DISCLAIMER: The Devil Wears Prada and its characters belong to Lauren Weisberger and 20th Century Fox. No infringement intended.
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Z is for Zipper
Before Miranda Priestly, clothes were just something she wore because society dictated it. During her time as Miranda Priestly's second assistant, clothes were part of the job, important in a way that they had never been before. After she had thrown her phone into a Paris' fountain and flown back to New York City, she had expected clothes to lose their importance for her once again, but she had still found herself drawn to fashion. She would never be a fashionista and she had no desire to be, but she had gained an appreciation for the beautiful and it was an indulgence that she allowed herself whenever possible.
When she realized she was in love with Miranda Priestly, that Miranda was in love with her, clothes had become stress. Miranda was one of the most important and influential voices in fashion and she was no less vocal about it in her personal life. So every time Andy got dressed - at least for an important function or somewhere that she would be photographed - she dressed with careful intent and deep thought.
Sometimes Miranda helped and sometimes she didn't. Sometimes Andy let her and sometimes she didn't. This night was one of the latter. Andrea had gotten dressed alone in the downstairs bedroom that was really not a bedroom at all but a combination of dressing room and closet. The dress was gorgeous - vintage - everyone who had heard what she was going to wear had exclaimed that Miranda would love it. Andy wasn't so sure.
This was more than just a dress. It was a work of art, and it was exquisite. As ridiculous as she told herself it was, she felt unworthy of the dress. She wondered if Miranda would be able to tell when she saw her in it and if she would agree. Pursed lips or a smile. Only time would tell and Andy felt like she was hanging on tenterhooks, so focused on every detail and struggling to perfect it that she didn't notice the door open or someone slip silently into the room.
She didn't notice until she felt a cold hand against the small of her back. Her head snapped up and she gasped involuntarily. "Miranda!" Her hand leapt to to her chest, covering her racing heart. "You scared me! I didn't hear you come in."
"You were lost in thought."
It reminded Andy exactly what she had been so worried about and she yelped again. "You're not supposed to be in here! Not until I'm done."
Miranda tilted her head and Andy swallowed. "I thought you might need help with the zipper."
"I- But- How did you-" Andy shook her head at her own aborted questions. She was Miranda Priestly and she had her sources. Of course, she would know what Andy was wearing. And, Andy realized abruptly, she was also right. She would need help getting the dress zipped up. "That would be great. Thank you," was what she finally settled on.
Miranda gave a shallow dip of her head in acknowledgment and in the next instant, her hand had left Andy's skin, settling instead on her hip as the other caught the zipper. Andy couldn't see anything of what she was doing so every touch was a surprise. She was tensed with anticipation, almost jumping out of her skin as Miranda's fingertips skimmed up her back, following her spine up to the base of her neck. Andy was almost quivering by the time Miranda was done.
The touch of Miranda's lips to her skin just above the top of the dress made her shiver. "Miranda..." Her voice was breathy and needy. What she did to her...
"You are beautiful."
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