Emily was exhausted. She had gotten home from the gala a little after midnight, having stopped at a liquor store to buy the biggest bottle of vodka she could find. When she finally walked through the door of her tenth floor apartment, she had lost all desire to actually consume it. Was she really going to let a petty situation like Andrea Sachs drive her back into her previous alcoholic ways? She had ditched the habit just after starting at Runway, due to a very harsh threat from Miranda herself when she had showed up to her first day of work hungover; all it took was a threat to be fired and banished from the fashion world entirely. So she had stashed the vodka in the back of the fridge with her cranberry juice, and concluded that she wouldn't touch it unless she had someone to help her drink it.

After tossing her dress on the closet floor - something she never did, but she was too tired to worry about it - Emily grabbed a water from the fridge and curled up on the couch in her black La Perla lingerie, draping a thin cream sheet over herself and flipping on late night television. She was halfway through The Late, Late Show when a rapid knock came from her door.

Scowling, Emily wrapped the sheet tightly around herself and climbed off of her fashionably fancy white clothed couch, setting the bottle of water down on a coaster on the glass coffee table. There was only one person she could think stupid enough to bother her this late, and upon glancing out the peephole, she confirmed her suspicions: Andrea.

Wrenching open the door, Emily shot her best glare out at the woman, the fingers of the hand not clutching the door handle wrapped tightly in the fabric of the sheet to keep it around her half nude form. "What the hell are you doing here? Do you realize what t-"

Andrea was on her. She forced Emily back a few paces by storming into the apartment uninvited, slammed the door, and wrenched the sheet off of Emily's body. Emily's eyes went wide, and she made to swipe the sheet back up. "Andrea, what are you -"

The woman didn't let her finish; she was suddenly all lips, and it was unbelievably distracting. Andrea had slammed her lips against Emily's long enough to shut her up, then moved them down her chin, and onto her neck. Emily grasped Andrea and attempted to push her away, but Andrea grabbed onto her wrists and pulled back a little to look at the redhead.

"Em," she said breathlessly. "Please."

Emily couldn't resist the desperate look in those chocolate eyes. Carefully, she loosened her grip on the shoulders she had taken hostage, not breaking eye contact with the brunette as she lifted one hand to the pale cheek in front of her. "What do you want from me?" she whispered, her voice wavering slightly. Her heart practically fell to the floor when Andrea's free hand came up to cover Emily's, twisting their fingers together.

"I just want you to let me try," Andrea said. "I just want to try."

There didn't seem to be anything else Emily could do, other than lean forward and press her lips to Andrea's. The gentleness in comparison to the previous rough nature of the woman's lips startled Emily, but it brought her a bit of comfort; perhaps this wasn't the most horrible idea Andrea had every come up with. Perhaps they could do this.

She wasn't given much opportunity to think about it. Andrea backed Emily to the couch and pushed her onto it, climbing on to straddle her hips. Her lips returned to Emily's, and she pecked lightly before moving down to her chin again, and back onto her smooth neck. But she didn't stop there this time; her lips continued to stroke over her skin, down her chest, before her lips clamped over a breast through the fabric of her brassiere; and the evil bitch actually bit down.

With a strangled moan, Emily's back arched into Andrea's mouth, her hand flying to the long strands of hair attached to her attacker's head. Her intention had been to yank Andrea away, but she found herself pushing the girl's head down, urging her forward. Andrea happily complied, and it was like someone had flipped some kind of switch in the girl - she had gone from hesitant to bold and completely professional in less than twenty four hours. She scooted her body down the couch as she moved her lips to Emily's stomach, tracing her tongue and teeth lightly over flawless skin. Emily's eyes fell closed, and she distinctly thought that this was something close to physical worship.

When Andrea's tongue flicked beneath the lining of Emily's form fitting bikini panties, Emily bit her lip sharply. "Don't tease, Andrea," she snapped, practically soaked already from just the ministrations of the girl's lips. She could get used to this, but there was no way she was going to be able to sit still long enough for the girl to put her tongue everywhere but the area she wanted it on. She opened her eyes and glared down at Andrea, but it was immediately wiped from her face when she was met with the sight of flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and darkly lustful eyes. She looked ready to devour Emily, literally, and for a moment, Emily wondered why the hell she had been so resistant of this.

"Sorry," Andrea replied, but her smirk indicated she wasn't the least bit sorry. Her fingers hooked into the sides of Emily's panties, and she slid them down her thighs to her ankles, pulling them off and tossing them aside. Her hands slid over the smooth expanse of Emily's calves, up to her thighs, before pushing the woman's legs open and moving forward.

Emily's hips arched off of the couch at the first touch of tongue, and she gasped; where the hell had the brunette bitch learned that! Her tongue was pressing and circling relentlessly, and her nail was sliding through the sides of Emily's folds teasingly. Gritting her teeth, Emily grasped a handful of Andrea's hair and held her head in place, her thigh coming up to wrap around the girl's back in desperation; she needed to hold onto something, and Andrea was the only thing in sight that seemed stable.

Andrea's head moved down, and Emily held her breath; a long, low moan slid from her throat when she felt the girl's tongue lick straight through her vulva; but it wasn't just once. She was repeating the motion several times, pressing her tongue against Emily's slit, just barely avoiding entering. Emily squirmed, and a few more seconds of this had her arching up into Andrea's mouth, clutching her hair and coming with a sharp, strangled gasp that might have sounded like she was suffocating. Her body convulsed violently, and fire shot straight through her veins as the blood rushed in her ears and her heart pounded against her chest.

When this finally stopped, she slumped onto the couch, staring at the ceiling for a few moments. Emily couldn't figure out if she was humiliated, or just plain shocked; no one had made her do that before. Miranda had made her come, yes, but definitely not that quick, and not that hard. Finally, Emily relented; there was no way she could go without this girl. The sex was excellent, and as loathed as she was to admit it, Emily did enjoy her company.

Before attempting to speak, Emily took a deep breath. "Alright," she said. "You win."

Andrea had sit back on her heels and wiped her red lips, and was in the process of admiring her work. At the sound of Emily's voice, she glanced up to the woman's face and arched a brow slightly. "I win?"

"Yes," Emily replied. "I honestly have no idea what you were trying to prove with this, but whatever it was - "

"Hey," Andrea said quickly, and she sounded hurt. Hurt enough to cause Emily to remove her gaze from the ceiling and look down at the woman. "I'm not trying to prove anything. I just wanted..." With a sigh, Andrea shook her head and got up off of the couch. "Never mind."

"Andrea," Emily said, sitting up and looking around for the sheet that had gotten abandoned between the door and the couch. "That's not what I meant.

"Should I just stop trying?" Andrea asked, and her voice had hardened up a bit. "Is this just one big joke to you? You let me fuck you, but then you have to put me down after - "

"Stop!" Emily exclaimed, pushing off of the couch and glaring hard at the woman. "Is that what you think of me? You think I'm doing this for a fuck? If you haven't noticed, Andrea, I can't really get much out of it most of the time - "

"Something tells me you're lying about that," Andrea cut in. Emily stared at her.

"Excuse me?"

"You were coming pretty hard on your desk in the office," Andrea said. "Multiple times."

"But I wasn't in the backseat of that taxi," Emily snarled back. "Or in the alley."

"You were panting and writhing enough," Andrea shot back.

"You're one to accuse me of playing games," Emily said harshly. "I'm not the one who showed up to a gala with Christian Thompson."

Andrea's expression turned incredulous. "Are you kidding me!" she exclaimed. "He took me to meet an editor. You're acting like I'm fucking him."

"No," Emily replied. "But you would if you had the chance."

"God, Em, what is wrong with you!" Andrea practically shouted, causing Emily's brow to go up. "I'm here! With you! I don't want Christian Thompson, or I'd be in bed with him right now! I wouldn't have gone to Miranda and had her show me how the hell to make you come -"

"You did what?" Emily's voice had dropped to a dangerous level, and her tone was so cold that Andrea visibly shuddered, her big, brown eyes widening a bit.

"I, uh -"

"Did you sleep with her?"

"I really wouldn't count it as...well, okay, yeah, I guess I would..."

An ice cube the size of Texas slid down into Emily's stomach, and Emily swore she was going to throw up. All she did was stare at Andrea though, her dark eyes cold.

"Get out."

"Emily -"

"Andrea...get out."

Biting her lip, Andrea looked at the floor, looking as if she was trying to come up with something to say. Emily didn't want to hear it; she spun and stormed into her room at the back of the apartment, slamming the door behind her and dropping onto her bed. She told herself the tears were due to over-exhaustion.