Honestly, when is this bloody thing over with?
Emily's dark eyes roved over the thick crowd of stuck up rich people, already bored of putting up with their attempts to be civil for a few hours. While she normally would have blended in quite well with this crowd, she was in no mood for it tonight. She wasn't in the mood for whispering names in Miranda's ear, and she wasn't in the mood for Nigel, who stood on Miranda's left, quietly teasing Emily about Andrea Fucking Sachs. Andrea Sachs, the brunette second assistant that seemed to be successfully wedging her way into Emily's private life, much to the redhead's horror.
The brunette second assistant that was an hour late, and successfully pissing Miranda Priestly off.
Emily glanced at the black jeweled watch strapped to her slim wrist, cursing Andy with everything in her. Miranda had been as close to pleasant as Emily had ever seen her at the beginning of the night; now she looked ready to choke someone, literally. Between Emily and Nigel, Emily had a sinking feeling she'd be the lucky victim.
"Call her," Miranda hissed over her shoulder, and Emily dug her cell phone out of the black Veera Wang hanging from her wrist. She was starting to sweat in the black and white Valentino dress clinging to her form, and she'd be lying if she said it wasn't because she was nervous about Miranda ripping her head off. Emily was not about to take the fall for Andrea again. She'd done so twice this week already.
One failed phone call later, and Emily was officially panicking. Miranda was going to murder both of them; Andrea for being late, and Emily just to kill her rage until she got her hands on Andrea. And what if something had happened? What if she was dead in a ditch somewhere?
Would solve a hell of a lot of my problems, Emily thought bitterly. Including my raging hormones.
"There she is," Nigel said suddenly. "Oh, what fun; she's with Thompson."
Emily's eyes snapped towards the front of the room, where Andrea had just entered with none other than Christian Thompson. She couldn't figure out if the hot flush rising from her neck and into her face was because of her observation of how gorgeous Andrea looked in the knee length white dress she wore, or because of the jealousy and outright disgust at the fact that she was with Christian Thompson.
"Finally," Miranda snarled under her breath, sweeping forward to no doubt strangle Andrea. Emily could only stare.
"You alright, Red?" Nigel asked, moving to stand next to Emily and nudging her shoulder a bit. Emily's head turned towards him briefly before looking back to the scene before her. Miranda was speaking quietly, quickly wiping the bright smile off of Andrea's face. Christian was standing far too close for Emily's subconscious liking, and the look on his face made her want to rip him apart. Nigel glanced in the direction Emily was glaring, not even trying to hide his amusement.
"Why don't you just fuck her and get it over with?"
Emily's head whipped around so quickly, it actually made the muscles in her neck hurt. "Honestly, Nigel, how crass of you."
"Oh come on, both of you want it," Nigel teased. "It's obvious. Why do you think she's tried being so friendly with you lately? It isn't just so you cover her when she messes up."
That's not the only thing she's tried, Emily thought, flashing back to the night Miranda had caught them fucking on Emily's desk. Instead of firing them both, Miranda had actually sat down and watched, directing the entire thing to better assist Andrea in getting Emily off. Miranda had informed Emily after the incident that she needed to stop holding off on other opportunities over false hope of Emily and Miranda getting back together.
Since then, Emily had just completely disregarded any thought of her previous relationship with Miranda entirely. She and Andrea had another encounter soon after, this one in the backseat of a cab. Both females had tipped the driver rather heavily to get him to keep his mouth shut. But there was no real relationship between them; not so far, at least. Andrea was offering, but Emily's lack of willpower was overwhelming. She was just plain terrified.
"She doesn't look like she wants it right now," Emily muttered, mostly to herself.
"I'll lay you ten to one that she only has him here to make you jealous."
"It worked."
Andrea's eyes suddenly turned on Emily. Sighing, Emily turned away. "If you send her after me, I'll beat you with one of these tacky little trays the waiters are carrying around." With that, she took off towards the back exit.
The cool September air was heaven against Emily's still burning flesh. As soon as the door to the alley shut behind her, she whipped a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of her purse. She really wasn't all for smoking, but it did help the occasional stress; she hadn't gotten as addicted as Serena, at least. She wasn't about to work twice as hard to keep her weight off.
Emily had just situated herself against the alley wall, the cigarette dangling precariously between her fingers, when the alley door opened and Andrea appeared. Rolling her eyes, Emily cursed Nigel and took a long drag of smoke, blowing it into the night air.
"Hey, Em."
Great, Emily thought to herself. I'm really not in the mood for small talk.
"What exactly were you thinking, Andrea?" Emily snapped, pushing off of the wall and turning to face Andrea fully. "An hour late for work? And showing up with Christian Thompson, of all people? If Miranda hasn't fired you already, she sure as hell will in the morning."
Andrea bit her lip lightly, looking mildly hurt, and thoroughly ashamed. Emily kept her glare in place, though she wavered internally; why the hell did she have to use that look to her advantage?
"Don't give me the wounded puppy look, Andrea, it isn't going to work tonight."
"I know," Andrea replied. "I'm sorry, Em. I - "
"What?" Emily snapped. "You what? Are you fucking him?"
Andrea blinked. "What?"
"Is that why you decided it was a good idea to show up an hour late with him? Were you at a hotel somewhere, letting him pound you into a wall?"
Amusement was slowly spreading over Andrea's features, and a hint of satisfaction was glowing in her eyes. "Are you jealous?"
"I most certainly am not," Emily retorted. "But I think I have a right to know where the hell my girlfriend goes with a man that has been trying to bed her since he met her."
The silence that followed that was a stunned one; even Emily was surprised. The look of amusement on Andrea's face had turned into downright delight, and Emily could have punched herself.
"So I'm not crazy? We do have something?"
"I don't know," Emily said slowly. "Do we?"
"I thought we did."
Emily sighed; why the hell had she worded that sentence the way she had? She didn't even know if she wanted this. Well, alright, that was a bit of a lie. She wanted it. But she didn't know if she was mentally ready to handle it.
"Go home, Andrea. I'll see you in the morning."
Emily turned to exit the alley, but a strong grip on her arm stopped her. Before she knew what was happening, she was facing Andrea; the girl had quite forcefully spun her around.
"What are you -"
Andrea kissed her. Hard. And the fight Emily put up was extremely half assed, compared to the scene she could have caused had she wanted to make an effort. Her lips parted to the demanding ones pressing against them, and she practically melted at the sensation of a tongue sliding over the seam of her bottom lip. Her arms tightly wound around the girl's neck, and she yanked her against her; Andrea's fingers tightly clinging at her hips sent her hormones reeling.
Before Emily realized what was happening, Andrea's hand had somehow found its way up Emily's dress; her fingers were pressed against Emily's clothed center immediately, and the redhead moaned. Her senses hazed when Andrea shoved Emily's back against the alley wall, and she lost her ability to stand upright on her own at the brunette's thumb pressing and rubbing carefully at her clitoris. The precision with which she touched shocked Emily; she was so cautious, and as much as it fascinated Emily, it was starting to irritate her as well.
"Harder," Emily gasped out, grasping Andrea's wrist and shoving her whole hand against her. Emily gasped again, her hips pushing forward, her fingers still tightly gripping Andrea's wrist as the woman ground her palm against her. The push of her hips matched the pace of Andrea's hand, and before she realized it, she was teetering on the edge of orgasm.
"Tell me what to do," Andrea muttered into Emily's neck, pressing kisses against the pale skin at her exposure. "Help me get you there."
It was common knowledge among every lover Emily had ever had that Emily was one of the most complicated people alive to get an orgasm out of. She even had to work to give herself one. She didn't think it was a medical condition, just a hint of how tightly wound she was. She had considered that an insult when her first boyfriend had said it to her, but she gradually came to realize that it was true. She was too married to her job to have much of a sex life, and when she did have one, it was scheduled into her day, just like everything else in her life.
"Inside," Emily breathed. "Inside."
Andrea's fingers dove beneath the fabric separating them from Emily's core, and pushed immediately into her opening. Emily choked, her forehead falling onto Andrea's shoulder as she dropped the cigarette in her hand and grasped a handful of her own dress, yanking it up to give herself more freedom to move. Her hips rolled forward against Andrea's fingers, and she moaned low in her throat; a little more of this, and she had great potential of hitting rock bottom.
Andrea's fingers thrust and rubbed, but it took another five minutes for Emily's body to finally tense up and spasm; once she finally came down, she realized she hadn't come. Andrea's fingers had slid out of her carefully, and the woman looked a little disappointed; the first time, on Emily's desk, she had at least managed that much. Several times, in fact.
"It isn't your fault," Emily said, though she wasn't sure why she was trying to comfort the girl. "That's just the way it is for me."
"Yeah," Andrea replied, a bit of an empty look in her eyes. Emily didn't have the willpower to convince her further; dropping her dress, she exited the alley with a muttered goodnight, stepping over her dropped cigarette to hail a cab.