Fic: On-the-job Training
Fandom: Devil Wears Prada (movie)
Summary: It's Andy's turn to deliver the book, and Emily has some advice to impart.
"Andy. This may sound strange, but you must take this seriously."
"I get it, Emily," Andy turned away from her computer. "I'm not to lose Miranda's key, ever. I'll wait here for the Book. The driver'll pick me up, I'm to make eye contact with no one --"
"Not that," Emily brushed her hand impatiently. "Have you ever had sex with another woman?"
Andy turned beet red. "Ah ... are you propositioning me?"
"I'll take that as a no." Emily straightened, massaging her brow wearily. "I should have known. You're as straight as a die. Straight as a ramrod. Straight as a soldier at attention. Straight as a --"
"What's your point, Emily?" Andy gurgled.
"That you are completely unprepared for this task, and as always, I better prepare you or it's my head on the chopping block. Get up." Emily grabbed Andy by the elbow and dragged her out of the room.
"Where are we going? What about the phones?" Andy protested.
"Somewhere private, and the phones are set to forward calls to my cel phone."
"Miranda's going to be pissed if finds out --"
"Trust me, Miranda's going to be more than pissed if I don't do this with you before tonight." Emily shoved Andy into a unoccupied supplies room and shut the door behind them. Then she locked it.
Andy gulped. "Should I be worried?"
"Take that off this instant," Emily said, jerking her head to the side.
"Take what off?"
Emily rolled her eyes and grabbed at Andy's sweater around the waist.
"Do you sleep with every woman in this office, Emily?" Andy cried, jumping back protectively. "I'm very supportive of, um, gays in the workplace, but I'll have you know, I think this is highly inappropriate and --"
"What are you talking about?" Emily stared.
"I know about you and Miranda," Andy averted her eyes, "I hear you sometimes, when I'm at my desk, and you think I'm busy on the phone or something."
"Oh, so you know already," Emily waved her hand dismissively. "That'll make things easier then."
"WHAT?" Andy's eyes bugged out of her head when Emily continued to forcefully remove her clothing. "Help! Rape!"
"Stop being so melodramatic." Emily pulled Andy's black sweater over her head. "Take your shirt off yourself, or I'm going to do it for you, and don't blame me if you lose some buttons." Andy obeyed reluctantly, stripping down to her bra. "Come on, I need to see your breasts," Emily said impatiently. As Andy cowered against the wall, Emily reached behind her and unclasped it.
"They're not that great," Andy whimpered, covering herself. "Why do you want to see them so badly?"
Emily batted Andy's hands away and cupped at Andy's exposed breasts experimentally, feeling the nipples harden beneath the pads of her thumbs. "Hm, not bad. A pretty nice handful."
"You sound like a pervy old man," Andy said, close to tears.
"Watch it. I'm doing you a favour."
"How can this be misinterpreted as a favour?" Andy howled.
"I'm making sure you don't fall flat on your face tonight when Miranda checks them out."
"Why would she care about my breasts?" Andy shrieked.
"What, you never notice her staring at them?"
Andy froze numbly. "Well, I always assumed she was checking my outfit, or something."
"Checking your outfit," Emily sneered. "Andy, let me teach you a little something. Taking the Book to Miranda's house entails more than simply bringing her the Book. What else do you think it involves?"
"Picking up her dry cleaning?" Andy quavered.
Emily sighed. She might have felt sorry for the girl if she weren't so annoyed at the moment. "There are, shall we say, a few side services Miranda's assistants traditionally provide." She lifted the hem of Andy's skirt and slipped her fingers into the waistband of her pantyhose. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"I think that perhaps I do but maybe I don't want to but I'm not entirely sure about that either?"
Emily rolled her eyes and slid her fingers inside Andy's underwear between her legs, stopping in surprise. Well, well, well.
"Andy, you naughty girl," Emily smirked, "you're positively wet."
"No, I'm not," Andy babbled. "I'm just sweating because I'm really nervous."
"How old are you? Twelve?" Emily stroked Andy's outer pubic lips, pleased at the way Andy's breath hitched and her thighs tensed. "Has another woman ever done this to you?"
"No, I'm not. I'm just sweating because I'm really nervous."
"Oh. My. God. Concentrate, Andy!" Emily pinched her clit, and Andy yelped. "You cannot fall to pieces the moment Miranda does this to you!"
"S-she'll do this me?"
"This, and more. Come on, Andy. Stand straight for me. Spread your legs. I know you can do it."
"I-I can't," Andy whimpered, leaning against the wall, nearly losing her balance as Emily slipped a finger inside her. Emily put a hand on her hip to steady her. "Will she do this to me?"
"Yes," Emily said into Andy's ear. "She'll be rough, not gentle like this. She'll use three fingers at the very least, and she won't pay attention to your clit, either, the way I'm doing now. She'll let you ache and ache, and you'll wish you could beg her to stroke you there, but you can't, because even though she loves the thought of you begging her for it, she won't let you beg."
"Will she do this to me?" Andy said breathlessly, digging her nails into Emily's shoulders. "Will she -- oh god --"
Emily's phone rang.
"Shit," Emily said, checking the caller ID. "I gotta take this. Be right back." She pulled her fingers out of Andy's underwear, wiped them on Andy's skirt, and rushed out of the supply closet. The door slammed shut behind her, leaving Andy to sag in a little puddle of goo onto the ground.
When Emily came back, she found Andy bunched up on the ground, re-clothed and quivering.
"You bitch," Andy snarled, "how could you just leave me here, job half done --"
"Get up." Emily hauled Andy to her feet. "Miranda's going to be back soon."
"Thank god." Andy made for the door.
"Not yet," Emily said quickly. "One more thing."
"What more can you possibly want with me?" Andy hissed.
"I need to show you," Emily grabbed Andy's hand, lifted her skirt, and placed Andy's knuckles against her crotch, "exactly how Miranda likes it." She guided Andy's hand inside her underwear. "I'm guessing you've never had your fingers inside another woman, have you?"
Andy shook her head numbly, swallowing.
"Well, you certainly do not want Miranda to be your first vagina. She'll break your fingers off."
Andy looked like she didn't believe it, but wasn't willing to risk it being the truth either.
"Go on. Touch me. Imagine you're doing it to yourself." Emily grimaced as Andy rubbed her clumsily. "Not like that, you idiot. Yes. Okay. Good. That's good. You're getting the hang of it. You feel that?"
Andy nodded, sliding her fingers along the growing slickness between Emily's legs.
"It means you're doing a good job."
Andy looked surprised. "Really?"
"Good enough for me, at least. Miranda will want more than that. And she won't tell you what she wants either. You'll have to figure it out."
"Will I?" Andy's movements quickened.
"Okay, enough of that. Put your fingers inside me now -- two first, then three." Emily was nowhere near wet enough, but there was no time to waste. She winced as Andy probed inside her entrance. "Keep going. Deeper. Harder. Come on, don't be afraid to hurt me. Miranda won't even feel this."
"Are you sure she'll like it like this?" Andy breathed.
"Yes," Emily snapped.
"How do you know?"
"Because I practice, and I know how it feels, okay? Now come on, try that third finger now. Oh, Lord. Keep going. Keep your thrusts steady. Don't sacrifice depth for speed."
"Got it," Andy whispered, pumping her hand in and out intently.
"Oh, God, Andy, right there," Emily hissed without thinking.
Andy's fingers suddenly felt strangely good inside of her. The girl was a natural. Wasted on the male sex, really. Emily wondered why she hadn't noticed how full Andy's lips were, before. Very kissable.
"I can't believe I actually get to do this to her," Andy murmured, a small smile playing on her lips.
Emily's eyes widened. It was the first smile she'd had seen Andy's face since they'd started, and she was startled at the brightness in Andy's eyes, the wetness on her lips. She actually looked eager; hungry in anticipation.
The look in those eyes wasn't for her, Emily realised, it was directed at someone beyond her, someone that Andy was going to see that very night -- someone that Andy would get to touch, and taste, and smell -- it was Andy's job now -- Miranda had chosen Andy, instead of Emily -- instead of her --
Emily squeezed her eyes shut as she felt a warm, clenching sensation spread out from her legs, a long, shuddering sigh escaping her lungs.
"Did I make you come?" Andy said hopefully.
"Yes, but don't look so pleased with yourself," Emily croaked. "God, let's get cleaned up."
Andy licked her lips. "Was I okay?"
"You'll find out from Miranda," Emily said, surprised at how bitter her voice sounded. Impulsively, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to Andy's.
"What was that for?" Andy mumbled when they separated.
"A parting gift," Emily said. "Kiss Miranda for me, will you?" She stopped at the door. "Use a little more tongue on Miranda. She likes it."
"Okay," said Andy softly, her eyes looking at a spot behind her.
Emily felt a rush of jealousy well up in her chest, not even sure who it was directed at, and she swallowed it down.
No time for that. She had work to do.