FEELING HYPNOTIZED
These are just some AU drabbles of Andy and Miranda. Please comment nicely!
The setting changes depending on her mood. Andy Sachs doesn't dare give in to her fantasies. It's just that sometimes, when Miranda gives her an order or sends her on an errand, the briefest touch of her hand or the faintest whiff of her perfume will send Andy's thoughts racing to another time, another place. And there Miranda is waiting for her . . .
"All of them must die." Young Octavian Caesar looks incredibly cruel and arrogant as he stamps his seal upon the parchment. Half the great families in Rome are to be sacrificed this very night to secure his rise to power!
But a dark-eyed slave girl listening outside the door happens to overhear. Frantic with fear, Andrea hurries through the winding maze of dark and narrow streets, seeking out the villa of Miranda, the wealthiest woman in Rome.
"You . . . you . . . you are in terrible danger!" Gasping for air and exhausted, trembling from head to foot, the dirty, sweaty slave girl can't stop staring at the elegant white-haired woman, whose voice is soft as silk yet crisp and cool as well.
"You are a foolish child, and you need a bath," Miranda says, arrogantly ignoring the slave-girl's words of warning. Octavian's men catch the two of them naked, soaking in hot water, oblivious to everything but each other. As the cruel Roman soldiers approach the bath with their swords drawn, Miranda's lips meet hers in a final, all-consuming kiss.
Feeling hypnotized, Andy shakes off the tragic vision. Miranda is calling to her again, but from another time, another place . . .
"Sure, doll. I know all about keeping secrets." Al Capone pinches the pretty hotel maid on the cheek and hands over his best bottle of bootleg champagne. Andrea "Andy" Mancini has been singing and dancing as long as she can remember. And with legendary Broadway producer Miranda M. Cohan staying at the hotel it's time for her big break!
"I didn't order any champagne." The elegant, silver-haired woman is still in her silk pajamas, and something about her soft, knowing voice and cool gray eyes causes the dark-eyed girl in the tiny lace cap and frilly apron to gawk and blush and squirm.
"My dream is singing – and dancing – but I didn't know – and I'm really so sorry – I didn't know you were still in bed." Hearing her own voice, whispery-soft and yet strangely excited, Andy avoids Miranda's cool and knowing gaze. Instead she finds herself staring stupidly at the rumpled bed.
"Are you asking for an audition?" Popping the cork from the champagne bottle, Miranda laughs as the foamy liquid spurts out, cascading down the front of her pajamas as she drinks. But instead of fussing over the stain she simply throws the soaking wet top to one side, pulling Andy onto the big bed!
"You won't tell anyone, will you?" Andy asks, afterwards. She's lying naked in Miranda's bed, feeling dizzy and giddy both from the champagne and from what she's just done. Nothing could have prepared her for Miranda's power over her body or her own frantic need to respond. "I'd just . . . I'd like everyone to think I auditioned for you in the usual way."
Elegant Miranda is already up and dressed, in a businesslike gray suit that makes her look strict and upright and firm. Andy almost dreads to hear her make some cutting remark, something about her own lack of talent and morals. She shouldn't have come up here, shouldn't have been so eager, shouldn't have come apart the moment Miranda knowingly touched her nipples and kissed her lightly on the lips. The dread and fear and shame almost outweigh the feeling of total abandonment and desire. She's started something, and there's no going back. Miranda gives her a cool glance, her gray eyes taking in everything while Andy just lies naked in her bed and trembles beneath her gaze. Then she smiles.
"Sure, doll. I know all about keeping secrets."
Andy hurries out on her latest errand, a wry smile touching her generous mouth. Miranda the gangster! That image tells part of the truth, but not the whole story . . .
"Witch! Witch!" The Puritans of Salem are pitiless in their wrath, flinging mud, stones and rotten vegetables at the dark-eyed girl who dared to dance on the Sabbath day.
"Stop the carriage!" All at once a voice rings out, cool and commanding. Everyone knew that the governor of the colony had an unmarried sister, but no one had ever laid eyes on her before this day, certainly not the wretched young witch now lying at her booted feet, helpless in the muddy road.
"I'm so sorry," the girl croaks. "Didn't mean to sin. Please!
"Nonsense!" A gloved hand reaches down, pulling her to her feet. Cool gray eyes and the scent of lavender, seeming to envelop her in a web of silken privilege and safety. But the voice is stern, a Puritan voice for all the softness in her eyes.
"You cannot sin until you have been instructed by a master of the art. You need education, girl. Are you ready to work hard and heed my every command?"
"Yes," the witch girl says, tears filling her big brown eyes. "Oh, thank you, good mistress. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!"
"Then climb into my carriage," the older woman commands. "And mind you don't get mud all over my new carpet."
"Are you a witch too?" the dark-eyed girl asks, later that night. She's been given a hot bath and tucked into a narrow but neat and very clean bed in the attic of the house.
"Yes, I've been casting spells since I was sixteen." The tall, silver-haired sister of the royal governor puts down her candle and sits down on the side of the girl's tiny attic bed. "Do you want to learn how to fly through the air?"
"Oh yes," the girl replies, her voice no more than a whisper. There is something about the gleam in the older woman's eyes that steals her breath away. "But . . . we won't get into trouble, will we? We won't be seen and hanged, will we?"
"We won't even leave this room." The way the silver-haired woman smiles is almost a spell in itself, soothing and commanding at the same time. "Now close your eyes, little witch. Open your lips just a touch, just so. That's all."
"Oh! I don't . . . I didn't . . . oh . . ." The warm lips take hold, melding with hers, and all at once the two of them are flying.
A/N: Thanks for reading! These were just three quick drabbles I threw together for fun. Which of them do you like best? Which do you think could be a full length story?