As Usual (Part 1)
It wasn't a special day. No life-changing tragedy occurred to make her re-evaluate her life. In fact, nothing out of the ordinary happened at all.
They were working late, as usual. The office was deserted. The soft lighting and quietness of Miranda's office at night was in contrast to the abrupt bustle of the day. It created an intimacy, a seclusion.
Miranda sat at her desk, leaning over the contact sheet of the latest shoot, immersed. Andy stood nearby, her pencil and notepad poised, ready for instruction, as usual.
Then Miranda looked up, her glasses on the tip of her nose, the light from her desk lamp caught the blueness of her eyes, the immaculate silver hair glistened and her torso was turned at such an angle that Andy caught a glimpse of a lacy black bra beneath her boss's crimson top.
Andy's heart stopped. She felt winded.
That's when she knew. That's when it began.
Miranda's soft belittling tones sent new chills through her. Starting between her legs and spreading through the rest of her body.
Now when Miranda asked how many times she needed to scream Andrea's name, Andy's cheeks flushed as an image of Miranda in her chair, panting, head thrown back in the midst of passion, Andy's head between her legs, Miranda screaming her name as she came hard.
Andy bowed her head to hide the blush in her cheeks. Lewd thoughts kept invading her mind whenever she was near Miranda, it was becoming unbearable.
Miranda's long hard stares didn't alleviate the situation. Andy squirmed more than usual beneath Miranda's penetrating gaze. Andy found she was waiting - to be discovered, to be balled out and humiliated.
"Tell Nigel I want less gaudy and for god sake lose the street urchin. This isn't Dickens. Do I have to think of everything?"
She fell silent and Andy didn't dare look up.
The sound of Miranda's nylon covered thighs rubbing together as she crossed her legs, the taut black Donna Karen skirt she wore that had an indecent slit that ended halfway up her thighs rode up as she sat beneath the glass desk. The glass desk Andy was staring down at… taking in those slender, shapely legs and imagining them wrapped around her waist…
She heard a throat-clearing cough and raised her eyes to meet Miranda's steely blue gaze. Shit. There must have been a flicker of something in her eyes because Miranda's usual stoic expression wavered for a fraction of a second. A look of… realisation? Uncertainty? Crossed her indifferent features. She leaned back in her seat, contemplating Andy.
Andy's heart raced. Shit. She remained calm - never show fear in front of Miranda, she'd learnt that much.
"Anything else?" Andy asked neutrally.
Miranda continued to regard her. After a long silence she gave a small shake of her head. "That's all."
Andy returned to her desk, under no illusions about her temperamental boss. She'd never encountered anyone so contrary. If she tried to describe Miranda to a stranger it would be difficult to convey the full extent of her divergent nature.
She was calm but you could feel the undercurrents of her anger.
Her voice was soft but her intonation was hard.
She was composed but made chaos dance around her.
She was powerful but unpretentious.
She never laughed but was funny.
She was caustic but if you heard her on the phone to her children, she was warm and loving.
She seemed oblivious to everyone around her but was keenly observant; her steely gaze capturing every move and word around her.
She was beautiful but her heart was dark; taking glee in other's misfortune.
She dressed impeccably but was not vain.
She infuriated and fascinated Andy in equal measure.
Miranda sat on the sofa in her office, legs elegantly slanted sideways, crossed at the ankle. Flicking through mock-ups from the Art Department, her glasses precariously balanced on the end of her nose. She seemed agitated.
"There's no flair, no passion. Pedestrian at best. Is it asking too much for a spark of imagination?" the editor-in-chief said aloud. "What else do I pay Jocelyn for?"
Andy knew she wasn't being directly addressed. She was just a sounding board for whenever Miranda wanted to let off steam. As usual.
"Helen Keller could have done a better job," Miranda remarked dryly.
Andy had to bite her lip to stop from laughing.
In annoyance at the ineptitude of her employees, Miranda whipped her glasses off her nose. The movement was too quick; they slipped out of her grasp and clattered to the floor.
Instinctively Andy knelt to retrieve them. She looked up and held them out to Miranda, still crouched down, and found herself a little closer to Miranda than she had expected. She looked up into icy blue eyes. As their gaze intensified, Andy realised she was virtually kneeling in between Miranda's legs.
Her warm breath grazed Miranda's knees and the older woman sucked in a sharp breath.
For a halting moment Andy thought that…
"Here's the Calvin Klein samples you asked for," Emily said as she bustled into the office, breaking the moment.
Miranda snatched her glasses out of Andy's hand, slid them on her nose and turned her attention to Emily, holding out her hand impatiently.
Andy got to her feet, trying to get her brain in gear. Had they had a moment? Had Miranda felt it too? Did Miranda even entertain for a second that…
Emily put the samples into the Editor-in-chief's clutches.
As Miranda skimmed the samples, her cool voice said. "Are you still here Andrea? If there's not enough for you to do, I can always add tasks."
Andy bowed her head and hurried towards her desk. She already had 101 things to do. As usual.
Two weeks later they were stood on the curb in Midtown Manhattan outside Miranda's lawyers, waiting for Roy who was clearly stuck in traffic.
Miranda clicked her tongue in annoyance. Andy felt sorry for Roy, he was bound to get an earful.
Andy's arms were full. In one arm she clutched Miranda's schedule, her bag and several files, in the other was her cell. Over her shoulder precariously balanced were matching snowboards for the twins, which she'd run out to get during Miranda's meeting with her lawyer.
Out of the corner of her eye, Miranda sized Andy up. Andy pretended not to notice but felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand-up, as usual, when Miranda ran her eyes the full length of her. Head to toe, then back again. Long, studied and unapologetic.
Casually and without a word, Miranda reached out towards Andy. It took everything Andy had not to react. She stayed stock-still as Miranda extended her hand and grasped a loose hair that had strayed onto Andy's blouse. As she did so, Miranda's fingertips brushed Andy's collar bone, intentionally or accidentally, Andy couldn't tell. Her breath caught all the same and a shiver ran through her.
Had Miranda felt it? When Andy dared look at her boss, Miranda's expression was inscrutable. It was maddening.
Miranda drew her hand back and released the brunette hair into the air.
"Thanks," Andy mumbled.
Miranda held her eye, her lips pursed and then she turned away.
They stood in silence for a few more moments, then to Andy's relief Roy pulled up alongside them. He leapt out of the driver's side, looking contrite. He rushed round to the passenger side and opened the back door for Miranda. She slid in elegantly, without a word. No recriminations, no reprimands, no show of irritation. Roy shot Andy a confused look and she shrugged.
He quickly helped unladen her burden and Andy slipped into the backseat beside Miranda.
Miranda didn't speak for the whole trip back to Elias-Clarke, nor did she venture to look at Andy again. Just stared out the window, lost in her own thoughts.
They were at the Hervé Léger after party. Miranda was clearly bored. There had been nothing particularly intriguing or inspiring about the new collection; even Andy had been attuned to that. Miranda had circulated out of duty and Andy had trailed behind her (she had dismissed Emily twenty minutes ago).
Andy tried not to stare at the expanse of ivory skin of Miranda's back. Tried to ignore the heady scent of her perfume. The flawless make-up, swept-up hairdo and Andy felt a pang… she loved the tousled look Miranda often went for at these parties but tonight it was sleeked back. Her fingers itched to reach out and dislodge that lock of hair, to free it…
"Andrea?" came the measured tone.
Andy realised she'd zoned out and turned to Miranda apologetically. "Yes?"
"Wrap," Miranda prompted, slowly shaking her head as Andy dashed off towards the cloakroom.
Andy returned a moment later. She held up Miranda's shawl. The white-haired goddess turned her back to Andy and with complete trust waited for Andy to drape the wrap over her shoulders.
As she gazed at the back of Miranda's neck, she exhaled, her warm breath ghosting across Miranda's alabaster skin. Miranda froze. Andy's fingers halted. Shit. Her fingers rested on Miranda's shoulders, then ran lightly down her arms. She stepped back and saw Miranda shiver.
Andy bit her lip to stop from grinning.
Miranda turned to face her, almost accusing. Andy remained silent.
Miranda suddenly seemed uncertain. "Goodnight, Andrea," she said breathlessly.
Andy's heart almost stopped and she was left, watching Miranda sweep away, disappearing into the night.
Miranda's in a board meeting, no doubt busting some balls - she's the only woman on the panel.
Andy waits outside, gripping the searing hot Starbuck's coffee cup Miranda requested. She exchanges a tense smile with Irv's secretary, then refocuses her eyes on the boardroom door.
Miranda strides out first, followed by several members of the board looking shrivelled. She sees Andrea and a jubilant smile spreads to her lips.
Andy's breathe catches. Miranda is striking at the best of times but when she smiles, genuinely, the air halts.
Andy smiles nervously. "Good meeting?" she asks as she hands Miranda her coffee and falls into step beside Miranda as they head towards the elevator.
Miranda licks her lips, a gleam in her eye. "Yes."
Andy knows that shouldn't turn her on… but Miranda's confidence, her conviction, is intoxicating.
Miranda has been out of the office all day so when Andy drops off the book she's not expecting her boss to appear.
She closes the closet door after depositing the dry cleaning and places the Book on the side table. She starts when she turns and sees Miranda stood there, in her robe, watching Andy vigilantly.
"Hey," Andy says. Just for something to say.
Miranda takes a step down, her hand trailing down the railing. Fingertips lightly tracing the wood.
Andy takes a sharp breath. "Sorry to disturb you."
"You didn't disturb me," Miranda says gently.
Andy bites her lip and shuffles her feet.
"Pass me the book," Miranda requests and holds out her hand.
Andy lifts up the book and passes it to Miranda's outstretched hand. She can't meet Miranda's eye.
Miranda notices. Of course. Andy's cheeks blush. Miranda takes the last step, now level with Andy.
"Are you feeling okay, Andrea? You seem… flushed."
Andy clenches her fists and digs her nails into her palm. Trying to regain control. Trying not to let Miranda win.
"Fine," she manages, quite convincingly. Now she meets Miranda's eyes – daring her to press the issue.
Miranda recognises Andy's resolve and a smile tugs at her lips. "I'm glad."
"Goodnight, Miranda," Andy says and turns on her heel, even though the last thing she wants to do is leave.