TDWP: On a Train pt 3
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They found the bed together, in slow motion and without stumbling. Miranda sunk down upon it, dragging Andy with via powerful grip. It wasn't until they were both flat, slightly entangled with each other, that she loosed the younger woman, freed her enough that the Andy felt she might begin to explore.
She slowed the kiss and drew back, opened her eyes.
Miranda peered back at her through eyes slitted with passion, with an expression of serious concentration that caused a sultry smile to slowly cross Andy's face. "Hi." She reached and then grasped the older woman's hands, drew them up above her head as she clasped their hands together. She slid forward, brushing their bodies together, exulting in the sheer delight of it. "I owe you a demonstration."
"Oh thank god. For a moment, I thought you were going to indulge in small talk."
Andy's laugh blessed the kisses and nibbles she peppered along Miranda's jaw and neck and shoulder. "Small talk, Miranda, greases many wheels. It's the delivery that makes the difference. For instance..." Andy freed their hands and then pushed up, so their trunks were connected, but there was also a small distance between them. Then she leaned forward and whispered short set of phrases in Miranda's ears. It started with nothing serious to them at all, then the actual content changed. However, it was the tone and the fact she was speaking in tongues, which made it seem like words meant to sear the blood. As she spoke, Andy's tongue slid along Miranda's earlobe and she caught the lower part very lightly in her teeth; played with the earring and then set it free.
"Fine," Miranda husked. "I will make an allowance for you. Fortunately, the list is short."
"Is it?" Andy's lips followed the earlier path, only on the other side now.
"I do not include party talk. That is not small talk."
Andy paused and lifted her head. "It's not?"
"No. That is networking. It may be boring, but it's a necessary evil."
Andy grinned. "As opposed to an unnecessary one." Her gaze dropped and she stopped breathing for a moment.
The younger woman did not speak, but, as if the question restarted her capacity to think and breathe at the same time, she scooted back until she was looking down at Miranda's breasts. She sat up, unaware of the display she was making to her lover, or the subtle, hypnotic rocking brought by the motion of the train. Andy was completely captured in a vision.
It was the glee in her expression that caused Miranda's hair to stand in alert; and her nipples, and other, also interested regions. Andy bit her lower lip, drew it in as if she were making the hardest decision in her life; and then she brought her spread palms over those pebbled points and caressed them. Strong fingertips caressed pale striations and gathered together to curl around the coral nipple and lightly pinch. Miranda hissed with pleasure. "These. Are. Perfect." The last word was barely voluble. Brown eyes seemed to catch a new glow. She lowered her head over one side and laved her tongue where she was still tweaking. Miranda arched when Andy took her more fully into her mouth, when she began to draw the happy flesh in with a delirious moan. She captured a nipple with her teeth, bit slowly and pulled before releasing and then pressing in to suckle.
Miranda's fingertips dug into Andy's shoulders and the young woman hardly felt the sting. She lavished attention on one breast, then spread the love to the other. Her hands glided along Miranda's skin, gloried in the ability to touch at last. Her fingertips brushed along Miranda's sides, and then slowed.
Andy stopped her nuzzling and looked, noting the long, moonshaped scar. She drew down further and leaned, laying her lips upon the faded wound in tender benediction. "I'm glad she missed," Andy said. So very glad.
She tried to imagine a future without Miranda in it and failed just as miserably as always. It was always a less than. A reality without her in it was a painful imponderable, a loss so profound ….
"Andrea," Miranda's voice was exceedingly gentle and Andy realized that somehow they were both sitting up. Her leg was between the other woman's but she wasn't entirely aware of that. Miranda's arm wrapped around her waist, drew her close. "Where did you go?"
Devastated eyes turned their witness to Miranda. "Where you weren't," Andy whispered.
If there had been any doubt, any lingering fear in Miranda about Andy, it was washed away in that moment. She drew the younger woman in for another soul filling kiss. "We are both here, now, Andrea."
Andy reached down and grasped Miranda's hips. She drew her up, forward. Pressed her hips against the other woman, felt her slickness. "I turn you on."
"You turn me on," Andy's brows lifted comically, but the kisses she delivered were very, very serious and plundering.
"So it appears." The words were cool, but her tone was hot. Andy shivered as she felt Miranda deliberately rock against her, slide against her. The train switched and turned and they shifted with it, causing their centers to touch with unambiguous intimacy. Desire's sweet heat escalated in them. Andy rolled against Miranda, who reflected it back.
It started as slow cadence, but conversation was done and need bridged their timing, built it, while skin singing touches and fierce, fiery kisses stirred the song. Bodies pressed tightly together, they rocked and were rocked into exquisite syncopation, until everything was moving as one. The erotic spiral that was summoned, swirled in their blood, in their feral gazes, in their abandon.
Andy leaned whispered the truth in Miranda's ear; it didn't matter which language, it was conveyed. "I love you. I have loved you forever."
Miranda cried out, her body arced, strung tight and released. She clung to Andy, bloodied her with a piercing grip. Andy felt it not at all, as she was also thrown, poured out, cast into bliss.
They held to one another, throughout, pulsing with rolling waves of pleasure, which seemed to go on and on before finally slowing.
They stayed that way, holding to one another, for awhile and then, in unspoken agreement, they laid down together, on their sides and facing, much more entangled than before. A giddy warmth suffused them both and they looked at one another seriously, but benignly.
Miranda exhaled and brushed her fingers through Andy's hair, remembered it was not a competition. And she needed to say it, "I love you too, Andrea."
The younger woman shivered as her body responded automatically to the words. She grinned lightly, but her heart was full. "What you do to me..."
"And hope to do often." Miranda paused. "If you will allow it?"
"I don't think allowing has much to do with it."
"It has everything to do with it. You are a woman of independent nature. I won't dishonor that. Nor would I begrudge you, if this were all and you wanted to go." Miranda trembled.
Andy pressed her lips against Miranda's forehead and drew back. "Do you want me to go?"
Miranda was shocked at her own vehemence, at the hissed word, which she'd only intended as a one syllable response. "Never!"
Andy pulled her closer. "Good." She nuzzled her lover, luxuriated in the privilege. "Then I hope it happens often too."
"Then you'll... stay?"
"Yes. As long as I can go with you; wherever you go. Wherever you are; here or there..." Andy paused and made the leap "... or in the States. I promise to give you space, but I want to be with you."
"And I you." Miranda grinned and then put on her professional face. "So traveling is not a problem?"
"Will you attend conferences, attend functions, be willing to run errands?"
"All of the above."
"Will you interpret as needed?"
"If I know the language, absolutely."
Miranda's expression softened with amusement. "Do paparazzi bother you?"
"Not for days. Been awhile since I've leaped over tall buildings."
"Then this will be different for you. No death defying feats involved. I plan on being open about this relationship; I won't hide who you are to me."
"Are you sure?"
"It's the fashion industry, not Hollywood. We have every gender bending type of relationship falling out of every shoetree. Fashion thrives on diversity. Style makes it our own."
"That is a point."
"I am Editor-in-Chief for a reason."
Andy's grin was encompassing as she kissed Miranda lightly. "True." She pulled back. "Nigel offered to pay me."
"His budget. He can do what he wants, within reason. And you did save the shoot."
"Nigel's a good friend. He can keep the money for other things."
Miranda paused, carefully sifting what she knew versus what she did not, and then said, "As you wish." She reminded herself that she could find out what needed knowing, but she seriously doubted that Andy was destitute; merely not materialistic. She brushed hair away from Andy's face, and said, "One more thing..."
"Yes?" Andy kissed her again, this time letting it linger and grow, until they had to pull back breathlessly.
"I forgot what I was going to say."
Andy wrapped her arm around Miranda, pressing until she rolled onto her back. "Maybe you don't need to say anything?" Then she took the woman's hand and pressed it against her heart. "I think I heard what you had to say, right here."
Miranda pulled Andy down again, layered the kiss with all she could not articulate, but that desperately needed saying.
During the rest of the night the sound and the motion of the train carried them. The next morning, Andy missed her stop. She was sleeping in the arms of her beloved, safe and sound.
What a Difference A Day Makes - Dinah Washington
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On a Tractor