What Have I Got to Do

Author: JAZWriter

Fandom: DWP Miranda/Andy

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters within The Devil Wears Prada world. I am merely using the characters for entertainment purposes as allowed through fair usage laws. I make no profit, nor is this story of any value except insofar as I am able to attract positive feedback and exclamations of my brilliance. So there.

Rating: NC-17 Pure erotica

Author Notes: I decided to try a different writing format just to shake things up. I like to dabble with various styles. Hopefully, you will enjoy the fruits of my labor. This includes a Prologue and two chapters—yes, yes, very short. This was previously posted on LiveJournal.

Author's Notes, too: The title comes from Elton John's song, Sorry Seems To Be the Hardest Word. Thanks for the suggestion, peet!

Special Thanks: To my wonderful betas, quiethearted and peetsden. They always polish up my stories so they are nice and sparkly!


Andy stared at Miranda, sure she had not heard correctly. They sat in the town car on their way back from a designer's preview. Outside, the wind gusted, flinging dirty snow at hunched-over pedestrians indiscriminately. Miranda turned away as if she had merely assigned another tedious task for Andy to complete. Nothing could be further from the truth.

I expect you to arrive at my house tonight no later than nine. Wait for me, disrobed, in my bedroom. Do not disappoint me.

Andy's mind stuttered over the command, issued in that well-known disinterested tone of voice. Afraid to ask questions, Andy sat silently, trying not to let her scrabbling mind leap ahead to why Miranda had issued this command, what it meant, what they would do, how Miranda felt about her. She must feel something. Right? Why else would she so boldly direct Andy to wait for her in her bed, naked?

Hazarding a glance at her mercurial boss, Andy was at a loss even as she felt the effects of her excitement drench her panties. The thought of fucking Miranda, of being fucked by Miranda, of having her undivided attention in that way even for a little while challenged Andy's ability to breathe steadily and to sit calmly.

It had come as an unwelcome surprise to realize she lusted after Miranda, wanted her so badly that she ached for the older woman's attention. She knew it wasn't healthy, knew this would end in heartache. Yet, she continued to harbor these desires, feeding them with rich, detailed fantasies day after day. And now it seemed Miranda had guessed her secret and decided to take action.

Andy was unsure whether to be scared shitless or emboldened by this turn of events. Andy clasped her shaking hands in her lap and determined not to think about it. Soon enough she would know how Miranda felt, what she wanted. One way or the other, Miranda's feelings would be revealed by this time tomorrow.