No Other Silly Girl Need Apply

By Gun Brooke

Part Six

The next morning was pretty much a repetition of the previous one, with one exception. We both found it hard to look each other in the eyes for longer than half a second at a time. I could feel my cheeks warm and knew I was blushing. Miranda, on the other hand, looked increasingly annoyed and impatient, which didn't make me feel any less awkward.

I focused on not spilling, and chewed on my toast as quietly as possible. It was a classic 'let sleeping dogs lie' moment, but in this case, Miranda was no sleeping dog. She rather resembled an agitated feline ready to pounce.

In the car, I stuck to my own side of the backseat and pretended to read the news on my phone. So far we'd only exchanged words like 'are you ready', 'yes, Miranda', and 'let me help you.' The latter was when I helped her on with her coat and it nearly destroyed my equilibrium as I had to stand so close to her that her hair touched my cheek, her scent wafted right at me, surrounding me, and her body warmth made me want to pull her close and kiss her neck.

As Roy maneuvered the town car among other rush hour drivers, my thoughts went unbidden to the previous night, which was of course a huge mistake. My thighs clenched at the memory of Miranda's hand cupping me. I could feel how shocked and aroused I'd been and it wouldn't take much to induce the exact state again. I tried to force my thoughts to the rather boring assignment awaiting me with Miranda's schedule, but her presence on the backseat was driving me to distraction. I glanced furtively at her and to my astonishment I saw she had her eyes closed and her hands were balled into tight fists.

"Miranda?" I murmured discreetly.

"What is it, Andrea?" she asked tightly, her eyes still closed.

Not sure where I found the courage, I leaned forward and pressed the button that raised the privacy screen. The windows in the back were completely see-through for us, but I knew nobody on the outside could see us as we moved at what Miranda would call 'a glacial pace.'

"What are you doing?" Miranda snapped her eyes open.

"This is crazy. We can't go into work like this. Like braced for impact." I unbuckled my seat belt and slid closer. "You're hurting your palms like that." I too one of her hands and stroked it. I was afraid if I tried to pry it open, I'd end up hurting her too. "Relax."

"Damn." Miranda opened her hands and I massaged the left one gently. Once it wasn't completely rigid, I took her right hand and repeated the massage.

"There. Better." I was shaking on the inside, but used all the stress training I'd acquired as Miranda's assistant to not let on. "Talk to me, Miranda."

"About what?" She still wouldn't quite meet my eyes.

"About if you regret last night, to start with. I don't." I wasn't entirely sure about all aspects of last night, but I couldn't have Miranda believe anything else.

"Regret? No. No, I don't." Her hollow voice wasn't convincing.

"Then what's wrong?" I pressed on, wanting to know. "At this pace, we have some extra time before we're at Elias-Clarke." I motioned toward the window, which showed the pedestrians walking faster than we were driving.

"Wonderful." Actually rolling her eyes, Miranda seemed unaware that she was holding on tightly at my hand with both of hers.

"So?

"For heaven's sake, Andrea, do I have to spell it out?" The words gushed out in a low, feline growl.

"I think you do." I took a chance and shifted again next to her, wrapping my right arm around her shoulders. I carefully kissed her temple; glad I was only wearing some lip gloss.

Slumping marginally toward me, Miranda sighed. "I'm…concerned." She quieted, but I refused to hurry her along. "I'm normally not the—the aggressor. In business, yes, but when it comes to this." She freed one hand and waved it emphatically between us. "And certainly not when it comes to sex."

Feeling ridiculous as my thighs clenched again when Miranda said the word 'sex', I could only nod. "Instead of berating yourself about it, perhaps you should instead figure out why that is and what it means?" I suggested carefully.

"Oh, I know why I act out of character," Miranda said, smiling wryly. "No need to psycho analyze me. I know perfectly well why I can't keep my hands off you."

I didn't know what to say or how to phrase a question that actually made sense and didn't sound totally conceited. After a few moments, it didn't look like Miranda was going to elaborate voluntarily, so I had to forge on. "That makes two of us." I let go of Miranda's hand and used mine to tip her head up. "I acted weird this morning, because I feared you may have regretted what took place last night. I've always been comfortable with having sex, so the fact that I was all awkward tells me something too. This isn't casual, nor is it some form of buddy-sex or recreational activity. It's way, way more for me and I don't take it lightly." I wasn't sure I made sense, even to myself.

Clearly not to Miranda either. "Buddy-sex? Recreational?" Her eyes grew wider. "What are you talking about?"

I tried again, with the sinking feeling that I might be digging myself a deeper hole. "I'm trying to say that last night meant something to me. Something special. And new."

"New? In what sense?" Miranda looked reluctantly intrigued.

"This might be too blunt for you, but I've never come just from someone just holding me between my legs like that."

Now that made Miranda blush. The skin on her cheekbones and the tips of her ears turned a bright pink and she gasped mutedly. "Andrea…"

"Have you?" I looked at her cautiously and now she seemed mesmerized and not even blinking as she studied me.

"No."

"See? I've never been so aroused, or so aware of someone else's presence that I could come just like that. It scared me a little, but mostly it confirmed what I already knew." I had to blink against the burning sensation behind my eyelids.

"And what do you know, Andrea?" Miranda asked, her voice soft in the exact right way, her body warm and pliant against me.

"That you're the one," I whispered and then I had to close my eyes. Next thing I knew, Miranda kissed me; several gentle, sexy kisses that left me deprived of oxygen and any higher brain functions. I wrapped my arms around her and returned the kisses, not giving a damn about smearing her lipstick or wrinkling her pristine looking outfit from Calvin Klein and Vivian Westwood.

Miranda's hand was suddenly on my left breast, cupping and weighing it, before slipping into my neckline and repeating the touch inside my La Perla bra. I groaned and arched, needed the touch so badly.

"We can't continue this now." Miranda spoke harshly, but her touch was tender as she pulled her hand back and straightened my blouse. "You were correct to try and clear the air before we reached the office, but I will not make love to you for the first time in the back of a car." She looked at me with darkened eyes, her features stern. "Now you have to assist me. I cannot exit the car looking like this."

But, oh, she looked amazing. Her eyes dark and aglow, her skin flushed, her silver hair tousled just the right, and, best of all, her shirt pulled off her right shoulder, showing her bra strap and a lot of pale skin. "Yes, Miranda," I answered very softly too, which made her narrow her eyes as she clearly surmised—and rightfully so—that I was teasing her.

I made a production of straightening the bra strap, which really didn't need adjusting, just so I could feel some more of that fabulous skin, and then her shirt. Pulling out a comb, I fixed her iconic hairdo with trembling fingers. I located a tiny version of Miranda's favorite hairspray and secured it. She handed me her lipstick and I willed my hands to not shake as I applied a new layer. Sitting back, I examined my handiwork and then nodded. "You look the part again."

Miranda reached for a compact in her purse and examined her face. "Acceptable."

High praise. I tucked my comb and hairspray away and buckled back up again. Suddenly drained, I wondered what my near future would be like on a daily basis if these emotional rollercoasters together with volcanic bouts of arousal were to be commonplace.

"Don't frown, Andrea." The obvious order was delivered with a gentle voice. I knew it was Miranda's way of saying 'don't worry.' Easier said than done, but I made an effort to relax and smile.

xxxXXXxxx

Isn't it funny how just when you start to get your bearings back, something happens to yank the rug out from under your feet? In my case, the yanking came from an unexpected direction. I was coming back from my lunch and motioned for Moira to take her twenty minutes, when the phone rang. Not the office phone, but my cell. I always kept my private cell on buzz only, as it was a surefire way to elicit Miranda's wrath if my cell would actually make a noise when I was in her presence.

And now it buzzed. I gazed around myself and didn't see anyone around. Picking the phone up, I saw *Mom* in the display. "Fuck," I muttered and then pressed 'reply'.

"Hello, Mom," I said cautiously as I sat down at my desk.

"Hello, Andy," mom said, her voice strained. "How are you?"

"I'm at work, Mom. Perhaps we can talk later?"

"No," she said firmly, not sounding like the mother I knew at all. "I just had a visitor and this is urgent. Surely that monster of a woman you work for can let you talk to your own mother without a reduction in pay or something?"

I blinked. What had brought this on? Mom was usually polite and correct, if a bit strict in her views. "A visitor?"

"Lily came home to Cincinnati to visit her parents and stopped by to see me as well. As it turned out I had the day off today and we had a long talk, which explains so much of what's going on with you."

"Lily came to our house and talked to you about me?" I stood now and began to pace back and forth in the outer office. "Why would she do that? Why would she even care? She's made it pretty obvious that she ditched her childhood friend to side with said friend's ex-boyfriend." I spat the words out.

"The way you treated Nate, you can't be all that surprised. Leaving him because you've become curious about—"

"Stop right there," I hissed. "Nate and I decided to take a break. I came home from Paris and he had left for Boston with all of his stuff and half of mine. Just to get the facts straight."

"He was probably very hurt. Were you romanticizing this boss twice your age already then? I never pegged you for the type that cheats on her boyfriend. That doesn't' sound like my little Andy." Mom sounded like she was about to cry. I was torn between feeling so damn angry and also like a horrible daughter who made her mother burst into tears.

"I'm sorry you feel that way." I spoke quietly and hoped to wrap up the call. "None of it is true. I never cheated. And no, I wasn't romanticizing. And I shouldn't have to explain this to you. I don't want to be interrogated—"

A steady grip of my arm interrupted my words as Miranda was suddenly there and led me into her office, closing the door.

"Andy? What do you mean, interrogated?" Mom called out over the phone. "Andy?"

"I'm here." I spoke fast. "I got to go though. Like I said; I'm at work."

"With her." Mom spat. "You should come home. You need to be with family now. People who—"

Miranda's arms wrapped around me from behind, rocking me gently.

"With people who judge me, blame me, and take everybody else's words as gospel but mine." I pivoted in Miranda's embrace and tucked my face into her neck. "I think we need a break, Mom. A long one. When you've had enough time to think about where your loyalty lies and who you vowed to love no matter what twenty-five years ago, then we can talk. Perhaps."

"Andy!" Mom gasped.

"Bye, Mom. Tell Dad I said hi." I disconnected the call and tossed the phone on Miranda's desk. "Oh, God."

"Shh. I'm here." Miranda held me close. "I have you."

Once again, Miranda comforted me. She smelled so good and her embrace was wonderful. I didn't cry like I had done in her kitchen the other day. This time, the anger put a stop to the tears. "You heard?"

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop, darling."

"It's all right." I managed to lift my heavy arms and wrap them around Miranda's waist. Then I flinched. "Oh, God, the phones! Moira isn't back yet and nobody is manning the phones, Miranda."

"Let them go to voicemail." Miranda held me in place and gently kissed my lips. "Honestly, I don't know what the whole frantic deal is with my assistants and the phones?"

"You don't like voicemail."

"That may be, but I do like you, so stand still for a moment longer." Miranda laced the fingers of her right hand into my hair and massaged my scalp. "Just stay here a while and let me hold you." And then she uttered something practically unheard. "Please?"

TBC