A/N: All disclaimers apply, see Prolog/Chap01 for full disclaimers and notes; you consent that you are of age by continuing to read. This chapter rated R

Chapter Two

Friday afternoon Andy was hurriedly attempting to tie up all the loose ends so she could leave and not return until Monday. She glanced at the time on her computer, four-thirty; she was hoping to be out of the office at the latest five-thirty to give herself enough time to make it up to the townhouse by six as she had promised Caroline. She had also been nervously anticipating a conversation with her boss that had yet to occur; she had sent the completed embezzlement story to him the day prior and had yet to hear anything.

"Sachs," the disembodied voice of her boss floated over the speaker of her phone "when you get a minute, come to my office."

Andy started and swallowed; speak of the devil, hurriedly put the finishing touches on some copy and hit save.

As she walked she spared a moment to ponder his reaction; it was a testament to her increasing self-confidence that she didn't immediately expect the worst.

She stuck her head in his office, the rest following at his nod. "Hey Greg."

"Andy, hey, have a seat." He gestured towards the simple metal chair positioned in front of his desk.

She shifted once, trying to find a comfortable position on the thinly padded seat and then assumed a relaxed pose that belayed the minor anxiety she was feeling. Greg regarded her for several moments in which time she casually met eye contact, examining his posture, searching for clues as to his reaction.

"Interesting email you sent me yesterday. You've been here a little over a year and I know the caliber of story assigned to you hasn't been all that challenging but, in spite of that, you've managed to stick to it and produce good pieces. Now you bring me this. You're leaving me no choice now."

He paused, an inscrutable look on his face, "I personally conducted the fact-checking and I'm impressed, it'll run as soon as your source indicates the grand jury is going to act. And, starting Monday, you'll start seeing more challenging projects coming your way. There's no money for a raise just yet but you'll have the opportunity to see your by-line on something other than those human interest stories we've been using as filler." He watched as the slightly guarded expression melted into a near face-splitting smile that warmed his slightly bitter, cynical heart.

He hid it well and barked, "Don't let it go to your head!" and then allowed a smile of his own. "Have a good weekend. Now, get out of my office, don't you have some work to do?"

Andy was so excited she didn't know what to do first, call everyone she knew or jump up and down and squeal. She opted for neither and instead managed to hold dignity and offer a gracious "Thank you; you won't be disappointed!"

That she managed to nearly choke on the word "disappointed" was not lost on her; even with her relationship with her former boss and the fact that they had worked through Paris and her leaving, that word, and its entire connotation, still held a certain power over her, Miranda's "biggest disappointment".

She practically floated back to her desk and plopped down gracelessly. Finally! Hot damn! Now if only she could just talk to her lover for five minutes. She glanced at her watch, four-forty five, it was worth a try, she fired off a text asking if it was a good time to call but had to wait five minutes before a simple, "No" was sent back. Disappointed but understanding that the woman was probably in the middle of a meeting she decided it was for the best as she still had a bit more to do so focused on clearing her desk.

At five to six she was walking up the steps to the townhouse, having just hung up from telling her parents the good news. Both of them were very proud even if her father seemed to be grudgingly so as Andy realized that every success only cemented for him that she was never going to move back to her hometown.

Before she even had a chance to knock the door flew open and an overly excited Caroline practically dragged her into the house. "I'm ready!"

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Andy and Caroline arrived home at ten minutes to midnight, exhausted but exhilarated. The concert had been a pleasant surprise to Andy in so much as it wasn't too dreadful but it was her young charge's reaction that made her night. Caroline appeared to have a great time, screaming, jumping up and down, dancing and when the reporter had reached up high and caught the ball cap that had been tossed by the singer into the audience, Andy thought the young girl was going to hyperventilate; she was pretty sure that that simple grab was going to cement a positive rep with the often mercurial pre-teen for quite some time to come. Of course it hadn't hurt either that she used her press ID to gain access to the backstage and arranged for a quick meet and greet that resulted in the cap being signed. Nope, that didn't hurt one bit.

The subway trip back to the townhouse was filled with nearly non-stop chatter that didn't cease until they were climbing the stairs and opening the front door. Then it was as if all the air was let out of Caro's balloon (at some point in the evening the girl told her it was alright if Andy used the diminutive form of her name) and she barely dragged herself up to her room.

Andy stopped by the kitchen for a bottle of water and picked up her briefcase and overnight bag from the floor of the study where she had left them earlier in the evening. As she proceeded up the stairs the door to the upstairs den was still closed and Andy could just hear the muted tones of her lover's voice through the door. Hoping that she would finish early Andy completed her nightly routine and snuggled under the covers with her laptop, intent on doing some mindless surfing to keep her awake.

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Miranda looked at the clock and yawned; fifteen after one. She had just concluded a very trying but ultimately successful negotiation with a new advertiser based out of Sidney and yet found she still had some energy flittering through her system that she knew would keep her from sleep.

She pulled her journal from its new home in the second drawer of her desk in this, the more private of her work spaces, and took a moment to order her thoughts.

This pace is beginning to truly wear on me and my children as well. Still, I've somehow managed to keep the Tuesday night dinners, with the addition of Andrea.

Andrea. I do not believe in a god per se but somehow feel that there is a greater force that ties us all together. This young woman in my life feels like a gift directly from the source of all that is good and beautiful in the universe. She is only one flight up, in my bed right now, and in only a span of minutes I will climb those stairs and settle into sleep beside her.

Blue gray eyes shifted away from the page and stared unseeing into the space of the room. Images of that first weekend spent at Andrea's apartment, of the overwhelming anxiety wrought from the surety of knowledge that the actions of her distant past would drive her good hearted lover away.

I find that I am still somewhat stunned that the woman has not, after seeing me at one of my worst moments, simply run as far and as fast as she was able. But no, instead that long weekend of intense physicality and naked emotion has brought her even closer. She has not judged me, not once. I know now, not even in Paris.

She closed her eyes for a moment and allowed herself to simply exist with the feelings so crystalline, so real.

I am indeed humbled by this gift.

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A few minutes later Miranda was quietly opening the door to her bedroom, the soft light of a single bedside lamp warming everything it touched. Exhausted eyes immediately sought the form her heart was missing, finding instead of sparking brown eyes, dark waves of thick hair cascading over pillow and sheets; the rhythmic rise and fall of both comforter and the laptop precariously perched atop the quiescent form, indicative of her slumber. The contemplative mood of her journaling was thus continued, only now joined by a feeling of such intense warmth and caring that she stopped mid-stride and just stared as the corners of her mouth moved unconsciously into an upward curl of her lips. After only moments, or perhaps it was minutes, she shook herself and went about the business of preparing for bed.

Before joining the still sleeping Andrea she removed and closed the laptop, placing it on the nightstand and then moved around to her side of the bed, sliding with a relieved sigh into the silky softness of a ridiculously high thread-count. She was careful to not disturb her sleeping companion but even unconscious the younger woman was aware of her proximity and moved into the warmth of her body. Kissing the brow of the head now tucked neatly into the crook of her neck Miranda reached over and tapped off the lamp; it took only minutes before she too was drifting into dreams of softness, warmth, light and love.

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Miranda surfaced gradually, becoming aware of several sensations, some pleasurable and one not so. Warm soft lips were nibbling across her collarbone and wandering hands stroked lightly along the sides of her breasts, increasing in their scope with each pass. Unfortunately neither of those sensations were able to overcome the heavy tightness in her lower belly and as those strokes turned into more of a sensual massage she noted the soreness of her breasts; what was usually deeply arousing was at the moment only increasing her discomfort. She just wanted it all to stop and she groaned, but not in a good way.

Immediately all activity ceased and a questioning voice, still gravelly with sleep, queried. "Miranda? You alright?"

The older woman stretched and pushed back lightly on Andy's arms, silently asking her to move back and give her some space. She bit back the first words upon her tongue which would have been considerably more barbed than the other woman deserved, opting instead to pull one of Andy's hands towards her, placing a soft kiss on the palm. "Cramps." She muttered. Perfect timing. She was not amused, as a matter of fact she realized that uncharacteristically she could cry. Instead she rolled out of bed and padded into the bathroom, closing the door.

Andy plopped back into the softness of the bed, the sexual energy she had awakened with waning and she drifted back into sleep. The dipping of the bed roused her and she rolled over to take in the pale face next to her. "Hey. Are they bad?"

Miranda closed her eyes and gritted out, "Let's just say I don't think the ibuprofen can work fast enough."

Andy reached out to the other woman, "C'm here."

"Andrea, I don't feel…"

"No, that's not what I have in mind." She smirked. "Although in my experience a good orgasm can do wonders for cramps." Before Miranda could protest she continued. "Roll over."

Miranda wanted to protest but the softness of her lover's voice soothed her consternation. This had never been an issue before; whenever she was near this time of the month she would sleep alone, Stephen relegated to his own room. With the girls' father she would just ignore him and he would get the message immediately and retreat to his side of the bed or get up and start his day. Really, when her body decided to rebel like this, and it wasn't like this every month, indeed she was getting to the point where there were months when she didn't even bleed, all she wanted to do was curl into a little ball and go back to sleep. She was startled out of her musing by a pair of warm hands settling on her lower back where they rested for a moment. Miranda then let out a low moan as those same hands started a gentle massage, seeming to know just where to apply pressure and where to be more gentle.

Andy felt when the muscles relaxed and knew she had somehow won a minor victory; never mind that she didn't know that a battle had been underway. Getting to know the editor was sometimes like negotiating a well camouflaged mine-field; you had to constantly expect the unexpected and be ready to switch gears at a moment's notice. But this ability is what had made her such a good assistant; she was glad she hadn't forgotten the skill set. After long minutes of gentle attention Andy could tell that Miranda had drifted back into sleep so curled her long body up close and followed.

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When next Andy awakened she could tell that it was much later into the morning and was surprised that the woman next to her continued her slumber. She propped herself up on her elbow and took advantage of the moment as it was a rare thing; the tireless executive was usually the first to arise. She brushed the long lock of silver hair back from her eye and took in the paler than normal skin and the slight darkening under her eyes; the woman had to be exhausted. She was just about to get up and jump into the shower when pale eyelashes fluttered open, eyes reflecting more gray than blue.

Andy couldn't help the smile that spread across her face; she loved this woman more than she ever thought possible, the joy of that knowledge warming her from the inside out.

Miranda had been dreaming of swimming; water warm, caressing and thick, almost like honey. She pushed with strong strokes thoroughly submerged and found to her surprise that breathing was unnecessary. It was dark and something brushed slightly against her forehead; she opened her eyes and found instead of a dark sea the deep brown eyes of her Andrea.

"Hey, feeling better?" Was softly whispered and the recollection was gathered with the dull ache still present in her belly.

"Hmm." She stretched, still under a warm pile of butter-smooth sheets and the softest comforter available. "Better."

"But still not a hundred percent?" Andy saw the answering head tilt, intuiting that a profusion of conversation would not be particularly welcome this morning, and reached around to run hands over both side and lower back, seeking any lingering tightness and working it until she could feel the muscles give way.

The massage, offered so lovingly, soothed the last of Miranda's consternation at how the morning was proceeding. This was definitely not what she had had in mind when she had desired her younger lover's presence in her bed this morning. The girls by now would have been long gone; a day with friends having been planned earlier in the week. They were blessedly alone, Cara, after delivering her children to their destination, spending the day with her mother.

And yet. She luxuriated in the simple care and tenderness and found that something was settling within her that she had not known was amiss. A tiny worry tucked far into her subconscious that for Andrea the fire of her emotions were centered only upon the sexuality, the intense pyrotechnics generated in the newness of their coupling. This intimate…she searched for a word as she stretched further and offered more of her aching body to the wonderful movement of the brunette's hands…loving…yes, it was simple loving, moved her deeply and before she could prevent it, a single tear escaped, carrying with it words that she still somehow could not enunciate.

Andy saw the tear and stopped all movement. Instead she cupped the other woman's face and looked deeply into her eyes. "Miranda?"

The editor merely shook her head and reached up to soothe away the worry gathering in the normally smooth skin around concerned eyes. "Just…thank you." And then she gathered Andrea in and held her tight, content in a way she had never been before.

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That Tuesday evening Andrea was once again seated with the Priestly family at the kitchen table. The twins were excitedly discussing Andy's article which had run that morning on the front page of The Mirror. When Andy had told Miranda about it on Saturday morning the editor was gratified that her employer was finally seeing the potential that the younger woman offered; having read the article beforehand, she knew it would be well-received.

"I've been assigned to follow the case as it makes its way through the court." Andy finished her plate and sipped idly at her wine.

Miranda huffed. "Well, I for one am glad that someone has been able to finally get proof that this activity has been going on. It has been rumored for some time that this was occurring but no one has ever been able to pin it down. This city has so many financial challenges that it's unconscionable that a trusted public servant be profiting when the city can't even find a way to clear out even the simplest of snowfalls."

Andy looked at the other woman and smirked; despite her well-deserved reputation for ruthlessness, she was incredibly honest. "Well I don't think he'll be finding much sympathy from anyone anytime soon. Your opinion is shared by many in the city, both in and out of government." She felt proud that even though the council member under indictment was able to post bail he was unable to muster a public defense due to the research she had conducted.

The girls were heading up to do their homework as the two women cleared away the plates. "Have you heard from your parents today?"

Andy smiled although it was mixed with a bit of sadness. "Yeah, mom was really excited. Dad, well, I told you how he was on the phone the other day. Kind of reserved. Now, seeing it in print, I think it's all coming home for him. I know he's proud but another part of him is," she hesitated, searching for the words, "he's just really quiet, brooding kind of."

This elicited an expressive eye-roll. "Why do men always have to be so controlling? If this were Cass or Caro there would be no doubt for them that I found their achievement to be nothing but a cause for celebration. I am sorry Andrea."

"Hey, it's not your fault." Andy stepped towards Miranda as she placed the final plate in the dishwasher.

"Hmm, yes, I know. I just can't help but wonder how it will be once he finds out that his daughter is a lesbian in fact, not just theory, and that she has taken up with 'The Devil' herself." She spat the last part out laced with an almost defeated bitterness.

Andy blew the bangs out of her face and grasped at Miranda's hands tightly. "Stop it!"

Widened steely gray eyes flickered upwards, surprise at the outburst clearly showing.

"Don't disparage yourself like that." Andy's words held not a little heat and she barreled on before the mild self-chastisement could continue. "I wish I knew what I could do or say to stop this doubting of yourself, of us. I wish you could see yourself as I do. I don't care what anyone else thinks or says. You are fucking awesome, so, get over it! You, Miranda Priestly, are stuck with me!"

Miranda could only shake her head, aware that once again her insecurities had slipped through. She closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. "You are…"

"Ridiculous." They said in tandem and Andy laughed. "Maybe I am, but that doesn't change that I'm yours and you're mine. Or," her voice turned playful, "have you changed your mind?"

Miranda knew enough that now was not the time to give in to the seductive lure of her own doubts. Instead she bolstered herself with her natural aplomb. "Of course not, silly girl. As a matter of fact," her voice wavered for just a moment with nervousness before she got it under control, "I was wondering if you were free two nights from now."

Andy recalled her calendar and could find nothing that couldn't be done earlier or later and said as much.

"Good, expect the car at half past six on this Thursday."

"You're not going to tell me where we're going?"

The other woman merely grinned, confidence now back at one hundred percent and playfully borrowed a line often uttered outside her office doors by Emily, recalling the accent of her youth but with a deep, husky pitch that her ginger-haired former assistant would never have aimed at the former second.

"No. Shan't."

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The following day at work a messenger showed up at Andy's cube just after lunch, garment bag in hand. Several of her coworkers stopped what they were doing and stared and she caught a few whispered notes of speculation. She didn't even have to guess who it was from and internally rolled her eyes, knowing that the speculation that had died down at the end of the prior month was going to be given a fresh set of legs. Not that she really minded; she hadn't really thought too heavily on the subject but really, how bad could it be? Her concerns of being outed focused on Miranda and the girls; she didn't want them to be subjected to the intrusion their relationship would generate. Of course then there were her parents and their reaction to Miranda; she was not looking forward to that in the least but she figured she'd still have a good bit of time before she'd have to go there with them.

She eyed the bag, now hanging on the low cube wall, with speculation and a good deal of curiosity when she pulled the simple card from its heavy envelope.

Wear this tomorrow. M

She smiled at the simplicity and dared to unzip the bag, conscious of the many curious eyes, some not even trying to disguise their interest. She gasped as the black silk brushed against her hand, softer than any cloth that had ever touched her body. From her limited vantage point, because she had already decided she wasn't extracting the outfit in public, it appeared to be a blouse and skirt set; a wide black patent leather belt hanging behind. From the bulge in the side of the bag she could tell that shoes were also going to be found and her heart raced at the reveal; Louboutins, the same leather as the belt with three wide straps that would undoubtedly climb her ankle, capped by silver buckles. Shiny. Spectacular. Completely inappropriate for work.

How the hell am I going to wear this tomorrow? She pondered the question. She could change in the work washroom but still, the majority of her peers would still be around and get a hell of a show; that skirt looked like it didn't leave much to the imagination, resting far higher than workday propriety. She worried her lip as she put everything back. What is she thinking; doesn't she realize that this would cause talk? Still, there was something about the fact that Miranda wanted her in something so provocative that caused her thighs to clench together. That's when she realized; Miranda knew exactly what she was doing to Andy and at specifically just this second.

The Dragon Lady had tossed down the gauntlet.

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Later that same night, in the cover of darkness and the safety of her own apartment, Andy thoroughly explored the garment bag, which now lay discarded on the floor. She surveyed with wonder not only the outfit but the accompanying undergarments she had discovered tucked into another of the bag's seemingly endless compartments.

The bra was a La Perla masterpiece from the LP Design Collection, The Balconette; a geometric motif with four intricately woven strands crossing horizontally bordering sheer tulle segments; the matching thong and garter left no doubt that Miranda had every intention of unwrapping her at some point in the evening.

She eyed the skirt which was a heavy silk, but it looked like it was made of bands of material the width of a seatbelt. She then remembered one similar to it at Runway, someone had referred to it as "bandage style"; what concerned her the most was that it was going to definitely cling to every curve of her ass and thigh; at least what little of her thighs that were actually covered.

Christ, I'm getting wet just looking at it! Andy shook her head and put everything away, Thursday, was only the next day and couldn't come fast enough. She still wasn't sure how she was going to manage the logistics but…suddenly a flash of inspiration hit. Although it still didn't solve her fashion dilemma it did offer her a way to get a little back from the woman who had so tantalizingly challenged her.

She shrugged out of her yoga pants and fleece long-sleeve and settled the bra and thong on her long frame. She then grabbed her iPhone and flipped it to camera mode snapping off a couple of strategically cropped images and one scanning video, making a few adjustments to her attire as she went. Grinning evilly she surveyed the work and decided that the video would do nicely in making one naughty power broker forget whatever it was she was currently wrapped up in. Adding a few words of text she hit send and then settled back into her warm, comfy clothes, satisfied that she was getting the last…word. Chuckling and wishing she could see the reaction, she headed to the kitchen to make some hot chocolate.

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Miranda looked up from her desk in the second floor study of her home at the subtle chime of her phone. She had yet to hear from her lover and wondered if perhaps the incoming text was finally her. Unfortunately she was currently involved in a four-way video conference which meant she wouldn't be able to engage, but still, she could discretely check the message; curiosity at how her gift was received nearly overwhelming.

Once again she admonished herself for acting like a besotted teen, but it was without heat. The girl had gotten in and she was getting better at accepting it.

She looked up as someone asked her a question and her response was terse and brief. Honestly, how much longer am I going to have to endure this endless prattle? Miranda had found that the most trying requirement of her position as board chair of Elias-Clarke was that she had to play nice with the other big dogs. No, she didn't completely change her personality or style, she would never accept bullshit or less than competent work, but ninety-five percent of the people she dealt with as board chair were power males, many of whom did not respond well to not having an opportunity to 'dazzle' her with their greatness. So a modification was made, she would listen first, then skewer as she saw fit; it made for many long nights.

Once she was certain all eyes were back on the pointless monologue she discreetly maneuvered her phone until she was able to hold it below the camera's sightline, cradled in her lap.

She was surprised that the message was not just a regular text, but being distracted by her meeting, didn't think anything more of it, hitting the play button.

The video began with an ankle, pale, pale skin revealed slowly as the camera slid gracefully up a toned calf. Next came the bend of a knee and then a long sloping curve of well developed thigh, starting in the back and snaking slowly up the front.

Miranda swallowed heavily and a wash of heat cascaded from head to foot; very nearly like that first hot flash she had so recently experienced. A perfectly manicured nail paused the video just as the outline of the Bordeaux colored thong came into view, squirming in her seat which suddenly felt rather damp.

That woman was trouble! She tilted her head down slightly to hide the sudden grin. But the kind of trouble I most love to have. Hearing her name she was forced to drag her bespectacled eyes from the tiny screen. Answering yet another inane question Miranda was soon able to deflect the attention with a well pointed query of her own that sent the troublesome boor into a tailspin and this time she didn't try to hide her smile. Of course it wasn't nearly as nice as the one formed moments before.

Unknowing of just what exactly Andrea had in store with the remainder of her little peepshow, the executive debated whether or not she dared continue. That there was no sound ended up being the deciding factor and, after one final check that no one was paying her any particular attention, she resumed the playback.

The camera remained for another couple of seconds focused on that thin strip of material before traveling back, dipping slowly down the swell of a magnificent ass. Memory of mapping that marvel with her tongue drew an unconscious flicker of that tongue along her lips and a sigh escaped as the ascent drew lazily around and up a slightly rounded belly until just the edge of the top garment came into view, hugging the side of a well formed and proportioned...

"Miranda, do you have anything to add?" The male voice intruded and the editor started imperceptibly.

She managed to croak out a nearly strangled "That's all." nodding once to the others as she hastily dragged the mouse pointer over the browser window's "x", closing out the entire screen without bothering with a proper logout. She really had no idea how the call had ended but didn't care in the least; she had made her point, it was up to them to work it out.

The video had continued its playback and when she glanced back at the screen the creamy breasts were only minimally framed by sagging material, somewhere in the journey her teasing lover had disengaged the fasteners and was now engaged in a sensual striptease. Oh yes, the woman internally purred, this was turning into a most wonderful distraction. The camera wavered slightly and then moved to where the skin was tightening into a hard peak; just a little farther and the straining nipple would be seen in all its tantalizing beauty; her mouth watered at the thought and she felt the heat returning and her free hand unknowingly stroked the top of her thigh. Anticipation. She hummed as the shot lingered, the reporter's chest rhythmically rising and falling with each breath; then… nothing.

The image went blank and all that remained were a few, what she intuited to be, carefully chosen, words.

"I can feel your eyes on me even now; no doubt one of your beautiful hands close to going to that place I so love. Don't do it. Wait. Wait for me; wait until tomorrow. Will you do that for me Miranda?"

Miranda balled her hand into a tight fist; the younger woman knew her entirely too well, she was so easy for her attentions. But only Andrea; never had it been this way with any other, one word and she was like a kitten rolling on its back presenting its belly, hopeful for a delightful petting. She squeezed her legs together, it would be so easy and damn it, once again it had been too long since she had had the pleasure of Andrea's full touch; dinner the night before had been limited to a few minutes stolen, deep kisses in the hallway before Andrea had to leave. She had gone years without a decent orgasm not wrought by her own hand, why now was a mere week such a trial?

The slender bodied woman rocked back in her chair, contemplating her current state. She was so hot for it, it wouldn't take but a few strokes to finish. But… the challenge had been passed back and she wasn't about to fail.

With a shake of her head she typed in her reply, looked at the time and grabbed The Book, ever hopeful that some poor fool had performed so badly that she could find some subverted pleasure in an evisceration.

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Andy was sliding under her comforter when she glanced at her phone one last time, realizing the message must have arrived while she was performing her nightly routine.

"That you are confident enough to know that that little show would make me flow like a river makes this all the sweeter. Remember that sweetness upon your tongue as you slip into sleep tonight; tomorrow is a new day and rest will be far from coming."

Not for the first time since reconnecting with her former boss did she pause and give a small thank you to the universe. So beautiful, so intelligent, so goddamned Miranda. Yes, she, Andrea Sachs, was the luckiest woman in the world. Wonder at and anticipation of whatever awaited the next day infused her with a sense of power that soothed her worries at anyone from work spying her in the outfit. She was going to be with the person of her dreams and nothing else really mattered.

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