Andrea slid into her own cab, feeling a little let down. Emily had definitely been enjoying the ministrations dealt upon her; but obviously not enough to have a full orgasm. Though Emily had said that it was the way she was sometimes, Andrea couldn't help but wonder if there was something more she could do. Had Emily decided Andrea wasn't an adequate partner, and tried to let her off easily by telling her it wasn't her fault? Emily was a pretty blunt woman, always telling people off for their misdoings, but even she wouldn't be heartless enough to tell Andrea off for her sexual performance...right? All of it was confusing. Emily had called Andrea her girlfriend, which was a major shock, yet an even bigger excitement on Andrea's part. But had Emily been serious? She sure looked serious. But if she was one who considered sex a large part of a relationship, she might have changed her mind. A sudden thought occurred to Andrea; it was an insane idea, and she was probably going to get fired, but it was worth a shot. She gave the cab driver Miranda's address, and he changed route from Andrea's Lower East Side apartment to Miranda's ritzy townhouse in the Upper East Side. It took about ten minutes to get there, and once the cab pulled up in front of the townhouse, Andrea had almost convinced herself to turn around and go home.

She probably isn't even home yet, Andrea thought to herself. She had the key, of course, for when she dropped off Miranda's dry cleaning and The Book, but this was a personal visit, not a business one; she didn't think Miranda would appreciate Andrea letting herself into her home and helping herself to her living room until she got back, just to have a personal discussion with her. And then, the reality hit her: what the hell had she been thinking, coming all the way out here to talk to her boss about sex with a co-worker? And not just any boss: Miranda Priestly.

Deep breaths, Andrea thought as she paid the driver and got out of the cab. If you get fired, at least you tried.

It was too late to turn back now. Andrea climbed the steps to Miranda's door and rang the bell.

No answer.

Should have just gone home, Andrea thought. Talked to her about it when I dropped off The Book on Monday.

She wasn't going to give up that easily, however; no matter how annoyed with Andy Miranda was, Andrea wasn't going to let that stop her. Smoothing her dress down, she lowered herself onto the steps in front of the door. She would just wait.

It was another thirty minutes before Miranda's sleek, black Mercedes finally pulled up in front of the townhouse, making the gala the longest party Miranda had hung around at since Andrea was hired at Runway. Roy jumped out of the front seat and hurried around to open the back door; his urgency alerted Andrea to the fact that Miranda was in a hurry, meaning she wasn't in a good mood. Meaning she was going to bite Andrea's head off, mount it in the office, and then bury her body where no one could find it. She maintained that level of panic as Miranda slid out of the car, her expression cold and her arms loaded with folders. Andrea didn't even have time to stand up before the Ice Queen had glided up the walkway and halfway up the steps. When she realized someone was sitting on her porch, she paused.

"Honestly, Andrea, get off of the ground," Miranda snapped in greeting. "You'll ruin that dress, and I can guarantee you can't afford anything in The Closet."

Ouch. Income attack. Andrea took it as Miranda, at least, acknowledging that she paid terrible money to her assistants. A slight flush crawled up her skin as she stood, moving out of Miranda's way as the fashionista ascended the rest of the stairs and practically jammed the key into the lock on her front door. Andrea followed her inside, catching the door before it slammed and closing it quietly behind her.

The house was empty. The twins must have been with their father, which was a plus for Andrea, since she was sure Miranda didn't want her children hearing any kind of sex talk. There was a chance they were in bed, but Andy doubted it; they came running down to say hello to their mother, whether they were asleep or not, when she came in.

"Where's The Book?"

Andrea blinked. "W-What?"

The scathing look in response caused Andrea to wince. "The Book. Where. Is it?"

The fact that Miranda had slowed down her speech, like she was talking to some fool off the streets, sent a flicker of irritation through Andrea. She held it in, however, and arched a brow coolly. "It's Saturday."

Miranda's own brow flew up. "Marvelous, you've learned the days of the week."

Andrea grit her teeth, running through the past couple of days in her head. Nowhere had she been alerted that she was required to retrieve The Book from someone or somewhere and deliver it to Miranda on a Saturday. She wondered if vocalizing this was a good idea; the irritated look on Miranda's face as she shrugged out of her coat and pulled the coat closet door open said that unless Andrea really did want her head mounted in the office, she'd better keep her mouth shut.

"I…I forgot it."

Lovely, covering for someone else's mistake, again.

Miranda sighed. "You are just asking to get fired tonight, aren't you? Why didn't Nigel remind you?"

"Nigel?"

"Yes, Nigel," Miranda snapped. "You were to pick The Book up from Nigel's apartment after the gala and bring it to me." The blank look on Andrea's face probably confirmed to Miranda that Andrea had no idea what Miranda was talking about. "Daft, and slow. Charming."

"Will you stop making attacks towards my character for two seconds?" Andrea snapped, completely forgetting her place for several moments. Once she realized what she had said, horror passed over her expression. Miranda's eyes narrowed, but she didn't lash out again; that was a relief.

"If you aren't here to deliver The Book, then what do you want?"

As Miranda hung her coat in the closet and shut the door, Andrea cleared her throat and collected herself. "I, uh…need a bit of a favor."

Miranda said nothing, only folded her arms and gazed at her. Andrea took that as a hint to continue. "Emily and I…are having some issues. I kind of need your advice on something."

Miranda's eyes rolled almost immediately, causing Andrea to sigh silently. She should have seen that coming. "I'm serious, okay? I need to know how to please her."

"Dangle me in front of her face," Miranda responded shortly. "The girl always has been and always will be obsessed with me."

"You can't be serious."

"Quite." Miranda pursed her lips briefly before jerking her head towards the hallway, spinning on one black four inch Manolo Blahnik heel and sweeping towards the kitchen. She was a vision in the black floor length number, similar to the one she had worn to Andrea's first gala; the difference in this one, however, was that it dipped lower in the front, and sported a sash around the waist. Hell, Miranda could look like a Queen in anything, that was for sure.

Andrea followed her down the hall, silently coaching herself on what she was going to say while she admired Miranda's appearance. They entered the kitchen to find Estelle, Miranda's night maid, brewing a pot of coffee.

"Go, I'll get it," Miranda said dismissively, waving her hand at the young Spanish woman. Estelle was Andrea's age, with black hair to her waist, framing her dark toned face beautifully. She dressed like she was from some kind of fantasy novel; long, flowing gowns, tight suits with heavy jackets. Andrea had learned early on that Miranda had a deep seeded appreciation for those who took what was "in" and made their own style out of it; Estelle was living, breathing proof and Andrea supposed that was one reason Miranda kept her on staff. Other than the fact that she was fantastic at her job, of course. The one time Andrea had been forced to work from Miranda's kitchen, Estelle had catered to her endlessly. The two had become quite good friends by the end of the night.

Estelle nodded once, stepping away from the pot of coffee. "Good night, Mrs. Priestly," she said softly, her accent making her hard to understand when she spoke in low tones. She smiled at Andrea as she passed, and Andrea returned it with a small smile of her own. Once she was alone with Miranda again, she felt completely anxious.

Miranda was silent as she poured two cups of coffee into porcelain mugs and handed one to Andrea. Andrea took it with a small nod of thanks, blowing softly into it to cool it down. She didn't like her coffee as blazing as Miranda liked hers, though she wasn't about to state that out loud. Miranda seated herself at the counter of the small island, giving Andrea a dark look that said for her to do the same. Andrea did.

"One reason I left Emily was because of her obsessive tendencies. What started as thoughtful gestures turned into obsessive acts for attention and acceptance. She didn't quite seem to realize that she had gotten the acceptance when I allowed her into my bed. I thought perhaps she wanted the attention from everyone, but upon further observation, I concluded it was all directed at me." Miranda paused, taking a slow drink of her coffee before proceeding. "You want to please her? You'd have to give her to me, and I honestly don't want her back."

Andrea stared at Miranda with a slight sense of disbelief; was she seriously hearing this? "Not that I want to lose my job or anything, but you do realize how self centered that just sounded?"

Miranda's brow lifted. "Enlighten me."

"You say Emily's life revolves around you," Andrea replied. "That may have been true in the past, but she let that obsession go the night you told her to stop holding onto false hope."

The brow lifted higher. "She told you about that conversation?"

"I was standing outside the door."

Miranda set her mug down. "I see." A pause as Miranda's piercing gaze swept over Andrea. "What do you want from me?"

Andrea flushed, pursing her lips and glancing around the kitchen. She knew she shouldn't be talking about this, and she was sure she looked like she wanted to say something, but didn't know how to put it. She really was about to get –

"Out with it, Andrea."

Andrea took a deep breath. "I need pointers on how to make her orgasm."

Silence followed that statement. Miranda stared at Andrea like the girl had just told her that Irv Ravitz had finally managed to swipe the Runway throne out from under her. Anger, shock, and a bit of hesitancy rested in her eyes; amusement quickly replaced all of them.

"You want me to…oh, dear Lord…"

Suddenly, Miranda was laughing. And not a soft chuckle that one would expect from her; Miranda Priestly was bent forward over the counter, palms pressed to the marble, laughing deeply. Andrea was so shocked, she briefly forgot why she was sitting in the woman's kitchen in the first place.

"I assume you've finally discovered her, ah…resistance…to pleasure?" Miranda asked, wiping her eyes as she slowly calmed down from her fit of laughter. Andrea opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it and shut it again. It was another moment before she braved words.

"Yeah," Andrea said. "I, um…wasn't really expecting it, seeing as I got her off with no problem the first few times. Granted, they were in one sitting, and I don't think anyone can control themselves enough to not have multiple orgasms in one sitting when coaxed, but…"

"You must care about this girl immensely," Miranda said thoughtfully, picking up her mug once again. "Either that, or you are quite stupid, coming to my home at close to midnight and asking me this."

Andrea chewed her lower lip nervously, raising her shoulder in a slight shrug. "A little of both, I guess." Sighing, she rubbed her eyes. "Miranda….please. You seem to be the only one who knows what you're doing. The only one that I know of, at least. You directed me in the office, and it worked. I can't think of another option."

A sudden glint had appeared in Miranda's eyes, and Andrea sat up a bit straighter, preparing herself to get thrown out. Miranda only raked her gaze over Andrea's form, lifting her chin a little to almost peer down her nose at the girl.

"Get on the island."

Andrea blinked. "W-What?"

"I am not impressed with the amount of times you have made me repeat myself tonight. Get. On. The island."

Sliding off of her stool, Andrea reached down and removed her heels, setting them aside before pushing herself up onto the island. Miranda stood as well, grasping both coffee mugs and setting them in the sink. She then swept around the island, pushing Andrea until her back hit the marble, and sliding her hands up the girl's thighs. This brought Andrea's thought track to a screeching halt; whoa. Miranda's hands were like silk; no calloused or rough edges, no flaws, and they felt absolutely amazing against Andrea's legs. It wasn't until her dress was suddenly shoved up to her waist that she came back to her senses.

"What are you doing!" Andrea gasped. The words came out in a jumble; she barely understood them herself. Miranda only gave her a severely impatient look.

"I am giving you a demonstration, one you had better be appreciative of, for I would have fired anyone else coming to me with this absurd request."

Go with it, Andrea thought to herself. It wasn't necessarily cheating; Emily had called Andrea her girlfriend, but she had also left without explaining the terms of their relationship. Hell, she had left without confirming if she was serious or not. And Andrea was doing this for Emily; she really did want to pleasure the girl. Carefully, Andrea adjusted herself on the island and exhaled.

"All right. I'm appreciative."

"Good," Miranda said as she yanked Andrea's underwear clean off. "Now shut up, and pay attention."

Before Andrea could even process that, Miranda's mouth clamped over her clit, and her tongue pushed against it forcefully. Andrea let out a startled gasp, her hips coming off of the counter; she quickly grabbed the edges of the marble to steady herself, her voice coming out as almost a squeal before she could stop it. "Holy shit!"

She felt Miranda smirk, and wondered if the woman would laugh again. It didn't happen; Miranda's tongue flicked over Andrea twice, and the brunette was suddenly coming all over the place. Miranda straightened herself, a thin brow flying up.

"Well, you certainly aren't hard to get off."

Andrea flushed deep crimson at the amusement sparkling in Miranda's eyes and licked her lips. "I…um…" she paused, searching for words. When none came, she just sighed and shut her eyes, muttering, "Shut up."

A chuckle from Miranda surprised her, but she didn't open her eyes. Miranda spoke again.

"That was lesson one. This is lesson two."

Andrea's eyes flew open as three fingers shoved themselves forcefully inside of her, no warning, and no couple of minutes for Andrea to breathe. Miranda wasn't gentle, either; she pumped hard, to the point where Andrea went numb almost immediately. This actually hurt; Emily liked this?

"Okay, stop," Andrea panted finally, wincing as Miranda slid her fingers out one at a time. "Ow."

Miranda snorted. "Get used to it. When she finally starts fucking you, that is exactly the pace she is going to keep."

Joy.

"Anything else?" Andrea asked, propping herself up on her elbows and glaring at Miranda. The white haired beauty grasped hold of Andrea's upper arm and pulled her off of the island, waiting until she was steady on her feet before stepping closer and placing her lips very gently against hers. It was a bit of a shock after all of the brutality; she didn't think Miranda was capable of being so sweet. But her lips grazed against Andrea's carefully, sending the girl into a sense of calmness she had never experienced.

"She likes gentleness as much as she does brutality," Miranda said when she pulled away. "You can rough her up sexually, but treat her like a Queen when you're done. She'll appreciate you a lot more."

Andrea bit her swollen lip and nodded slowly. "Thank you, Miranda."

Miranda didn't respond, only turned towards the sink to retrieve her coffee mug. Andrea picked up her shoes and slipped them back on before turning and heading for the hallway.

"Andrea."

Andrea paused and turned to find Miranda leaned against the sink, her eyes narrowed. "Yes?"

"Don't hurt her. It will be the last thing you ever do."

In that moment, Andrea realized the truth: Miranda still cared about Emily. She had let her go for some reason or another, but she hadn't stopped caring. Andrea nodded once, turned, and left the kitchen; half of her was terrified of this revelation. The other half would be forever grateful to Miranda for letting her have Emily.

As she stepped out of the townhouse, Andrea glanced toward the sky and said a silent prayer. Please, God, let me get this right.