A/N: I don't own these characters. Miranda/Irv, Miranda/Andrea. I know, I know... ugh, yuck, wtf, why him, etc, but I started this story a while back and as part of my 2013 resolutions, I'm finishing off these bits and pieces I have on my computer and wiping my hands of them. Explicit sexual situations and explicit language warning. But trust me, it's warm and fuzzy in the end. Please R/R! Thank you! xx

Leverage

"Get over here," he said, his voice deep and husky.

"You realize this is already three times this week, right?" she purred as she lifted her skirt and slowly sank into his lap. "Are times that tough that you can't afford a decent escort?"

"Shut up," he said, reaching his arms around her slender hips, pulling her down onto his rock hard shaft.

"You know," she continued, "for a little Jewish man, you are surprisingly—aaah—well-endowed." She started rocking her hips against him, his belt buckle providing incredible friction. Panting, she arched her back and reached up to stick her hand inside her blouse, pulling and tugging at her nipple as she bit her lip to swallow her own moans.

"I'm almost there—fuck, you're so tight for a slut," he said. "Aaahrgh!" he grunted, thrusting himself in deep as he pulled her hips down and held them in place. She felt his hot semen filling her, and quickly crushed her clit against the edge of the belt buckle, sending an orgasm ripping through her body. She bit down on her fist as she rode out the waves.

Knock, knock, knock. Jennifer simultaneously knocked and pushed the door open as she often did, reading from her notepad, "Mr. Ravitz? Tom called and said—"

"Not now!" he shouted, "Get out!"

Without saying a word, Jennifer stepped back and shut the door.

Miranda was still trying to catch her breath. "Oh god, Irving—did she see?"

"I don't think so. She's terribly nearsighted, and quite dumb."

"I think we should fire her," Miranda said as she slowly lifted herself off of his lap, smoothing her skirt out and adjusting her hair in the mirror next to his desk.

"We won't do anything. You better get back or your little Andrea will come looking for you," Irv said. Miranda chuckled, remembering the day her meeting with Irv went significantly longer than scheduled, and Andrea showed up knocking at his door…

"Excuse me, Mr. Ravitz? Is Miranda with you?" she said as she knocked on the door. Miranda and Irv exchanged concerned glances. "Uhm," Irv began, clearing his throat as Miranda slid off his lap and under his large oak desk. "She left here about an hour ago, can I help you?" Miranda slowly pulled his chair closer to the desk as she pressed her lips to his shaft, massaging it with her hands and tongue. Andrea took Mr Ravitz' reply as permission to enter, and thus stepped into the room. Hearing Andrea's voice only increased Miranda's arousal. "Andrea, I don't know where Miranda is. She—ahh—mentioned needing to meet with one of her designers. You manage her schedule, don't you? Shouldn't you know?" he hissed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Ravitz," she said as she exited his office. Not five seconds after she shut the door, Irv was coming. Miranda felt his hot cum filling her throat and she hummed in delight. Her expert lips licked him clean, not a drop falling to his atrocious Dockers khakis. He pulled his chair back and Miranda crawled out. "So," she said, "I presume we've reached an understanding concerning the budget for next issue?" "Yes, I think we can work something out," he replied. "Now that assistant of you…she is something. I wouldn't mind—" "That is out of the question!" Miranda shouted, "Andrea is mine."

"Miranda?" he called.

"Oh, yes, sorry," she said, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. "I better get back."

"Have a good afternoon, Miranda—I, uh, may need to see you again regarding the finer details on this," he said. As she stepped towards the door, Irv reached out and grabbed her wrist. "And that skirt," he whispered, "it—it—it looks good on you." Miranda grinned as she pulled her hand free and marched out of his office.

"Jennifer, is it?" she asked as she approached his assistant's desk.

"Yes, Ms Prie—I mean, Yes, Miranda, can I help you?"

"No. You're fired. Pack your things. You will be compensated through the rest of the month," she said coolly. "That's all." Miranda turned on her heel and headed for the elevators, returning to Runway, glowing with the delight of just having terminated an employee.

When she returned to her office, Emily was instantly on her heels, rattling off the latest items that had come up and taking notes on what Miranda was saying.

"Emily, I need to finish looking over the photos from the Demarchelier shoot. Andrea, see that I am not disturbed. That's all."

Emily nodded and shut the door to Miranda's office. "I don't know what her problem is, but she was not listening to a word I was saying," Emily whispered to Andrea.

"Wow, she must have had one hell of a meeting with Irv—it went over again," Andrea replied.

"Whatever, it's not my problem. It's nearly five, and I have to—I have a thing to get to, so have fun staying here," she said as she grabbed her coat and handbag.

"Okay, have a good night, Em!" Andrea called. She didn't mind staying late with Miranda. Lately, Miranda has been opening up to her, sharing stories of her daughters and even asking a little about Andrea's life. Andrea found herself looking forward to those late nights with Miranda, or being asked to stay for a bit after dropping off the Book.

Hours went by. Andrea had finished several chapters in the current novel she was reading, and there was still no sign of the Book begin finished. Just then, Irv Ravitz came storming down the hallway from the elevator. "Miranda!" his voice bellowed through the corridors. He had a terrifying look in his eyes.

"Mr. Ravitz, please, Miranda is not to be disturbed," Andrea pleaded as she stood and went to meet him.

"Why don't you go fetch Miranda a coffee, sweet thing," he said as he brushed his hand across her backside. "And take your time," he said as he opened Miranda's office door and let himself inside.

Andrea was frozen in place. Part of her was concerned for Miranda's safety, but she tried to reassure herself that Miranda could handle Irv Ravitz. She quickly grabbed her coat and headed out to Starbucks. Irv said to take my time, what does that mean, she wondered. Andrea did, in fact, take her time, walking slowly and relishing in the crisp winter air. She returned with Miranda's latte, and noticed the Book had still not been delivered.

She set her things down and stopped in her tracks as she neared Miranda's door. She heard muffled sounds, but instead of an argument as she expected, it sounded like moaning and grunts.

"OOoh…Irving…FUCK!" she heard. Andrea was in shock. She couldn't believe what she was hearing—were Irv and Miranda actually—oh god. She wanted to run, but the sweet sounds coming from her boss were too much for her. She stepped closer and peered through the small pane of glass at the side of the door, her eyes glued to the sight before her.

"You fucking fired my assistant?!" Irv shouted, "Naughty, naughty, naughty, Miranda. You need to be punished for that behavior," he whispered into her ear as he drove into her from behind. Miranda was bent over her desk, Irv's hand holding her wrists behind her back. Her skirt was once again pushed up around her waist. Irv's other hand was at the nape of her neck, his fingers intertwined in her silver-white strands of hair. "You need to be punished, you bitch!" he shouted as he began thrusting harder into her. Her body was bouncing off the desk with each thrust, each thrust crushing her clitoris into the edge of the desk again and again.

"Irrrrving! Fuck you!" she cried, "I'm so…close…harder…harder…ooh…fuck, Irving!" If it weren't for her heels, her feet would not be touching the ground. She squirmed on the desk, desperately trying to keep the friction on her core, just enough to send her over the edge. She lifted her legs up and wrapped them around his waist, locking her ankles at his lower back. "Oh—oh—oh," she panted, "you're so deep, so full, please, oh fuck, please!"

"Please what, Miranda?" Irv asked calmly.

"Please…let me come!" she cried out. Irv let go of Miranda's hair and snaked his hand around her waist, furiously grinding his fingers against her clit. "Fuck, fuck fuuuuuck!" Miranda screamed as her orgasm ripped through her body. Her muscles contracted with such intensity that she felt a burning sensation spread throughout her body. His hot fluids filled her to such fullness, she didn't even notice that Irv had stepped away and until she heard him slam her office door as he stepped out.

She was spent, her muscles exhausted. Miranda let her body slide down off her desk. On the floor, she propped herself against her desk drawers and shimmied her skirt back down, still trying to catch her breath.

Andrea returned to her desk the minute she saw Irv pull away. Just then, the door opened and slammed. "She'll take her latte, now," Irv said as he walked out and stepped into an elevator.

Andrea slowly grabbed the Starbucks cup and walked up to Miranda's door. She didn't quite know what to expect, but she silently prayed Miranda wasn't hurt. "Miranda?" she called, knocking and pushing Miranda's door open. "Mr Ravitz said you wanted your—Miranda?" Andrea paused. The desk was a mess, but she didn't see Miranda anywhere in the room. Afraid to step closer, she called out again, "Miranda? Are you in here? I have your latte."

Miranda inhaled sharply, and Andrea could hear the sound coming from behind the desk. "Just leave it on the table," Miranda said, "That's all." Andrea set the latte on the table, and from that angle, she was able to see Miranda's legs stretched out on the floor. "How long have you been out there?" Miranda asked softly.

"Oh, um…" she stammered, "uh, not long—I left to run to Starbucks, and I'm still waiting on the Book." Andrea stopped and took a few steps toward Miranda, crouching down on the floor. "Are you alright?" she asked.

Miranda turned and glared at the younger woman.

"I know it's not my place, but, I can't help but worry. Can I help you up at least?" Andrea asked, extending her hand towards Miranda.

Miranda continued to stare at the younger woman, looking for signs of dishonesty and deceit, finding instead genuine concern. Miranda fluttered her eyes shut and reached out to take Andrea's hand. Her body was much more limp than she expected, and she nearly pulled Andrea down on top of her. "Oh!" she exclaimed as she sank back to the floor, sighing deeply, pulling her hands to her lap.

Tears welled in her eyes, and Andrea saw it right away. She walked over and stood directly in front of Miranda. "Here," she whispered, "lift your arms." Miranda slowly raised her arms and Andrea slipped her hands underneath, grasping her body as she lifted her up. Miranda's hands grasped Andrea's shoulders, steadying herself as she stood on shaky legs. Andrea moved to her side.

"I think I need to sit down," Miranda said as she swayed.

"Step out of the heels," Andrea whispered. Miranda did, and Andrea led her over to the couch.

"You know, I highly value the discretion of my employees, Andrea," Miranda said. "Thank you, Andrea."

"Of course, Miranda," she replied. "What else can I do?"

"Nothing. I just need a few moments, then I'll head home."

"You haven't eaten today," Andrea said. She knew Miranda's schedule like the back of her hand. Miranda's afternoon meeting went over, causing her to skip lunch, and her evening was, uh, otherwise occupied, so she never asked for her dinner order. "It's nearly 10 o'clock, you're probably dehydrated," Andrea offered.

"I am not hungry," Miranda said.

"I am bringing you a glass of Propel and some cheese cubes," Andrea said.

"No, honestly, call Roy," she said. "You can send the Propel and…cheese cubes…to go," she added.

Andrea smiled and sent Roy a quick note. He was already waiting, but Andrea let him know Miranda might need help getting in and out of the car. Andrea packed a few items for Miranda and placed them in her bag. She picked up her coat, just as Miranda was striding out of her office…in her Chanel flats.

"Andrea?" she called as she put on her coat and picked up her bag. "Remember, not a word."

Andrea nodded and Miranda walked into the elevator.

Andrea returned to her desk to wait for the Book. Shit, she thought, I still need to bring the Book to Miranda, but all I can think of is how sexy she is when she comes. Andrea knew it would take a lot of willpower to see Miranda again tonight and not wrap her arms around again. As she anxiously waited for Kevin to show up, she wandered back into Miranda's office to clean up her desk. She cleaned the entire surface with a Lysol wipe, then polished it. Luckily, Miranda didn't have too many things to replace on her desk, so that did not take her a long time. She also gathered the photos from Demarchelier and reorganized them. Miranda didn't finish making notes on them, so Andrea brought the envelope out to her desk so Miranda could look at them at home if she wished.

She went back to her desk and checked her emails once again, fairly certain she wasn't receiving anymore this evening. Surprisingly, there was one new message, an email from Irv Ravitz. Andrea took a deep breath before opening the email. Two words: You're fired.

She gasped as she read and reread the message. It wasn't a prank, the email was actually sent from his account. But, what did she do? Was this even legal? Andrea sighed and knew she couldn't win a battle against Irv Ravitz, no matter what. She collected a box from the mail room and began packing her things—some files and notes she made, along with little things she brought to discreetly personalize her workspace. She left the box unopened, but added a shipping label with her name and home address. Emily could send it in the morning, and add anything Andrea may have forgotten. With everything Miranda was dealing with, she wanted to make this as simple as possible for her.

She slowly grabbed her coat and bag, walking towards the elevators in a trance. "Hey, Andy!" Kevin shouted as he ran down the hallway with the Book, "Don't want to forget this! Have a good night!"

Before she could even say a word, he was gone, and she was standing in front of an open elevator with the Book in her hand. As much as she wanted to avoid seeing Miranda tonight, she knew that even though she had technically been fired, Miranda would be angry—and worse, disappointed—if she did not bring the Book this evening.

Andrea rode the subway, then walked the remaining five blocks to the townhouse, cursing the Book. If it wasn't for that, she wouldn't have been staying late and she would certainly not have seen Irv fucking Miranda, and more importantly, Irv would have never fired her. Fired—she had never been fired from anything. Had Miranda fired her when she first started, well, she could have believed that. Anyone in NYC would have been sympathetic to that on a resume. But Irv Ravitz, or Irving, as Miranda called him. God, I will never be able to get that out of my head, she thought.

Climbing the stairs, she hoped Miranda would be in bed or upstairs or something—somewhere away from the foyer. As Andrea reached for her key, the door opened and an arm reached out, dragging her inside.

"Andrea," Miranda said as she took the Book out of her hands, "I meant what I said about discretion. You do not speak a word of this to anyone." Miranda stopped and studied Andrea. The young woman's eyes looked teary, she was not making eye contact, and she appeared to be trembling. "Is something wrong, Andrea? Are you even listening to me?" she sighed. "Now, I am a highly successful editor, and the bottom line is I get what I want, and I do what I need to survive. If Irving and I have an arrangement, that is our business. Do not think of interfering, do you hear me?" she hissed.

Andrea did not acknowledge her, but simply turned to walk out the door. "I'm glad you're doing better, Miranda," she said.

"Look at me, damnit!" Miranda shouted. Andrea froze in her tracks and turned around, wide-eyed, to face Miranda. Never in the six months she spent at Runway had she heard Miranda raise her voice or lose control, but in this moment, knowing Miranda didn't care for ethics or professionalism, and knowing that she was no longer employed by Miranda, Andrea was scared.

"Andrea, I am truly sorry to put you in this position. I did not intend for you to hear or see—well, that." She paused, eyeing Andrea cautiously. "You know what, go home. We will talk about this tomorrow," Miranda said, regaining her composure, and realizing Andrea probably needed a break just as much as she did.

Andrea nodded and walked out, shutting the door behind her. She pulled off her Jimmy Choos and left them on Miranda's porch, flexing her feet as she pulled a pair of thong sandals out of her purse before running to the subway. She had a lot of clothes to return to Runway—might as well begin now, she thought.

When the door slammed shut, Miranda turned the lock and pressed her forehead to the cool, smooth oak. Andrea wasn't supposed to know, she thought, she wasn't supposed to unravel me like this.

"Miranda?"

She slowly pushed herself off the door and turned around in the dark hallway. "Stephen," she said. "How was your day?"

"Cut the bullshit, Miranda," he said. "What is this arrangement you're talking about?"

"Oh Stephen," she said, shrugging her shoulders, trying to hide her anxiety. "It's nothing. You know how I have to negotiate with Irving Ravitz and the Elias-Clarke board." She slowly stepped closer to Stephen, pausing at the stairway and crossing her arms across her chest. "Have you eaten already?" she asked. Stephen nodded as he continued to eye his wife suspiciously. "Good, I did too. I'm, uh," she paused, tilting her head, "going upstairs now," she said, slowly turning and climbing the staircase.

Stephen ran his hand through his thick grey hair. "Damnit, Miranda," he whispered as he pulled out his cell phone. "Yeah, I need you to look into an Irv Ravitz of Elias-Clarke Publications…yeah, recent transactions, security footage, give me everything…thanks, I owe you." Stephen quickly closed his phone before climbing the stairs after Miranda.

When Andrea arrived at her apartment, she grabbed two large trash bags and began filling them with the items she acquired while at Runway. Handbags, shoes, dresses, pants, tops, lingerie, beauty products—everything was tossed into the two bags. She also piled her Elias-Clarke badge, along with her cell phone and Miranda's housekey on top of the bags. First thing in the morning, she thought, she would call Roy to pick this stuff up.

And that's what she did. At 5:30am, she texted Roy to swing by her place before picking up Miranda. He arrived an hour later and helped Andrea carry the items out to the car. "Andy, I just can't believe this. I mean, can't Miranda do something? It just seems so wrong—what, does he think he's Donald Trump or something?" Roy said.

"I don't know," she replied, "he must. But it's his company, his call."

"You can probably file a lawsuit against him for this, you know," Roy suggested.

"What, so I can get by job back and see him every fucking day? No thank you. It's not worth the trouble."

"Andy, did you tell Miranda? I'm sure she can help-"

"No, of course not," Andrea said, pausing before continuing, "I mean—she'll jump at the chance to replace me. She doesn't have time to deal with shit like this."

"Oh I doubt that. But, it's your call. Take care, kid," he said, stepping into the towncar as Andrea waved from her doorstep. Andrea went back upstairs, showered, and dressed. She pulled her pay-as-you-go personal cell from her drawer and turned it back on. She also pulled her old MacBook (circa 2002) out from the bottom of her closet and booted it up, hoping to find some free wi-fi so she could begin looking for a new job.

Roy picked up Miranda from her home, just like any other morning. When they arrived at Runway, he opened Miranda's door and she strode into the building. He opened the trunk and pulled out two large garbage bags and followed Miranda into the building and heading for the service elevator.

Because the service elevator is toward the rear of the building, he arrived just around the corner from The Closet. Roy didn't really know his way around Runway, as he was often downstairs at the curb, so he stepped into the Closet and set the bags down.

"Excuse me?" one of the assistants said.

"I'm Miranda's driver. Andrea sent these items with me—said to return them here." He paused for a moment, taking Andrea's badge, key, and phone out of his coat pocket. "Oh, and can you see that these are returned to the appropriate person, as well. Thanks!" he said, quickly stepping out and heading back down the service elevator, despite the stunned look on the girl's face.

For some reason, it seemed everyone was traveling upstairs this morning. Miranda was in the elevator, by herself, and it must have stopped on five separate floors before delivering her to 18. Emily greeted her at the door with her schedule as usual, but Miranda paused when they reached the outer office. Andrea was usually standing there, smiling to greet her, but today, there was some ugly box on her desk. When she reached her desk, she spun around, "Where is my coffee? Andrea?"

"Miranda," Emily quietly replied, "Andrea did not show up today. I am running now to get your coffee."

"Wait—" Miranda said. "What do you mean she didn't show up?"

"She's not here. I don't know where she is. I tried her cell phone several times and it's clearly turned off. I mean, the nerve of someone to—"

"Emily, that's enough. Get my coffee."

When she returned, Serena was waiting at her desk for her. "Em, Em— what's going on with Andy?"

"I don't know. Miranda has been waiting for her coffee because that smart, fat girl hasn't shown up and decided to turn her phone off!"

Serena placed a hand on Emily's wrist, calming her down. "Em, Roy dropped some things off this morning—said Andrea wanted to make sure it got back to the right person," Serena said as she showed Emily Andrea's badge and phone. "And," she continued, "he brought two trash bags full of clothes, bags, shoes, makeup, you name it."

"I—I don't know. Do you think she quit?" Emily asked.

"Emily? My coffee?" Miranda called.

"Shit," she whispered. "Coming, Miranda!" Emily shouted as she grabbed her bag and hustled out of the office.

"Keep calling Andrea," Miranda instructed, despite the fact that Emily just left to fetch coffee.

"Miranda, we don't have another number for her," Serena replied.

"What on earth do you mean?" Miranda asked.

"Miranda," Serena said, stepping into the office. "Andrea sent these this morning with Roy," she said, handing Miranda the items. "She wanted to return them, along with all of the other items she borrowed or was gifted from Runway."

"Did—did she quit?" Miranda asked, trying to put the pieces together.

"It appears so," Serena replied. None of us have spoken with her, and well, it's useless to keep calling that number," she said, motioning to the phone in Miranda's hand. "Did you receive a note from her, perhaps?"

Miranda slowly shook her head. "That's all," Miranda said, waving her hands, motioning for the woman to leave. "Let me know if you find anything else out," she added. Miranda sat at her desk in disbelief. She just saw Andrea last night. Was she that upset knowing of the arrangement? Why didn't she tell her or send a note?

Miranda waited until Serena was out of sight, then she reached down and opened the bottom drawer of the file cabinet along her wall. She pulled Andrea's resume out of a file, softly tracing her fingers over the cotton paper as she recalled the first day she laid eyes on Andrea. That cerulean sweater, she thought. Forcing herself back to the present, she quickly wrote Andrea's phone number on a post-it and slipped her resume back into the file.

All day long, Miranda's eyes kept returning to the post-it on her desk, beckoning her to pick up the phone and call. Perhaps I disappointed her, Miranda thought, quickly shaking her head, realizing that the young woman had really grown on her.

It was a stressful Friday for Miranda, so no one was surprised when she left early and waved off the Book. Stephen never came home, but strangely, Miranda wasn't concerned. She laid in bed, wide awake at 2 AM, the post-it with Andrea's number having mysteriously made its way to her nightstand. I will not call her, she told herself, I just need the number to know when she calls me.

Miranda reached over and pulled the tv remote from the table. This is what people do when they can't sleep, right? she thought to herself as she turned on the television. She decided on one of those Hollywood celebrity all-access shows. At least it will give me a heads-up on who might be looking to reinvent themselves in an upcoming issue, she thought, justifying her television tastes.

After a few minutes of the too-peppy host going on about Taylor Swift's broken heart, Miranda felt her eyelids growing heavy. "…and now we have breaking news, folks. Elias-Clarke frontman Irv Ravitz has been caught red-handed, as the latest video footage implies. Who is the mystery woman? We have no confirmation, but if you're seeing what we see, there's no mistaking those signature white locks custom Prada pumps for anyone other than Miranda Priestly, Editor-in-Chief of Elias-Clarke's haute couture fashion magazine Runway. More to come on this story after the break." Miranda was once again, wide awake, staring at the screen in shock, a shiver running through her body.

She had gotten sloppy. She let herself get caught. This was news that would not blow over by the time Monday came around, especially at Elias-Clarke. Sighing, she did the only thing she could think of, she picked up the phone and dialed Andrea's number.

"Uh, hello?"

"Andrea."

"Miranda? How did you even get this number?"

"Your resume. Andrea, are you watching this?"

"Watching what, Miranda. I was sleeping. It's," she paused, fumbling around to see her clock, "2:42 AM!"

"Andrea, turn your television on."

"Okay, okay, hold on," she said, "I'm walking to the tv." Silence fell over the line for several seconds while Andrea found her remote and turned on her set, flipping a few channels. "Oh my god!" she gasped, nearly dropping the phone when she saw the reports.

"Andrea, please come to the townhouse."

"But Miranda, I—"

"Andrea, please. I need to speak with you in person. Don't worry, I'll pay for the taxi, just get over here," she said before ending the call.

Andrea acted out of instinct, quickly throwing on her jeans and a zip-up jacket before running down to hail a cab. Why she was going to her former boss' house in the middle of the night was beyond her. But she did genuinely want to see her again. Frankly, she was surprised she hadn't heard from Miranda sooner.

When she arrived at the townhouse, she rang the doorbell several times before Miranda answered. "Why are you ringing—" Miranda began, catching herself as Andrea interrupted.

"My key should have been delivered with the other things," she said.

"Oh, yes, I received them. Andrea, look, I'm sorry. I…you were a highly responsible employee, and you show great promise, so I'll be happy to be a reference if you would like—"

"Miranda, why am I here?" Andrea asked, quietly.

Miranda took a deep breath. "So, I hate to ask you this, but I just need some reassurance I guess. Did you say anything to anyone about what was going on with Irv and me?"

"No!" Andrea said, her deep brown eyes wide and honest. "No, Miranda, I didn't tell a soul. I actually have not spoken to anyone since I left your house last night," Andrea added as tears began to form in her eyes.

"Okay, Andrea. Thank you. And I believe you. I just needed to be sure."

Andrea sniffled and wiped her eyes. "Do you know who else would have said something?"

"Yes," Miranda said, "Unfortunately, Stephen was standing in the den when I spoke with you last night. Of course, I didn't tell him anything, but apparently it wasn't too difficult to find what he needed." Miranda turned to head towards the kitchen, "Come, sit," she said. Andrea followed and sat next to her at the kitchen counter.

"God, I was so stupid!" Miranda said as tears began to fill her eyes.

"Did you know there was a camera in the conference room?" Andrea asked quietly.

"No," Miranda replied. "Well, maybe. Yes, I guess I did, but I didn't think it would be running on a Friday evening after everyone had left."

"What if someone would have walked past? I mean, the conference room is completely surrounded by glass."

"Well," Miranda chuckled, shaking her head, "that was part of the thrill."

"Oh, god, Miranda. I really don't want to hear any more," Andrea said, rolling her eyes. "Except—okay, one question. Was Irving really worth it?" she asked, careful to pronounce his name exactly as Miranda had.

Miranda almost choked on her water. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, come on. If it cost me my job, at least give me that much."

She sighed. "After I learned to block out the image of his face, he was fab-u-lous," Miranda purred, a wicked grin on her face. "You know, Andrea, you didn't have to quit because of it. I couldn't have used it as leverage, I mean, it was all too risky."

"Wait—what?" Andrea said, "I didn't quit. I was fired, Miranda!"

"What?!" Miranda said, "Who?"

"Irv Ravitz. Sent me an email after he left."

"That bastard," Miranda said, under her breath. "Andrea, why didn't you tell me?"

She shrugged. "It was useless. You would have found a reason to fire me anyway."

"No, Andrea. No, no—never," she quickly said. "Uh, what are you doing about it?" Miranda asked, trying to steer conversation away from her little confession.

"I don't know, look for something at one of the smaller papers I guess?"

"You're not going to fight this? This is absolutely unlawful termination, Andrea."

"Same thing you did to his assistant," Andrea muttered.

"Oh," she said, "I see you, uh, heard that part."

"Look, Miranda, I'm sorry. And I will probably take you up on that reference if the offer still stands."

"Darling, of course. Anything you need. If you need some extra cash or a place to stay in the meantime…" Miranda said, stopping when she noticed the look on Andrea's face. "What?"

Andrea smiled and shook her head back and forth. "You just called me'darling,' Miranda. I really think you need some sleep."

Blush crept up Miranda's face. "I'm sorry," she said, "But I do mean that, if you need anything…" she paused looking at Andrea for a moment, "You sent two giant bags of clothing back, Andrea, so do you have items left in your closet?"

"Miranda, I'll figure it out. Once I get another job, I will be fine."

"I don't believe you. I know how much I was paying you, and I know your rent has to be around $2,000. There's no way you could have actually saved any money."

Andrea sighed and stove from the chair, "Miranda, let's not have this conversation. I won't accept your pity. And believe it or not, you actually have a lot more going on in your life that you should be worrying about right now."

Miranda stood and followed her into the hall. She grabbed Andrea's wrist and stopped her. "I know," she said, "I know I do. I don't know what to do, and I'm trying not to think about it." Miranda had tears in her eyes as she looked at Andrea.

"Oh, Miranda, I'm sorry," Andrea said as she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around the fashion editor. Miranda slid her own arms around Andrea's small waist, burying her face in the young woman's neck. Miranda inhaled deeply, drowning herself in Andrea's scent as tears streamed down her cheeks. Andrea softly moved her hands up and down Miranda's back in soothing motions, softly whispering, "It's going to be okay, you will survive this."

The young woman's words were, in fact, calming, combined with the strong arms wrapped around her. Deep down, somewhere, Miranda knew that she would be okay and that this would be over eventually, but it didn't help her anxiety in the moment. She needed a plan, and right now, all she wanted to do was stay there in that moment, with Andrea's arms wrapped around her, standing in her foyer.

"Miranda, it's nearly five o'clock. Why don't you try getting some rest? We can sort this out in the morning."

Miranda knew she needed sleep, but she knew she wouldn't be able to fall asleep easily. Miranda nodded, "Okay, upstairs?" Andrea pulled away a little and walked up the stairs with Miranda, side-by-side.

On the second floor was Miranda's office, a small sitting room, Miranda's bedroom, and Miranda's closet. Miranda led them towards her bedroom. She was still wearing her silk nightgown and grey robe. As they approached the bed, Miranda pulled away from Andrea and untied her robe, shrugging it off and letting it pool on the floor. She lifted the covers and climbed back into bed, as Andrea simply stood at the foot of the bed.

"Andrea," Miranda called, "you are more than welcome to stay here—I know I woke you up when I called."

"Oh, I'm uh, not really tired anymore," Andrea said.

"Andrea, you don't have to sleep. Will you please just stay here with me?" Miranda said exasperatedly.

"Oh, um, yeah, I guess," Andrea said, stumbling for words as she looked around the room for a chair or couch.

"Andrea, please," Miranda said as she patted the space on the bed next to her. "Up here. I don't bite—promise."

"Oh, uh, right," Andrea said as she walked around to the other side of the bed. Miranda could sense the young woman's nervousness. It was kind of cute—what, did she think she would try to have sex with her tonight or something, after everything that's happened in the past two days.

"Andrea, if you'd like more comfortable clothes, or an extra blanket or anything—" Miranda offered.

"No, thank you. I'm good," she said. Andrea climbed into the bed, sure to keep distance between herself and her former boss. Andrea fluffed the pillows and piled them against the headboard before leaning back. She meant what she said—she wasn't tired. Miranda turned towards Andrea, and opened her eyes.

"Okay, be honest," she said quietly, "what do you think will happen?"

"Oh, Miranda, I can't really answer that," Andrea said.

"You're very intelligent, Andrea. Just give me your best guess."

"Well, it will be a media circus. Everyone will be looking for more evidence, more photos, etc., and that will all probably end up online and on page six. Elias-Clarke can't get rid of both of you—not at the same time. I suppose Irv will try to blame you somehow. I mean, he can try to claim sexual assault, but given the fact that I saw and heard that last tryst, I think we all know that wouldn't work. I think he's probably in a more compromising position—you can always say that because he was essentially your direct superior, you were compelled to go along with everything for fear of consequences. I don't think they will try to get rid of you for this—not any more so than they've been trying for years. I mean, on the bright side, this will surely sell more copies of the magazine and drive page views for the website. Honestly, I think it will settle down and work out just fine."

Miranda sighed. "Do you think it would pan out the same if video footage turned up?"

"Uh, what are you talking about, Miranda? Is this like a sex-tape or something?"

"Ha, oh god no. I mean, if someone obtained that singular photo from the security camera, what's to stop them from leaking the entire clip to the press?"

"Miranda," Andrea asked, "Will you tell me the truth about something?"

She paused for a moment, "Yes."

"If the entirety of that security footage were to be leaked, what would we see?"

Miranda was silent for a few minutes, staring up at the ceiling. Finally, she took a deep breath and began. "It was a Friday evening. I was working on my third revision of the budget for NYFW, and no matter what I did, Irving kept telling me no. We were fighting over $5,000. I offered to pay for that on my own, and he said he would consider it, to meet him in the conference room later. I shrugged it off, finished some other tasks, then headed to the conference room before leaving. The entire floor was empty, and the only lights on in the room were the ambient lights built-into the glass table. I stepped in and shut the door, and Irving came out of the corner. He told me we had a deal, and he came up behind me, pressing himself against me. It took my breath away—I hadn't been expecting anything like that. It had been nearly a year since our last, uh, tryst, as you called it. He unzipped my skirt and tossed it aside. He slowly unbuttoned my blouse, leaving me in my camisole and underwear…and heels, of course. He bent me over the table and, um, you know. I remember that night quite clearly. I climbed onto the table afterwards, and he followed me—he wanted more. He laid on his back and I crawled on top of him, pleasing him orally until he was ready. Then, I straddled him and we had sex again. He wears this belt buckle—it's quite tacky, actually—but it is some sort of antique brass, with two large bullhorns on it. He kept his belt buckled, and he must have had a spare pair of pants in his office, since his were ruined every time. But, oh god, Andrea, that belt buckle. I uh, remember being quite loud." Miranda took another deep breath, "Damnit! How could I have been so foolish?" she cried, burying her face into the pillow.

Andrea reached her hand over and softly brushed her knuckles across Miranda's shoulder. Miranda lifted her head a bit and looked up at the young woman. Andrea softly cupped Miranda's cheek, wiping away her tears with her thumb. "Miranda, anyone in your position would have done the same."

"How can you say that?" Miranda asked.

"How was your life at home during this time?" Andrea asked.

"That has nothing to do with it," Miranda said.

"Miranda, all I'm saying is that if you were getting some at home, you probably would have been quick to turn Irv down."

Miranda looked up. "How can you say that? You don't know what it's like—" she began.

"Please, forget I said that," Andrea said. "I'm sorry I upset you." Andrea pulled her hand away and sat with her hands folded in her lap, silent for nearly ten minutes.

Out of nowhere, Miranda began talking again, "This all started nearly ten years ago, when I was pregnant with the twins."

"Miranda, you don't have to tell me all this—I shouldn't have pushed you. I'm sorry," Andrea said.

Miranda sat up and looked at Andrea. "No, I need to talk about this…Do you mind?"

"Of course not, I was just worried I was pushing you."

Miranda shook her head and moved closer to Andrea. "Can I—?" she asked. Andrea nodded and lifted her arm as Miranda curled up beside her. "So, this started about ten years ago. I was twenty weeks—the girls would actually be born just six weeks later—but I was really enormous. It wasn't just my belly, I was bloated and puffy, but I was probably the horniest I've ever been in my life. James was never home, and when he was, he wanted nothing to do with me. I was such a turnoff for him, he started sleeping in the guest bedroom. I knew we would be divorced shortly after the girls were born, but I just pushed it aside, hoping that once they were born and I lost the weight, he would find me desirable again. (That never happened, by the way.) So, I was twenty weeks, and it was a hot summer day. I was wearing a white linen wrap dress from OdLR resort 1998, and mid-height black and white polka-dot espadrilles. Irv Ravitz had been appointed to the Board several years ago, but he had just recently taken the seat of chairman. He called me to his office to discuss my upcoming leave, and the staffing plan that was in place. I entered his office and he actually licked his lip," Miranda laughed at the memory. "He helped me to sit on his couch—the same leather couch in his office to this day—and he sat there with me, handing me a cool glass of Pellegrino as I fanned myself with a file folder. He asked me how I was doing, how far along I was, and told me I was 'glowing' and 'vibrant.' He asked if he could feel my belly. I should have said no, but my hormones were raging and I craved touch—anyone's. He caressed my belly for a while, then slipped his hand in between the layers of the wrapped linen and began grazing his fingertips over my taut, smooth skin. I could feel how wet I was. I let my head fall back into the couch and my eyes fluttered closed as he untied the dress and began massaging my belly with the rough skin of his two hands. I couldn't hold it in anymore, and I let out a low moan. He said I couldn't be any more beautiful than I was in that moment. It was what I wanted to hear from my husband for months. Irv moved one hand up and gently grazed it across my left nipple. I was so sensitive, the softest touch sent sparks flying. He began massaging my breasts with both of his hands. His touch sent off fireworks, and I, I had an orgasm, right there on that couch. I was still aroused, and the look in his eye said he was too. He helped me to stand and I turned around, kneeling on the couch with my right knee as my hands gripped the back. He unzipped and instantly began thrusting into me, taking my breath away. I would have never guessed that he had such a large cock—both in length and girth. As he drove into me that afternoon, he wrapped his arms around me and massaged my belly and breasts. It wasso sensual, and in that moment, I felt incredibly desirable—wanted. Irv let me freshen up in his private bathroom and he called me a car to take me home to rest. The next day, there were three dozen white roses on her desk with a note that said, 'if you ever need anything, just ask.' We had sex two more times before I went into labor. Over the next few years, we continued our office thing…and then I married Stephen. It was clear that Irv did not like him, and every time I met with him, he was demanding and unreasonable. Then, he would touch me or I would touch him—it was different every time, but I ended up getting my way. He knew that Stephen filed for divorce in Paris, and that I refused to sign. It's like he resented me for that and was being extra demanding since we returned from Paris. The conference room was the first Friday since we returned."

Miranda paused and pushed away from Andrea so she could look her in the eye. "I have never been attracted to the man—it's just, he found me desirable, even though I've aged, and, and, you were right. My personal life wasn't exactly satisfying me…and I doubt it will for a while."

Andrea pulled Miranda closer and she rested her head on the young woman's chest. Andrea kept her arm around Miranda and laid her arm on top of Miranda's, which was stretched across her waist.

Miranda was silent for quite some time, and Andrea was sure she had fallen asleep. Needing a little sleep herself, Andrea first bent down and pressed a small kiss to the top of Miranda's hair. "You are so beautiful, Miranda," Andrea whispered, "You are sexy and sweet and desirable. You will always be desirable to me, Miranda," she whispered before closing her eyes.

Miranda smiled and wrapped her arm more tightly around her. "Miranda?" Andrea asked, "Are you awake?"

"Mm-hmm," she said, "Did you mean that or were you just trying to make me feel better?" she asked.

"Um, it was the truth," Andrea said, turning to her right side, away from Miranda. "I thought you were asleep. I didn't think you would hear me."

"Darling, come here," Miranda said, curling up behind her and resting her chin on the younger woman's shoulder. "Now that you know most of my secrets, I can't just let you go," she teased, softly pressing her lips to Andrea's cheek. "Stay here with me—live here."

"Miranda, this is happening so fast, and you have so much else going on—I don't know."

"Darling, listen to me," she began, "I need a friend—I won't survive the next few weeks without someone. Please."

"What aboutIrv?"

"What about him? That's over. And he was never anything like a friend. The only time he ever really made me feel good, was when I was pregnant, and I blame my hormones for not recognizing how creepy and fetishistic that was. He was just means to an end."

"And Stephen, your husband?" Andrea asked.

"I signed the divorce papers while you were on your way over here. He'll get them tomorrow, and he will not want any part of the chaos to come, so I know he'll settle quickly. Andrea, I can pay you—hire you as, I don't know, manager of my household staff or something."

"That sounds frivolous, you do realize that, right?" Andrea laughed.

"Will you do it?"

"Two conditions: I have my own room with a writing desk, and I have time every day to write freelance."

"You can have the guest room on the third floor. We can put a desk in the sitting area if you'd like, and honestly you can do whatever you'd like. Does this mean you'll do it?"

Andrea smiled. She couldn't resist Miranda's pleading. "Yes, I will." she said, turning to hug Miranda. Suddenly, their bodies were very, very close, their breasts nearly touching one another. Miranda inhaled sharply as she tried to fight the urge to kiss the younger woman. Andrea held her breath, hoping Miranda would turn away before she devoured her soft pink lips.

"Uh," Miranda stammered, "I'm, uh, still tired, so, um, I'm going to try and fall asleep." She scooted over back towards her side of the bed.

"I should probably get going—" Andrea said, tossing the covers off and standing next to the bed. "I don't want to add fuel to the fire if Stephen comes in and sees me in your bed," she said, blushing.

Miranda twisted her lips, "I hadn't thought of that. See? This is why I need you."

Andrea smiled. "I'll talk to my landlord today and see if I can get out of my lease. When would you like me to start?"

"It doesn't matter—will Monday be okay? You can bring your items over Sunday night?"

"Yes," Andrea replied. "And Miranda," she said walking around to the other side of the bed, "thank you for opening up to me tonight. Thank you for trusting me, it means a lot to me—you mean a lot to me."

"As do you, Andrea," she said. "See you tomorrow." With that, Andrea nodded and left the townhouse, fighting the throngs of photographers on Miranda's porch.

Miranda woke much later that day to knocking at her bedroom door. "Who is it?"

"Miranda, it's me," Stephen said.

"Come in," she said, sitting up and pulling the sheet around her body. "You didn't have to knock," she added.

"Miranda, I found these on the table in the den—is this because of the story about you and Irv?" He asked.

She was surprised. Suspicious, actually. She thought Stephen would have been furious about Irv, but now it seems like he's—sad—about the divorce papers. "Stephen, it's not fair to you. Things haven't been the same between us for a while now, and you wanted this divorce weeks ago, but I was, I don't know, clinging to false hope that we'd be able to make it work."

"Miranda, I wasn't expecting this, honestly. I came home as soon as I saw the news this morning—I didn't want you to be alone."

"I am quite capable of handling things on my own," she said, "but," she added, looking at the indentations in the covers on the other side of the bed, "your instincts were right. I did need someone—my friend Andrea."

"You called your assistant instead of calling me?" Stephen asked.

"First, she is no longer employed by Runway. Second, why would I call my husband to console me over the news that I've been screwing my boss? Third, I decided to sign the divorce papers so you wouldn't have to deal with any of the fallout, even though you caused it all."

Stephen was caught like a deer in headlights. "Stephen," she said, "Please leave." He said nothing, but bowed his head and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Miranda stayed in bed the rest of the afternoon and evening. Caroline and Cassidy phoned from Boston when they heard the news. They were on a week-long trip with their school's orchestra, and although Miranda offered to pick them up, they said it was okay, and wanted to give Miranda time to sort things out.

Miranda sighed and decided to send Andrea a text: I'm thinking of you. I miss you, darling. Hope you had a good day. xx M

Andrea replied: It was okay. Would be better if I could see you. Can't wait until tomorrow. xo A

Miranda: Why wait? Come over now. Bring a small bag, and Roy can pack up the rest Monday…

Andrea: Really? Isn't this moving a little too fast?

Miranda: As fast or slow as you want, darling. But I would greatly enjoy your presence this evening.

Andrea: See you in an hour. P.S. I like fast. xo A

Andrea quickly packed an overnight bag with her makeup and toiletries and a few necessary clothing items. As she walked over to Miranda's house, she tried to figure out what exactly Miranda meant, and if Miranda meant the same thing Andrea meant. Andrea was ready to jump into a relationship with Miranda, crazy as it sounded, but she wasn't sure Miranda was ready. Not only was she going through a divorce and dealing with fallout from Irv, but as far as Andrea knew, she had a history of being with men, not women. While Andrea, too, only ever dated men, she knew for a while that she was physically attracted to women and women alone. Ultimately, it's why she and Nate ended their relationship several months ago.

Approaching the townhouse, she decided that she would follow Miranda's pace. She rang the doorbell several times again before Miranda finally answered. She was wearing the same robe and nightgown she had on when Andrea left, and she looked exhausted, but utterly beautiful.

"Make sure you make yourself a key—first thing Monday morning," Miranda said as she shut the door behind Andrea. "Have those photographers been out there all day?" Andrea nodded.

"Should I put my bags upstairs?" she asked, standing in the foyer holding two large totes.

"Oh, yes, of course. Or just leave them here and we'll take them up later," Miranda said as she wrapped her arms around Andrea. She pressed her forehead to Andrea's and both of their breathing began to speed up.

"Miranda," Andrea panted, "If you're not— I mean,— we should— we can wait—"

"No," Miranda whispered, her voice hoarse, "no waiting," she said as she crushed her lips against Andrea's. Her lips were everything she dreamed they would be, soft and silky, luscious, delicious. Miranda nibbled at the younger woman's lips for a while. When she pulled back for air, Andrea took her lips back and darted her tongue into Miranda's mouth, exploring every inch as Miranda gently raked her teeth along Andrea's tongue. For a moment, Andrea thought, I could stand here kissing this woman for the rest of my life. But then, Miranda reached her hand between them, cupping the younger woman's breast, and Andrea knew she needed more.

"Miranda—let's take this upstairs?" Andrea whispered as her own hands trailed up and down the older woman's backside, resting firmly on her tight lower cheeks. Andrea lifted her up, and Miranda squealed, wrapping her legs around the young woman's small frame. She trailed kisses down Andrea's neck the whole way upstairs until Andrea deposited her softly on the bed. She gently untied the robe and climbed on top of Miranda, her lips instantly going to the dark, peaked nipples stretching the silk fabric. Andrea took her nipple into her mouth through the silk, sucking and biting as her hand reached up and pinched the other breast. Miranda moaned in pleasure beneath her, lifting her hips off the bed as she strained for contact.

"I don't have bullhorns, but this Prada belt certainly has an enormous buckle," Andrea whispered as she lowered her hips, crushing her pelvis to Miranda's clitoris.

Miranda moaned, more loudly this time, and quickly turned them so Andrea was laying on her back. She removed Andrea's sweater and lowered herself onto Andrea's belt buckle, arching her back as she overstimulated herself. Andrea reached down and unzipped her pants, kicking them off. Miranda looked down at the beautiful young woman, in her white lace bra and panties, and that cerise Prada belt.

"Oh god, I need you," Miranda panted as she reached down and snapped Andrea's underwear off, plunging her fingers into Andrea's core as she lapped at the juices. Andrea's folds were wet and swollen, and Miranda hooked her fingers inside Andrea, furiously putting pressure on her g-spot until Andrea came, her hands holding tightly to fistfuls of the comforter. Miranda lapped up all of Andrea's delicious juices, licking her fingers and kissing her way up Andrea's abdomen, between her breasts, and finally kissing her on the lips, letting her taste herself.

"Miranda," she said, softly pushing her down to lie on her back again. Andrea slithered down her body and slid her long nightgown up, revealing her dripping folds. Her nose in Miranda's curls, she traced circles around her slit with her tongue before tapping her tongue inside, feeling Miranda's muscles twitch around her. Sensing she was near climax, Andrea began thrusting her fingers vigorously as she took her sensitive bud in her mouth. Miranda screamed and curled her body towards Andrea, her shoulders lifting off the bed as tears streamed from her eyes. Andrea slowly removed her fingers and wrapped her arms around Miranda, pulling the comforter over them. "Are you okay—did I hurt you?" Miranda quickly shook her head, reassuring Andrea she was physically okay. "Shh, just relax now," Andrea whispered, "I've got you. I'm not going anywhere."

Miranda's lip curled upwards as she opened her eyes to look at the younger woman. "That's good," she said, "because I don't intend on ever letting you go." She pressed a soft kiss to Andrea's lips before closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep, safe in her lover's arms.

The End.