Work Text:
Dr. Jonathan Templeman was probably a good hypno-therapist, Andy thought, as she settled into the reclining chair in his office. The best even, according to her colleague, Serena, who swore black and blue that hypnosis could make anyone feel "relaxed, powerful, and confident". But Andy had been coming here for three weeks now to get her work-related stress under control, and all it was doing was making her anxious every time she saw someone with a shock of white hair.
Of course the tension wasn't just from the stress-stress of being around her fashion magazine editor boss, Miranda Priestly. There was that other thing now between them. The thing neither woman would ever acknowledge under pain of death.
The looks. The long, lingering, checking each-other-out looks. Okay, maybe that was more one-sided. She'd really only caught Miranda doing it once. Wishful thinking and all that on Andy's part, probably. But anyway, if Andy could just stop getting worked up tighter than Emily Charlton near a breakfast buffet, life would be much better.
"Just relax, Ms Sachs. Relax and think of a beautiful, restful place."
A restful place. Right. Like Andy had any of those left. Restful to her used to be hanging out at her apartment with her boyfriend Nate, and her friends Lily and Doug. Now it was staring at the tiny bed-sit she'd moved into when he'd moved out taking most of her stuff and all her friends with him in a flounce out worthy of a Runway featured designer.
"...and then you'll be in a deep state of relaxation..."
Designers were about all Andy knew these days. Plus photographers. Manicurists. Dog-groomers. And Miranda. Everything came down to Miranda, her looks, her needs, her wants.
Oh, how Andy, loved to focus on her wants. That was always fun.
"...three-two-one..."
It was too distracting. Miranda was too distracting. Which, again, was why she was here, trying to pretend she had a restful place.
"...think less stressful thoughts. When you see your boss, I want you to picture yourself, still, calm, confident. You are not stressed by her."
I'm not?
Even as she had the thought, though, instantly she felt still, calm, and, well, confident. How weird. Miranda was definitely someone no one was calm around. Least of all the assistant tasked with sprinting off for fancy coffee in ten minutes flat in six-inch heels.
"...She's approachable and unintimidating to you. You'll regard her as just a woman..."
She is not just anything. How could this fool not know that? She is Miranda fucking Priestly. She is a...god...
Who is just a woman.
Wait, she is?
This was confusing. On the one hand Andy knew Miranda was a god. On the other she felt still and confident, knowing she was just a woman, which made absolutely no sense whatsoev...
"THERE you are!" A brash female voice shattered the stillness.
Andy's eyes flung open to see First Assistant Emily Charlton charge into the room.
"Excuse me!" Dr Templeman sputtered. "You cannot be in here. I'm in session, treating a client!"
"As if I care! This is an emergency." Emily's eyes alit on her. "We've lost the Marchiasi shoot proofs! Lost them! She's called for all hands on deck, but especially you since you saw them last. You weren't answering your phone and Nigel said—"
"I can't go with you Emily," Andy said, marveling at how far away her voice sounded. "I'm learning to deal with my stress."
"I'll give you real stress in a minute. Right now, I'm ordering you to do whatever I damned well say. You will do it, at once, no question. Got it? Our lives depend on it! Well, our jobs, but same thing. Now come on!" She wrenched Andy out of the chair by the arm, ignoring the sputtering howls of protests from the doctor.
"I have to go," Andy told him with a dazed voice. "Emily's orders."
Emily shot her a strange look then slammed the door after them. "I must say you're more compliant than usual. I expected a fight about it being your weekend or some such blather. Well, never mind that now." She hauled them downstairs to a waiting town car. "Work comes first."
"Work comes first," Andy repeated, knowing in her heart and soul that was completely true. How weird. She was sure she hadn't always believed that. Oh well.
They found the photos relatively quickly, Andy was relieved to know. Even Miranda's sigh of annoyance wasn't unnerving for once, because Andy was feeling oddly calm around the woman.
"Well," she said as she slid them on Miranda's desk. "I'll be heading home now."
Emily and Miranda gave her an odd look, ranging from askance to puzzled, respectively.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Miranda intoned in a low, dangerous voice. "Was I keeping you from something important? I wasn't aware I'd dismissed you."
"Netflix and popcorn," Andy grinned. "You know how it is. Weekend plans. Might wash my smalls later. If the mood moves me. And the crisis I was dragged in for is over, so no point hanging around just to impress you with my super-keen work ethic, which you already know I possess, so..." She shrugged, and turned, leaving both women staring after her.
A moment later, as Andy was picking up her things, Emily scampered back to her side.
"What in the bleeding hell do you think you're doing?" she hissed.
"Leaving? We found the photos."
"But you just LEFT Miranda without permission. Are you trying to get fired?" Her eyes darted across her face. "My God, are you ill?"
"No, all good."
"Suit yourself. Go! Leave! See if I care. Go eat a tonne of popcorn and wallow. And if you don't have a job tomorrow, don't blame me."
"Okay, Emily," Andy said, collecting her bag. "I won't blame you."
Emily watched her go in complete confusion, muttering. "Did someone's sarcasm detector malfunction?"
Andy spent all day Sunday in the ER with the worst stomach cramps. The doctors told her they'd never seen someone her size eat so much popcorn. Andy couldn't explain it either, beyond the compulsion just kept on going. Even the smell of it made her nauseous, but still she craved it.
"Just clamp my jaw shut?" she pleaded to a medical intern.
"I'll get psych to do an eval," the young woman replied.
Andy made her escape before that could happen.
She checked her phone to discover nine missed calls, three from her hypno-therapist asking for an urgent session, four from Emily, and the rest from Miranda. Normally she'd call Miranda back at once, but instead she found herself calling Emily.
"Where have you been?" the woman demanded. "Miranda needs some paperwork delivered immediately and I've been detained. It's on the desk. Get to it."
"But I'm..." She wanted to say violently ill and couldn't possibly attend to Emily's whims, but instead, "On my way," came out.
Okay then. On her way she was.
Forty minutes later, still clutching her stomach, although the nausea meds were helping, she was headed for the townhouse at nine on a Sunday night, holding apparently urgent paperwork.
She let herself in, and wondered where she was supposed to leave it. Maybe where the book usually was placed? Would Miranda look for it there?
"She wants you to leave it upstairs." A red-haired head bobbed over the upstairs railing. "She's been waiting for it."
"She has?" She suddenly frowned at the twin. "Miranda doesn't like her assistants upstairs, Caroline," she said, suddenly squinting.
It was Caroline, too. She'd gotten to know Miranda’s girls quite well since she'd magicked up a Harry Potter novel out of thin air four months ago. But every now and then the girls could get up to pranks if you weren't careful.
"She told us she was waiting!" Caroline said impatiently.
Well, okay then. The meds were making her head a little fuzzy. It sounded logical enough. Andy trudged up the stairs, as a new wave of god knows what made her stomach churn. Why popcorn? Why the hell did she ever think popcorn was anything less than a dental curse.
At the top of the stairs, she discovered the twin had disappeared and Miranda was staring at her in astonishment.
"Andrea?" Her gaze raked all over Andy in a possessive, scornful way that Andy never knew how to take.
"Your paperwork." Andy held it out to her. She felt calm, confident and unbothered for once. That was new. She might even admire the pale green slacks and cream figure-hugging top her boss was wearing too, but she was in no condition to do that right now.
"You just thought you'd wander up the stairs and deliver it personally?" Miranda's gaze sharpened to hostile.
"Pretty much," Andy said. "I see I've misjudged. Sorry. I'll be out of your hair now."
Miranda's expression briefly slipped into astonishment before she masked it.
Andy took that as her cue, gave a small wave, and scampered back down the stairs, and disappeared out into the cold night. Oh, that felt better.
Home to bed. She definitely needed that.
The next day she phoned work to tell them she was off sick. When Emily demanded to know what was wrong with her, Andy croaked, "Too much popcorn."
"I knew it! For the love of God, don't eat that hideous stuff. It's coated in fat."
Instantly, Andy's craving for popcorn disappeared. She felt immeasurably better. "No argument from me."
"Anyway, that's no excuse for lazing about. Get your fat arse in here right now. She's on the warpath. Has been all day. And she keeps asking for you."
Oh. Oh, right. Okay. Andy told herself she could always throw up in the bin beside her desk if worse came to worst. Right now, she just knew she had to be at work. Well, some things never changed.
"What in the hell happened last night?" Emily demanded the moment Andy put down her bag. "She's been making these veiled cryptic comments all morning about assistants who don't know their place. What did you do?"
Andy frowned. "I went upstairs and gave her the papers you told me to."
"You went..." Emily's color changed from its usual pale as a freckled ghost to a reddish tinge that would make a honeycrisp apple jealous. "You went upstairs. Up. Stairs. Into her private, sacred sanctuary.” She jabbed at her eye sockets as if she wished to gouge her eyeballs out for having the temerity of being capable of envisioning the scene. "Why didn't you just crawl into bed with her and ask for a bedtime story?
"Ah." Andy had the oddest compulsion just then but was distracted when Miranda summoned her into the office.
"Something to say to me?" Miranda asked. Her gaze was back to its usual rake and retreat, a hit-and-run sortee that Andy had spent far too many nights wondering about.
"I'm sorry?" Andy was a little lost.
"About last night."
"Oh." Andy nodded. Calmness infused her. It was an odd sensation really, because she was pretty sure she should be stressed to the eyeballs right now. "I apologize if I intruded on your private sanctuary. I was a little out of sorts, having just come from the ER, and I really wasn't in the best state of—"
"The ER?" All traces of grouchiness vanished from Miranda's face. "What happened?"
"I'd rather not say. It was...embarrassing." Her cheeks reddened.
Miranda did not look the least bit mollified. "Are you...contagious?" she asked, although Andy was fairly sure she'd been about to ask something else. The disdainful look was back, as though she didn't care one whit as to her employee's well-being.
"No."
"Well then." Miranda's fingers flapped in her direction. "That's all."
Oh. Okay then.
The look in her boss's eye though, suggested it wasn't all.
Andy nodded and left. She resisted the urge to pick over their interaction. Really, calm, confident people didn't do that, did they? Or maybe they did. She called up Miranda's schedule and got to work. By two, she'd made good progress, and was feeling much, much better.
"Good job." Emily suddenly said. Her mouth pursed as though the words had pained her, leaving an acid burn she couldn't take back.
"For?"
"Whatever you said to her. She's been in a much better mood. I thought for sure she'd have your head, and maybe mine for you just ducking out on her on Saturday. And then today? Christ, assistants get fired for much less. So, whatever you did..."
"What did I do?"
"Hell if I know. Maybe you were just nice? Well, whatever it was, keep doing it. I love my job a whole lot more when my dragon of a boss is in a less lethal mood."
Be nice to Miranda.
Okay. She could do that.
Andy spent the rest of the day enacting Emily's not-exactly-onerous request. At first, Miranda had seemed somewhat startled.
"Here are those proofs you wanted. Nigel says Lincoln's available for the shoot. Also, that outfit looks amazing on you. My God, the designer should pay you to wear it."
She hadn't waited for a reply and left as the phones started ringing. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Miranda's mouth suddenly drop open and then snap shut.
The next time, when she placed coffee on her desk, she noted, "You're so organized, so on top of it all. I mean the way you have everything all figured out should be taught in business class. Miranda Priestly 101. I'd sign up. Hell, there'd be queues out the door."
Miranda blinked at her. "I...what?"
Andy smiled. "Just the truth. You still need those belts?"
With a slow nod, Miranda blinked again.
"Be right back."
Andy returned with a huge bunch of flowers. "I saw these and thought of you. Don't worry, no freesias. I'm not suicidal." She laughed at her own joke. "I noticed though, these colors are your favorites, right?" She glanced at Miranda whose eyes had narrowed.
"Andrea, what is going on? Why are you bringing me...offerings?" Those icy blue eyes narrowed even further into slits. "What do you want?"
"Nothing," Andy said truthfully. "Just being nice. And honest," she added hastily. "I mean everything I've said."
The confusion on Miranda's face was almost comical as she buzzed her out of the room with a stern "that's all".
Andy noticed, however, she did not remove the flowers. In fact, several times as the day progressed, Andy caught her inspecting them, and once, sniffing the arrangement.
"Who gave her those?" Emily asked with a suspicious stare. "I mean has she got the New Stephen or something and no one told me?"
"They're from me," Andy said. She put a rubber band around a pile of cards she was stacking. Then returned her pen to its holder. The deathly silence made her look up.
Emily was the picture of shock.
"What?" Andy asked.
"You gave her those?"
"I was being nice," Andy protested. "Like you suggested."
"I didn't mean for you to start...gifting her things. That's just... I mean, flowers, Andy?"
Disappointment flooded her for a reason she couldn't name. "You don't want me to be nice to Miranda?" she asked in a small voice. "But she was liking it."
"She was lik..." Emily's gaze shot through to the open-glass office, and seemed to dissect Miranda. "Unlikely. She was being polite."
"Miranda doesn't do polite," Andy argued. For some reason she had a strange urge that she should now remove those flowers. "Please don't make me take them from her," she whispered, her voice a plea.
"I...what?" Emily's eyes went wide. "Why would I do that?"
"Oh thank God." Relief flooded her.
They stared at each other in silence.
Andy tried to process what was going on. "Emily, have you noticed I keep doing what you say? I mean even when I don't mean to, I do."
Emily shook her head. "Since when?" she snorted. "You're like a barely trained Labrador, clomping in and out, banging its happy wagging tail against everything. Honestly it's a miracle you get anything done."
"Emily, last night I tried to eat a tonne of popcorn. Literally. And you told me to." She swallowed. "It was horrible."
"I did no such..." She faded out. Her eyes widened. "The hypnosis session? I mean, I didn't mean to... I didn't expect... I don't even believe in that quackery. But I might have...Oh hell, I did! I ordered you to do what I say while you were under hypnosis!"
"Shit."
"No, no, this is crazy." Emily shook her head. "I can't just say, Andy, hop on one foot and you'll..."
She faded out as Andy bolted to her feet and hopped on one foot.
Miranda exited the office. "Emily, I..." She stopped and took in Andy, hopping away.
"Andy," Emily hissed. "Sit down."
Andy dropped into her chair as if she'd been shot.
"What is this?" Miranda demanded. "Playtime? Am I dealing with toddlers now?"
"It's a new stretching technique," Emily said. "To avoid repetitive strain injury for typists."
"And does Andrea use her foot to type?" Miranda asked. She turned, lifting an eyebrow at Andy.
"No, Miranda," Andy said. "You look really powerful," she added. "Even when you're angry."
Miranda's jaw worked, and the baffled expression was back. "How lovely to have your approval," she drawled, and stalked back into her office.
"What in the bleeding hell was that?" Emily asked the moment she was out of earshot.
Andy shrugged suddenly feeling ridiculous. "I was being nice. Like you told me! I can't help it! You've whammied me with hypnosis!"
"Well stop it."
"Stop being nice to Miranda?" Andy clarified.
"Yes! It's creepy."
"Noo," Andy whined. "Please don't say that. I'll have to be rude to her."
Emily rubbed her eyeballs hard. "Andrea, I'm ordering you to talk to Miranda the way you normally would have before your hypnosis session. Okay?"
Anxiety shot through her and she groaned, dropping her head to the desk. "Gah!"
"Oh for God's sake. Now what's wrong? Didn't that cover everything?"
"Now I'm back to feeling stressed around her. I can't win."
"God you're impossible. Look, it's almost home time, I can't deal with you right now. Go early tonight. I'll get the book. Who knows what you'd bring yourself to say to Miranda tonight."
"If you're sure?" Andy didn't know why she even asked. She suddenly was on her feet, shoving things in her bag without any effort at all. And she had zero compulsion to wait for the book.
That night, lying in bed, having made an appointment to see her hypno-therapist first thing the next day, Andy stared up at the ceiling. She felt confused and conflicted, anxious and pent-up. All her old stress had rushed to the surface from wherever it had been dormant. And now, now she had the new horrors of knowing how inappropriate she'd been with Miranda all day. Complimenting her on her outfits, her look, her organization. Dumping three hundred dollars worth of Miranda's favorite flowers on her desk when she could barely afford rent?
What next? God.
She glanced at the clock. Eleven-thirty. Bedtime. Long after bedtime, actually. Why did that thought echo around her head so much? Before she could analyze it, she was back on her feet, pulling a coat around her, and calling a cab.
A cab to Miranda's place. She couldn't afford a cab. She had no reason to be here, she scowled at herself, as she stood at the front door.
Why didn't you just crawl into bed with her and ask for a bedtime story?
Oh, yep, that's why. Good plan.
As of that minute, Andy had never heard a more brilliant plan in all her life. Not one. Not ever. Nuh-uh.
She opened the door to Miranda's town house and let herself in. The building was in darkness, except for a glow from upstairs. She noted the Book Emily had left on the table, untouched. Maybe Miranda was busy? Asleep? Would look at it in the morning?
Andy followed the light up the stairs and found the glow emanating from under a door.
She knocked lightly and opened it.
Miranda was conked out, asleep in her large king-sized bed, a novel resting on her chest, reading glasses still half on. Her shoulders, pale and creamy, were bare under a lace nightgown. The bright lamp beside her bed lit her in a warm glow and every part of Andy was drawn to the woman. The parts of her that thought Miranda Priestly was quite possibly the hottest woman in creation. The part of her that wanted to know her as a woman, and what lay beneath the mask. The part of her that was still a little intimidated to be this close to her.
She knew what she had to do. She removed her coat, leaving herself in her practical cotton pajamas, and slid into bed beside Miranda. Snuggling up behind her, she whispered, "Hey, Miranda?"
The woman, mmmed, for a moment, a soft, satisfied purr, and it was indulgently sexual when she murmured, "Andrea? You feel nice."
Suddenly Miranda's eyes snapped open, just as Andy asked, "Could you read me a bedtime story?"
The yelp was, okay, more ear-shattering than Andy had heard in a long, long, long time. Confusion flooded Andy that she'd somehow done the wrong thing, and knew it, when she was also damned sure she was right where she was meant to be, doing exactly what was needed.
First, Miranda ranted - okay, snarled, might be a better word, because, as she mentioned more than once “The girls are just down the hall!”
Then, she poked her in the shoulder until Andy tumbled out of bed, and gave her a hurt indignant stare.
Which was matched by Miranda's incredulous one as she took in Andy's pajamas. "You came here in those?" Miranda asked. She blinked. "If this was a seduction, that is certainly lacking the charm I'd expect."
The charm?
Seduction?
She'd only turned up for the bedtime story. This was...unexpected information. Miranda thought she had charm? "I didn't realize you'd be open to a seduction." Well. That certainly changed everything.
Miranda's mouth dropped open again, and she peered at Andrea like she was diseased. "What in the hell is happening here?"
Andy gave a helpless shrug. "I was really hoping you'd know?"
Silence fell. Miranda raked her from tip to toe, and this time it didn't feel sexual or judgy in the least. There was genuine concern on her face. A face that even without make-up still made Andy weak at the knees and feel all kinds of funny.
Miranda rolled over and reached for the phone. "Emily? Can you explain why my second assistant is in my bedroom, demanding a bedtime story? Is this some sort of joke? Because she seems unable to make any sense at all."
There was a pause, then a long rush of British verbiage that sounded both appalled and ashamed and indignant. Then Miranda sighed and hung up.
"You've been hypnotized," she said, with a long-suffering sigh. "And Emily decided to tell you to do this. She could have told you to do anything at all, but no, she decided to get you to do this." She waved at Andy in her pajamas in displeasure.
"Oh." Andy said. Well, when she put it like that, it did make some sense. "Sorry. Yeah. I've been having a hard time not doing everything Emily says lately."
"Would I be right in thinking Emily has something to do with you ending up in the ER?" This time there was no disguising the concern in her expression.
"Yes." She hung her head. "She told me to go home and eat a tonne of popcorn."
Miranda's eyes went very wide. "A tonne?" she whispered. "Did you actually..." Her eyes dropped to Andy's stomach. "How did you even..."
"Well I didn't eat a whole tonne, obviously. But I think my stomach kinda almost exploded." She fidgeted. It was cold in here without her jacket.
"And the compliments?" Miranda asked, her voice becoming cooler. "All Emily too?"
"She told me to be nice to you."
"So you don't actually..." Miranda faded out. Her eyes became flinty. "Never mind."
"I did mean them," Andy said. "I do."
"I'm sure."
"I might not have spent half my paycheck on flowers if I wasn't hypnotized, but I'm not blind. You did look amazing in that dress today. Sorry, if that makes you uncomfortable." She shivered again and rubbed her arms. "And I'm sorry but I still really want you to read me a story."
Miranda's bark of laughter seemed to surprise her.
Andy gave her a grin. "I can't help it."
"I should ring Emily back and tell her to cancel her dictate on that."
"Yeah." Andy nodded. She looked at Miranda's bed longingly. "Or you could, you know, read me a story?"
Miranda rolled her eyes. "My God, how do I ever get any work done with you around? It's a complete mystery."
"I don't follow."
"Your big doe eyes." She sighed. "If you tell a soul, I do know people who can dispose of bodies."
"I don't doubt it," Andy said sincerely.
"But I find right at this moment, I can't refuse you a damned thing." She waved at the other side of her bed.
Andy's grin widened. "Fantastic." She jumped into bed. "What are you reading?" she asked glancing at the book.
For the first time since Andy had known the formidable woman, Miranda's cheeks bloomed pink. "I, uh..."
Leaning over, Andy glanced at the title. Oh. Oh! It looked like some racy pirate-themed bodice ripper.
"If you tell anyone..."
"I know, I know. Dead women tell no tales."
"Mmm." She glared to seal the deal. "You tell no one about my little...habit...and I won't reveal you take to your bed in K-mart markdown sleepwear."
"Hey, it's not—"
"No, no, that's not up for debate. Now then." She licked her lips and turned the page. "Beatrice is about to find out that Redbeard the Rakish is a woman."
Andy swallowed and her mouth went dry. Miranda...the Miranda Priestly...relaxed with racy LESBIAN fiction?
"You have a thought? Comment?" Miranda asked, peering at her over her glasses. "Your face is a map of questions."
"I... no, nothing. Nothing at all. It sounds like just my kind of book."
"Excellent," Miranda murmured. And then she added, quietly, looking at her intently, "I'd often wondered if it might be."
It being the gay content? Oh hell yeah.
"Yeah," Andy grinned. She dared to inch a little closer. "Definitely."
The kissing hadn't been planned. The chapter was finished, Beatrice got her lady-pirate kisses, the book was set aside along with Miranda's glasses, and suddenly Andy was upon her. Her kisses were heated and, well, she was as susceptible to a good lesbian pirate erotica as much as the next queer woman, so sue her.
Miranda simply grabbed the back of her head pressed her closer and kissed her thoroughly. "Mmm," she said as she pulled away, breathing thick and harsh. "I did suspect you'd be good at that. I'm not wrong." Suddenly she pushed her to one side, rolled over, and turned out the lamp. With a strained voice, she said, "Well. Good night, Andrea."
Good night?
Good. Night?
"Um... Miranda?" Andy knew her voice was a bit pathetic, but come on. "I'd really like to do more than just sleep right now. Beatrice wasn't the only one with her motor left running."
"So would I," Miranda murmured. "But not until after your hypno-therapist's appointment tomorrow. I'd like to have you in my arms without wondering if you're into it or obeying some random throwaway line from my first assistant."
"She'd never suggest this!"
"Be that as it may, I'd prefer to know the woman I'm devouring is completely enjoying it. No doubts. Don't argue on this. Sleep now."
Well, she understood. Even though the throbbing between her legs was like an ache. Andy turned on her side, facing Miranda's sexy back, and tried to think sleepy thoughts. But the other woman was lying there, her beautiful negligee clad body inches from hers. She could just reach out if she wanted, and trace the line of that milky white shoulder blade...
"Andrea?"
"Mmm?"
"Your hand."
"Oh." Okay, so wandering hands wander.
"Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment." Her dry amusement was evident.
Andy chuckled. "Wait until tomorrow night."
The strangled noise from the back of Miranda's throat made waiting worthwhile.
Andy left her hypno-therapist's office with a chastened Emily in tow.
"Really," Emily muttered, "did he have to be that rude? How was I to know?"
"Well, you know now." It had seemed logical to bring her in case she needed to undo whatever whammy she'd done to Andy.
"Still, it was like being side-eyed by Miranda before she's had her first coffee. Eviscerations would be less painful."
They got into a cab together. "Did you really climb into her bed last night?" Emily asked in an awed whisper the moment the car was underway. She sounded both amazed and horrified.
"I really did." Andy's cheeks reddened. I really did. Jesus.
"So what did she do?" Fascination edged her tone.
"Well, you heard her. She tossed me out of bed and called you."
"After that?"
"She mocked my sleepwear as K-mart pajamas."
"I suppose it would be diabolical...wait, you went to her house in your pajamas?"
Andy nodded earnestly. "You curse a girl real good."
"I don't know my own power. So are you fired or what?" Emily’s expression said she was almost sorry about the idea but she wasn't about to admit it any time soon.
"Yeah." Andy hid her smile. "She says she'll let me see out the week." They'd agreed this morning over languid kisses, interrupted by Miranda slapping her wandering hands away again, that this was something to pursue. But not while Miranda was her boss.
"Oh hell, Andy, I'm sorry." And this time, finally, Emily's veneer broke. "Really. You can use me as a reference if you like. I promise to lie through my teeth and say you aren't annoying in the least and dress like a fashion icon." She looked so earnest, Andy felt sorry for her.
"It's okay, Em. I have some prospects." Miranda's reference would open many doors. And it was time to move on. But there was only one door she wanted opened. The one to the town house tonight.
The door to Miranda's bedroom opened soundlessly, and Andy padded in, heart in her throat. Soft music played, and candles had replaced the bedside lamp that had been here last night.
"Andrea," Miranda's voice was a purr. She was lying on top of her bed, in that same champagne negligee, her bare smooth legs on tantalizing display. "You are testing my patience. By all means, move at a glacial pace." Her lips curled.
"Sorry, I had to finish up some things and..." She faded out when Miranda lifted one leg into a bent position and her negligee slid right down it. A glimpse of sheer black lace panties came into view.
Oh God.
"So," Miranda said, and her fingers floated up to the deep vee of her bust, then trailed over to the side. She gently rubbed one breast as if scarcely aware she was doing it. The nipple sprang to attention. "Care to tell me why you're here? Intruding in my personal, private sanctuary?" Her eyes were half lidded.
Andy removed her coat and outer garments with haste until she presented herself in last night's pajamas with a small smirk. Then, wordlessly, she slid into the bed beside Miranda, and gathered her in her arms. The heat of the woman felt exciting, and the desire burning in those normally icy eyes was everything.
"Because, Miranda, I suddenly had this very interesting thought. Why not crawl into bed with you and ask for a bedtime story? Only this time, we change the ending."
Miranda's lips crashed into hers.
As Andy spent the next few hours taking Miranda, spreading her out, loving her, tasting her, and being devoured by her in turn, she realized some things.
One, she loved Miranda Priestly, right down to her icy, cocky glares and warm, sensual fingers and lips.
And two, Andy was indeed—finally—relaxed, powerful, and confident around Miranda Priestly. Just as the hypnosis had promised.