In the months and years that would follow, Andy would take much time to admire every inch of Miranda's large, elegant bedroom, its cleverly complementary shades of blue and cream, its stylish framed black-and-white original photos of nude female curves and its spectacularly luxurious queen bed.

But the first night, from the moment the door closed and the lock snicked shut, Andy had eyes for only one thing. Well, several things:

The feather-soft skin that was under her hungry lips as she pressed Miranda hurriedly against a bedroom wall.

The texture of the delicate lacy white bra she'd unearthed after fumbling to unbutton the fashion queen's crisp shirt and relegating the blue linen to a puddle on the floor.

The smell of exotic perfume Andy had no hope of naming teasing her nostrils from behind dangling expensive pearls, dripping from Miranda's ears.

And the taste of hardening, crinkling nipples that she'd tongued voraciously after tugging bra cups down over alluring swells.

"Bed," Miranda groaned, her neck arching against her off-white bedroom walls. "I will not have my first time with you up against a wall, even if it is my wall."

Andy reluctantly let a delicious portion of breast plop from her mouth and took a step back, pouting as Miranda's lacy bra sprang back up, partially re-covering Andy's prize.

Miranda smirked at her dismay and reached behind herself to unclasp the La Perla. She dropped it unceremoniously to the floor. With her breasts fully bared, Andy stared, licking her lips. "Miranda," she croaked, as she felt a flood of moisture rushing to her core, "I really don't think I can get as far as the bed. I don't think I can walk at all."

Miranda laughed and sashayed towards the impressive piece of furniture dominating the room, swinging her hips in such a way that Andy's brain fried itself.

"What a shame," the editor purred. "Perhaps you just need the proper motivation."

Andy watched as Miranda reached her bed, unbuttoned her pants deftly and slid them slowly to the floor. She stepped out, one pale bare leg at a time. She wore only a thin thong.

"Fuck," Andy whispered reverently.

"Oh I intend to," Miranda said imperiously and lay back like a queen in the middle of her magnificent bed. She eyed her. "Come."

Andy swallowed. "I will in a second if I see even one more inch of you," she admitted, heat flushing her skin.

"Is that so?" Miranda asked and slipped her fingers down to dust along her thong. Andy watched, blinking rapidly, as fingertips ran up and down the cream-colored material, and then slid to the right. Not taking her eyes off Andy, she pulled one side of the thong away, baring swollen, wet lips to wide brown eyes.

"Gah," Andy gasped and scrambled across the room, pulling clothes off as she went, not caring in the slightest about how undignified she probably looked. She could not tear her eyes from the sight of Miranda now elegantly stroking herself, in long, languid motions, fingers sliding along a bare slit which had a small neat tuft of white curls at the top.

Miranda was watching Andy from under her lashes, irises blown huge with desire.

"Do move at a glacial place," Miranda said softly, tilting her hips up for a moment and then sighing. "You know how that thrills me."

Andy virtually squeaked, trying to get her jeans off even more hastily, finally wrenching them down her thighs with more force than finesse, taking her white panties with them. She kicked them away.

Naked, she finally stood before the fashion queen, whose dancing fingers were now glistening with her juices.

"They say if you want a job done properly, you must do it yourself," Miranda noted, her voice husky with arousal, and hitching every time her fingers skidded over her swollen bundle of nerves. "I don't necessarily subscribe to that theory," she said, eyebrow quirking as Andy clambered over to her on the bed. "All one needs is an exceptional assistant, do they not? And you always were the very best at assisting me."

Andy swallowed and nodded, heat blooming across her chest, barely able to stop gaping stupidly at the erotic sight before her.

"I loved assisting you," she admitted hoarsely, her hand sliding over to tangle with the wet fingers slipping around between Miranda's thighs. "Why don't you let me?"

Miranda nodded, pleased, and let Andy take over. The brunette immediately tore the thong down Miranda's thighs and took a moment to reverently study what she'd unearthed. Miranda twitched impatiently.

"You're so beautiful," Andy whispered in conclusion, leaning forward, nudging the editor's legs. "Can't wait to taste you. You're divine."

Miranda's breath caught, her chest rising rapidly and she parted her legs wide, opening herself up to Andy to fit between her thighs.

Andy's tongue darted into the moisture gathered along her slit and drew it up to her clitoris. At the first taste, she almost came herself. She moaned excitedly against the swollen flesh and drove her hips into the soft bedding.

"Fuck," she muttered. "So turned on right now."

Miranda's knowing smile didn't unsettle her for once and Andy shot her a cheeky smirk. "You won't be so smug in a minute," she informed the quivering flesh beneath her lips. Andy licked it again. Delicious. Piquant and a little sweet. She began to lap in earnest, running her tongue down, to swirl around her entrance, and then slithered up again, circling Miranda's clit. She slipped a finger in, gasping at how firmly she was pulled inside. She added another and was startled to hear an unexpected keening noise.

Her eyes flicked up to see Miranda's head thrown back, a look of incredulity on her face, her spine arching. Strangled, inarticulate sounds were humming and gasping from Miranda's twitching lips.

Andy pumped harder, twisting her fingers, curling up, while licking and nibbling.

"AndreaaaAAAA!" The half scream suddenly dragged itself from Miranda's raw throat, wrenched as though against her will, and wild eyes flashed open to fix on Andy in disbelief at what she'd somehow invoked.

The flesh under Andy was now covered with cum, coating her lips and tongue and chin. It was messy and slippery and chaotic and everything Miranda wasn't and it was completely, utterly sensational and Andy loved every minute of it. She never ever wanted to be deprived of this again. Never. Ever. Ever. She felt Miranda's passage tighten, pulses squeezing her and then another wave of heated liquid coated her exploring fingers.

Miranda slumped bonelessly back in bed with an undignified squeak and Andy took great care in removing her fingers and delicately cleaning her - every bit of liquid from every bit of glistening flesh, like a cat meticulously attending to itself.

She was being watched, she knew, and she skated her eyes up, up over the milky skin, the belly button and soft, ample pillows of breasts, the leonine curve of neck and the now wild coif of disarrayed white hair. Blue eyes looked into hers - open, clear, lacking all guile. It was the first time Andy had seen someone that naked. She felt humbled.

"I love you, too," Miranda whispered. "So you'd better be serious about this. About us. Because I couldn't handle it if this was just some..." She waved her hand.

Andy sat up and offered her a reassuring smile. "I'm deadly serious," she said. She stretched out alongside the woman she'd loved for two and a half years. "I'm not going anywhere unless you don't want me anymore. Which would break my heart but, well, that'd be your choice."

"Silly girl," Miranda said, and rolled her eyes. "Even if I took complete leave of my senses, I think the girls would stage a rather vigorous protest at me allowing you to leave us. Such is the power you have over the Priestly women."

"Wow," Andy said and grinned happily, coiling an arm around Miranda's chest, tweaking a nipple on the way past. "I had no idea."

She felt Miranda's hand curve across to her ass, and begin to stroke it. "Well now you do," she said. "And I intend to prove my affections, due to the vast limitations of mere words."

Andy swallowed at the sultry purr and found herself suddenly pinned on her back, the editor covering her with her body. Then she was being kissed by a woman who clearly knew how. These were not the taunting and passionate teases from the elevator, nor the affirming kisses from the kitchen that promised much more. The soft mouth covering hers was passionate and constantly moving and murmuring, telling her over and again that she was needed, and wanted and loved, and as the lips headed lower, to her neck and collar bone and finally a nipple, she truly felt it.

The swirl of Miranda's pink tongue across her hard nipple generated a tremble. But when she began to chew and nip at her, Andy felt her arousal shoot up into the upper atmosphere.

Hands replaced lips on her nipples as the snow-white head ventured further down her body, pausing above her hip bone for a jaunty lick and swirl across the jutting flesh. Fingers drifted down from Andy's breasts and clenched into the flesh of her ass cheeks, kneading them as Miranda's head ducked even lower.

She impatiently nudged Andy's legs apart with her knees and lowered her lips towards her mound, eyeing her with a predatory gleam.

"My," she husked. "Someone's ready for me."

Andy flushed, well aware she was dripping. "Your damned fault," she retorted. "Being so hot and sexy and kissing me like that. What chance does a simple girl from the Mid West have?"

Miranda laughed then, one of her rare genuine laughs. It vibrated straight through Andy's superheated skin. "God," she groaned. "Miranda, please touch me."

The editor paused for an agonizingly long moment and then pursed her lips in an eerily familiar way. Andy immediately recognized the expression that doomed the world's best designers and terrified assistants en masse. Miranda pursed her lips just so, pointedly, deliberately, just above Andy's clit and let them whisper faintly across the erect pearl.

"Oh," Andy whimpered, staring at the impossibly hot sight. "Oh my God."

Miranda smiled and then let the tiniest tip of her tongue peek out to dot the top of her clit. Andy's hips bucked desperately.

"No, no," Miranda drawled languidly. "Patience."

"You're killing me!"

"I doubt that," Miranda smirked and let a little more tongue extend as she flicked Andy with it.

"No, I'm seriously dying," Andy whined, her chest heaving. "If you don't stop teasing me and start fucking me, I'll … I'll… Shit."

"Tsk. And after all those lectures you gave to the Bobbsies about using their clever words," Miranda teased, eyes twinkling. "And here you are stumped for absolutely no reason."

"No reason?" Andy gasped and tried again to lift her hips up to receive the benediction from that wicked tongue, maddeningly just out of reach. "What if I said I'll die without your tongue on me. In me!"

"Then I'd call you melodramatic," Miranda replied serenely, and offered a little more tongue, slicking the top of Andy's clit and pulling back. Her white forelock fell forward as she studied her glistening canvas, well pleased.

"You're diabolical," Andy pouted. "My god!"

"So I've been told," Miranda countered. "My assistants find it my worst fault." She paused her teasing touches. "Will you really suffer if you don't get more of me, Andrea?" she asked with deceptive casualness.

And there was just something about the voice. Andy stilled, pulled abruptly from their sexy game, and her eyes searched the face that was watching her closely. A face that held a hint of fear and vulnerability.

"Yes, I will suffer enormously if you don't touch me right now," Andy replied sincerely, and lifted her hand to massage through the white hair, looking at the blue eyes peering up from between her thighs. "I will not cope gracefully without you in my life. I would cope grumpily and messily and furiously and generally just badly. So I'd rather not go without. You are everything I need. Everything I want. I do love you, Miranda."

Miranda's warm breath washed over Andy's skin for a moment more, and then she was upon her - licking and lapping and nibbling and cherishing her. Talented fingers and a slippery tongue found her every secret crook and fleshy curl and lavished attention on them. Andy watched the iconic hair she loved so well bobbing up and down between her legs, still unable to quite believe that Runway's famous Ice Queen was the one loving her so thoroughly. So warmly.

"I love you, Miranda," she murmured, as the sensations began to build. "Love you," she repeated as long fingers slid up deep inside her and began to stroke her walls. "Love the way you look at me … oh! … the way you touch me … the way you want me… T-THERE ohgogohgodi'mcominggonnacum…"

Andy felt the telltale wash of bliss, the sharp tug from inside as she clenched and trembled, the softness of murmuring lips fevering strange words across her lower, bare lips, and it was only after she came, spectacularly hard at that, and her brain stopped fizzing with ecstasy that she made sense of the confusing jumble of Miranda's tiny, exhaled words.

"Don'tleaveohAndreadon'tleave."

Don't. Leave.

Andy drew the older woman into her arms, curled a white, wet kink of hair away from her porcelain cheek, tucking it around her ear. She held her tenderly.

"I won't," Andy whispered. "No, never again." She dropped kissed on her hair. "Never again."

Hands tightened around her and she felt Miranda's wide, pleased smile warming her skin.

"Andrea."

FIN