Disclaimer: I don't own Miranda Priestly (*cry*) nor do I make any money from playing with the characters of The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing: Miranda/Andrea
Genre: Un poco de smut.
Another fic I've had going on on the side. This is most likely Chapter 1 of 2/3.
Andy was drunk. And she was way beyond the point of being able to deny it. The man whose attention she currently held reached his punch-line. Andy laughed longer than was necessary for the quality of the joke. The man noticed and grinned.
"Fancy another?" he asked, nodding towards the bar behind them.
"Hell yeah," Andy smirked, "That's the only way I get through these stupid evenings."
That was a lie and she knew it. The real reason she got through these parties was stood across the room, having dismissed Andy for the evening an hour earlier. Andy scowled. Miranda never stayed this long at parties, and she never gave Andy the evening off to actually enjoy herself at the events. Not that she was particularly enjoying herself now. The reason for Miranda's sudden generosity – Andy assumed – was the tall, greying man whose hand currently rested on the small of Miranda's back. Andy scowled again.
"So, shots?"
Andy brought her attention back to the man next to her: George or Jamie or whatever his name was.
"Yep." She nodded and his arm curled around her waist as he called to the barman to bring vodka. Andy giggled. George leered.
A few shots and a couple of dirty jokes later and Andy wasn't thinking about Miranda anymore. Except for admiring how that black lace clung so perfectly to the editor's shoulders. And gazing at the slit in her dress which revealed just the right amount of leg. And getting annoyed as her boss threw her head back in laughter at a joke from the man whose arm still lingered at Miranda's lower back.
Andy turned her attention back to the bar and glared at the spirit bottles on the far wall as if she might make them explode.
"What's up, sweet cheeks?" George laughed.
"Nothing." Andy shook her head to clear her thoughts. George laughed again and gave her ass a light squeeze. Andy was too far gone to be bothered by it and was about to order another drink when a voice behind them made her jump:
"I suggest you leave."
Andy spun around, nearly tripping over her five-inch heels in the process. Grabbing the bar behind her for support, she looked up at the origin of the voice. Miranda.
The look on her face said it all. She was furious.
The brunette gulped, suddenly feeling a lot more sober. George appeared to have frozen and Andy wasn't surprised; Miranda's eyes bore into his own with venom.
"Now." It was practically a whisper. Andy shivered involuntarily.
George glanced at Andy and opened his mouth to protest. Andy shook her head and he got the hint, skulking off to the other side of the bar.
The young woman turned back to her boss.
Miranda was livid.
