Chapter 2

Two days later

In the gloom of a poorly lit room, a figure moved restlessly atop a king-sized bed twisting, writhing, panting and moaning, Miranda arched her back while bucking her hips against the fingers she currently had buried between her thighs. Sweat prickled her temples and lower her inner walls clenched violently giving her one last warning before. "Oh God, yes." A mind-blowing climax crashed over her.

"AndréaAndréaAndréa," Miranda chanted with each mind-numbing wave of pleasure. Lost in her own world, she wasn't even fully aware she was speaking.

After a few moments and only after the last little tremor was gone did Miranda slid her hand out from beneath the covers. Holding it up to her face, she examined slick wet fingers and glared. Oh for God's-this was getting beyond ridiculous. Miranda hadn't masturbated in years-not since she was a teenager and all thoughts were set to hormone maximus-but now she couldn't seem to keep her hands from wandering.

And it was all thanks to that girl. She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. Yes, it was that filthy, off-brand wearing, milk chugging, awe shucks, Midwestern doe-eyed brunette, Andréa. She did this to her. Had reduced this one of the most powerful women in the fashion industry to a horny adolescent.

But that's not what was completely shocking. No, that award went to the fact that the girl did it all without even trying. She didn't wear low cut blouses so low one could see just a hint of black lace or shirts so low one breeze and nothing was left to the imagination. Didn't put on smokey makeup and flash her a naughty come hither smirk.

Andréa didn't do any of those horrible pornographic office clichés. No, the girl was simply her clumsy, disgusting, obnoxiously sweet self which for some reason set Miranda's loins ablaze.

Like earlier today for instance.

Miranda squinted at her computer screen and frowned for the hundredth time that hour. This month's issue was looking to be absolutely horrid. Was it so difficult for them to use models that didn't appear to be one missed cube of cheese away from passing out? She pursed her lips as yet another stick-figure loaded onto the screen-apparently so.

She drifted the pointer over to next button and was just about to click on the next emaciated model when a loud thump followed by an animistic wail of pain caused her to startle and damn near throw her mouse. Hand firmly placed over the top of her rapidly beating heart the shocked expression changed into a livid one. What on earth were those idiots up to now? She stood up so quickly it caused her office chair to roll back nearly to the window seal and strode toward the source with Jimmy Choos stabbing at the linoleum with each as if trying to murder it.

"What-" Miranda went to ask but halted mid-sentence when she came upon a particularly odd scene which included Andréa standing in between the first and second assistants' desk holding a flushed face Serena in her arms bridal style while beside them Emily flailed around the pair like a demented bird.

"Any of you care to explain just what is going on here?" Miranda questioned her voice low as a whisper and cold like ice as she scanned over the women, her eyes lingering on the brunette.

They all jolted and turned to her, Emily just stared back with mouth agape while Andréa flashed her that sheepish goofy grin of hers.

"Oh um hi, Miranda. Serena was just walking through here when her heel broke and she um." The girl gnawed on her bottom lip a bit. "She twisted her ankle pretty badly."

Sapphires drifted from Andréa's face to her arms and drank in the way seemingly thin limps bugled with the extra weight yet did not quiver. Now, Serena wasn't a big woman by any stretch of the imagination but then again she wasn't the skinniest either yet the girl acted as though she merely had a fox stole draped over her arms instead of a fully grown woman. Oh my, throat suddenly feeling dry, Miranda swallowed thickly and had to resist the urge to lick her lips. God, it was like the meatball sub situation all over again.

The dirty little beast, carrying a woman like an item. Such a dirty, filthy, oh so deliciously feral beast. God, what Miranda wouldn't give to-"Best to stay away from her kind, Miriam. You might catch something." Her mother sneered dousing water on the flames licking their way up her inner thighs.

Miranda inhaled deeply to reign in her unleashed libido and by the miracles of whatever deity was above managed to pry her eyes away from Andréa's anatomy to the woman blushing madly within those strong arms. And just like that the feelings were gone replaced by something Miranda hadn't felt in years-jealously.

Her eyelids narrowed and lips pursed at the Brazilian. "Well, I'm sure she can manage without you carrying her around like an infant all day, Andréa, put her down." Miranda demanded though kept her glaring firmly on Serena whom much to the editor's dismay only shrank back further into Andréa's arms.

Chocolate eyes widened a bit before darting down to the woman in her arms then back up at Miranda. "Um, I can't Miranda. When I said it's bad, it's bad." The brunette cringed when she said it whether do to the grammar she used or the entire ludicrous situation all together Miranda did not know. The only thing she was aware of at that moment was how adorable that little nose looked all scrunched up and for some reason that made her blood boil.

"Oh for God's sakes am I running a hospital for the mentally ill here? I didn't mean toss her on the floor like a pair of last season's Dior sunshades, you silly girl. I simply meant for you to place her in a chair."

Alabaster cheeks flushed pink, chocolate eyes turned liquid and pearl white teeth gnawed on a plump bottom lip and it was hands down the cutest thing Miranda ever saw. "Sorry, Miranda."

Miranda said not a word though-she couldn't even if she tried-merely watched onward with feigned iciness as Andréa walked over and gently placed Serena down on in Emily's chair as if the woman were made of finely cut glass.

All the while Miranda watched onward, arousal and envy quarreling ruthlessly within her. What must it feel like to be swept away in such strong arms? To be handled with such care as if one slip might cause your body to shatter. Like being the princess in peril being rescued by her noble prince. A deep warmth washed over her at the thought of the forbidden woman whisking her away from it all only to bring her to a hidden place where she'd ravage her until Miranda couldn't talk.

"Miranda, are you um okay?" A sweet melodious voice broke through the fog.

Miranda blinked a couple times and merely stared back at the girl looking at her with concern shining in those large doe eyes. Unable to reply, she turned fleeing back to her office where she remained the rest of the day in a lesbian fantasy induced haze.

Once the day ended and she'd make it home, Miranda nearly ran up her stairs-which was a feat given the five-inch heels-and all but dived into her bed with her hand between her legs.

Miranda rubbed her thighs together at the memory and cringed at the stickiness that was beginning to irritate the skin of her lower lips. She inwardly groaned. Best clean up before she became raw. Miranda slid from the bed in a whisper of silk and made an awkward beeline to the bathroom.

Running a damp rag softly between her legs, Miranda felt a jolt of shame when she pulled it back and seen the sheer amount of fluid saturating the material. And if she was truthful with herself totally completely honest with herself, Miranda would admit that it wasn't just the normal post masturbation shame that most people felt. But alas sometimes it was best to play the naive one.

The sound of the front door suddenly opening and closing sharply damn near caused the editor to toss the soiled rag across the room. Miranda glanced down at her watch and breathed out when she seen it was ten. That meant Andréa had arrived with the book. Her heart fluttered. Andréa was just downstairs in her home clopping around like a Shire horse. Her loins began to heat up once more at the thought of the girl in her domain. What if Andréa decided to walk up the stairs once more? What if Andréa ignored the iciness in her words and kept coming to take her right on the floor like an animal? Drilling her from behind with three or four fingers to make sure she knew very well who was taking her.

Miranda couldn't help but moan at the thought. Perhaps she should call her-the door clicked open and back shut announcing that the object of her fantasies had exited. Breathing heavily, Miranda glanced over at the bathroom mirror. Her face was flushed, eyes were dark and chest was heaving.

Oh for the love of-as she said before. Ridiculous

TBC...

AN: Some you mentioned the make-over Andy got but that would mess up my story. The whole reason why Miranda's attracted to her in this story is that she's a dirty girl, a forbidden fruit, and is different from the others. So she probably won't get a make-over in this one. Sorry for the delay and that is was so short btw...Oh can I make a small request? Can someone please write me an Emily/Andy fic? Like pretty, pretty, please. I'll write you something if you do. Dealer's choice. Anyways don't be shy let me know what you think.