Day 5: Friday

Rod Stewart. "Maggie May"

On Friday, Miranda marched in the office, her face as white as a Hermes turban on her head. She croaked "Andrea, coffee." and rushed by, leaving the singing cell on Andrea's desk.

Curiously, the moment Rod Stewart started rasping about his older lover, Andrea blushed crimson and almost dropped the phone.

Any other day, Miranda would have stayed and tortured the girl, perhaps dug a bit deeper until she figured the reason for the embarrassment. Not today. Today, she immediately proceeded to her executive bathroom and locked the door. She stared at the mirror for a second. With shaking hands, she reached for her makeshift turban and unwrapped it. Yes, it was still true.

She was a brunette again.

"God damn you, Jennifer Livingstone."

What would Thom say if he saw her new oh, so natural shade of reddish brown? She'd have to change a hair stylist. And God knew if it would even work. She could very well wake up tomorrow, her hair neon pink.

Nigel looked at the turban oddly, but smartly refrained from commenting. Meanwhile, the rest of Runway employees were already scrounging the Closet for scarves, any scarves. Most likely, in a week, turbans would be hotter than the newest Manolos.

Jen prudently stayed away this morning, but was evidently busy again in other parts of town, if Andrea's conversation with Nigel was anything to judge by.

"Any news on the haunted chef?" Miranda heard Nigel ask on his way to her office.

"I found a note this morning. Here." Behind her desk, Miranda perked up. Read it aloud, read it aloud!

"'I have to leave, the cabbage said so. Don't try to find me. N'. Damn, and just when he was becoming interesting. Are you heartbroken?"

"Relieved, I think. Does it make me a bad person?" Andrea said, sounding contrite. No, it doesn't.

"Yes, it does."

"It was just becoming so difficult to enjoy a meal with him around."

Why did the words enjoy and meal sound so sinful from Andrea's mouth? Immediately, Miranda thought of the dream – Andrea's dream? – and her mouth watered. She took a sip of Perrier and forced her eyes back to the papers on the desk.

Andrea was out of the office for the rest of the morning, picking up the garments for the next shoot. She finally stumbled back in Miranda's office close to noon, her hands overflowing with the clothes.

"Um… where do you want those?"

"Put them there, in the corner." Miranda said, watching Andrea like a hawk. Under the disappearing bundles of clothes, Miranda could finally discern Andrea's attire for the day. The Channel boots, a lovely black mini skirt and black Dolce&Gabbana blouse with tiny rivets instead of buttons. Noticing Miranda's gaze, Andrea approached the desk for further instructions.

Miranda took her glasses away, and gave Andrea a once over. Then, she zoomed in on her blouse. Miranda nibbled on the frame. She wondered if her newly acquired superpowers were still intact.

Oh, yes. One by one, the little rivets spread open as commanded. Andrea gasped and crossed her hands before her chest. They stared at each other for a long moment.

Then, deliberately, Andrea dropped her hands and let the blouse part. The moment eerily reminded Miranda of the dream, Andrea's dark blouse framing the pale expense of skin. Except, the real Andrea's breasts were partially hidden from view by a lovely, lacy bra. Miranda caught herself guessing the exact shade of Andrea's nipples and felt blood rushing to her face. She blurted a quick "that's all," and dropped her gaze to the desk.

Andrea darted from the office, holding tightly at the edges of the blouse.

Miranda angrily threw the pen down on the desk. She'd been sitting in the study for ages, thinking, plotting, and envisioning the possibilities. The harsh truth was there was simply no way out of it.

Fine, she tightened her lips, a kiss then. Judging on today, the girl would probably not sue. Her hair would turn white. Jen would go away. Everything would be back to normal.

Just a tiny kiss. To make things normal.

And then, later perhaps, in a year or so, when Miranda felt more in control, when Andrea moved forward in her career, maybe she would ask Andrea on a date. Or for a dinner. Or a lunch. Or drinks.

Decision made, Miranda paced impatiently in her study, until, around 11 pm, she finally heard the door of the town house opening.

"Andrea. In here," She called, quickly checking the turban in the mirror. Andrea came in hesitantly, looking around the room with open curiosity.

"Something interesting?" Miranda asked, leaning on the desk.

"No, it's just… I've imagined it differently." She smiled awkwardly and handed Miranda the Book.

"Have you now?" Miranda raised an eyebrow. She laid the book down, took a deep breath and turned back towards Andrea with determination. No use prolonging the torture. She pushed away from the desk and came closer to Andrea, stepping deep in her personal space. Just a kiss. Just a tiny kiss.

"Miranda? What…?" Andrea looked at her, alarmed, and took a step back. A tiny kiss. She stepped closer. Andrea stepped back again. Why is the girl fidgeting so much?

"Oh, hold still, for God's sake." Miranda grabbed Andrea's head with both hands and lurched. She pressed their lips quickly together in a perfunctory kiss, forbidding herself to feel. There, she thought. That should do it. She let go of Andrea and quickly stepped back, trying to look as if nothing was out of ordinary. Jen got her kiss, her hair was presumably white again and everything was back to normal. Any second now, the girl would blush furiously, squeak and run. And tomorrow, they'd both pretend nothing ever happened, as they always did.

Except, Andrea seemed frozen to the spot, swaying slightly, her were wide open, her lips moving in shock.

Well, what was she waiting for? She should be at the front door by now. Suddenly unsure, Miranda licked her lips; Andrea zoomed in on them. Miranda pursed her lips; Andrea's eyes narrowed.

"Very well," Miranda said stiffly. "That's a-ah!"

Swiftly, Andrea grabbed her by the lapels of her blouse and yanked her closer, their noses almost colliding. When Andrea pressed her lips to Miranda's, there was nothing perfunctory about it.

The kiss was hard, punishing. After initial shock, Miranda tried to pull away, but Andrea snaked one hand behind her neck, while the other grasped her shoulder.

"Oh, no, you don't," she muttered ferociously in Miranda's mouth. She bit on Miranda's lower lip. "I've had enough of you."

Miranda opened her mouth to… protest, moan, something… and Andrea forced her tongue in. She swiped over Miranda's clenched teeth, then retreated, licked the lip she had bitten.

"Let me in," she ordered hoarsely. She pressed closer, crushing their breasts together. She sucked hard on that abused lip.

"Oh." Miranda couldn't stop the moan. There was a warm, thick flood in her stomach, spreading upwards to her breasts. Her nipples were throbbing with every pull on her 's hand slid down her back, lower and lower, until she grabbed Miranda's ass and pressed her hard against her thigh.

"Oh, god!" Miranda felt her knees buckling. She surged into Andrea, her hands grasping at her shoulders, her mouth finally opening.

Then, their lips were crushing, their teeth clashing, tongues battling. Danger bells were ringing in Miranda's head. This was not safe, controlled affection Miranda felt for Stephan or Greg before him. It was wet, and primal and hungry. Miranda heard Andrea whimpering and couldn't help but to whimper back. Oh, god, she thought dizzily, it's been so long. She sucked on Andrea's tongue, lost in sensation. Andrea was pushing her forward, towards the desk, and she went willingly.

Through the haze, she heard Andrea gasp in her neck. "Take that ridiculous thing off." Her hands were suddenly moving up, along Miranda's neck, pulling at her turban.

Before Miranda had a chance to protest, the fabric was off, floating somewhere behind Andrea's back.

Andrea drew back a bit, and stared at her, perplexed. "I'll never understand fashion," she blurted. Miranda sneaked a quick, panicked look at the glazed bookcase on the right. Her hair was completely messed up, sticking at awkward angles, but reassuringly white.

"Why you would," Andrea was nibbling at her neck, "cover that gorgeous hair is completely beyond me." She licked at particularly tender spot behind Miranda's ear.

Miranda gasped. "Andrea." She needed to take the control back. Andrea licked again.

Miranda pushed her slightly away. Andrea was flushed with excitement, breathing heavily. Out of some Pavlovian reflex, Miranda's eyes dropped to her chest. Oh, yes. She wouldn't wait for a miracle this time. She reached for Andrea's shirt with both hands. Shockingly, her fingers were swatted away. "Ah-ah. My turn," Andrea said determinedly and savagely pulled Miranda's blouse apart. Little buttons zipped and zapped everywhere, revealing the silk bra underneath.

Andrea reached with one hand and flicked her thumb over the covered nipple. Miranda whimpered, and held tightly to the edge of the desk.

"You like that, don't you?"

Miranda was incapable of speech. She stared at the Andrea's face. Her lids were half closed, her nostrils flared.

Andrea rubbed harder. "And this? Do you like this?"

Miranda swallowed. "God, yes. Please."

Andrea pinched at the nipple and Miranda jerked. "I've been dreaming about you, Miranda. Do you want to know what I've been dreaming about?"

Miranda moaned, remembering exactly how one of Andrea's dreams developed.

Suddenly, Andrea pushed the bra up and latched her lips around one nipple. Miranda keened. Andrea sucked, hard, and then, cruelly, she stopped.

"Say you want it."

Miranda stared down, gulping the air. "Yes, yes, damn it, just…" She grabbed Andrea's head with both hands and pulled her back to her breast. Andrea teased her for a moment, lips pressed together, refusing the entrance. Miranda almost forced the nipple back in her warm mouth.

"Please. Andrea."

Andrea relented and bit lightly, sensation going directly to Miranda's clit.

She was kneading Andrea's head in the rhythm of her suckling. Suddenly, Andrea stopped and she gulped "What… don't…"

Andrea licked the other breast. "Tell me, Miranda, how did you do it? Stripping me with just a look."

How could she talk now? Miranda could barely think. "Stop… talking." She gasped and pulled at her ears in punishment.

"Are you wet, Miranda?" Andrea pulled away a bit and looked at her handy work. Miranda's nipple already felt painfully tight, but hardened a bit more at Andrea's words. Andrea looked up; her lips so close that Miranda felt hot air on her breast. She licked the tip. "Are you wet?"

"God, yes."

A hand was snaking up her skirt, inching over Miranda's thighs. Andrea whimpered when she encountered the lacy edge of the thigh highs.

Whimper helped. It gave Miranda at least a modicum of control. For a while she'd felt at mercy of Andrea's vengeful, almost calculated attack. However, it seemed she wasn't the only one affected with madness.

She tangled her fingers in Andrea's hair and pulled her up for a savage kiss. Andrea lost her balance for a second and clutched with the other hand at Miranda's shoulder. Miranda saw her chance. She grabbed her ass with both hands and pulled her flush to her hip. Andrea wrenched her lips away from Miranda's, gasping for air. "Oh, god!" Oh, yes. It was Andrea's turn to moan. Miranda pressed her closer; kneading at her plush ass cheeks, until Andrea practically straddled her thigh.

"And you, Andrea?" She purred seductively in Andrea's ear. "Are you wet?"

Andrea produced an inarticulate sound, rubbing against Miranda's leg. The edge of the desk was biting in Miranda's behind, but she wouldn't move for anything in the world. She was becoming addicted to small whimpers Andrea was gasping in her shoulder. She sucked at Andrea's earlobe, coaxing one more.

"Admit it." She breathed victoriously in Andrea's ear. "You enjoyed it. Showing yourself to me. Didn't you?"

All of a sudden, Andrea's hand that was unconsciously tracing the lace on Miranda's thigh highs dived straight between Miranda's legs. They both groaned at the same time at the feel of Andrea's fingers on soaked silk.

"Oh, God, please." She pressed her face to Andrea's shoulder. She couldn't remember ever begging so much. She hoped to God, Andrea would not tease anymore, she wouldn't be able to take it.

Apparently, though, the time for teasing was long gone. Andrea was rubbing herself hard on her thigh, the evidence of Miranda's excitement clearly driving her wild.

"God, Miranda." She fumbled for a moment, pushed the silk to the side and without warning, plunged two fingers deep inside. Miranda bit Andrea's shoulder and impaled herself harder on Andrea's hand.

They moved together frantically, kissing occasionally, sloppily, until they would lose their breaths. Andrea's palm pressed against Miranda's clit and she shuddered.

"I… can't last … Andrea…" she gasped.

"Come with me," Andrea ordered, her breath hitching. "Come with me."

Miranda tried to hold on, just for a little while longer, just to spite this woman who was commanding her so easily. She struggled against the onslaught, but then Andrea pushed her fingers just a little bit deeper, pressed on her clit just a little bit harder… and she was gone.

She swore she could see stars before her eyes and somewhere, far away she felt Andrea arch and heard her wail.

She slumped against Andrea and held tight.

"The twins?" Andrea mumbled in her shoulder, sometime later.

"Oh, now you ask?" Miranda tried valiantly for sarcasm and failed, gasping when Andrea bit her in retaliation. "They're with Greg this weekend."

There was a silence for a moment, then…



Much later, Miranda, forced by nature, reluctantly left the warm bed and even warmer Andrea and stumbled into bathroom. On the way out, still blinking in the harsh light, she noticed a yellow Post-it stuck on the mirror.



She laughed at that, gently, careful not to wake up Andrea, and crumpled the little yellow paper in her palm.

"Hopefully, you won't have to." She whispered to empty bathroom and went back to bed.