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Miranda had taken a certain fondness to her second assistant Andrea. In the weeks before their trip to Paris, Andrea had been working eighteen-hour days to ensure everything was finalized for Miranda. Her boyfriend Nate told her he was moving out, but she was too busy to chase after him. Most days she was even too busy to think about eating. When she finally did get home, she was so exhausted she went right to bed. Andrea soon realized that was how the the other clackers managed to stay so thin. She did notice that her size six clothes were a bit loose on her, too, but that was probably a good thing. Maybe Miranda wouldn't think of her as "the fat girl" anymore.
It was the first Friday of the month, and that meant Andrea had to accompany Miranda to the monthly run-through at James Holt. Andrea was busy wrapping up last month still, but had an enormous amount of work to do to prepare for Paris and their upcoming spread. Andrea noticed the dark circles under her eyes were particularly noticeable today, and she even arrived at Runway early this morning to see if the makeup department could help her out.
Miranda had an appointment earlier in the day, and Andrea was to meet her at James Holt promptly at 11:00, which meant no later than 10:45. Andrea, who was comfortable enough with James and his assistant Trisha, entered his loft and waited for Miranda upstairs, chatting about the latest celeb gossip with Trish over some steaming peppermint tea.
The elevator doors opened and they all turned to watch Miranda march over to the zebra couch, an extra ounce of determination in her step this morning. Andrea and Trish stood as Miranda approached—which was really ridiculous, if you thought about it, she wasn't technically royalty.
"Andrea? Why were you not downstairs? I asked you to meet me here, not to arrive before me and…and socialize with the help."
"Miranda, I'm sorry. It won't happen again," Andrea said, sheepishly handing her mug over to Trish. "James' assistant was actually giving me a few pointers on Paris." Andrea quickly added, knowing Trish interned at Hermes for two years before eventually ending up with James.
"Yes, Miranda, I apologize if it was out of line, but I wanted to make sure she was prepared for the responsibilities she will have."
"Hmm, well, I can prepare my own staff very well, thank you." Miranda eyed Andrea curiously before taking her seat on the couch. She always hated that couch—while the zebra print was stylish, it was awfully uncomfortable. Miranda's eyes drifted to Andrea again. She looked different today, though Miranda couldn't quite place it. Once she realized that Andrea was waiting for her permission to be seated, she quickly patted the couch next to herself and tried to focus on the designs James was showing her on his tablet.
Andrea was glad that her body was angled away from Miranda—she could not see her eyes fluttering shut this way. James and Trish understood her workload, and she knew James would let her go take a nap on the couch in his office if he thought there was a chance Miranda would allow it, but that was entirely out of the question.
Luckily, this was a meeting at which Andrea was not expected to take notes. Miranda was seeing a design of her dress for the Runway banquet in Paris, and she would communicate everything directly to James himself.
James and Trish were both in his office pulling together some samples for Miranda to take back to Runway. As Miranda turned to speak to Andrea, she noticed the girl's eyes. Was she asleep? Miranda reached out to put her hand on the girl's shoulder, surprising herself that her initial reaction was concern, not displeasure.
"Andrea," Miranda softly called as she moved her hand from Andrea's shoulder to draw slow circles on her back. "Andrea, are you okay?" she asked, still not quite sure why she cared.
Andrea's eyes opened and she gasped, jumping off the couch and away from Miranda's hand. She clumsily reached into her bag to retrieve her notebook and pen and looked up at Miranda, waiting for instructions.
"Inform Emily that we will not return until 2pm, and that I expect the new jade Dolce & Gabanna spread to be ready. And, Andrea, you will ride back with me."
"Yes, Miranda," Andrea said, quickly pulling out her phone and walking towards the corner of the room to text Emily in private.
"Em, M wants new jade d&g spread ready by 2. we're still at holt, back at 2pm."
She received an immediate response: "ok. when will you be back?"
"no clue. she told me to ride with her."
"uh-oh. good luck."
"yeah, thanks. gtg"
Miranda approached Andrea who was now standing directly in front of the elevator. "I trust everything is situated back at the office?"
"Yes, Miranda. I have updated Emily with the details."
Miranda nodded and pressed the button for the elevator. It opened immediately, and Miranda motioned for Andrea to ride with her. She hated the awkward stares and conversations of an elevator, but riding an elevator with Andrea was different. Andrea somehow knew what she was thinking, knew why she liked to be by herself, and offered that to her as best she could.
Roy was waiting for them downstairs. He held the door open for Miranda and Andrea quickly walked around to the other side to climb in. Once they began driving, Andrea noticed they turned left instead of right, and were now heading in the direction of Miranda's townhouse.
"Miranda, where are we going?"
"Don't worry," Miranda said. Andrea swore she saw a smile flicker across Miranda's lips. "You need to rest. Please," Miranda said, squeezing closer to the door, "lie down. Take a nap."
Andrea's eyes widened. Did Miranda just say "please" and suggest that she sleep in the towncar, all in one sentence? "Uhh, no, Miranda, thank you, but I can't. I'm fine," she added, bringing her hand up to her mouth to cover a yawn.
"You are not 'fine' and you are of no use to me if you don't receive proper rest. Feet up," Miranda said, patting the empty space in the backseat between them.
Andrea carefully removed her heels and turned so that her back was to the door, lifting her feet up to the seat, careful not to let her feet touch Miranda's thigh. Andrea was very glad she was wearing opaque knitted tights with her skirt today, because otherwise Miranda would have quite a view from where she was seated.
Miranda smiled as she watched Andrea get comfortable and close her eyes. She quickly typed a message to Julia, her personal chef who was likely still at her house: "Please prepare something healthy & light, w protein, for a 1:30pm snack. pack extra in a separate container. thx."
She trusted Julia to come up with something sufficient for Andrea, something she could send home with her as well, given that, by the looks of things, she hasn't had much time to eat.
Miranda leaned forward and whispered to Roy, "We need to be at the townhouse at 1:30. Drive around until then—nothing too fast or jerky." Roy nodded, and Miranda pressed the button to raise the privacy glass.
Taking off her sunglasses, she reached up to rub the bridge of her nose and sighed. They had all been working hard for the past few weeks. She uncrossed her legs, kicked her own heels off, and leaned back, closing her eyes, her hands folded in her lap. Perhaps she could get some sleep, too.
Miranda was startled from her sleep when she heard Andrea whimpering. She thought she heard her mumble "I'm sorry" and something that sounded like "no, don't" but Andrea still had a hint of a smile across her face, so Miranda wasn't too concerned.
Andrea twisted slightly, curling up towards the back of the seat and stretching her legs out in the process. Miranda looked down at Andrea's feet, pressing into her leg, and realized that Andrea was still asleep.
She gently lifted Andrea's legs across her own lap, and turned her body so that her back was directly to the corner of the backseat and she had room to stretch her own legs. She placed her hands back in her lap, across Andrea's ankles, and quickly fell back asleep.
At promptly 1:29pm, the towncar came to a stop outside Miranda's home. Roy waited a few moments, literally waiting until the clock changed to 1:30, then stepped out and walked around to open Miranda's door.
As he opened the curb-side passenger door, Roy quickly realized there was weight leaning against the door, so he quickly pushed it back shut. The slight movement of the door, however, startled Miranda. She sat up and gently lifted Andrea's legs off her own. The bit of rest felt wonderful, Miranda thought, though it appeared Andrea needed more than an hour's nap.
"Andrea," Miranda called, placing her hand on Andrea's knee, "wake up, Andrea."
Andrea's eyes blinked a few times before she sat up and smoothed out her skirt and her hair. Miranda was putting her own shoes on, and Andrea was still waking up, unsure of what time it was or where she was.
Sensing this, Miranda spoke, "Put your shoes on. We are stopping here at my home for a quick lunch before returning."
Andrea nodded and followed Miranda out of the car and up the stairs to her townhouse.
They walked directly to the kitchen in silence, where Miranda was pleased to see Julie left two plates and glasses out, and a large hummus plate in the refrigerator. Miranda pulled the tray out and smiled when she saw the extra container of hummus on the top shelf of the fridge.
"Do you like hummus, Andrea?" Miranda asked, setting the plate on the table.
"Yes, of course. But Miranda, you really don't have to fe—"
"Stop that. I don't really have to do anything, Andrea. I'm choosing to do this. Learn to understand the difference." She paused, "Tea or water?"
"Water is fine."
"But you were drinking tea earlier—with Trish?"
"Yes. I like tea, too, but it's a hassle to make. I like looseleaf, not bags. Water is fine."
"Nonsense," Miranda said, opening her cabinet and pulling out an airtight container of tea leaves and two individual strainer balls. "I'm afraid I only have an African black tea, will that suffice?"
"Yes, thank you." Andrea replied.
"Please, fix yourself a plate while I prepare tea. Feel free to eat in the den—it's much more comfortable," Miranda called over her shoulder.
Andrea spooned some hummus onto her plate and selected a few pita wedges and stalks of celery, then made her way into the den. She quickly looked around the room and selected the oldest chair to sit in. It was a worn recliner with a cashmere throw draped across the back. It did not fit the decor of Miranda's home at all, but looked like the most comfortable chair she'd ever seen.
She wanted to wait for Miranda before she started eating, so she set her plate on the side table next to her chair, and tucked her feet underneath her. This chair was so comfortable, it seemed to be made especially for her body.
Miranda entered the den with a small tray carrying two teacups, milk, sugar, and her own plate of hummus. She smiled when she saw Andrea sitting in the recliner. "Please, do not wait for me to eat. Now, how do you take your tea?"
"Splash of milk, please."
Miranda nodded, poured some milk into her cup, and walked over to hand it to her. "You know," she said, returning to her seat on the sofa, "you chose the best chair in the house."
"I'm so sorry!" Andrea quickly said, jumping up so she could offer the seat to Miranda.
"No, no, sit down. You are a guest and I refuse to treat you otherwise. I can sit in that chair anytime I want. You know," Miranda continued, "I bought that chair when I was pregnant. A friend told me that every pregnant woman needed a la-z-boy recliner. I told him he was crazy and went through three or four chairs—stylish but terribly uncomfortable—before caving and purchasing this. It's been reupholstered three times, and is in desperate need of a fourth." Miranda smiled, "I'm glad you enjoy it as much as I do."
Andrea smiled as she ate her hummus. "Can I ask a question?"
"Of course, you don't need my permission," Miranda said.
"Why are you doing this—being nice to me?"
"Andrea, is it so out of character for me to show some appreciation and kindness?" Andrea did not answer, but only stared at her suspiciously. "Do you think I am actually playing you, Andrea? That I have anything but good intentions? My god, I would hope that you know me better—"
"Miranda, please. No, I know you have good intentions. Please, calm down. I've just never seen you act this way towards me, or any employee for that matter, and I guess I was wondering if you were okay." Andrea said, shrugging.
"Today you looked so—so drained. Tired. Yet you were as competent as ever. I know you're so exhausted because of the things I ask of you, and believe it or not, I was concerned."
"Oh," Andrea replied, not knowing what else to say. "Thank you?"
"No need to thank me."
Andrea and Miranda finished their lunch in silence, each deep in thought.
Miranda tried to understand why she was acting so protective and concerned. Andrea was her assistant, yet she was treating her like she would a daughter. Andrea was young enough to be her daughter—granddaughter if you really thought about it. Other than making her feel old, she didn't particularly like to think of Andrea in that way. She was gorgeous and had a strong, likable personality. She paid attention to everything and remembered the right details. Miranda could probably go a few days without speaking to Andrea, and business would run smoothly as ever. But, she would never want to go days without speaking to the young woman.
She's old enough to be my grandmother, Andrea thought to herself as she finished her tea. My beautiful, enigmatic, sexy grandmother… Andrea quickly tried thinking of something else, but found it terribly difficult to be in Miranda's presence—in her home—and think of anyone else. Andrea was surprised at how comfortable she had become in Miranda's home.
Andrea finished her tea. Placing the empty teacup on her plate, she stood from the most comfortable la-z-boy recliner and addressed Miranda, who appeared to be in her own world. "We should get back to the office. It's almost two."
Miranda turned to look at Andrea, and the young woman braced herself for whatever insults would pour out of her luscious lips. "What was that?" Miranda questioned. Her mind had been elsewhere.
"Uh, Miranda, I said we should get back to Runway, since it's almost two o'clock."
"Oh, my. Yes. I seemed to have lost track of time." Miranda said, thinking that she was really daydreaming about her assistant. Miranda stood and took Andrea's plate from her. "I'll just be two minutes—make yourself comfortable."
"Can I help you with anything?"
"No, just give me two minutes," Miranda said. I need to get my bearings, she thought to herself.
Andrea sat back down in the recliner. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and tried to catalog the moment. The scent of Miranda's home was woody with hints of amber and patchouli. Soft light filtered through the curtains, and she could feel the warmth of the sun on her right cheek. She sighed again and pulled her knees up to her chest, imagining Miranda curled up in the chair, curled up around Andrea.
Miranda stood at the doorway of the den, watching Andrea in the chair, sitting exactly like she does most nights, waiting for her husband who so rarely comes home. A smile crept across Miranda's lips as Andrea made a whimpering noise and shifted in the chair. Miranda wanted so badly to walk over and put her arms around her, but she quickly scolded herself for thinking such things about a woman so much younger than herself.
"Andrea, are you ready?" Miranda said, pretending she just walked into the den, staring down at her blackberry so as to give Andrea a few seconds to open her eyes and sit up.
"Yes, Miranda." she replied, eyes bright and shining. Miranda grabbed a few bags and they walked to the towncar, still parked outside. Once inside, Andrea turned to Miranda, wanting to thank her again, but she couldn't bring herself to speak. Miranda felt Andrea's eyes on her and turned to face her, questioningly.
"Is there something you wanted to say, Andrea?" Miranda asked, removing her sunglasses.
"No—just, thank you." Andrea replied sheepishly.
Miranda picked up the smallest of the bags—a Bloomingdale's Little Brown Bag—and handed it to Andrea. "I refuse to allow anyone to say I starve my employees."
Andrea looked in the bag and saw a container of hummus, plus a ziploc bag of celery, carrots, and cucumbers. "Miranda, you don't have to—"
"Nonsense. Did you like it?"
"Yes, but—"
"Do you have anything to eat in your apartment?"
"No, but—"
"Well, then, you will take it, and you will eat it, and you will not whine." Miranda quickly said, growing increasingly more impatient. "Accepting others' generosity is an art, Andrea. Perhaps one more valuable than generosity itself. Learn it well."
Andrea wasn't sure what to respond, so she took the bag, nodding and smiling.
That evening, as she was waiting for the book at 9:30pm, she was very grateful for the snack Miranda packed.
For the rest of the week, neither woman brought up their lunch at Miranda's, or Andrea's general lack of sleep. Andrea tried to get as much sleep as possible so she would not put Miranda in a position like that again, and she even allowed herself to close her eyes at her desk as she waited for the Book.
It was 7pm Friday evening, and Rafael already informed Andrea that the Book would not be ready until at least 12am. Andrea told Rafael she would return at midnight, but that he was to text her the minute anything changed. If the Book was going to be significantly later than that, she would need to message Miranda.
Andrea had Roy pickup Miranda's dry cleaning, and drop her off at her own apartment. He had nothing else scheduled that evening, so he promised Andrea he would be back at 11:30 to take her back to Runway, and if something came up he would call for a cab.
Andrea plugged her cell phone into the charger, set her alarm for 11:15pm, and turned the volume up as she curled up on the couch with her comfy fleece throw. She was asleep the minute she lay her head on the pillow, but her sleep was not entirely restful. Her mind raced as she answered phone calls, confirmed appointments, ran errands, raced across town for an item, and rode back and forth with Miranda in the towncar. Suddenly, she was at Miranda's home—except it wasn't her home, it was more of a portrait gallery with vines on the walls. Miranda was leading her to an antique chaise. She sat down on the edge as Andrea curled up, and she draped a black velvet throw over her as she stroked her cheek, softly humming her to sleep.
Suddenly, she awoke to the sound of her cell phone's alarm ringing loudly next to her head. Turning it off, she sat up for a moment, recalling her dream vividly, as if Miranda were still sitting on the couch next to her. Seeing that Roy would be here in less than ten minutes, she quickly used the bathroom and brushed her teeth, applying a clear lipgloss before heading downstairs.
During the entire ride back to Runway, she thought about her dream—it unnerved her to be thinking about Miranda like that, when she had no control over her thoughts. What did it mean that Miranda was tucking her in? That there were portraits and vines covering the walls, that she was on a rose-colored antique sofa? Before Andrea could begin to answer any of these questions, she was back at the office, riding the elevators up to Runway's floor.
As Rafael promised, the Book was ready by 12:15. Andrea collected it and headed down to the waiting car, Miranda's dry cleaning already in the car.
"Late night?" Roy asked, trying to make small talk. Roy often wanted to talk to Andrea, and she thought she could sense his wanting to be friends with her. But, she could not base a friendship on mutual complaining, so she usually tried to avoid his questioning.
"Yes. Miranda's please. And I would like to walk home. Thank you."
"Sure thing, Andy."
As they arrived at the townhouse, Andrea noticed some lights were still on—lights that she didn't usually see. Walking up the steps, she tried to be as quiet as possible, considering it was nearly one o'clock in the morning. She hung the dry cleaning in the closet and silently shut the door. As she was about to set the Book down, she heard a sniffle coming from the den. The lights were off in the den and the kitchen—except one dim light above the stove—and the empty dining room to her left was brightly lit, but no one was in it. It sounded like the sniffle came from the den, so Andrea crept a few steps further to peer into the darkness, unable to restrain her curiosity.
Her eyes were instantly drawn to Miranda, curled up in the recliner, her back to the entryway. She was wearing an oversized cowl-neck sweater with a light camisole underneath and leggings. The cashmere throw was draped over her feet, and she had a crumpled tissue in her hand.
Andrea's first thought was that Miranda was catching a cold and had a runny nose, but she quickly ruled that out, since she saw the woman only a few hours ago, and she appeared to be perfectly fine. Oh my god, Andrea thought, was Miranda Priestly crying?
She knew her first instinct should have been to run—to leave as quietly as she entered, save herself and Miranda the embarrassment, and pretend it never happened. But, she was not Emily. Andrea's instincts always took reign. The only thing she could imagine doing was going to comfort her boss for whatever it was that was upsetting her.
Andrea tiptoed further into the den and set the Book on the coffee table near the recliner. As Andrea approached Miranda, she could see the dark mascara stains underneath her eyes, tears glistening in the moonlight that was filtering into the room.
Miranda looked so tiny and delicate like this. Her eyes were hollow—they no longer carried the confidence and power Andrea was so used to seeing. Instead, Andrea saw her vulnerability, uncertainty, helplessness. Andrea crouched down next to the recliner and gently placed her hand on Miranda's knee, not wanting to startle her.
Miranda shifted in the chair, and brought her tissue up to dab her eyes once more. She blinked her eyes open several times, squinting to see the figure in the darkness. "Andrea?" she whispered, not quite sure if she was imagining the young girl crouched next to her.
"Hi," she said, her smile full of compassion and kindness.
Miranda brought her hand up to cover her face, trying to hide her face.
"Shh, don't say anything. It's okay," Andrea quickly said, rubbing her hand along Miranda's leg. "I'm here, you'll be okay."
Miranda sniffled again and tried to catch her breath as she hid her face from Andrea. "But…why…I don't understand…" Miranda said.
"Miranda, it's okay. I want to be here for you, I'm choosing to be here," Andrea said, her voice soothing like a balm. Andrea reached up and gently tugged Miranda's hand from her face, "Please don't hide from me."
Miranda allowed Andrea to pull her hand away from her face. Even with the red, puffy eyes and mascara staining her cheeks, Miranda looked beautiful. Andrea cupped Miranda's cheek with her hand, brushing the tears away from under her eye with her thumb. "Why don't I help you upstairs, so you can get some rest?" Andrea offered. Who knows how long Miranda had been in this chair, and it was already after 1 am.
"No, please," Miranda shook her head, "I want to stay here." The last place she wanted to be was in the bed she and Stephen recently shared.
Andrea nodded in acknowledgment, "Can I get you anything—a glass of water, a drink…?"
Again, Miranda shook her head. "Miranda, are the girls okay? Are they here?" Andrea asked, wanting to give Miranda her privacy, but needing to know that someone didn't die.
"They're fine," Miranda said, staring out toward the window. "They are with their father this weekend." Tears began streaming down Miranda's face again. Andrea wished she could be of more comfort to Miranda, but was torn between her own concern and wanting to respect Miranda's privacy.
Andrea pulled back and rested on the backs of her heels. Her legs were killing her in that position. "Are you—" Miranda began to ask, before stopping herself. "Um, thank you, Andrea." Miranda said in a dismissive tone.
It seemed like Miranda was going to ask if she was leaving, but suddenly changed her mind and assumed she was leaving instead. Andrea couldn't stand to see Miranda do this to herself—push others away for fear of rejection. "Miranda, I'm staying here with you—at least until you can fall asleep and get some rest."
Miranda looked at Andrea, her eyes brimming with gratitude, as she nodded.
Andrea rose to her feet and pulled the cashmere throw over Miranda. Seeing just how little space Miranda was taking up in the recliner, she took a deep breath and sat next to Miranda, curling up behind her and wrapping her arms around the woman's shoulders. Miranda relaxed into Andrea and kissed the back of Andrea's hand.
Later that morning, Andrea was woken by the sunlight streaming into her eyes. Judging by the angle of the sun, it was well past 9am, and Andrea had not slept so well in months. Her head was resting on Miranda's shoulder, and Miranda's hands were intertwined in her own.
Miranda slowly woke and remembered her night. Her sinuses were congested from all the crying, and Andrea was wrapped around her in the chair. For one of the few times in her life, Miranda wasn't sure what to say or do. Last night was something she wanted to forget—the last thing she wanted was to rehash her argument with Stephen with Andrea.
Miranda pulled her hands away from Andrea's and slowly pulled Andrea's arm off her, unsure whether she was awake or not. Miranda practically crawled out of the la-z-boy, careful not to rouse Andrea as she climbed the stairs to use her bathroom and wash her face.
Andrea had been awake, but kept her eyes closed to again afford Miranda more privacy. If she wanted to talk, she would have offered something, or at least not taken so much care to not wake her.
Andrea stood up and went to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee for Miranda. She set out Miranda's mug, and went to her bag for her notebook to leave Miranda a note. Andrea tore the sheet out of her notebook and left it on the counter next to Miranda's coffee mug. She gathered her bag and quietly slipped out the front door, not wanting to put Miranda in an awkward position.
As she walked across town to her apartment, all she could think of was Miranda, how scared she looked last night, and how grateful she looked to have Andrea stay, to allow her to wrap her arms around her. Andrea could still smell her, and she wrapped her arms tightly around her body as she continued walking in the brisk late morning air.
Miranda had just finished removing her makeup, reapplying light makeup, and brushing her teeth. Taking a deep breath, she headed downstairs to face Andrea, the smell of freshly brewed coffee bringing a smile to her face. But when she returned to the den, she saw the throw folded neatly over the back of the recliner and no sign of Andrea. She went to the kitchen, and found Andrea's note by her coffee pot.
Miranda, I hope everything is okay. If you ever want to talk, I'm here, and I'll listen without judging. You've grown on me and I've really come to care about you—to care for you the person and your general well-being. Call me, any time. xx Andrea
Miranda was confused and overwhelmed. Why did Andrea leave? Would she be at work on Monday or did she quit? Did Andrea really care about her as a person? Miranda sat at the kitchen table, her head in her hands. "First my husband walks out, then Andrea. Am I really that unbearable?" She wanted to cry, but had no more tears left. Pouring a mug of coffee, Miranda walked into the den and curled up on the couch, unable to let herself sit in the recliner that smelled so much of Andrea.
She pulled out her cellphone and saw that she had no emails, no missed calls, no text messages. Of course, she thought, everyone else is too busy to think about me. Why she felt the sudden openness towards her younger assistant, she wasn't sure, but she certainly couldn't think of anything else.
When Andrea arrived back at her apartment, it was almost noon. She jumped in the shower, threw on some yoga pants and a tee, and sat on her couch, reading the Sunday paper online. No matter how hard she tried to focus on the news or the weather, her mind kept drifting back to Miranda.
Andrea felt bad for leaving without saying goodbye, but she thought that's what Miranda was doing, running upstairs to avoid any awkward conversations. Against her better judgment, Andrea pulled out her phone to text Miranda: "Hello—hope you're better this morning. Do you need anything today? Lunch? Help reviewing the Book? :) -A"
Andrea knew better than to ask if Miranda wanted company. No matter what, she would always refuse help. She could only hope that Miranda didn't suddenly decide to redirect her anger at Andrea for her boldness.
Miranda's phone buzzed, startling her. She read Andrea's text and couldn't resist chuckling to herself. It appeared Andrea had not left her like she thought. Miranda laughed at the suggestion of Andrea helping with the Book, but quickly realized that she would indeed enjoy the company, since the girls would not be returning until Sunday evening.
"Good afternoon, Andrea. I hope you slept well. No plans for lunch. I certainly don't think you would be any help at all with the Book…but it's your call. -M"
Andrea smiled at Miranda's response. "C u at 2pm" Andrea wrote back, already knowing where she was planning to stop to pick up some salads for lunch.
Miranda decided to work upstairs for the next hour or so, hoping she would have the Book finished before Andrea arrived, so she would not be anxious to finish work with a guest there. But, sitting at her desk, flipping through the pages, she found that she couldn't focus because her mind kept drifting back to Andrea. What would they do? What would they talk about? Miranda didn't really have any friends, she thought, who she just spent time with for no reason.
Before she could come to any decisions, she heard the door. It was 1:45 and Andrea was downstairs. Miranda heard bags rustling in the kitchen, so she took a deep breath and descended the stairs to meet her assistant.
Andrea pulled out two salads and quickly transferred them to bowls from Miranda's cabinet. She drizzled the respective salad dressings—balsamic for Miranda's steak and blue cheese salad, raspberry vinaigrette for her apple harvest salad—and carried the bowls and silverware to the kitchen table.
She paused before setting the bowls down. Which seat was Miranda's, she wondered to herself. Miranda, who had been standing in the doorway to the kitchen for some time, interrupted Andrea's thoughts. "That seat at the end, that's mine."
Andrea looked up and smiled, setting their lunch on the table and returning to the counter to clean up the carryout containers. Andrea grabbed two glasses from the cupboard and poured herself a glass of tap water, sparkling for Miranda.
Miranda was already seated at the table when Andrea brought their water. Andrea sat down and looked up at Miranda, "Is this acceptable?"
Miranda looked up and smiled, her eyes softening. "Yes, quite. Thank you."
They ate in silence. Miranda was trying to self-analyze her own feelings for Andrea, trying to understand why Andrea had the ability to take her breath away and still the world around her.
Meanwhile, Andrea had not looked up from her salad. She only had a few bites, and spent several minutes pushing the lettuce around on her plate. Her appetite had shrunk significantly in the past few months.
Andrea sensed that Miranda was finished eating, and softly asked, "May I take your plate?" Miranda nodded, and Andrea stood and carried their plates to the sink, clearing them and loading them into the dishwasher. "Miranda, is there anything else you would like?"
Miranda quickly responded, "No, that's all."
Andrea felt like she was being pushed away again, but she had a plan this time, knowing Miranda would likely be acting like this.
"Miranda, do you mind if I hang out here on the couch for a while? I brought a book, so I won't be any bother."
Miranda gave Andrea a blank look. Did Andrea actually want to spend time with her? "Okay…" Miranda began, unsure of what she was agreeing to. "I do have some work to do this afternoon, though, so I'm sorry if I won't be adequate company."
"It's okay. I know your work style. I'll stay here on the couch in the den," Andrea said with a smile, pulling Middlemarch out of her bag and walking over to the couch, making herself comfortable.
Miranda slowly walked towards the stairwell. She paused at the base of the stairs and took a deep breath. Without turning to Andrea, she said, "You know, there is a couch in my office upstairs. And there's better light."
Andrea smiled and stood from the couch in the den. "You wouldn't mind? I promise not to bother you."
"As long as you are not one of those readers who laughs aloud at the book, I should be able to tolerate your presence." Miranda said, walking upstairs and into her office, followed close behind by a grinning Andrea.
"Wow." Andrea said once she stepped inside Miranda's office. She had never been inside, but had imagined it was something like her office at work. Andrea had never been so wrong. The office was two stories high, all four walls lined floor to ceiling with bookshelves.
Miranda stopped short of her desk and turned around to see a wide-eyed, shocked Andrea. "Is something the matter, Andrea? Have you never seen books before?"
"N-no, it's just—it's just, this is like a writer's dream. Everyone wants a library like Belle in Beauty & the Beast. I can't believe you never showed this to me before."
"Honestly, Andrea," Miranda said, resuming her position at her desk looking over the Book. "You act as though the mere sight of books is—is turning you on or something."
"You have no idea, Miranda," Andrea replied, her eyes grazing the shelves closest to her.
Miranda tilted her head down to hide her furious blush at the thought of an aroused Andrea. She tried her hardest to focus directly on the Book.
Andrea eventually found her way to the couch, which happened to be facing a large, two-story window that looked out onto the park. Andrea took a deep breath, inhaling the scent the books brought to the room. Perfect reading room, she thought as she opened her book.
Hours went by, neither Miranda nor Andrea speaking a word. The sun was beginning to set, and if Andrea was to keep reading, she would need some additional light. She tried to keep from looking at Miranda while she was working, but now she wondered how Miranda could see what she was doing, either.
Miranda actually wasn't working. Her head was resting on folded arms on her desk, asleep. Andrea smiled. She didn't want to wake Miranda, but she knew from experience that she was in an uncomfortable position. As Andrea approached Miranda's desk, she could see Miranda's breathing speeding up, her facial expressions quickly changing. Andrea walked around the desk to Miranda's chair and gently laid her hand on Miranda's back, testing the boundaries of their new friendship, though she wasn't quite ready to call it that.
Miranda whimpered with the touch of Andrea's hand and it quickly became clear to her that her boss was having a nightmare. Andrea began to rub soft circles on Miranda's back, trying to calm her down, but her breathing became more intense as tears streamed down her face and she began to speak. Andrea tried her best to make out what Miranda was saying: "Nonono, I'm sorry, please come back, I'm so sorry, please." Andrea wasn't quite sure what was going on but she suspected it involved Stephen, who had been noticeably absent during the past few days.
Andrea took a firm grip of Miranda's shoulders and pulled her back from the desk. She leaned against the desk and faced Miranda head-on, still firmly holding her shoulders, Miranda's eyes still watery. "Miranda, wake up. You're having a nightmare. Miranda you're okay. I'm here. It's okay. Wake up."
Despite Andrea's efforts, Miranda's eyes were closed shut. Andrea bent closer to Miranda and put one hand on each of Miranda's cheeks. She could feel Miranda's breath on her wrists as she tilted Miranda's head upwards and tried to look her straight in the eye. "Miranda!" Andrea shouted, finally causing Miranda to open her eyes. "You were having a nightmare. I had to wake you up."
Miranda was stunned. How much had she revealed to Andrea? More importantly, she thought, Andrea was inches from her face and all she could think about was the young girl's lips and what they would feel like all over her body.
"Miranda?" Andrea asked again, receiving no response the first time. "Are you okay?" she said, removing her hands from Miranda's face. "Can I get you a glass of water or something?"
Miranda shook her head, "Yes, water, please."
Andrea quickly fetched Miranda a glass of water and placed it on the desk before her. Miranda was still sitting in the same position when Andrea returned, her eyes glazed over. She took the glass and took a few small sips of water before setting it back on her desk and sitting back in her chair.
Darkness enveloped the room as the last moments of dusk faded away into the night sky. Andrea silently led Miranda to the couch and took a seat next to her. "Miranda, please talk to me," Andrea pleaded, taking Miranda's hand in her own. "I don't want to see you like this."
"Well, if you don't want to see me, then I suggest you leave." Miranda replied coldly, her voice a hoarse whisper.
"No, that's not what I meant. It worries me, hurts me, to see you upset. I want to help, I want to make it go away, but I can't if I don't know what it is."
Miranda pondered Andrea's words. Earlier she wrote that she cared for her—now she says it hurts her to see her upset. "Andrea, you're better off not knowing my problems. I will survive it, always. I don't need to bring you into it."
"Well, I'm kind of already in the middle. Miranda, you were sobbing about something last night. Earlier, you were obviously having a nightmare, screaming apologies to someone and begging them to come back. You are NOT okay, and I am sick of you retreating to this unbreakable mask every time."
With Andrea's harsh words, Miranda began to cry. "Is this what you want?" Miranda asked. "I get it. I'm crying." She took a few deep breaths as her sobs wrecked her body, "Now you can go."
"Miranda, I'm not going anywhere," Andrea reassured her, pulling her shoulders towards her own body and wrapping her arm around Miranda. "Who did you want to come back? Was it Stephen?"
Miranda stopped crying and regained some composure. "Yes. It was Stephen." Andrea squeezed her a little more tightly, urging her to continue. "He hasn't been coming home much anymore. I've been spending countless nights waiting for him in my recliner in the den. Thursday night, I was exhausted and spent much of the night on the Book and relaxed with a bath before crawling into my bed. But I did leave a note on the recliner that I was in my bedroom. I guess I was afraid of what Stephen would do if he came home and I wasn't waiting. But that night, he came home around three o'clock in the morning, and stormed directly into my bedroom. He was blindly drunk and reeked of cheap perfume. He disrobed and climbed into bed and tried to force himself on me. It was disgusting. I didn't want him to touch me, but knew he would be angry, so I held him off as long as I could, but finally allowed him to touch me and, you know. He was sloppy and limp, and I was so turned off, I was dry. It seemed like hours that he was driving into me with no success, until finally he pulled out and pulled me over to perform oral sex, which he knows I loathe. Luckily for me, he passed out afterwards, and I was able to slip out of bed and take a hot shower. That night, he came home, drunk again, and was furious that I was asleep. He swung at me and missed. He called me names, hurtful words, and said he would never be back in this house again, that his girlfriend never fell asleep. I ran after him and tried to pull him back, but after a few more harsh words, he was out the door."
"I'm so sorry, Miranda. That must be awful." Andrea said. "You deserve so much better than that, someone who treats you like a queen."
"Do I, really? I am usually a cold bitch, aren't I?"
"Miranda, don't do this. You are who you are because Runway wouldn't survive with a softie at the helm. You are an amazing businesswoman who your staff admires and looks up to. But you're also a woman—a human being."
Miranda began shaking her head back and forth, "No, that's not me. I'm just frigid."
"Please, you are not. You are nurturing and warm and compassionate and witty and smart. Miranda, I could go on forever. You are so incredibly beautiful, I can see where some might be inclined to put you on a pedestal, but the real you is just as beautiful and so very lovable."
Miranda nodded and wiped her tears on her sweater.
"Miranda, can I go change the linens on your bed for you?"
She looked up, shocked that Andrea would be willing to do such a thing. "That would be wonderful."
She quickly left the room and headed towards what appeared to be Miranda's bedroom. She stripped the bed and the duvet cover, and threw the linens down the laundry chute. After opening a few doors, she found the linen closet and replaced Miranda's sheets with very luxurious champagne-colored silk sheets and a midnight blue duvet cover. She explored Miranda's bathroom and noticed an extra-large claw-foot tub with a shelf of various oils next to it. Andrea decided to draw Miranda a bath with some lavender and jasmine oil. Andrea lit the candles that surrounded the tub and selected a fresh, fluffy bath towel to place on the stool next to the tub, switching the water off before she left the room.
Miranda was still sitting in the dark when Andrea returned to her office. "Miranda?" Andrea called, "All of your linens have been switched, and I took the initiative to draw you a hot bath. Of course if you don't—"
"Andrea. Thank you. A bath sounds lovely." Miranda said, interrupting the young woman.
"Of course, Miranda," Andrea said. Anything for you, she thought.
"Will you be here when I finish with my bath?"
Andrea hadn't thought about that. She wanted to stay, but respected Miranda's privacy, too. "Umm, well, I should be heading home. It's late."
"Are you planning to walk at this time of night? That's nonsense, Andrea." Before she could even respond, Miranda continued, "You will stay here, there is a guest bedroom at the end of the hall, you can make yourself comfortable—everything you will need for a shower should be in there."
"Thank you, Miranda." Andrea said and turned to find the guest room.
Meanwhile, as Andrea was finding her way to the guest room, Miranda made her way into her bathroom, practically melting as the relaxing scents surrounded her. She quickly removed her clothing and slipped into the bathtub, leaning her head back against the edge as she hummed in pleasure. Between her nightmares about Stephen and resisting her developing feelings for Andrea, Miranda's body was relieved to rest and relax.
Miranda's thoughts kept coming back to Andrea: how beautiful she was, how soft her hands felt on her face, how strong her arms were wrapped around her body, how she wanted to taste her full lips, how she wanted her hands all over her body. Miranda slowly began caressing her own body, imagining Andrea touching her. She massaged her breasts and moaned as she ran her fingers over her highly aroused nipples. Her right hand moved farther down and she felt her swollen lips, her clitoris aching for touch. Miranda began to circle her hand and apply pressure while her breath quickened and her back arched. "Ohh, yes. So close. Yesyesyes, god yes. Oohh!" She shouted, not thinking that Andrea was in the house.
Andrea showered and wrapped herself in the wine-colored silk bathrobe hanging in her bathroom. She wandered downstairs to retrieve her bag and phone, and when she returned, she heard strange noises coming from Miranda's room. Immediately thinking the worst—that Miranda was injured or crying—she paused outside Miranda's door to listen. Miranda was moaning in a deep voice, almost growling, and Andrea could hear water splashing. Her body betrayed her. Listening to Miranda's moaning caused a sharp intake of breath as she felt wetness pooling between her legs.
Andrea squeezed her legs closer together in attempts to relieve her ache as she backed away from Miranda's door. Miranda couldn't have been masturbating, could she? Knowing Andrea was in the house? She decided to chalk it up to unfamiliar sounds in a strange house. Andrea quickly ran to the guest bedroom and shut the door behind her.
Miranda was flushed and her heart was beating very quickly when she heard a door slam. Andrea, she thought. Miranda quickly stepped out of the tub and dried off with the towel Andrea had left. She cinched her grey bathrobe tightly around her waist and used the towel to mop up the water that had splashed outside the bathtub. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she took a deep breath and stepped out of her bathroom, expecting to see Andrea. When she noticed the room was empty, she headed for the guest room.
"Andrea, are you alright?" Miranda asked, softly knocking on the guest room door. "Did you find everything you needed?"
Andrea was sitting on the bed when Miranda knocked. She opened the door as Miranda was about to turn the knob. "Yes, I did, thank you."
"Oh," Miranda said, drinking in the image of Andrea in a silk bathrobe, "Well, that's good. Um, were you—would you—I mean, I'm—" Miranda stammered.
The younger woman smiled at Miranda's newfound nervousness. "I'm not really tired yet," Andrea offered. "Would you like to sit and chat?"
Miranda stared at Andrea. How was it that she could read her mind like that? "Um, yes, I suppose."
"Great, come in. It can be like a sleepover."
Miranda smiled and followed Andrea into the guest room. They both climbed onto the bed and rearranged the pillows so they could comfortably lean against the headboard.
"So," Miranda began, "is there anything new with you, Andrea?"
Andrea laughed at Miranda's awkwardness in casual conversation. "Actually, I think my boyfriend is moving out."
"You think?"
"Well, I haven't seen him in at least a week, and my landlord is showing the place, so, I guess I'm pretty sure."
"I'm so sorry, Andrea."
"No, don't be. He was a jerk. I didn't love him."
"Why did he leave?" Miranda asked, quickly adding, "You don't have to answer that if you don't want to. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."
"Don't be silly. I think he left because he suspected I had feelings for someone else."
"Were you seeing someone?"
"No, not like that."
"Oh. Well. I hope it works out for you and this other young man."
"Me too," Andrea said, turning to look at the woman who made her heart flutter. "And for what it's worth, it's a woman."
Miranda's eyes opened wide and she quickly blinked to hide any glimmer of hope she held. "Oh, I had no idea. Well, hopefully she is less of a jerk and it works out."
"Yes." Andrea answered. "What about you? What will you do now that Stephen has moved out?"
"Well, I hadn't quite thought about that. I guess I hoped he would come back."
"Do you want him back?"
"Not really," Miranda replied, "No, I think I would be happier without him."
"But don't you get lonely? I mean, sometimes?"
"Yes, but Stephen was no real solution for that. I don't know that I was ever attracted to him physically."
"So, I mean, were you two intimate? Did you ever orgasm?" Andrea asked, a blush creeping up her face.
"My, you are feeling bold. Yes, we were intimate, but no…I never orgasmed from him. Not without a little help anyway," Miranda added.
Andrea was taken back by the last remark, imaging the moans she heard earlier. "And you 'help' yourself often?"
Miranda practically choked on her breath as her face turned bright red. "As often as necessary," she said.
"Have you ever masturbated in the bathtub?" Andrea asked casually.
"Andrea! Were you standing at my door earlier?"
"Uh, maybe. I'm sorry, Miranda. I heard something and thought you were hurt or something, and then when I realized what was happening, I—I couldn't move."
Miranda smiled. "Did it turn you on, Andrea? Hearing me pleasure myself?"
"Oh god," Andrea groaned.
"Did it make you wet, Andrea?" Miranda whispered, leaning closer.
Andrea nodded her head as tears streaked down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Miranda. It was so inappropriate. I'm sorry. I'll leave—"
"No." Miranda said, reaching up to grab her wrist. "You will stay here. It is I who am being inappropriate—I'm sorry for pushing you. I should return to my own room."
"Miranda?"
"Yes."
"Can I tell you something?"
"Of course."
"The woman I have feelings for…it's…it's you."
Miranda's heart leapt at the young woman's declaration, but she didn't want to force anything, despite how much she desired the young girl's hands on her body. "I'm flattered. You know," Miranda said as she walked out of the guest room, "I have quite the reputation for rewarding boldness."
Andrea lay on the bed, tears streaming down her face. She just told her boss who happens to be The Miranda Priestly, that she had feelings for her. For Miranda, who has been upset over her husband's recent behavior. What on earth was she thinking? And what did Miranda say before leaving, that she rewards boldness? What on earth did that mean? Andrea's head was spinning until she finally realized. "Oh no, no way." She said aloud. "She wants me to make a move." Andrea got up from the bed and went into the bathroom. She had no makeup on, and her hair had dried in waves. There was no way Miranda would ever want her, Andrea thought. But she kept running over Miranda's words in her mind. Taking a deep breath, Andrea walked across the hall and opened Miranda's bedroom door.
Miranda was lying on top of her comforter, flipping through a magazine. She was wearing a long black silk nightgown, and she had taken her makeup off and was wearing her clear and black D&G reading glasses.
"Good evening, Andrea. What a pleasant surprise."
"I shouldn't have come," she said, turning around to leave the room.
"Do not be a fool, Andrea," Miranda said, tossing the magazine aside and walking to shut the bedroom door. "Take off the robe, make yourself comfortable."
This is it, Andrea thought, here goes. And she untied the belt of the robe, letting it fall in a pool at her feet. Miranda's eyes grew wide and dark as she hummed while running her eyes across Andrea's porcelain skin. "You—you are so beautiful, darling."
Andrea hesitated before taking a few steps closer to Miranda, pressing her hand to Miranda's cheek. They stood in silence, looking into one anothers eyes for several minutes before either moved. Andrea's eyes searched Miranda's for permission to go further, but Miranda was too overwhelmed by the presence of Andrea's naked body.
Miranda gasped as Andrea stepped an inch closer to her. "Please, Andrea. Touch me," Miranda moaned.
Andrea wrapped her other arm around Miranda's waist and pulled their bodies together while she let her other hand graze over the silk of Miranda's nightgown, cupping her breast.
Miranda maneuvered them back towards the bed and pressed Andrea down, crawling up her body. The younger woman moaned as Miranda proceeded to grind her hips. The feeling of silk against her body was exquisite, but she wanted to feel Miranda's skin.
Miranda could feel the wetness pooling between her legs as she twirled her hips on Andrea's sex. Andrea. "What have I done to deserve you, Andrea?" she asked as she softly caressed Andrea's body, her fingers trailing so lightly down her chin, across her collarbone, around her breasts, down her ribcage. Andrea shivered at the touch, and Miranda was instantly drawn to the hard peaks of her nipples.
She is so gentle, Andrea thought as Miranda kissed and licked and gently sucked on her breasts. But, Andrea wanted more. She wanted to possess the older woman. She reached up and ran her hands up and down Miranda's back all the way down to her butt. "I want to feel you," she said as she softly tugged on Miranda's silk garment. Miranda paused, then rose on her knees and pulled the nightgown off in one motion, letting it fall to the floor as she leaned over and turned the light off.
"Why did you do that?"
"Andrea, please." I'm old enough to be your grandmother, she thought, but didn't want to spoil the mood. Miranda returned her attention to Andrea's breasts as the younger woman's hands explored her body.
Andrea placed a finger under Miranda's chin, pulling her head up to meet her eyes as she wrapped her arms tightly around Miranda's body, forcing the older woman closer, their breasts pressed together.
"Ohhhhh," Miranda moaned at the contact. Andrea turned her head slightly and pressed her lips to Miranda's, tasting her mouth, sucking gently on her lower lip. Miranda returned the kiss with intense passion, wildly devouring Andrea's mouth, her tongue exploring every crevice.
Gasping for air, Miranda pulled back and rest her forehead against Andrea's. "You are amazing," Andrea whispered as she parted her legs enough to allow Miranda's right knee to drop between them. Andrea bent her right leg with her foot flat on the bed, her thigh against Miranda's ass. Miranda inhaled sharply as she instinctively began riding Andrea's leg, moaning in pleasure.
Andrea was incredibly aroused, watching Miranda move like that on her body, listening to the sounds she was making. Andrea unwrapped her arms, letting Miranda use her arms and apply more pressure to her juncture. with the newfound space between them, Andrea immediately reached up to massage Miranda's heavy breasts, pinching her nipples roughly.
"Oooh, yes! Harder," Miranda growled. Andrea took one of Miranda's nipples in her mouth and bit down, listening to Miranda screaming and panting in pleasure. "I'm….almost….there," Miranda panted.
Andrea reached down and squeezed Miranda's ass with her left hand as her right hand reached for her clitoris, through the stickiness on her leg. She pressed two fingers to Miranda's clit and watched as Miranda's eyes rolled back in her head, waves rolling through every inch of Miranda's body.
She took Miranda's shoulders and laid her softly on the bed, wrapping her own body around her as she continued to ride out her powerful orgasm. "I've got you, Miranda. My god, you're so beautiful," she whispered into her ear.
Minutes later, Miranda opened her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was a damp mess. She couldn't look more beautiful, Andrea thought as she smiled brightly.
"I—I've never experienced anything so intense, Andrea," she said. "My god, what you do to me."
Andrea buried her head in Miranda's neck, placing light kisses and gently sucking at her collarbone. "You're so beautiful, you know that, right?"
Miranda rolled her eyes. "Darling, I am old. My skin is sagging and my hips and thighs will never be what they were when I was your age."
"Don't care," Andrea mumbled, her mouth focused on Miranda's neck.
"Andrea, look at me." Andrea sat up and looked over at Miranda. "Thank you for that experience. It was extraordinary. But you don't want me—you might think you do, but it will fade away. You need someone your own age, darling."
Tears formed in Andrea's eyes and slowly trickled down her cheeks. "But—you can't mean that."
"Andrea, stay here tonight. On Monday morning, you may choose to come back to work, or I can find you a new job with equal or better compensation."
"Miranda—you can't just—"
"I can, and I will." Miranda brushed her hand along Andrea's cheek. "Please don't cry. You know this is for the best."
Andrea was shocked. She was laying naked with Miranda in her bed, and Miranda was arranging her leave. "No, Miranda."
"What did you say?"
"I said NO. You can't push me out like everyone else. I don't know if you think it's inappropriate or if it's because I'm a woman, but damnit, Miranda. I love you. I enjoy your company. I've seen more of you than anyone else and you know it. Miranda, you can't deny what you feel for me, you know you want my body. Just let yourself be loved, for once, Miranda. Let me love you."
Miranda sat in silence, watching Andrea's eyes pleading with longing. In an instant she noticed them change, grow more distant.
"Miranda," she continued. "Maybe I'm looking at it all wrong. Maybe you don't feel anything for me. Maybe you can't stand me and that's why you want me gone. Maybe you were just using me, knowing how I felt about you, just for your own pleasure in your husband's absence. Maybe—"
"Andrea, please!" Miranda said, tears in her eyes as she turned on her side and caressed Andrea's face. "Darling, it's not that. I would never use you. I don't want you to leave, I was just reassuring you that you could if you wanted. And—" she choked back tears as she whispered the last part, "I do have feelings for you. Very strong feelings. Feelings I should never allow myself to cultivate towards an employee."
"Miranda, would it be better for you if I was working elsewhere?" Andrea asked.
"I don't know. It was the only thing I could think of. Yes, of course it would feel less unprofessional and risque, but I don't know what I would do if I didn't see you everyday."
"I know what you mean. Well, what if I simply worked in a different department at Runway and didn't report directly to you? Would that be suitable?"
"You know," Miranda said, her eyes lighting up, "I think that would work." Miranda paused before continuing. "You really are serious, aren't you? You actually want a relationship—with me? The Dragon Lady? The Ice Queen? You want to put yourself through that?"
"Miranda, yes. I do. I know you, and I've seen you when the horns come out. I want all of you."
"Oh Andrea, you are too good to be true. While you're still employed by me, though, you will need to contact Leslie and have her draw up my divorce papers—immediate separation, and divorce as soon as possible, I would think. We had a prenup, so there should be no snags."
"And after I do that?" Andrea asked.
"I expect you right back here next to me in this bed," Miranda said, grinning.
"I think Leslie can wait until the sun comes up at least," Andrea said as she flipped Miranda on her back and began assaulting her body with kisses, trailing from her neck down to her pulsating core. Andrea kissed Miranda's sex, her teeth grazing over her clit sending a shiver up Miranda's spine.
Miranda laughed as she wrapped her fingers in Andrea's hair, "Oh darling, you will be the death of me!"