Manipulations

A DWP (MirAndy) story

By Gun Brooke

Part 8

Waking up next to Andrea Sachs was a completely new experience for Miranda. Not only was the young woman a cuddler, she seemed to have grown an extra set of arms during the night. Andrea held on to Miranda so tightly in her sleep, it was a miracle she could actually breathe.

"Andrea? It's time." Miranda shook the slender shoulder peeking above the duvet. "Andrea?"

"Mm-hm."

Clearly being gentle and nice got her nowhere. Miranda firmed her grip. "Andrea! Wake up."

"What?" Andrea sat up fast, her hair whipping through the air as she looked around for whatever monster she no doubt thought had attacked her. "Where? What's up?"

"I'm still in bed with you. No demons on the loose." Miranda had to smile at her tousled lover. "I can see how this interesting method might actually be quite dangerous."

"Danger? Where?" Andrea looked dazedly at her. "There a fire?"

Chuckling now, Miranda pulled Andrea down into the bed and back onto her shoulder. "Let's try this again. Good morning, darling. Sleep well?" She pressed her lips to Andrea's.

"Mm. Oh. Oh! Yes, I did. Strangely enough."

"What do you mean, strangely enough? The bed not to your liking?" Miranda narrowed her eyes deliberately, only half joking as she continued. "Or the company?"

Andrea blinked and then shook her head, snorting. "Don't try that. Not working. Bed is fine. Company is—" She stopped herself and moved up to rest her head in her hand. "The company is wondrously, amazingly, beautiful." She dipped her head and kissed Miranda's mouth, making it relax.

"So why are you surprised you slept well?"

"I rarely sleep well the first night in a new bed. Doesn't matter if it is a hotel, or going back to Cincinnati…" Her voice trailing off, Andrea's smile waned as well. "Anyway. So, must've been the, hm, workout from last night."

Worried now, as Andrea could hardly smile at her own joke, Miranda knew she must be thinking of the tense situation with her parents. Their night together had not exactly helped matters. If Andrea's parents already had issues with her being a lesbian or bisexual, their daughter being in a relationship with the woman they blamed for a lot of things would not exactly mend fences.

"I'm glad you did sleep well. I did too, which is very rare. So, you think it's because of the workout? Think we might be onto something?"

Andrea's eyes lit up as Miranda took the joke further. "Most definitely. So, time to get up, huh?" She turned to check the time on the alarm clock. "Holy smokes, 5 a.m.? You're kidding me?"

"Not really. No."

"You always get up this early?"

"I do, for the most part, yes."

"On weekends too?" Andrea looked a little shell shocked. "I like to sleep in when I'm off work. Just saying."

"I don't mind breakfast in bed on Sundays with the paper at hand." Miranda suddenly envisioned all four of them having coffee, toast and juice in the morning in a sunny bedroom. The girls would bring their iPads, which they used to read most of their literature, and she and Andrea would take turns with the different sections of the newspapers. She smiled to herself, her heart so warm now, it created a matching glow inside her. She suddenly saw something flicker before her eyes and realized it was Andrea's hand, waving back and forth.

"Hello? Andy to Miranda. You in there?"

"I am. Stop that silliness." Trying to sound stern, Miranda still had to smile.

"All right, as you seem to be back. I just wanted to say that I like the sound of breakfast in bed." Andrea sat up, slowly. "I suppose we need to get going then."

"I suppose." Reluctant - and strangely fearful - Miranda slid out of bed on the other side. "I'd ask you to join me in the shower, but I know myself better than to do that. I'd end up exploring your lovely body again, which we don't have time for. If you don't want to wait, there's a guestroom right down the hallway to left."

"I don't mind. Guestroom it is." Andrea flicked her fingertips in that little wave of hers Miranda knew so well and then strode out of the bedroom without a stitch of clothes on. Miranda drew some deep breaths to calm her onset of arousal. Some view.

xxx

Andy hurried back to the Mercedes, coffee tray in one hand, purse and the newspaper in the other. Roy took the coffee and placed the tray on the vacant passenger seat in the front as Andy slid into the backseat.

"Do you want to…?" Andy held up the newspaper to Miranda, who shook her head.

"All right." Andy pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth as she turned to Page Six. And stared. A faint tremor in the center of her stomach was the first sign of how bad this was. Within seconds, it had spread to her hands and the newspaper fluttered like a captured dove in her grip.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, how bad can it be?" Miranda yanked the newspaper from Andy's grip.

Closing her eyes hard, Andy waited for it.

"Fuck." Miranda folded the newspaper neatly and then rolled it into virtual baton. Slapping it into her palm over and over, she pressed her lips together. Then she sighed impatiently. "What are you waiting for, Roy? A raise? Go."

Roy pulled them out into traffic and Andy knew if there had ever been a time not to ask Miranda anything, this was it. She could tell Miranda was like a nuclear device set to go off if someone so much as breathed on it. In fact, had she not known better, she could've sworn she could feel the air around Miranda sizzle.

Miranda's remaining pictures were all there. Page Six had apparently outbid any other tabloid, and the person who'd hacked Miranda's syste, had sold everything to them. There were eight manipulated photos of them, including the ones in which they kissed and in which Andy seemed to caress a bikini-clad Miranda. The captions underneath each picture were suggestive, bordering on offensive. On the bottom half of the page, Page Six offered some of the real photos from yesterday and a few others from earlier. The one of Andy sprawled over Miranda in the Mercedes was among them. The text under that suggested Andy was drunk or "affected by an unknown substance," which of course made her seem like she was stoned as well.

Roy stopped at the curb at Elias-Clarke. Miranda flung the door open so hard, the hinges protested with a loud squeak. Before Andy had time to react, Miranda was off toward the building. Andy hurried around the car, remembering the coffee and grabbing it from the front seat. When she turned around again, Miranda was gone.

When Andy reached the marble lobby, Miranda had clearly ploughed through the masses and secured an elevator. Sighing, Andy made her way through the steady stream of employees and she knew it wasn't her imagination that they were giving her strange looks. The cat was out of the bag and it was just a matter of time before anyone said anything.

Of course she had to ride the elevator with seven other people who murmured around her. She was glad when she finally reach Runway's floor and stepped outside—and nearly fell over Irv Ravitz.

"Whoops. Sorry, sir. I didn't see you."

"Ms. Sachs." He pulled his upper lip up in what was probably meant to be a smile. "Just the person I wanted to see. And you brought coffee." He snagged one of Miranda's cups without asking. "Let's go into Miranda's office until she deigns to set foot here."

Not about to let him know Miranda was already in the building, Andy walked behind him with dread in her heart. Not to mention with a whole swarm of butterflies in her stomach. "Yes, sir." No matter what, Irv Ravitz was her boss' boss, which made him "il boss supremo" or something.

They passed a pale looking Emily who looked at Andy with complete sympathy, which in itself was not a good sign. If Emily felt sorry for her, it only meant one thing; Andy was toast.

"Do sit down, Ms. Sachs. Andrea, isn't it?"

"Andy, please." Nobody said her name like Miranda did and for this weasel to even try was nauseating.

"Andy. Yes. Well, you seem to have gotten your fifteen minutes of fame, haven't you?" He smiled broadly as he sat down in Miranda's chair. In Miranda's chair!

"I'm not sure what you're referring to, sir." Andy wondered how it was possible to speak at all when your jaws were so tight with anger and apprehension.

"Ah, come on now, Andy. Surely you've seen Page Six? Fantastic pictures of you and Miranda, out on romantic dates, using the company card no doubt as you are frolicking in and out of bed."

"That's ridiculous." Cold anger rose inside Andy, paired with a new sort of calm. "I was having dinner with Miranda yesterday, sir, and I can assure you, neither she nor I used the company card. Unlike some people, Miranda's work ethic is impeccable and that includes her accounts."

Sneering now, Irv drummed impatient, stubby fingers on the pristine surface of Miranda's desk. "That may be, but she's still breaking the rules, which she's done for the very last time. Something I will inform her of when she gets back here."

"I suggest you will be comfortable waiting in the foyer, then, as this still is Miranda's office." Andy was so furious she could hardly speak.

"You do, do you? Then I have just thing to say to you. If you think you're still going to have your cushy job here when I'm finished with Miranda, you have another thing coming. As a matter of fact, you've served your purpose. You're fired."

"What?" Her fingers became ice cold and her feet as well, something Andy recognized as a familiar sign of her going off the deep end in anger—soon. It didn't happen often, and mainly did happen when she was a child and then a teenager. Now she stared at Irv with eyes like narrow slits. "You're firing me?"

"I'm the head honcho here, kid. I hate to say it," Irv chuckled in a mock good-natured way, "but to quote Donald Trump, 'you're fired.'" He smiled at his own lame joke. "And you're fired Miranda-style. As of this instant. No notice. And as your face is plastered all over Page Six breaking the fraternization rules in the most public of ways, I wouldn't recommend you filing any complaint about it to Human Resources."

So, no job. Great. Andy wanted to thud her head against the glass top of Miranda's desk. Or preferably smash Irv's face against it. Press him so hard against it, his nose would shatter before he stuck it into Miranda's private life again.

"So. Skedaddle." Irv clearly went for a fatherly smile as he shooed at her.

Like I'm a freaking sheep! Andy stopped in the doorway and turned around. "So, I'm fired?" she asked, to be sure.

"As in 'get your ass out of here or I'll call security,'" Irv said, any jovial tendency gone, leaving only the look of a cold-hearted idiot with a Napoleon complex.

"One good thing about being fired is that I now can say what I want." Andy smiled broadly against the pain in her heart. "You're a fool, Irv. Miranda is what keeps the entire Elias-Clarke corporation afloat. If it weren't for Runway, this ship would have sunk a long time ago. Everyone knows that, and if you weren't so determined to keep your head permanently planted in your own ass, you'd know it too. She sees right through you, and that's what you hate—"

"Now you just wait—"

"Shut the fuck up. I'm not your employee anymore. I don't take orders from you or anyone else around here." Andy felt tears cling to her eyelashes. "You're petty and the only thing big about you is your ego, which suffers from the worst case of flatulence I've ever seen." Andy drew a deep breath after delivering that last line. She was about to turn and pack up her desk when a steady hand landed on her hip from behind and Miranda's beloved scent engulfed her.

"Bravo, Andrea. I couldn't have said it better myself."