20.

The sun was not quite up yet, when Miranda parked the car in the underground garage. They hit the road right after the decision of returning to the city had been made. It was early, dark and cold but they both were wide awake and Miranda, whose mind was occupied by an extensive to-do list just couldn't sit around and wait for the sun to rise.

"And this is your room." Miranda led Andy to a tastefully decorated teal and cream color themed room on the second floor of the impressive looking townhouse. "You'll find everything you could possibly need, if not please don't hesitate to ask."

Miranda didn't understand her own behavior. Back in the cottage everything seemed possible. She was confident in the future, but as soon as they stepped in to the house something switched and her impersonal yet polite host mode took over, showing Andy around as if the young woman was some distant relative, visiting unexpectedly. Out of the bubble of the cottage, reality hit and many what ifs sneaked to the surface, questions yet to be asked arose.

Standing in the middle of the room Andy looked around "Nice room." she noted, "Where's yours?"

Miranda motioned behind them. "Opposite yours."

"Awesome." Andy grabbed her bag and moved toward the door. "Let's go."

Miranda followed the younger woman dumfounded. They crossed the corridor and entered the master bedroom. A bedroom that was screaming Miranda with an enormous triple king size bed…if that was even a thing…luxurious bedding, harmonizing muted colors, and an antic rocking chair. A rocking chair?

"You have a rocking chair?"

Miranda blushed.

"It was my grandmother's. She was a remarkable woman, she taught me how to be strong and relentless." Smiling fondly at the chair she continued, "Miri" she said, "You ought to remember. Life is like this rocking chair. The harder you push the more you get out of it. But, if you push it too hard, you might fall. You must find a healthy balance."

"Wise words." Andy dropped the bag at the foot of the bed and faced Miranda. "Let's do that." she said stepping closer, backing Miranda up against the door.

"Do what?" Miranda was confused and their closeness didn't help to clear her head.

"Find a healthy balance."

Andy placed one hand on the door, next to the editor's head. Their bodies were touching now. The soft swell of Andy's breast pressing against Miranda's, sent chills down Miranda's spine and caused a hot, aching sensation in her crotch.

"I don't need my own room here, Miranda. I'm perfectly comfortable sharing yours. If I ever need space, this house is big enough to find a quiet corner. Also I still have my apartment. If we have an argument and the make-up sex doesn't work I'll just go there and have my timeout."

Miranda gulped. Make-up sex? What?

"I'm not completely oblivious, Miranda and far from innocent." continued Andy. "I'm aware of the sexual tension between us. You want me." Leaning closer she ghosted Miranda's ear with her lips. "And right now you want me bad."

Miranda groaned and closed her eyes. Great. Busted.

"You are conflicted, aren't you, Miranda? You believe that you have to protect me, you think that I should dictate the pace. When, how or even if we do this. I noticed that you pulled back. You act like a perfect hostess." Andy buried her face in Miranda's hair and inhaled deeply. "In case you haven't realized, I'll spell this out for you. I want you too. I desire you. I want to get naked and explore every inch of you and your gorgeous body."

"Andrea." whispered Miranda. Her legs felt heavy, she was afraid they would not be able to hold her weight any longer. She grasped Andy's waist, yanking her closer and cried out sharply as the younger woman's thigh pressed between her legs.

"I want you to experience the best sex ever. I want you to explode under my touch, I want to fulfill all your fantasies. But…" Andy added as she slowly started to move her hips against Miranda's. "What if I can't? I'm not experienced. I lack technique. I suck at kissing. My body is crippled. What if I disappoint you? What if...ohhh"

Andy's voice failed her. The last words came out as hoarse moans when Miranda flipped them around so that Andy was now backed against the door.

"What if?" Miranda brushed her lips against Andy's ear, mimicking the brunette's earlier action. "I have my own what ifs too, Andrea. However hearing yours let me take mine to a different direction."

Miranda slowly dragged her mouth down on Andy's jawline, stopping for a playful nip at her chin. Andy flattened her palms against the cool surface of the door and tilted her head back. Miranda took the invitation and her exploration continued with sucking on the delicate skin on Andy's neck. Then the torturous lips returned to their starting point.

"What if we just forget all those what ifs?" whispered Miranda. "What if we just take it slow and see where and how it goes?"

Miranda tenderly kissed Andy and reluctantly retreated. She was not going to have a quickie plastered against the door, no matter how desperately she was seeking release. Maybe, most likely in the future but not the first time. No. With couple deep inhales she managed to regain control over her arousal. She licked her lips and sized Andy up and down, lust still evident in her eyes. "Well Darling. I'm certain that when it finally happens I'll have the time of my life."

Andy grinned. Miranda was right. Based on what just happened, sex would not be an issue.

"Best sex you say?" she asked smugly.

"You bet." answered Miranda.

What ifs temporarily forgotten, they were ready to face yet another day. However, Andy's readiness for anything toned down quickly enough. She made the mistake of lying down while waiting for Miranda to emerge from the built-in closet. She hugged one of the huge pillows, Miranda's scent enveloped and drew her in. Within seconds she was asleep.

Tempting as it was Miranda resisted and didn't join Andy. She wrote a note letting the younger woman know where to find her and placed it on the nightstand. She tiptoed out of the room and headed to the kitchen for coffee. The fancy Italian expresso machine buzzed quietly, brewing the oh so essential coffee. Center of the sun hot. Just how her beloved grandmother liked it. And just like Miranda, she drank a lot of it. They were not poor by any means but Miranda's mother who was stingy enough, and often made snarky comments about the amount they consumed. Referring to it as liquid gold was more about the price than other qualities of the coffee. She went on with it, even after Miranda became extremely wealthy and basically paid for everything her grandmother needed. One day, Miranda was visiting grandma Ruth and her mother started to vent about the cost of living and of course she made her liquid gold comment again. And after years and years of keeping silent, Grandma Ruth had had enough. "Liquid gold?" she asked. "Learn your metals." Then she pulled a gold credit card from her pocket and smashed it onto the table. "This is gold. Does it look like coffee?" She pulled another card and dropped it on top of the first one. "But this one sure does." The black platinum card had the desired, long lasting effect, no comment was ever made about coffee by Miranda's mother again. Liquid platinum became an inside joke between Miranda and Grandma Ruth and now years later her heart filled with warmth at the memory.

Armed with coffee and leftover macarons, she settled in her study and fired up her computer. The macarons tasted sinfully divine and she forced herself to put them aside before devouring them all. Watch out, Miranda, she scolded herself. You already lost your heart, there's no need to sacrifice your waist line too. Scrolling through her emails she noted with satisfaction the short and to the point answer from the small publishing company she reached out to early, very early in the morning. The owner welcomed her offer and agreed on everything Miranda asked for. Perfect. The second email from her security specialist was less satisfactory, there was no progress regarding the false email address. That was unacceptable so she decided to call him.

Her phone rang.

"Nigel? It'd better be important, I have no time for idle chit chat."

"Yes, because you're too busy of screwing Edna Martin's sister."

Miranda frowned. "Excuse me?"

"It's all over the news." Nigel sounded agitated and less than impressed. "Honestly Miranda, what's wrong with you?"

"I can assure you Nigel, that I have no idea what you are insinuating." answered Miranda, already checking the website of the gossip rag, Page Six. It was there. An odious piece of garbage.

iThe Ice Queen and the Freak/i

iHow low can someone go to stay on the top? Our frosty fashion lady set a new low, when she got herself involved with none other than The Barracuda's ugly duckling, little sister, Andy Sachs. Who as you can see yourself is actually not that little, and much younger than Miranda. A close friend revealed that due to an accident the ugly duckling is even uglier under her clothes. Knowing that Miranda is a seeker of perfection it raises the obvious question. What is she after? We all know the answer dear readers. And we also know that The Barracuda won't be happy about it. Stay tuned. More to come./i

As if the words weren't hurtful enough, they had posted photos of Andrea before her weight loss. However, what made Miranda's blood boil was the collection of pictures of the sleeping young woman on her hospital bed. The hospital grown was pulled back, exposing Andrea's injuries. Miranda presumed, the photos were taken during a bandage change. There was no question about Nate's involvement but someone from the medical staff had to participate too. A nurse, or technician perhaps. Whomever was behind this shameful act, clearly had no moral values. And as soon as Miranda found them, no job either.

"Are you there, Miranda? Tell me you didn't fuck that whale, just because you're insecure in your position? What happened to your high standards?"

Miranda was seeing red. She considered Nigel a friend and she was taken aback by his spiteful comment.

"High standards? I might have given those up already, when I chose you as a friend." She didn't bother to say anything more, and simply ended the call. The phone rang again, but she declined the call. She had a lot to deal with and Nigel wasn't on the list. Not today. Or the near future. Idiot.

The following call ruffled her feathers even more. Signs of incompetence from trusted associates, didn't bode well with her foul mood.

"I'm beyond disappointed that you can't fulfill simple requests Boris." Despite the displeasure, she kept her voice low and even. "I gave you specific instructions to get rid of the garbage, yet it is still around and stinking up the house. My house. Am I reaching for the stars here, Boris?" She pursed her lips at the lame answer she received. She raised her voice slightly.

"He sold a story to Page Six, along with some photos and I'm not happy. You are losing your touch, Boris. Getting soft in your old age?" She listened to Boris' the explanation intently. Eyes rolling, "I don't know Boris, you tell me." More explanation, then finally Boris got the point and offered an adept solution. Miranda nodded and her mood improved immediately. "Acceptable."

For the next couple of hours Miranda occupied herself with more phone calls and email exchanges. At first, the more information she received the more puzzling the puzzle she was trying to resolve became. Then somewhere between having a prompt chat with the girls and giving Emily a few days off the fog started to lift and with a final call from Boris everything fell into place. It was unbelievable. And devastating. But she had to go forward with it.

She sent out one last message and stretched her legs. It was time to take Andrea out for a late lunch or early dinner, spend the rest of the day with her. She peeked out of the window and of course the vultures were there. It was time to order in, that is.