Miranda was a real piece of a work, a sociopath at love, she was like slutty brownies, really really bad for her.

Slutty brownies were something Andy made often when she had a lousy Friday.

It helped that Miranda's errands all around the city, made Andy burn off more carbs then a gym membership.

Last night, Miranda was her slutty brownie. Just try one taste, tempting Andy.

And, before Andy could help it, she'd gone overboard and indulged in Miranda and Andy desired no loved her evil little white haired slutty brownie in the perfect lusty shape and curves of Miranda last night under her but not now.

No.

She should've known better. That the ice dragon wouldn't break her heart in two like it was nothing.

You're such a stupid idiot Andy cursed herself, giving into sleeping with slutty brownie Miranda who being her, turned an morning after in bed, with La Priestly never explains herself into erotic humiliation of ' I had you now get dressed and goodbye ' that only Miranda could do to her, she decided to herself, she was going back to Ohio.

To hell with staying in New York now.

She was never sleeping with anyone like Miranda again.

Even if she had incredible legs.

Why did Miranda do this to her? She'd just decided to wake her up and flung her out of bed this morning after last night with no explanation except telling her to just leave and it could never happen again.

She wouldn't even give Andy a chance to talk about it.

Andy couldn't figure Miranda out.

Understanding Miranda and translating her Mirandaesqueian nuances was something that Andy couldn't do this time. Especially right now.

She was just such a lovesick fool for the white haired snide aloof former boss who made her this crazy.

Didn't Miranda feel her and every last feeling Andy put out to her body last night?

Miranda might as well be a praying mantis or one of those spiders after mating that practice sexual cannibalism, Andy was positive Miranda was like those creatures that bit heads off after sex. No ate hearts up.

Not that Miranda was born with a heart.

She wanted to crawl into a hole and die and eat foam directly from a whip cream aerosol can.

As soon as she got back to the States. Her Korean deli, better be stocked up on Reddi Whip.

Andy wasn't going to cry about this, she wouldn't give Miranda her tears, which were prickling behind her eyes which lowered as she ran right into him.

Salt and pepper hair and a huge ego.

Stephen knew her immediately, that nosy assistant.

Who he didn't like, especially near Miranda, she really reminded him of some of the ugly intellectual girls, the feminist types in college he tried to date but they were too into reading Stein and Dickenson stuff.

Andy winced at him, giving him a forced strained smile.

Here he was, here for Miranda to reconcile with. To get her back and he would by the jewellery and flowers he sent her.

Andy knew he would, get her back. Stephen was the type Miranda belonged with.

He was a great big arrogant prick and Miranda was shallow, vain and manipulative. They were perfect for each other.

Stephen, her spouse was such a well-dressed jag off.

"Sandy."

"Andy." Andy corrected.

Close enough, Stephen's brows creased together at the brunette in front of him, she was really casually dressed this morning.

The redhead assistant dressed better.

Andy had just thrown on a pair of jeans and one of Nate's he'd left and she'd once shrunk faded shirts, since she was heading for the airport for her flight and out of Miranda Priestly's life for good now.

"Miranda has you working early." Stephen observed, holding his carry-on bag and one red rose.

Stephen indicating rudely to take it. The bag.

Andy did so. Great, just wonderful, Andy was now his designated bellhop.

The man had a Masters in Finance degree and was an Executive Director of J P Morgan and he couldn't carry his own luggage in himself.

Grumbling to herself darkly at the super-weaner Miranda was stuck with.

"Good flight?" Andy forced politeness like a chirpy air stewardess, her head reeling. She just wanted to get out of here and get far away from Miranda with her pride intact.

Of course he flew first class but still complained about it.

Try being stuck in coach buddy, with Beverly Hills Chihuahua to watch on loop, Andy's mouth twitched annoyed.

Stephen started treating Andy like his assistant. "I need a few shirts, I packed, starched. If you can take those. Have them done by tonight. Get some info on the gym."

Andy was not Alain the hotel valet or Manon the Concierge there to make his stay with Miranda smooth and amazing.

Loosening his striped tie from Barneys, Stephen sneezed.

The damn cabin was freezing enroute.

Andy heard Stevie had a sniffle. Poor little pinstriped Steviekins.

Yay. Hoping it will turn into full blown pneumonia and that weeks of bed rest will cause atrophy. Stupid atomic wedgie jerk who can't even carry his own bag and brings her a rose.

"Oh and Andy. Miranda's schedule today, can you give me an hour with her, for some private time, no interruptions and call down to room service will you?"

Andy just stared at Stephen blankly. Fine. He wanted alone time with Miranda, he was welcome to it.

Miranda wasn't her penguin to worry about.

She was now just going, grabbing up her bag.

Stephen grey head was bent going through his briefcase, as he was talking to her.

"Room service, can you do that now?" Stephen's was so rude and impatient, glancing up at her, missing Andy's dirty stink eye look.

"Tell them ordering, I'll have a cappuccino, non-fat milk, no make it soy. No. Andy ask for almond milk, if they have it. Never mind, if they don't have almond milk, there's no point in drinking it, just make it black instead and Balik salmon with brioche and champagne for two and a two blueberry muffins cut in half, heated for only three minutes with a slab of butter next to it and get a fruit plate for Miranda with yoghurt and granola and some teas and fresh pressed juices. Ask if its concentrate, if it is, no juices just only the teas."

Psh. Miranda had married a male Sally Albright. Andy knew Miranda better, she'd never eat any of that before a day of shows.

Andy knew Miranda liked eggs on Tuesdays and most times only nibbled on sliced fruit like pears or peaches with yoghurt when getting ready for previews it was just mineral water for her.

Buttery croissants she loved.

Andy couldn't believe she was actually doing this, as she picked up the phone and began punching the numbers, dialing to room service using her bad french.

"Do you know if Miranda liked my flowers and gifts?" Stephen asked Andy, muttering out before she could lie.

"I hope she's in a reciprocal mood." Rubbing the back of his nape, Stephen was fighting jet lag.

Andy knew what that meant.

Him having sex with Mirs, that idea brought bile in her mouth of him touching her. Hating the idea of him with her, intertwining her naked body with his.

Stephen didn't languish in every moan he elicited from those lips.

Andy did.

Miranda may be her not penguin and was a slutty brownie but Stephen wasn't allowed to have sex with her.

Her icy yoni was spoken for.

Andy couldn't help what she wanted, falling for and loving Miranda was made for fools like her.

"Book a masseuse for me around three. I need a conference call set up in an hour to my office." Stephen had lists.

Andy wasn't his assistant.

That was it, she was asking room service to heat the blueberry muffins up till they were cremated and crispy.

And his shirts somehow would have the hotel laundry lose them.

If he gave her, his boxers to be pressed she was telling him about how she assisted Miranda in bed last night.

Andy also wondered what was french for, I'm ordering for an arrogant asshole and I just slept with his wife so what do they suggest as the breakfast special for her this early morning.

Andy was a few minutes on hold, finally ordering breakfast for them, this had to be the seventh circle of hell biting her in her ass as Stephen was really anal when they didn't have blueberry muffins.

Only bran.

Well it might help dislodge the stick up his ass.

Less than a ten minutes ago all Andy wanted was to sleep naked and spoon with Mirs in bed or be buried between her creamy thighs again.

Her face was flushing at that image of being with her. Tasting Miranda's womanhood with her tongue, her moans and her, she'd seeped into her heart last night.

This was what she got for it.

Just discarded by her. Another Priestly dagger to her trust and heart.

Andy was woken up suddenly to an about last night that only La Priestly could do and she was curtly informed this was not to ever happen again.

What did she do wrong last night with her?

Guessing something that made Andy's eyes harder, Miranda had her, and she was now out of her system.

The way Miranda wouldn't even look at her. Andy now knew giving her heart and sleeping together wasn't enough.

Now she knew that Miranda knowing that she loved her, didn't mean a damn thing.

Like Andy expected to get something called love from her?

They just had sex. Nothing more.

Not paying attention to what Stephen was saying to her. Andy chewed her lip, well she was doing the same. This. It didn't mean anything to her also.

Miranda could do without her now.

Extricating her heart wasn't so easy.

Hanging up, Andy looked up to him. Stephen had discarded his jacket. "Tell me Andy, was it exciting with Miranda? Is it what you expected being with her last night?"

Andy stared confused at him, her jaw tightened. He couldn't mean what she thought he meant…

He couldn't mean about them being together. Could he?

Andy didn't know what to say to that.

Stephen slipped off his wingtips, wearing red socks.

"I can give you some good advice on what to do with dealing with her and the celebrities. You're just not use to it. First don't ask for autographs."

Andy just stared at him, relieved he meant the party.

Irv Ravitz brushed off his tailored Zegna suit lapel, Miranda wasn't expecting this change to her schedule.

Pressing the button to her floor.

Deciding to just surprise Miranda. Move their meeting to now.

Nigel was beside him in the elevator going up.

Miranda had this coming, not even warning him, Nigel thought they were friends. She could have said something before the luncheon. Since when did Miranda ever explain herself to anybody but a warning would have been nice?

Miranda looked different last night to Irv. Off. She had something on her mind, Irv could see it.

He could admit she won about Jacqueline going to head up Holt and the list she threatened him with was a brilliant maneuver.

He knew that the snowy haired Editor who he never saw eye to eye with concerning budget increases and he once thought during her pregnancy with the twins, she was the most demanding boss on her staff.

It was being without coffee for nine months.

She never took a sick day back then or even this year.

Miranda was a titan in fashion and she was a work fueled dragon lady with a need to work through carrying the twins, changing fashion with her revamped magazine with beautiful images not designed to make women hate their bodies.

Only that day in traffic when her water broke was Miranda not in at Runway by nine.

Lost that was it. Irv concluded. Miranda looked lost at the table across from him and he'd already heard that Runway Paris was scrambling to fill her assistant's heels who just walked out on Miranda before a show, which was career suicide in publishing.

Nobody working for Miranda had ever done that before.

Irv knew which one walked. The one with a brain.

She was also really nice.

Andy.

She conversed about Cheever and charmed him, telling him about a camping trip she took once, talking to him at that event that Mr. Priestly almost ruined the entire evening for Irv, Andy's grace and sparkling eyes fixed it and she was the one assistant of Miranda's who was really wholesome with a boy's name.

Andy was obviously the only intellectual one at Runway who probably had band aids on her knees once and played the cello in high school band.

Telling him about her almost going to the University of Iowa's graduate fiction workshop. Irv knew Iowa's program was hallowed and storied; it had produced such writers as Kurt Vonnegut, John Irving and Ann Patchett.

Irv wanted Miranda to explain herself about Andy to him. The dragon lady chewed her up. Typical Miranda. Losing a sure thing.

Shame. Irv liked her on the phone and also in person, they'd often shared an elevator together.

She was unbelievably sweet and dorky.

It really started with polite talk about the weather to getting to know each other every workday and with more recent encounters, going down to the lobby or going up with her coffee and holding bags of deliveries, Irv was told how she was hung up on some person at Elias Clarke.

Irv offered his good advice despite his own lacking in love life. The guy was clearly an idiot if he didn't grab a hold of her and figure it all out by kissing her.

Andy filled him in. It was a she.

Irving was still trying to figure out who she was. Who it was Andy was crazy about.

Was it somebody working at Auto Universe or that Lifestyle magazine that Irv was thinking of making staff cuts to?

Irv was sure she was that girl who wore Birkenstocks and wrote for the Travel Magazine and backpacked through Southeast Asia humming Lisa Loeb songs on her earphones.

Andy was a great gal and whoever stole her heart was really lucky. She also made great brownies and his dog liked her.

Andy had even slept over at his place one night. Paint fumes, though Irv suspected it was about Nate, that ingrate.

It was nice waking up to that big smile of hers.

Nigel got off with Irv on Miranda's floor. He knew he had to do this, deciding to resign from Runway was going to upset Miranda but it had to be done.

It was time to face the dragon.

Irv for some reason started talking about quarterly's and deficits along with nets and gross to him as they both walked to La Priestly's door.

Nigel flunked math. Irv Ravitz always talked about fiscals every time their eyes met.

Shame Irv had lovely eyes.

Splashing her face, Page Six was right.

Facing her reflection, staring it down.

She wasn't the person she was last night in bed with Andy.

Looking at her reflection hard, hardly recognizing Miriam in it, Miranda stared at herself, gripping the wash basin. She really was a dragon lady. A true bitch.

She'd just proved it.

Wiping at her eyes again, Stephen wasn't going to see any tears in her eyes, tears for and about Andy, she'd cried quietly in the shower.

Hearing Andrea saying that. Bye. Great fucking her.

The warm shower's water had washed away more of her tears.

Andrea left and now hated her, Miranda couldn't just fix this, the heaven she'd known last night was now grounded back to earth and now it ended, and Stephen would be here soon.

She had and did, allow this to happen, being with Andy.

And it was over now, nothing left to say.

Scrunching her distinguished nose with one thought crossing her mind, he'd want them to be back together and she didn't know what to do about that. She'd signed the faxed papers in the hour she got them.

Then Andy happened.

She also had a meeting with Irv Ravitz in two hours.

Plus the previews she had to attend and the many meetings with Runway France about its next six month issues. Her day was full of decisions when all she wanted to do was push it away and not be Miranda Priestly for a few hours and just go and explain to Andrea why she did that to her.

Did she see hurt in Andy's eyes saying this couldn't happen again? Yes. She'd put it there. That's what she did exceptionally well. Hurt.

Always Miranda pushed away and shut down because she was really afraid of this between them.

A four letter word she didn't have the guts to say back to anybody like Andy.

Andy's eyes, they were so beautiful last night on hers.

Brown, with little flecks of copper in them loving her. Looking at her, feeling Andy's racing heart under her fingertips beating with hers as she came against her.

She'd promised Andrea to not be herself until sunrise.

She kept that promise to Andy and she had been not herself, last night kissing and loving Andrea had been more meaningful than any night she'd ever had with any of her husbands.

Clamping her thighs at how Andrea's skin had felt slick to hers with perspiration from their body rush. Miranda ran her tapered fingers to a small love bite on her inner thigh, which Andrea's mouth left on her.

Miranda had never slept with someone she loved before, she didn't know how to navigate this at all.

It wasn't like she could Google this for advice.

Or just call and wake up her therapist and ask her opinion on what to do about this, sleeping with Andy because she wanted her and forget herself for one night, or she'd call Emily, that alone would give the redhead a stroke, talk about what love felt like or maybe she'd ring her guardian Zillah in a care home in Richmond for advice.

How love finally found her in the shape of a pain in the ass, female brunette.

Love. She tripped and stumbled through that emotion with her feet firmly landed.

Love. Miranda didn't take to love like a duck no swan to water unless the swan had a terrible fear of internalized love phobia.

She began to choose what to wear today, Chanel or Armani, deciding on Dior by Raf Simons slipping off her towel and selecting lingerie.

Pulling on sheer stockings.

Dressing in the Dior, wearing the suit elegantly, fixing her forelock with her fingers, Stephen would have to occupy himself on his own today and then she would tell him her decision tonight if they were staying married or not.

Doing her makeup carefully with trembling fingers, applying lipstick to her lips, finishing up as she scanned the room quickly, Miranda fixed the rumpled just had sex in it bed, Andy and she had started on the floor with pillows and made it to the bed, pressing her hand to where Andy had been lying with her, inhaling one of the pillows, with Andrea's scent as she scrunched the Yellow Dog sweatshirt up into her bag as she slipped on her pair of Louboutins and put her earrings on.

Not the wearing ones from Stephen.

Stilling, she knew that laugh anywhere in the sitting room.

Andrea had left right? Her heart clenched.

"Take a look at this." Andy urged him.

Miranda heart almost stopped at hearing her in the large sitting room. Andrea wouldn't show a payback picture to Stephen would she? The one she took of her in bed this morning.

Andrea did things she didn't think through.

Andy scrolled and shared it.

Andy held it out to Stephen who just stared at it.

Finding her voice as she saw Andrea holding her phone out to Stephen.

"Andrea. What are you doing?" Miranda demanded out loud.

"One of the best clutch shots of all time. Nobody played better than him…I was there. Hi Miranda. Stephen and I are just discovering some things we have in common."

Andy's eyes were levelled on hers. Miranda wouldn't quite meet hers.

She always prided herself on being cool, calm and collected in any situation just not about this.

Facing who she just slept with.

Andy just stared at her dully. They only had been naked with her less than an hour ago. How was she supposed to greet Miranda? What was appropriate sex etiquette?

Stephen's kiss hello was received tensely by Miranda as her eyes locked with Andrea's.

Returning his peck. "I'm sorry, I forgot you don't like that." Miranda wiped at his mouth.

"Is it all off?" Stephen disliked her lipstick left on him.

Andy watched them. Miranda's lips marking her, wouldn't be such a problem to her once. Not now.

"Like what in common?" Blue eyes flickered between them both apprehensively.

"Just sports and stuff." Andy shrugged, knowing Miranda hated that word said to her face. Miranda gave her a sharp dangerous look as the door was knocked on.

That would be room service which was quicker than they said they'd be to Andy, delivering breakfast for two, Andy, sure as hell wasn't joining them, picking up her bag and determinedly not looking at Miranda, Andy went striding to the door and willing herself to leaving Miranda now for good.