Manipulations

A DWP (MirAndy) story

By Gun Brooke

Part 6

Thursday came around too fast. Miranda found herself inside her vast walk-in closet, browsing her endless racks of clothes and still not finding anything suitable to wear. Frustration flooded her system and eventually she yanked a midnight blue Chanel cocktail dress from a hanger. It slid over her head like water and, looking at her reflection, she hoped Andrea would like her choice. She double-checked her makeup, added additional pink lip-gloss and then left the closet. Donning her coat and an ivory Hermes scarf, she grabbed her purse and walked outside. Roy was waiting by the car door; his stern look seemed to be enough to keep the half a dozen paparazzi at a distance.

Miranda didn't spare them a single glance. She had nothing but contempt for the vultures that made a living from trying to catch the latest starlet without her panties on, or, in her case, spread her private life all over Page Six and other gossip columns.

"To Andrea's apartment." Miranda sat rigidly on the right side of the backseat, more nervous than she cared to admit. So much could go wrong, which would create even more heartache. Andrea could change her mind, pull away, and who could blame her? No more pictures had been published yet, but their going on a date would renew the interest no doubt. This might turn out to be huge mistake for Miranda and result in an even more devastating outcome for Andrea.

Miracles of all miracles, the young woman seemed to care for her. Miranda clenched her hands into tight fists. She was not about to give Andrea up. Their kiss had held such fire and tenderness. Miranda couldn't remember feeling this overwhelmed and infatuated by anyone else in her life. Not her husbands, not any of the temporary lovers in between. For a woman her age, she hadn't had very many lovers, which she was sure might surprise some people who had her pegged as a man-eating bitch. Miranda chuckled mirthlessly. Bitch, yes—man-eating, not likely. Her brain made a detour back to Andrea and the concept of eating…which stole her breath away. Of course, this was when Roy pulled to the side and they were outside Andrea's door.

Miranda was prepared to ring Andrea's doorbell and escort her back to the car, but her diligent assistant was already waiting on the sidewalk. Climbing into the backseat, Andrea smiled and placed a light kiss on Miranda cheek.

"Hello. You look amazing."

Miranda returned the kiss. "As do you. Calvin Klein?" She regarded the grey pantsuit.

"Yes. Nigel helped me choose."

"I see." Miranda wondered if Andrea had told Nigel who her date was, but she wasn't going to ask.

"He guessed." Andrea took Miranda's hand. "About us going out. Not sure how he figured it out, but he did. Perhaps he's failed to realize the manipulated pictures were fake."

Miranda flinched. Yes, they were fake, but in her heart, they were the truth. "Nigel is trustworthy. I don't have a problem with him knowing we're on a date."

Andrea looked relieved. "Oh, good. And of course, if the paparazzi spot us, then it's a moot point."

"Are you all right, darling?" Miranda asked, only noticing her use of the endearment after the fact.

"You mean with the potential 'outing'?" Andrea surprised her by leaning her head against her shoulder and placing a gentle kiss underneath her jaw. "Oh, Miranda. I don't have a choice."

No choice? Miranda flinched. "What do you mean?"

"I'm already so invested in this, in you. My heart won't allow me to back out. Not that I want to." Andrea nuzzled her neck and sighed. "I think I deserve a medal for being the perfect assistant this week. Especially when I saw you in that skirt and wrap-around blouse. I just wanted to push you up against a wall—oh!"

Miranda had pressed the button to the privacy screen as soon as Andrea started talking and now she tugged the young woman close and pressed her mouth onto her full lips. Soft, pliant, they parted beneath hers and Miranda slipped the tip of her tongue inside. Andrea moaned and met Miranda's tongue with her own, and how would they now be able to stop? Miranda pushed her fingers into Andrea's hair, caressing her scalp as she held her in place. The kiss slowed, but the intensity escalated. Miranda's nipples turned diamond hard and the ache spread throughout her abdomen.

Somehow, a miniscule part of her brain noticed the car slowing down and she pulled back just enough to form words against Andrea's mouth. "We're here."

"Um. What?" Andrea blinked slowly. "Oh. Oh!" She sat up and straightened her clothes. "Holy smokes. I seem to lose all my cool as soon as we touch. I was smart to stay well out of your personal space at work." She smiled.

"I'll say." Miranda pulled out a compact with a mirror in the lid and checked her appearance. Amazingly, her lipstick wasn't smeared. All she needed was some new gloss, which she applied within moments. She glanced at Andrea. If one disregarded the high color in her cheeks, her makeup was also intact. "Ready?"

"Yes." Andrea bit her lower lip and looked less certain than she sounded.

Miranda glanced outside toward the entrance. "Oh, well. Our less upstanding colleagues of the press are here. Roy will guide us inside. Trust me; he's seen me safely through such crowds for more than a decade."

"All right. Yeah. I trust Roy."

They stepped outside and it was as if the night sky were on fire with camera flashes.

"Who's that girl, Miranda?"

"Landed a girl-toy?"

"Hey, kid, look this way!"

"That your assistant, Miranda? Pretty young thing, huh?"

"Look this way, Miranda!"

"Kiss her!"

Placing her hand against the small of Andrea's back as Roy ushered them toward the entrance, Miranda was furious. Fortunately, years of experience made it possible for her to keep temper in check and face expressionless.

Roy escorted them into the restaurant. Inside the door, the maître d' took their coats. She was about to follow him to their table when she realized Andrea was not behind her. She turned and her heart plummeted in her chest at the sight of the shell-shocked looking woman.

"Andrea. Come. We both need a drink." She took Andrea by the hand, appalled at how cold and clammy it felt against hers. She turned to the maître d'. "We'll have a drink in the bar first. As private as possible."

"I certainly understand, Ms. Priestly. Come this way. Our bar has its own private booths. If you want, I can have your dinner served there as well."

"I'll let you know." Miranda practically dragged Andrea to the small semi-circle booth in the far corner of the bar. Nobody would be able to see them unless they walked right up to their table. "Two glasses of Four Roses, single barrel."

"Certainly, Ms. Priestly. Diana will be your bartender."

Diana showed up within half a minute with their bourbon. Miranda sipped hers, all the time keeping an eye on Andrea, who did the same. The smooth heat of the bourbon stoked the fire in her system. Being tossed from overwhelming arousal in the car to incinerating fury at the paparazzi's comments made her tremble inside.

"Andrea. Talk to me. Are you all right?"

"A few more sips of this and I'll be. I think." Andrea drank some more for her glass. "Yeah. Better."

"I had no idea there'd be such hordes of photographers. This is my first time at this restaurant; I really didn't think they'd track me here. Foolish of me. I should've known better. I guess my mind was elsewhere."

"Your name is enough." Andrea scooted closer. "No matter what, you're going to be of media interest. Either we deal with it together—or we don't."

Miranda pressed her lips together at the idea of losing Andrea, of never everhaving this wonderful creature the way her mind and heart had wanted for so long. "And?"

"Oh, God, Miranda." Andrea sighed. "It has to be up to you too. You want me. You fantasize about us being together, but it's the commitment I'm talking about. I care about you, or I wouldn't be here. I want to be with you."

"Then that's all I need to hear." Relieved enough to almost shed tears, Miranda wrapped her arm around Andrea's shoulders. "Let's eat this Thai food of yours and, if you want, we can go back to the townhouse and talk."

"And stuff."

"And such." Miranda had to smile broadly at the sudden gleam in Andrea's eyes.

"Whatever." Andrea winked.

Miranda glanced at Diana and the waitress was at their side in moments, taking their order. As she sat there, watching Andrea eat with genuine pleasure, Miranda knew she had just dodged a bullet.

xxx

Roy drove them to the alley behind the townhouse. Miranda produced the large deadbolt key to the gate leading to her garden and then used the touchpad and pressed her index finger to open the second lock. "Can never be too careful," she said to Andrea. "These vultures are not above going through your trash. We pulverize ours practically. The girls enjoy burning old documents in the fireplace sometimes."

"Wow. I had no idea. So that's why you use that confetti machine at work. Not just a shredder."

"Yes. Shredded documents can be glued together very easily." She opened the patio doors and let Andrea in. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, thank you. Oh, maybe some water?"

"Why don't you have some from the fridge while I pour myself a glass of white wine?"

"Sure." Andrea veered off to the kitchen and Miranda stayed in the den and walked over to the bar. She poured half a glass of Chardonnay and then stood by the window, looking out over her garden. It was illuminated at the perimeter and close to the house, as well as at strategic places where someone might try to hide with a camera. She flipped a switch by the patio door, engaging the electronic grid that would alert them if anyone stepped on the lawn or the path out there. The deck was similarly outfitted.

"You okay?" Andrea's sudden voice made Miranda jump. "Whoa. Didn't mean to startle you. I thought you heard me. Lost in thought?"

"Yes. And yes."

"Um? Huh?"

"Yes, I'm okay. And yes, I was lost in thought."

"Ah. I see." Andrea sipped directly from a small bottle of Pellegrino. "I was thirsty after all."

"So I see." Pressing another button, Miranda made the blinds turn to shut out the outside world. "I'm thirsty too."

"Yeah?" Andrea peered into Miranda's glass. "Chardonnay?"

"It is. That's not what I'm thirsty for though." Miranda's stomach had recommenced its tremors as her gaze got lost in Andrea's eyes. "Sip that water again, Andrea."

"Oh, damn, the way you say my name…" Andrea moaned and sipped the mineral water. "Have you ever really listened to a recording of your voice?"

"I have accidentally come across interviews of myself, but I didn't pay much attention. I have a very ordinary voice."

Andrea guffawed. "As if. Your voice is anything but ordinary, Miranda. If you were any more soft-spoken, people would need hearing-aides—on both sides!" She shook her head. "So, what are you thirsty for?"

Miranda wondered if Andrea had any idea how sultry her voice was. When Andrea spoke in the lower register, which she'd come to realize happened only when they were alone and the situation was starting to overheat, it made the tremors in Miranda's belly increase. "Your kisses."

Andrea placed her bottle on a coaster on a sideboard. Next, she repeated the maneuver with Miranda's wineglass. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around Miranda's waist. "You like my kisses, huh?"

"Yes." Curious now at the determined expression on Andrea's face, Miranda went along with the questions.

"And you like when I hold you like this?"

"I do."

Andrea tilted her head. "All right. Here's a first. Do you think you'd enjoy if I kissed your neck?"

Oh, Lord. "I'm quite sure I would, yes."

"Mm. Good." Andrea cupped Miranda's cheeks, tipped her head and pressed her lips to her neck. "Oh."

Oh, indeed. Miranda held on to Andrea's shoulders as her full lips nibbled along her neck. Glad she wasn't wearing a necklace that would get in the way, Miranda tipped her head back. Andrea latched on to her pulse point and then kissed her way up to her jawline. There, she brushed by Miranda's lips, ghosted over her other cheek and then returned to her mouth.

"So you like this. And kisses. What else do you like? This?" Andrea cupped Miranda's left breast gently through her dress. "Oh, yes, I'd say you like this." She flicked her thumb over Miranda's nipple. "So hard already before I touched you."

"Y-yes." Mortified that she actually stuttered, Miranda held on harder to Andrea.

"Shh. I have you. I won't let you fall." Andrea, suddenly the strong one, the one in charge, held her closer. "I should quench your thirst though." She claimed Miranda's lips as easily as if she'd done it a thousand times before. All Miranda could do was to part her lips and let Andrea in. She had no way of deciding who was drinking whom, but the kiss went on for a long time, making her moan out loud. Eventually, Andrea raised her head and ended the kiss. "All quenched?"

"Not by a long shot," Miranda said, pushing her hands up and into Andrea's chestnut tresses. "Come here." Now the instigator, she sucked Andrea's lower lip in between hers, running her tongue across it, over and over.

Andrea whimpered; now she was the one trembling uncontrollably. When Miranda let go, she gasped for air. "And just when are we going to talk? Plan?"

"Oh, my. You're right. We do need to talk. I just have one question first."

"Yes?"

"Please, will you stay the night? You can ride with me into work tomorrow, but I—I need you to stay tonight. Would you?"

Andrea pushed Miranda's bangs out of her eyes and with unsteady fingers mapped the outline of her eyebrow, then the shell of her ear and down along her jawline. "It depends. Are you going to play the chivalrous type and have me bunk in a guestroom, or do I get to hold you tonight?"

Miranda gasped. "You really feel ready to share my bed?" She could hardly believe it, but Andrea steadily met her gaze and seemed quite unfazed.

"I do. Unless it freaks you out." Andrea did her one-shoulder shrug Miranda knew so well.

"I assure you, the idea of you in my bed makes me feel a multitude of things. 'Freaked out' isn't one of them."

"So, it's a deal then. I stay the night—in your bed—and now we talk."

"Yes. We better do that here because if I have you anywhere near the vicinity of my bed, we won't get any talking done." Miranda smiled at Andrea's stunned look. "Didn't you think I meant what I said?"

"Um. Yes. Just so new still to be the object of your—your—"

"My desire? My affection? My libido?" Miranda suggested helpfully.

"Yes. Eh. Those. All of those." Andrea sat down on the loveseat after grabbing her Pellegrino. "So. Talk. Now."

"Bossy. And in a hurry?"

"You bet, Miranda, so fire away."

Miranda took a deep breath and joined Andrea on the loveseat. "I suggest you give your two-week notice tomorrow. I happen to know of two publications that would be a good fit for you. The Daily Mirror needs a junior reporter, and so does the NY Press. I can get you through the door, but if you land the job, you will know that is your own accomplishment."

Andrea took her time to answer, even if she'd seemed so in a hurry just moments ago. "You're really serious, aren't you? We are doing this—full on."

"Yes. Of course."

Leaning her head against her hand and her elbow on the backrest, Andrea nodded slowly. "If anything, this makes me love you more, Miranda," she whispered, a definite catch in her voice.

Miranda couldn't breathe, much less talk, for the first few moments. Finally her vocal chords reengaged. "You love me?"