A/N: If you're on tumblr, you may have noticed I've been taking some prompts. I wanted to share those with the ff community here, so I'm reposting. Each "Chapter" is its own one-shot or self-contained prompt. I hope you enjoy!

Prompt: "After a late night at Runway, Miranda and Andrea get stuck in an elevator. Things get emotional and lead to their sexual desires"

"You realize this is the last place on earth I want to be right now?"

"And you think I want to be here? Stuck in an elevator—with you?"

"Right. Sorry," Andrea said.

"When did Security say someone would be able to fix it?" Miranda asked.

"Umm, he said several hours at least. Apparently there aren't any emergency elevator maintenance companies that can send people out at 2 AM on a Sunday."

"Well, I guess I'm glad I'm not alone in the elevator for once," Miranda said, sighing and leaning back against the corner.

Tonight was a fire drill of sorts. Their layout system had crashed with the latest update, and the issue went to press at midnight. On top of that, Loreal Paris, the advertiser who was sponsoring a new feature section had pulled out at the last minute due to some bad press surrounding a lawsuit, and they had to fill the pages. It was exhilarating, working against a deadline like that. Andrea watched in awe as Miranda wrote most of the copy for the new pages, and for once, that earned a little respect.

But now, they were stuck. Everyone else had left. Miranda stayed until it began to print, and of course that meant Andrea stayed, too. In a surprising gesture of good will, Miranda invited Andrea into the elevator with her and offered her a ride home. She was fairly certain that offer was no longer on the table.

"Why is this the last place on earth you want to be?" Miranda asked quietly.

Locked in a closed room with the object of your affections is a fantasy of mine, Andrea thought. No, she could not say that. "I mean no one wants to be stuck in an elevator, right?"

Miranda rolled her eyes. "You said that because of me, didn't you? Stuck here with me is the last place you want to be," she said.

"No! That's not true!" Andrea said in defense. "I mean…" she paused, reining in her emotions as her belly swirled with need. "You're my boss, and you're Miranda Priestly. It's a little scary being in a big, unlocked room with you, if you know what I mean."

Miranda laughed, a full-bodied laugh that made the elevator car shake just a little.

Andrea crossed her legs tighter as she felt wetness pooling against her panties.

"Do you mean to tell me you are still afraid of me, Andrea? You, who can do anything? You really have done the impossible once or twice. I thought I lost you in Paris. I still don't quite believe that story about spilling water on your phone," Miranda said. "You have no reason to be scared of me—I like you, if that's possible. Oh god, what am I saying?" she moaned, bringing her hand up to cover her face. "I'm sitting on the floor of the elevator, confessing my feelings to my assistant!"

Andrea smiled.

"Tell me something, now. This cannot be a one-sided conversation, Andrea."

Andrea took a deep breath. "Promise that whatever is said in the elevator stays in the elevator?"

"Isn't that always the case?"

"Wouldn't know."

"True. Yes, it stays here. Proceed."

"Well," Andrea said nervously, "The reason I said this was the last place I wanted to be was because I've had a dream about this once."

Miranda turned and looked in Andrea's direction. Through the darkness she could barely make out her face. "That's it?"

"Well, it was a very imaginative dream. You were in it."

"Oh," Miranda said. "Ohhhh," she gasped, the realization dawning on her. "Wh—what was the dream about?" Miranda asked, her throat suddenly dry.

"You were pushing someone up against the elevator wall and—"

"Stop."

They sat in silence for several minutes. "I've always wanted to be kissed in an elevator," Andrea said. "It just seems so romantic."

"It's not," Miranda said. "All elevators have this handrail around the sides, and it's too high to sit on, too low to go unnoticed."

"So, you've…in an elevator?"

"Yes."

"Was it a long enough elevator ride? I would always worry it wouldn't be enough time to, you know."

"It was sufficient for him," Miranda said.

"But not you?"

"I don't…I need more than an elevator ride. Let's change the subject. What about you?"

"If it's with the right person, I could easily come in an elevator," Andrea said.

Miranda's eyes widened, though she was sure Andrea could not see that through the darkness.

"Oh! Were you just asking me to change the subject?"

"Obviously you have other ideas," Miranda said.

"Right. Well, I think the thrill of getting caught heightens the senses in an elevator," Andrea said.

"Funny how there is no thrill of getting rescued."

"Isn't there?"

"No. I mean…no."

"I'm sure you could manage to come in the elevator ride down from Runway. With the right person," Andrea said.

"Me?"

"No, the other person I'm talking to."

"Cheeky."

"I'm serious, Miranda. What would it take?"

At this, Miranda's eyes widened even more. "You go first," she said.

"Fine," Andrea said. Her panties were already ruined. "Sometimes, just a quick brush of my nipples, then quick pressure to my clit. If I'm tense, it usually needs some biting at my neck to get things going. If I'm by myself, I can usually rub my jeans the right way and that will work, too."

Now Miranda's throat was really dry. "I've never…you can come that quickly?"

Andrea smiled. "Oh yes. I think it's about knowing your body, knowing what you like and don't like. I don't think I've ever come from penetration."

"Really?"

"Yes. Miranda, have you never read anything about sexual health?"

"Er—I don't know. Like what?"

"I don't know, blogs, articles, books. This is not new information."

"I guess I haven't," she said.

"What do you usually do?" Andrea asked.

"When I orgasm? You're asking me what gets me off?" Miranda said.

"Well, yeah, that's what we were talking about."

"Oh my god, I can't believe I'm having this conversation with my assistant in an elevator. Ummm…okay. My breasts. I know they're small, but I like hands on my breasts, squeezing and licking, then maybe a bite."

"Do you come from that?" Andrea asked. She couldn't help it. She had to press her palm to her crotch to dull the ache.

"Well, no. I like—oh god, I'm so embarrassed. I like tongue. Cunnilingus."

Andrea inhaled sharply, then coughed, trying to cover up the fact that she almost came from hearing Miranda say that. "You like to be eaten out?"

"Well, yes, if you prefer that terminology. My first husband was actually quite—well, let's just say he had superior tongue muscles."

"Oh god," Andrea groaned.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Is it getting warm in here?" Miranda asked. "I wonder if the ventilation system has shut down with the outage," she said as she peeled her jacket off, revealing her shimmery ivory blouse stretched tight against her chest.

"How long has it been?" Andrea asked.

"Well I thought you were the one with the cell phone. Mine is still on my desk, remember?"

"Oh, well it's been—fifty-two minutes. But I was asking how long it's been for you, since you've—you know, orgasmed," Andrea said.

Miranda swallowed. "Wh—what do you mean?" she asked unsteadily. She could feel her underwear growing damp.

Andrea scooted closer, now just an arm's length away from the editor. "When was the last time someone ate you out?"

Miranda licked her lips. "I don't even remember. It has been a while."

"How long? Six months? Two years? Ten years?"

"Wh-what about you? When was the last time you came?" Miranda asked. Her voice was suddenly hoarse and an octave lower than normal.

Almost two minutes ago. "Last night," Andrea said. "And you?"

"1997."

"What?! As in, nine years ago?"

"Yes, I can subtract, thank you."

"So you mean, with Stephen—you never?"

"No. I suppose that was one of the reasons we—well, nevermind."

They sat in silence for a few minutes as Andrea pondered Miranda's revelation. Until now, she never considered that the woman might not be a sexually experienced as she was in her dreams.

As if she were reading her mind, Miranda asked, "What else was I doing in this dream you had—other than pushing someone against the elevator?"

"Uhm, your hands were moving back and forth. You had this sex-crazed look in your eye. And then I woke up."

"Do you have this dream often?"

"No, not really. Just once or twice," Andrea said. "Miranda, have you ever been aroused from a dream?"

"I think we've already established that it's been nine years, Andrea."

"Well, I asked if you've been aroused. When was the last time you ruined a pair of panties?" Andrea asked.

Miranda gasped.

"What would you think if I told you my panties are soaked right now?"

"Oh, um…really? From wh—what?" Miranda stammered.

"You seriously need me to explain how that works? Just talking like this…being locked in here…with you."

Miranda was panting. "I—I—uh, think the ventilation isn't working. It's stuffy in here," she said, fanning herself.

"We're going to be here for a while longer," Andrea said, reaching out and taking Miranda's hand. "Would it be okay if I…touched you?"

"Nooo," Miranda said, but she didn't pull her hand away.

Andrea moved closer and with her other hand, she brushed her fingertips across the silk fabric stretched across her chest. "So this…wouldn't be okay?"

"Unnhh," Miranda groaned.

From this distance, Andrea could see Miranda had her eyes closed tightly, her head tossed back against the wall. She was biting her lip. "It's okay, let it out, Miranda," she said, softly brushing her thumb across the hardened bud that was now visible through the silk. "There's no one here to hear you. No one is judging."

"Oh god," Miranda said, reaching out and grabbing at the jacket she tossed aside.

Andrea gently unbuttoned the first few buttons on her blouse. She slipped her hand inside and softly cupped the woman's breasts through her bra.

"Andrea, stop…stop," Miranda said, squirming away and crawling to the other side of the elevator. "This isn't right. I can't let you do this," she said, buttoning up her shirt.

"I don't mind," Andrea said. "Really. I thought 'what happens in the elevator stays in the elevator,'" she said.

"I'm flattered, really, Andrea, but I can't expect you to fix my issues. Can we talk about something else?"

"Sure, but if you decide at some point that you might like to, um…experiment…"

"You will be the first person I call," Miranda said.

Andrea opened her mouth, but before she could speak, the lights flickered on and the car lurched downward. Andrea stood to her feet, grabbing their jackets and bags from the ground. She reached out and helped Miranda to her feet as the elevator made its way to the ground floor.

"Andrea, if you can forgive my behavior earlier, I would still like to offer you a ride home. I know it's very late," Miranda said as they stepped out of the elevator.

"I will accept the offer, but—I'm sorry—I will not forgive you. You have nothing to apologize for," Andrea said.

"But—my confession," Miranda said.

Andrea gave Miranda a blank stare. "What confession?" she asked, shrugging her shoulder.

"Cheeky," Miranda said, grinning like an idiot.