to encircle Andréa's hips, pulling her down, firming the contact between their bodies. "Make love to me, Andréa."
"Oh, I have every intention of doing just that," came Andy's husked reply as she began to kiss her way down to one tightened nipple. Miranda had held her in a heightened state of arousal for months and she planned to release every second of that tightly wound agitation on Miranda's delicious body. So she began to tease, sucking and licking the velvety pale flesh, covering every inch of Miranda's breasts without once doing more than ghosting a breath over a nipple before moving to the other. Andy built Miranda's passion with an aching slowness that had her clawing at the sheets and pillows while whimpering and moaning, coherent sound long having fled.
Andy tasted and savored every millimeter of skin before returning to nipples so tight the areola had wrinkled to half their normal size. When Andy took the first one between her lips Miranda nearly screamed as her first orgasm of the night hit. Andy moaned her own small release into the breast that filled her mouth, but she was far from done, nor would she be until Miranda had no voice left to scream Andy's name.
Hours later, the two exhausted women lay in each other's arms. Miranda had tried to begin the discussion she wanted to have only to find that her voice was harsh and almost inaudible. Andy's smile of smug satisfaction had been met with a withering glare. Unrepentant, she had pulled Miranda into her arms with a whispered, "Sleep first." Miranda, ever difficult, had resolved to remain awake until Andréa woke so they might talk, but soon found herself lulled by the hands stroking her back with a delicate touch that soothed and relaxed her until sleep claimed her.
Miranda floated in that hazy realm between waking and sleep, relishing the dream she found herself in, one she had dreamt many times before. She felt the whispering caress of long hair over her hips and thighs, the strong fingers that rolled her nipples alternating with the faint scratch of nails across them, but mostly the hot, wet mouth that worked between her legs held her attention. It devoured her, as if seeking to feed for the first time in years. Her mind rose slowly to consciousness and with it came the awareness that the only dream was the one lying stretched out on the bed with her, humming her pleasure. Andréa was real and bringing Miranda swiftly to a roaring orgasm. She slid her fingers into the rich, dark hair urging her lover more fully into her as her hips flexed and began to ride the hot tongue that speared into her. Miranda bit her lip and let herself fly. She had lost count of the number of times Andréa had made her soar during the previous night, only knowing she was helpless beneath her lover's hungry mouth and questing hands.
Miranda, now, pulled gently at the soft tresses, urging her lover up and into her arms where Miranda held Andréa, while she, herself, drifted slowly back to earth. When, at last, she could speak again, Miranda frowned at the hoarse whispery sounds emanating from her throat.
"We must talk, Andréa."
Andy sighed and pushed up until she could lean back against the headboard.
"Is this where you tell me what a horrible mistake we've made, and that you never want to repeat it again?" Andy kept her voice level, though inside she wanted to throw a fit suitable for several thwarted two-year-olds, at least a dozen of them.
Miranda sat up swiftly, only slightly wincing from the residual soreness cause by their activities the previous night, both in the tub and the bed. Absently she rubbed at the large bruise that had formed on her hip from the fall, much more interested in Andy's assumptions.
"Do you honestly believe I would spend months attempting to attract you to my bed, only to toss you out when I finally have you there?" Her tone was as disbelieving as she felt. Did Andréa really think so little of her?
"I don't want to believe it," Andy admitted. "But I'd feel better if you told me I was wrong to think you might want this to end."
Miranda grasped Andy's hands and brought them to her lips, pressing kisses into the palm. Her words were slow and deliberate.
"You are wrong. I very much want this to continue," Miranda smiled that elegant little curl of lips that equated to Andy's broadest grin. "I want you in this bed for the rest of the time we are here and once we return to New York, I shall want you in my bed there as well. But more than that-" Miranda paused and steeled herself to continue, "More than that, I want you in my life for as long as you choose to be there."
Andy stared at her, trying to settle in her mind what Miranda had just said. Miranda wanted to continue having sex with her. Andy could accept that, but that she wanted a relationship? That was a bit harder to accept. She squeezed the hands that still held her own reassuringly.
"And if I choose every day for the rest of my life?" Andy asked, wanting to make sure she understood exactly what Miranda was offering.
"Then there is not a woman in the world who could be happier than I would be if that were your choice, though perhaps the length of my life might be a more realistic boundary," Miranda laughed softly, her smile inching towards dazzling. "Is that what you want, Andréa?"
Andy nodded, bringing Miranda's hands up to cup her own breasts. She didn't trust her voice in that moment, afraid it would give away the profound urge she had to cry so strong were her emotions. She slid down, pulling Miranda down to lie atop her. As Miranda began to move, causing electric tingles to race through Andy's skin, she had the fleeting thought that she should shop for a new laptop. Tonight's journal entry was definitely going to fry the hard drive in her current one.
Return to The Devil Wears Prada Fiction
Return to Main Page