No Other Silly Girl Need Apply
A DWP fan fiction
By Gun Brooke
Miranda had rolled closer in the night and was now firmly planted on top of my fanned out hair. I wasn't even able to stealthily yank it free, not unless I wanted to keep from scalping myself, or had access to a pair of scissors. I was at a loss how to deal with this, less than expected, situation and just stared at the vaulted ceiling.
"Mm." Miranda sighed, sounding way to blissful for my heart to deal with. She shifted slightly, but not enough to free my hair. Instead, she placed a hand on my shoulder and caressed me with gentle fingertips. "Soft."
I was now adding dampness between my legs to my growing list of mortifications. If she didn't wake up fully now and keep her distance, I would end up doing something entirely inappropriate.
"Andrea? Good morning." Miranda opened her eyes halfway and managed to look even more sexy and flirtatious. "I think we managed to get a few good hours of sleep."
Why wasn't she moving? "Yes. That was—nice." I forced a smile but kept looking up at the ceiling. I should've known that La Priestly wouldn't settle for such a cowardly approach. Soon, I felt the soft touch of her hand against my cheek as she guided my head to turn and face her.
"Are you okay?" Her un-painted eyes made her look impossibly soft and strangely enough also younger, and the paleness of her lips made me wet mine with the tip of my tongue.
"I…yes. Yes, I'm okay. Thank you."
"And so polite too. And blushing." Miranda smirked. "For having these gorgeous brown eyes, you sure have transparent skin."
"As do you." And it was true. Miranda managed to have transparent and creamy complexion at the same time, with a texture and color that foundation makers around the globe had to envy. "You look amazing."
Miranda snorted softly. "I do nothing of the sort at this hour. I'm well aware of my frumpiness before I have my real face on, to quote…someone."
"Who said that?" I asked angrily and tried to sit up, totally forgetting that I was in a sense harnessed. "Ow!"
"What? Oh, I'm on your hair." Miranda shifted and shifted onto her side, resting her head in her hand. "Seems you caught me in your yarn there."
"I think you caught me, to be honest." I tried a smile. "I didn't mind though."
"Very well. Good. Why don't we get up and start getting ready?" Miranda looked at me, her eyes serious. "Might as well get it over with."
I didn't want to agree. I wanted to pull the wonderfully cover over my head and hide in this comfortable bed for the rest of the day. Of course I didn't say that. I merely nodded and said what I always say, "Yes, Miranda."
The doctor, middle-age, well, Miranda's age, distinguished, and unfortunately condescending enough to annoy Miranda, nearly jumped behind his desk to get away from my fearsome boss.
"All I meant was—"
"Listen to me, Doctor," Miranda hissed, "and I use the title only politely. I don't care for how you address Andrea's concerns. You say the procedure went well and that you've sent it off to be scanned for potential malignancy. Then you have the gall to smirk at her when she asks prudent questions. If this is how you carry out your oath to do no harm, I very much debate the safety and comfort of your patients."
"Ms. Priestly, I—"
"I'm not finished. You will address each and every one of Andrea's concerns, and you will get back to her the moment you hear from the laboratory where you send the sample."
"That was always my intention, Ms. Priestly." The doctor smiled and spoke through clenched teeth.
In fact, he had smirked, and even shaken his head, while sounding very condescending. I knew I wasn't the skin type most commonly prone to get malign melanoma, but he had to remove a large chunk and I was worried. Right now, my skin was numb, but six stitches was quite a lot and I was sure I'd be sore later during the day.
After answering my questions with cold politeness, the doctor was about to leave the room when Miranda stopped him.
"Andrea lives alone. Would it be beneficial for her to stay with someone who can help her dress the wound until the stitches come out?"
"Actually, yes, Ms. Priestly. Since the incision is located in an awkward place for Ms. Sachs, I recommend she drafts a friend or family member to assist."
She? I was right there for heaven's sake. Glaring at Miranda and the doctor, I piped up. "I'm sure I'll manage. Thank you." Still a bit wobbly after the procedure, I strode out on my Jimmy Choo flats, for once not trailing behind Miranda who caught up with me by the elevator.
"Am I to suffer from this childish tantrum in the car all the way to Runway?" Miranda raised an eyebrow.
"Tantrum? You talked over my head like I was a child, so why not?" I knew I was sulking, but damn it, this had been such a nerve wracking experience and the fact that Miranda was acting like we had something personal going on, whatever that was, was slowly driving me crazy.
"Touché." Miranda stepped into the elevator and pulled up her phone. "Roy. We're done. You in place already? Good." She disconnected and studied me in silence for a moment. "Perhaps I got carried away because this sorry excuse for a physician and his lack of professionalism, but that's not why I asked the last question. I think you should stay at the townhouse until the stitches come out. You're going to need help."
"It's just a few stitches—"
"Located where you can't reach."
"I wouldn't be comfortable for your nanny to handle something so personal." I tried to get through to Miranda, but she merely rolled her eyes at me and stepped out of the elevator. I was back in my trailing-behind position as we headed for the town car. Miranda surprised me by gesturing at Roy to assist me into the backseat.
"I would never ask the girl's nanny to perform anything like that. I would of course do it."
I know I must've looked like a veritable birdhouse staring, open mouth and all, at Miranda's self-content expression at her deduction. "You. You would take care of me? Personally?"
"I can tell that the sedatives they gave you haven't worn off yet." Miranda delivered shock number two by taking my hand and squeezing it. "Listen to me. You know how I loathe repeating myself. You're going to need assistance. You will need to cover the bandages every time you shower and also check for signs of infection. Didn't you tell me that you have nobody in town to even go with you to the doctor, let alone help you on a daily basis?" Her sapphire eyes bore into mine and I knew I'd lost the argument before it even gained momentum.
"I'm not sure why you volunteer, but as you say, what's the alternative?" I knew I should've let go of Miranda's hand, but suddenly it was all that anchored me as Roy maneuvered us through the busy Manhattan streets. I could feel my hand tremble as I clung to the soft and elegant hand holding mine.
"Andrea. Don't make such a fuss about it. It's really simple and I actually can imagine other convenient angles. You deliver the Book and then you don't have to travel via cab across the city to your apartment. We can ride into work together—what?"
"Cab? You think I can afford to go by cab from your house?" I stared at Miranda and let go of her hand. What planet did this woman live on? "Uhm. I thought you knew. I take the subway home in the evenings." I shrugged awkwardly at the truth, regretting it as it made some of the stitches twinge.
"You go by subway that late in the evenings?" Miranda looked so horrified, I nearly felt sorry for her, but part of me also thought this woman could use a reality check once in a while.
"Yes. No way I can pay for cab fare six nights a week on my salary."
"Then Roy will wait for you from now on," Miranda said dismissively, looking pleased at her solution.
"What? No. No! His evenings are long enough while waiting for me to text him. I've been perfectly safe going home every evening so far."
"So far being the operative word."
"Miranda, this isn't up for debate. I'm going to allow you to help me out until the stitches come out, but after that, my time is my own." I had to harden myself at the glimpse of hurt feelings I glimpsed in Miranda's eyes. It nearly did me in, almost made me apologize for being rude and declining her offer. This would set a horrible precedence for the future though, so I clenched my jaws and kept quiet.
"We will visit this topic again." Miranda's low voice proved this was probably going to turn into a fight at one point, but for now, she'd agreed to adjourn the discussion.
I spent the rest of the day popping extra strength Tylenol every fourth hour. Miranda left at 6 PM and I knew I had at least four more hours to kill before Roy would drive me and the dry cleaning home to the townhouse. It was actually a relief to not have to cross Manhattan while being so sore to go home from Miranda's.
Finally, the Book arrived and I could take the elevator down to street level and slide into the Mercedes. Roy gazed at me through the rearview mirror, looking quite concerned. "Looking pale there, Andy. Long day, huh?"
"I'll help you with the dry cleaning. Some extra stuff there today."
"Thanks." The mere thought of having to haul heavy plastic-wrapped hangers was daunting to say the least.
They pulled up to the house and to my surprise, the door opened and Miranda stood there waiting as I limped up the stairs, carrying the Book. One hand on the door frame, the other on her hip, a typical pose of hers, she looked stunning in her casual, yet super-expensive, leisure suite.
"I shouldn't have let you stay so long." Miranda took the Book from me and tossed it with shocking irreverence on the side table. She opened the closet door for Roy and thanked him. "From now on, Roy, I want you to drive Andrea everywhere, unless I need the car. Then I want your colleague, the one I don't dislike as much, to drive her."
"Miranda…" I tried, but I was simply too tired.
"Of course, Ms. Priestly." Roy nodded and even winked at me. "Ready, Andy?"
"No, you misunderstand. Andrea is going to stay here for the next two weeks or so, but apart from that, my order stands."
"Got it." Saluting and smiling at me, Roy left and I stood once again in Miranda's foyer, no doubt looking like a fool. I was so tired, and still I couldn't take my eyes off Miranda. Her beauty was mind-blowing, for sure, but there was something else, something undefinable about the whole situation. I wondered if I was hallucinating because of the freaking Tylenols as her eyes seemed to radiate concern and tenderness, paired with her usual annoyance.
"Silly girl," Miranda whispered. "You have a way of driving me quite insane and I often question why I just can't seem to maintain my usual distance when it comes to you."
"And when you talk like that, I'm pretty sure my concept of reality goes haywire," I replied, trying to remain calm. I destroyed attempt at seeming cool and collected by wobbling again where I stood. I ended up clinging to the railing at the bottom of the stairs to stay upright. "I think I need to lie down. I'm…I'm tired."
"And stating the obvious. Come on, Andrea." The tenderness seemed to have taken over for now, which was crazy to even imagine, but it was as if my very soul needed it right now. Needed this impossible connection with the woman I used to fear, but now… I stopped my dangerous train of thoughts when it veered into Forbidden Land, the place where the truth dwelled surrounded by potential, near-certain heartache.
"Do you wish you take a shower tonight?" Miranda stopped inside the door to the guestroom.
"No. I'll just wash up a bit. Too tired." I knew I was slurring because she frowned and tapped her lower lip like she does when her brain is going two-hundred miles per hour.
"I'm not comfortable leaving you before you're tucked in. Nor do I trust you to remain in bed once I do."
"What do you mean?" I blinked, trying to focus my eyes on her. Couldn't she stand still? She was swaying back and forth.
"Andrea. That does it. You're not staying here." Miranda grabbed my arm and pushed me into another bedroom, clearly hers, judging from the size and the door leading into a vast closet. "All right. Bathroom. I'll wait here, but keep the door open."
"All right, all right." Muttering I found myself in a bathroom bigger than my living room and bedroom combined. I pulled off my clothes, shivered as I stood naked before the mirror and washed what my mother called "the most important parts," which included under arms and breasts, between legs, and lastly my face. Gazing around, I saw Miranda's robe, but didn't dare use that so I grabbed a humongous bath towel and wrapped it around me. Shivering, I reentered the bedroom where Miranda was waiting.
"Good. Now let me just take a look at the stitches." No warning, Miranda peeled back the towel enough to look at the incision. She nodded and reattached the tape. "Looks dry and clean. We'll change the dressing tomorrow morning before we go into work. If you feel the least bit out of sorts tomorrow, you're working from home. Is that clear?" She glared at me.
"Sure. Fine. Yes." I slumped sideways and she caught me. I was so tired, and so relieved to be there with her, to have Miranda just take care of everything for once, I leaned my forehead against her shoulder. "You smell good."
"Hm. Thank you." Miranda's voice was soft and warm as she guided me to her bed. Pulling back the covers, she helped me lay down and removed the towel before tucking in the covers around me. "I'll get your pajamas so you can slip into it."
"Mm-mm." I thought I'd just close my eyes for a moment first. The bed was soft and warm like a hug and smelled of Miranda, which of course made it perfect. I knew how soft her hands were and the softness of the bed made it possible to imagine being in her arms. How I wish she'd wrap her arms around me and hold me. I had dreamed many a heated dream of finally being able to express my feelings for this wondrous, infuriating, special, and gorgeous woman. Before I finished that thought I was asleep.
When I woke up, I found myself curled up; spooning Miranda's silk clad back, but I was still buck naked.
To be continued in part 3/?