No Other Silly Girl Need Apply

By Gun Brooke

Part Twelve

A/N: A shorter update as Andy and Miranda are in transit to Chicago. Thought you might enjoy a tidbit until I go into what takes place in the Windy City.

The plane en route to O'Hare Airport lifted an early, misty morning from La Guardia. The flight would take about two and a half hour, but considering the time zones, we'd be in Chicago shortly after 10 PM. Miranda had the window seat, as usual, and I was busy doing what I always do; making sure Miranda was comfortable and had everything she needed right at her fingertips.

"Really, Andrea," Miranda said and shook her head. "This sets a terrible precedence for you as my…lover." She spoke quietly, but lowered her voice even more as she forced out the last word. "You're not my assistant on this trip."

"I know that and so do you. They don't. You're recognizable enough for it to look weird if you ordered your own coffee." I was right. The flight attendants, all lovely, stylish women who wore applied makeup like experts, and all part of the demographics that religiously read Runway, no, not just read it. Studied it like a bible. As Nigel used to as a young boy. No way they clueless to her identity.

"All right." Miranda smirked. "I need a blanket, Andrea."

"Sure," I said and looked around for one of the business class flight attendants. The one working our aisle, a tall, lanky blond, saw me searching for her and came hurrying through the aisle.

"A blanket for Ms. Priestly, please," I said and smiled politely.

"Certainly." To my astonishment, the flight attendant gave me a slow, almost flirty, smile. Gaping after her, I heard Miranda mutter something.

"Sorry?" I turned my head back. "I didn't catch that."

"Too busy looking at that woman, no doubt." Oh, no. She pursed her lips. Now what?

"Looking at whom? The flight attendant?"

"The one who devoured you with her eyes. Yes, her." Miranda's eyes turned into narrow slits, but I also saw how her lips twitched in the way they did when she tried not to laugh.

"She did gaze at me funny, didn't she?" I shrugged. "That's how women and men regard you. Strange to have it directed at me."

"Keep dressing this way and you have to get used to it." Miranda let her eyes scan my body, from the tan slack, to the crème blouse. She seemed to get stuck where my statement necklace rested against my upper chest.

"Here you go, ma'am." The flight attendant came back with a cashmere blanket. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No, thank you," I managed, trying not to laugh. "We're fine."

"Turn off the light. I'm going to rest for a bit." Miranda spread the blanket over her legs and half of it ended up on me.

"Are you all right?" Miranda not taking every second available to work? Unheard of. I studied her. Just before I turned off the reading light and closed the window cover, I thought I'd saw her blush, but I could be wrong.

"I'm fine. Just tired." The business class are was dark and half empty. Nobody sat in the seats on either sides of us.

I closed my eyes too for a moment, glad the blanket covered my legs as well. So, my outfit of the day pleased Miranda. I've grown accustomed to having her scrutinize my appearance every day, and those days she forgot or missed it, I felt bereaved. Realizing it was silly since she did it to make sure I didn't embarrass her, but now I wondered when her motive changed. I had to ask her about that.

Miranda shifted next to me and turned half toward me, her eyes still closed. I took the opportunity to study her, a favorite pastime of mine. Especially when she slept, or rested, as her face relaxed and she looked so much softer. Her lips barely parted and her muscles not tense or strained. She carried such a burden and I feared having a relationship with me would add to this. Still, and it dawned on me as a surprise, I had seen her more content and relaxed the last few days than ever before. Perhaps the fact that she knew, well sort of knew, how I felt made her less stressed?

A hand snuck onto my thigh, making me jump.

"Shh. Be still," Miranda's voice was a mere breath. Her hand ran up and down on the inside of my thigh.

"What are you doing?" I whispered. I had begun to tremble and chastised myself for being so easy when it came to this woman. Was she going for the freaking Mile High Club?

"Just relax." Miranda moved closer. She pushed the large blanket firmly around me, managing to stroke my breasts in the process. "Don't want you to be cold."

Cold? Was she crazy? I was on fire. That's when she popped open the button of my slacks. I gasped and then had to force myself to breathe normally, which remained difficult as I needed to hyperventilate. My legs shook and I tried to do as she said and relaxed, but how did she think that was even possible?

"Mm. Lovely." Miranda slipped her hand into my slacks and the Lycra in the fabric stretched enough for her to enter my lace panties. Purring close to inaudibly, she slid her fingertips in between my wet folds. She hummed now, and this made me nervous, so I acted on impulse, doing what I could to silence her. I kissed her.

The humming continued into my mouth where it fizzled up inside my brain. There, it bounced around, a tiny persistent firecracker, in and out of the winding grey matter until all I cared about involved kissing, her fingers, slick folds, and the way she worked my clit between her fingers. I was totally panicking now because at this rate, I would come soon. In an aisle chair. In business class. With Miranda Priestly. And everybody would hear me wail—kissing or no kissing.

As if Miranda knew, of course she knew, she slowed down, her lips a fraction of an inch from mine. "You have to be so very quiet, darling," she whispered. "You're going to come and you're not going to make a sound, right?"

Flashback. "You can do anything, right?" I closed to swallowed my tongue. "Sch-sure." What the hell was I supposed to say? I dug my fingertips into the padded armrest on my left, as Miranda had removed the one between us. Naturally. On my right, I had to settle for holding on to her thigh and had to focus to not give her the bruises of a lifetime.

Her breath hitched as I rubbed at her thigh through the skirt. This was very gratifying.

She retaliated by pressing against my clit in firm, tight circles. I dug my teeth into my lower lip and managed to stay quiet. I turned my head and pressed it against Miranda's neck when I recognized a whimper was about to erupt, which it did, into her hairline.

"Mm. Yes." Miranda shuddered, several times, but it still took a few moments for me to realize this had made her come as well.

I pulled back and stared at her. She pressed her lips to mine, licking my lower lip. "Don't bite down so hard next time. You'll give yourself a bruise, or worse, you can break the skin." Kisses meant to soothe landed on my lips and I had to keep her still and kiss her back before she reignited me from sheer frustration.

Miranda pulled her hand out of my pants and left the zipping and buttoning up to me. She used her hand-wipes, smiling angelically at me while doing so. Pressing the button on her other armrest she lowered the backrest and closed her eyes.

I just sat there, my body buzzing still, my mind reeling as I tried to fathom what this woman next to me had just orchestrated. To think Miranda could be this daring, adventurous lover, was, until now, unimaginable. Had she ever done something like this? Was she always this passionate, this greedy? I glanced at her where she lay, looking fast asleep. That's when her eyes opened, just a tiny slit, and she smiled.

"Don't overthink, Andrea," she murmured. "Only you."

I pressed the button on the raised armrest between us and lowered my backrest to her level. "How…?"

"Darling." Miranda placed two fingertips on my lips. "It's what I'd wonder."

I blinked a tear away, because she wouldn't appreciate sappiness in public, or anywhere, and smiled at her.

"Have a nap." She closed her eyes again.

An order is an order—so I did.