DISCLAIMER: They are not mine, I'm just rubbing them together to see what happens. The story however, is mine...
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a crossover! The idea came to me one day and it would not leave me alone. I mean, it seriously would not. So, here we go then. Though it will become apparent who I have chosen as Miranda's protagonist quickly enough, I thought to keep you in suspense for a few paragraphs. Thank you to my readers & my fans, without you, it would be extra super hard to stay motivated sometimes. I should add here, just in case someone in the life takes exception to my verbiage. I actually do know what I am talking about in this instance. Just saying...
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Viva La Priestly
By The Raven
"Mr. Grissom, please bore someone else with the details of your incompetence. You will wrap up this interview and see to it that I am not disturbed by this nonsense for the rest of my stay. No, you will see that I am never bothered by any of it again." Miranda barely contained a smirk when she saw the odious little man before her cringe at her tone.
She was hardly amused though. Just because she had been in the vicinity of some ridiculous crime, did not mean that she saw anything, wished to involve herself with anything, and it certainly did not mean that she wished to spend any time being interviewed about it.
"Ms. Priestly. We are sorry for the inconvenience, but it really is important." The man, Grissom said. Miranda had gathered that his first name was Gil. Gil? What sort of name was that?
"I have told you what I know. And now, unless you intend to detain me in some official capacity, I am leaving. Trust me Mr. Grissom, when I say to you it is in your best interest to really think about your next course of action. I am not someone to be trifled with." Miranda mentally dismissed, Gil, and spared a glance at the strawberry blonde sitting beside him.
No doubt the woman thought that she was all that, but Miranda had seen better. The brunette who had been by earlier had been much more promising, but far too shy and reserved to be good for anything. Where had all the strong women gone?
Turning to Emily who had thus far been sitting quietly beside her, Miranda nodded to her and they rose as one.
"Ms. Priestly." The woman said, obviously trying to placate Miranda. Big mistake.
"That's all." Miranda said, gathering her things and moving to the door.
It was then that she saw her. The woman. Everything about her posture, gait, body language. Everything about her spoke to Miranda, in just the few moments that she was visible. Who was she? What was she doing here? Miranda had to know, and she always got her way.
Turning towards the pair of investigators she raised an eyebrow and suppressed a smile. "I will have my lawyer draft a statement for you detailing exactly what I saw, on one condition." The pair were so obvious in their desire to obtain this statement that Miranda knew she would get what she wanted.
"And what is that, Ms. Priestly?" The woman asked, her voice guarded but eager. Miranda bit the inside of her cheek to suppress a smile.
"Who was the woman who just walked past. The redhead?" Miranda asked bluntly. She had to know. She would find out somehow.
"The redhead?" Gil Grissom asked, his face revealing layers of shock and something else.
"Yes." Miranda said, quelling her impatience and noting with some satisfaction that Emily had her notepad out, ready to write anything down that was needed. Good girl.
"Why do you want to know this?" The woman asked, her voice grating on Miranda's nerves.
Miranda smirked slightly before answering. "I'll find out anyway, and you won't get your statement." Of this Miranda had no doubt, but she considered it to be a worthy tradeoff to expedite the process.
"Her name is Lady Heather." Grissom finally said, his face closed.
Lady Heather? What type of name was that? Miranda was intrigued despite herself. "You'll have the statement in an hour." With the words, Miranda swept out of the room with Emily in tow. She had someone to meet, after all.
"Emily. Find out about Lady Heather. Who she is, what she does, where she is. That's all." Miranda said to her assistant and then moved out of the station back into the streets of Las Vegas. It was going to be a long night, but Miranda was determined that she would find this mysterious woman. In just in an instant, she had become obsessed...
Two hours later Miranda was in her car, having dismissed Emily for the day. The girl had done well to find out about Lady Heather in record time. The woman was a Dominatrix of some repute here in the Las Vegas area, if not nationally. Miranda did not really have much knowledge or experience with the whole, concept.
She only knew that in merely a glimpse, she had become enthralled. Such power and grace in just the few moments she had seen. Every line of the woman's body, that hair. Miranda had to know. Therein lied the conundrum. What did she have to know? Why did she have to know? What was going on?
Miranda had decided that it was incidental that this Lady Heather was a Dominatrix. Miranda had in the past hour conceptualised that she was intrigued by the power in the woman's person. It was so rare. Sometimes, Miranda felt lonely in her position, so perhaps that was it. She as drawn to the power.
A hand rapped on the window of the car and Miranda startled. The car was parked beside what she had been told was Lady Heather's residence. Lowering the window slightly, Miranda looked into the somewhat bland looking face of a very pretty woman.
"Lady Heather does not like loitering. Either come in, or leave." The words were spoken with completely controlled intonation. Miranda could gather nothing from the tone.
Well, it was now or never. She had to leave Las Vegas in the morning. Telling her driver not to wait, Miranda rose from the car and looked imperiously at the woman who had rapped on the door. While her intonation had been impossible to read, her body language was very easy to read. This was not a dominant person, no doubt a submissive in the equation. If there was some sort of equation, that is.
Satisfied when the woman lowered her gaze and led the way to the house, Miranda followed, confident that she was not stepping into the lion's den, as it were. The door opened smoothly before the woman and she immediately stepped aside to let Miranda enter. By now, Miranda had pretty much dismissed the woman from her mind and was focusing on her surroundings.
Elegant, stylish, understated. Speaking of wealth and taste. Of power. Lady Heather was obviously a woman of means. Fascinating.
"Lady Heather will see you now." Miranda glanced at the woman and then walked in the indicated direction, steeling her spine and her resolve. This would probably be more interesting that anything she had done this year so far.
Miranda entered what she assumed was Lady Heather's office? Did a Dominatrix have an office? Or merely a Dungeon. There had to be paperwork, surely at least health insurance was needed. Quickly dismissing her errant thoughts, Miranda focused on the woman who occupied the well furbished space.
"What exactly is it that you want?" The woman said without any preamble. Miranda forgot to be offended though. Lady Heather was arresting in person.
"Just what do you mean by that?" Miranda said and moved to sit down on one of the chairs in front of Lady Heather's desk. She did not miss the look the redhead gave her when she arranged herself comfortably.
"It is quite obvious you are not here to, avail yourself, of my services." Lady Heather suggested, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a bottle and two glasses. "Drink?" The woman added, raising an eyebrow. Miranda nodded.
"No, I am not here to, avail myself of your services." Miranda said as she accepted the tumbler of amber liquid. She just hoped that it was as smooth as the woman sitting before her.
"Do you know who I am?" Miranda asked, taking a sip of the drink and finding herself pleasantly surprised by the quality of the bourbon.
Lady Heather looked at her with unreadable eyes. "You are Miranda Priestly. Yes, I know who you are." Miranda was not surprised that the beautiful woman knew who she was. "Again, what are you doing here?" With a sigh, Miranda decided that she had better make herself more clear before this nice drink became something ugly.
"I saw you, in the forensic lab. Something about you intrigued me. In my life on work, I tend to follow my intuitions. So, I asked and since this is a business of sorts, I did not think you would mind if I visited you. If nothing else, we can share a drink and I will be on my way." Again those unreadable eyes focused on her as she spoke. Miranda felt a shiver at the unflinching power in them. The force of personality excited her.
"I am not into playing games." Lady Heather said, rising from her seat and walking around the room to stand next to Miranda. Not to be outdone, Miranda stood as well and discovered that they were not dissimilar in height.
Now that she could see those vivid eyes even closer, Miranda found herself even more drawn in. "No, I don't expect that you do. Still, you must know that I am not here to play games." Miranda said with an edge in her voice. Who was this woman? Miranda realised that some of her fascination was because she had spent so long at the top, people had begun to bore her.
Lady Heather was not boring.
"No. You're not. The question, Miranda, is why are you here?" Lady Heather motioned for them to move to the couch that occupied the room and Miranda supposed that it would be a better place to get to know this object of her sudden obsession.
Well, now that she had satisfied her curiosity about the woman, Miranda decided that it was time for her to leave. "Thanks for the drink." Miranda murmured as she stood up and prepared to leave. Glancing at Lady Heather, Miranda speculated that the woman was not used to others behaving this way around her.
With a nod and a tight smile, Miranda turned and left, making her way out of the office, then the house and finally to her car outside. Perhaps later, she would sketch the woman, commit the memory of her to paper in order to remember her. Then, back in New York, she could look at the sketch and think about why she had sought the enigmatic woman out.
By the time she had arrived back at her hotel room, Miranda felt more tired than anything else. She sincerely hoped that there would be no reason for her to come to Las Vegas at any tome in the near future. It was dry, busy, noisy. And the coffee was simply not hot enough.
Deciding that she might as well pack, in order to save time tomorrow and as she had effectively cleared her schedule for the evening, she could also spend some blessed time alone, Miranda proceeded to do just that. Of all the things she did for herself, packing was one of them. There was simply no way an assistant could do it for her, not when it came to clothes and personal effects, in any case.
Some searching had found a satisfactory jazz station on the radio and with the sound playing idly in the background, Miranda became engrossed in what she was doing. It was rare that she had any time to herself. Perhaps this was a reason why she liked to pack, it gave her some space to do something that required no thought, but that also gave her space.
A knock on her door startled her out of her reverie and with a frown, she wondered why Emily was knocking at this hour. Hopefully nothing serious was going on. Miranda could think of no other reason why her assistant would come knocking.
Distracted, Miranda opened the door without checking and quite abruptly came face to face with an unexpected person. Lady Heather. Now, what on earth was this woman doing here, of all places? Remembering her manners, Miranda invited the woman in and secured the door behind them.
"Well. I can't say that I was expecting you. But somehow I am not surprised that you are here." Miranda said by way of an introduction, watching as the redhead selected and chair and sat in it.
"Would you like a drink?" It seemed only fair. Her guest had, after all, bought her a drink not too long ago.
"No." The answer was abrupt, but it seemed to be leaden with meaning. Miranda mentally shrugged and sat down opposite her guest, resting her chin on her hand and simply looking at the other woman.
Why was she here? Lady Heather was dressed elegantly, nothing about her indicated that she did anything out of the ordinary as a profession. Nothing except her demeanour, which could easily be attributed to a career similar to Miranda's, after all.
"So, tell me. Why are you here?" The could not spend the night string at each other, after all. Maybe the other woman would tell her, maybe not. In any case, it did not hurt to ask.
Lady Heather stood up and walked to the window, staring out of it with an intensity that made Miranda think that the people down on the street would have to feel it. "You are unique, Miranda Priestly." The woman finally said, turning back to Miranda with an unreadable expression on her face.
"I suppose I am. But then again, so are you." Miranda said and was not talking about Lady Heather being a Dominatrix. She was talking about the power that the woman exuded. It intrigued Miranda, drew her in.
"What do you propose we do about this, mutual uniqueness, then?" Lady Heather said succinctly. What indeed? Miranda mused, as she pondered the other woman's choice of phrase.
"You can call me Heather." The redhead said quietly, moving towards her seat again. Interesting. But then again, Heather was not stupid, she had to see that Miranda would not submit her will to anyone. Also, it appeared that the redhead viewed Miranda as somewhat of an equal.
Very interesting. And very sexy...
Eventually Miranda decided that they could both use a drink. Simply sitting in silence could only last for so long. She suspected that Heather was here for a reason, and well, she had all night to find out what it was. Might as well have a drink...
Sometimes it was good to be rich, other times it was exceptional. Today it was exceptional, as she did not have to contend with a horridly inadequate mini bar stocked with atrocious nonsense. For starters. Also, the hotel suite was opulent and comfortable. It suited the mood, whatever mood it was.
Glancing at Heather, Miranda mentally pursed her lips and thought about what the woman would like to drink. In her own space, she had drank fine bourbon, neat. This was not her own space though, this was in essence, Miranda's space.
Quickly deciding, Miranda poured some wine from a bottle she had set aside earlier to breathe. She had intended to drink it slowly during the evening, but this was an even more suitable occasion. Walking back to Heather, she offered the contemplative woman the glass and was pleased when it was accepted without protest.
"Do you ever wonder, Miranda, what it would be like?" Heather said after she had taken a sip of the wine. Miranda said nothing in reply, realising that the other woman had not finished talking.
"You know what I am talking about. You are powerful, wealthy, influential." Heather said, with something akin to admiration in her tone. "People throw themselves at your feet, beg for your approval, You have the power to give and take as you see fit. As is needed. As you want to." The redhead raised her eyes to look at Miranda.
"You and I are alike in many ways. I think that is why you came to me. And I know that is why I came to you." She continued. Miranda did not disagree.
It was true.
"Do I ever wonder what, Heather?" Miranda prodded after a few long minutes had passed. She was infinitely curious as to what the other woman was getting at and was not above asking.
Heather rose to her feet with her wineglass in hand. "Do you ever wonder, what it would be like to just be a regular woman, just for a day, or a night?"Heather continued and Miranda bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from interrupting the train of thought of her guest.
"In my line of work, there can be no, regular woman. Either you are the one with the power, or you are the one relinquishes power. The one who wields the whip, or the one who wants the whip. I don't mean a physical whip, as I am sure you realise. Not always anyway." Heather said as she moved to sit on the window sill, her intense gaze focusing on some unseen thing below.
"This is who I am, Miranda. The woman you see, is how I am. Being a Dominatrix is merely an extension of my person." The words were said softly, but Miranda heard them distinctly. They made sense to her and she felt confident that she understood them. Perfectly.
Sighing, Miranda rose to move closer to the other woman. "It's true. While I do not wield whips, I have absolute power. I can make or break people, give them what they want, or snatch it away from them. I have influence, and I enjoy it." It was true, they were alike. It was probably why Miranda had sought out the other woman. It only made sense now, however.
"And yes, I do wonder, sometimes." Miranda said softly. That was also true. There was no person in her life who would treat her as just a woman. Someone who could be talked to without an agenda, or without games. And especially without the constant tug-of-war between the alpha and the beta of the relationship.
Heather looked at her, her jewel-like eyes ablaze with a fire that Miranda was drawn to. It was easy to see that in this moment, in this hotel suite, because of chance, they could have their curiosity satisfied. As Lady Heather had said, they were alike in more way than they were different, a good match. Equals, even though their chosen fields were different.
It was the underlying personality that was the decider.
Without asking permission, and not caring if she got it anyway, Miranda carefully set down her wineglass and moved towards Heather, invading her personal space. Carefully, so carefully, Miranda leaned in and brushed her lips across the full lips of the silent woman.
"Want to find out?" Miranda whispered softly as she pulled away. It would work. For this woman, Miranda could let her guard down. She could be just a regular woman who wanted to be touched, without agenda. Who wanted to be held, without some reason other than desire, being behind it.
Heather did not move for long seconds and Miranda could almost hear the gears in her head work as she decided if it was possible for her to be a regular woman with Miranda. Thankfully, the redhead was also quick and exceptionally smart, it seemed. Her decision came quickly; Miranda was feeling just a tad impatient.
A strong arm sneaked around her waist and Heather pulled Miranda closer. "Yes. I do." Heather said. The words were spoken at barely above a whisper and before Miranda could process them properly, those lush lips descended upon her own and drove all thought from her head.
The power, the passion, the demand behind the kiss made Miranda swoon slightly as she scrambled to catch up. Her own arms went around the slender waist of the other woman and she pulled their bodes flush as the kiss deepened, as she lost her mind to the moment. Desire flared in her body when sharp teeth nipped at her lip, and a moan bubbled up from somewhere deep inside of Miranda. She had forgotten that she could make a sound like that.
How many decades had it been since she had been this turned on from simply a kiss? Had she ever been this turned on by such simple contact? Or simply this turned on at all?
Hands were pushing at her jacket and Miranda shrugged it down her arms. It fell forgotten to the floor as Miranda slid her mouth along the edge of the elegant jaw line presented to her. She could feel hands in her hair, caressing her scalp and when her soon to be lover gasped into Miranda's ear, something broke free inside of Miranda.
Hot passion spilled into her blood, shocking her with its intensity. Forcing herself to focus just for a moment, Miranda gripped the edges of the other woman's shirt. "Yes." The sibilant whisper in her ear gave Miranda permission and without hesitation, Miranda pulled.
The buttons gave way, one of then hitting the window with an indignant thud. Barely noticing, Miranda took in the lacy black bra that Heather wore, the pale perfection of her skin. "Beautiful. You're beautiful." Miranda whispered.
Her lover grabbed her, kissing her roughly. Miranda moaned into the kiss as her hands roaming along skin that made her hands burn. Feeling raw, aroused beyond reason, Miranda was nearly incoherent now as they kissed.
When nimble hands made short work of her blouse and the zipper on the back of her dress, Miranda answered in kind, freeing her lover's breasts from their confines. Heather's shirt fell discarded to join Miranda's jacket and when Miranda's hands touched the perfect breasts, her lover gasped, leaning hard against Miranda. It was heaven.
"You're wearing too many clothes." Miranda said succinctly, her hands working to correct the situation. She felt out of control and when she looked at Heather, she saw that feeling mirrored in the eyes of the other woman.
It was thrilling. Addictive. Wonderful.
Thankfully, Miranda's hands were soon joined and in moments, but not soon enough, they were both standing naked. Miranda did not pause to peruse Heather's body, though at first glance it was just gorgeous. She had other things in mind and she wanted to accomplish them as soon as possible. This glacial pace simply would not do.
Pulling her lover closer, Miranda hissed, gasping as she felt hot skin flush with her own boiling skin. When confident arms wrapped themselves around her, Miranda moaned freely, seeking Heather's mouth. They kissed hungrily, taking, giving, their mouths fucking while the sensory overload of their bodies melding together drove the intensity even higher.
"I want you." The whisper fell from the kiss-bruised lips of the redhead and something wild sparked in her eyes. Miranda felt a thrill in her body as her mind processed that she had met her match and just this once, it was ok to be just a woman. With this woman.
"I want you, as well. So much it hurts." When Miranda said the words, something flashed in Heather's eyes. Something wild and untamed. Something true. "Bed. Now." The redhead said, glancing around and then taking Miranda's hand and pulling her willingly towards the bedroom of the suite.
Not willing to make it so easy, Miranda halted their progress at the doorframe and kissed Heather until she was moaning freely, until Miranda was panting with desire. Miranda wondered if she would come simply from kissing this delectable woman. It seemed entirely possible. Also, very likely...
By the time they got to the bed, Miranda could feel her own wetness run down her inner thighs, lubricating her walk. Without preamble, Heather had tossed them both onto the bed and was now straddling Miranda, arching into her touch as Miranda squeezed her lover's perfect breasts.
Unbridled by inhibitions, Heather pushed herself wantonly onto Miranda's hip bone, giving Miranda a feel for just how wet she was. Beautiful, she was beautiful. Miranda pulled her down, rolling them both onto their sides and pushing aside heavy red hair so she could look into those fantastic eyes. It was an unguarded moment in which Miranda felt like she could see the soul of the enigmatic woman who was in bed with her.
"You like what you see?" Heather asked, one of her hands trailing down Miranda's side and sliding between them. Smiling slightly, Miranda slid one of her own hands between their bodies as well. "Yes." Leaning in to kiss the redhead, she let her hand trail through coarse hairs and into heady wetness.
"Oh my God." Miranda whispered as her fingers seemed to melt into Heather. She did not have long to revel in the sensation, as a moment later, she felt fingers slide into her own body. "Fuck." Escaped her lips before Heather claimed them once more.
Already close, Miranda could feel her pulse race as the combined sensation of kissing this delicious woman, being made love to by her, and making love to her, combined in her body and mind. It felt like her blood was on fire. When her hand slipped on Heather's sweat slicked skin, Miranda moaned into their kiss. The feedback loop was complete when her lover reacted in kind and soon Miranda could feel herself on the precipice.
Exquisite, was the only way to describe the moment. When Miranda came, she could feel Heather follow her as their bodies became one undulating mass of pleasure.
As she lay gasping against Heather, surrounded by her smell, her taste, her body, Miranda knew that this moment would never come again. This perfect moment. They might repeat it someday, or they might not. But this first time, this moment, would never happen again.
A tiny portion of Miranda's heart gave itself to the woman who was shaking in her arms. She could afford a tiny piece of it. Miranda had a feeling that with Heather, the piece would be safe. Somehow she was sure of it.
"How does it feel?" Heather asked her in a voice that Miranda could barely recognise. Miranda looked at the woman who lay tangled up with her. "Perfect." Miranda said simply, gently removing her hand from the redhead's body and then wrapping it around a perfect shoulder.
Neither of them was what one would call a cuddlier, but Heather seemed to understand the moment and for some time they lay together on the expansive bed simply being. Miranda lost track of time and might have even dozed off for a moment.
"I have to go. I don't actually want to, but I have to." Heather said suddenly, regret colouring her voice. Miranda understood though. Life waited for no one, not even two women who wanted to escape into each other just for a few hours, no matter how powerful they were.
"I know." Miranda said softly, pulling the redhead closer to her body and for a few more blissful moments, she felt simply like a woman. A well fucked happy woman.
"Emily. Make sure that Roy is at the airport. I do not want to wait for him when we arrive." Miranda said sharply as she walked through the airport, eager to leave Las Vegas behind. However, her opinion about not wanting to return sometime soon had been altered.
As Emily went to check on their travel arrangements, Miranda sat down in the first class lounge and reflected on the night before. Heather had left sooner rather than later, but before she had, the two of them managed to finish the wine and talk for a while. Business cards with personal phone numbers and email address' had been exchanged as well.
Miranda could feel the embossed card burning a hole in her bag as she waited for their flight to be announced. She wondered if any kind of correspondence would be exchanged between them, but decided that she did not mind either way. In more ways than one, they were now joined, permanently. Anything else was merely arbitrary in the end.
Emily was heading back and Miranda decided that she had better leave her musings for when she got home, for when she had some privacy. That was another thing that the whole experience was. Private. Miranda was thrilled at having something so perfect, all to herself. It felt divine, actually. Lady Heather was divine. Her match. Perfect.
However, the demands of Miranda's daily life were clamouring for her attention. The time for introspection would have to come later. Also, the time for memories...
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