#andy tdwp

Your brows furrow for a second.

Then you remember the sink.

The dinner from three years ago, here in Paris, except she was in your apartment.

You had asked her for a ‘hypothetical kiss’.

Miranda Priestly’s thumb firmly runs across your lips a few times, as if she’s enjoying the sensation. You’re tempted to part your mouth and latch onto her with your tongue, but you feel paralysed.

“Use your words. Tell me what you want”, she coos, her own mouth stretching into a grin.

‘Not fair. Not fair. Not fair’.

It’s useless to even attempt it, you’ll feel silly.

“Mm, I don’t hear anything…”

“Guess I’m mistaken”, she retrieves her hand.

You turn around to face away from the older woman in a huff, in protest and hear a soft peal of laughter coming from behind.

Miranda scoots closer to you until she fits her front snuggly with your back. Her fingers slowly trail your arm, teasing you. She leans over you slightly, until she has view of your sulking face.

“You’re so used to getting everything you want, aren’t you princess?”, her breath hits your ear, making you throb.

“That little humble act you put on may fool everyone else, but deep down I know what you are Rayna Ravitz”.

“I know what you desire most”.

The fingers on your arm move down to grip your waist, no longer on your borrowed silk pyjamas, but directly on your skin.

You feel yourself pool instantly in your panties.

“And I’m not Andrea Sachs”, her lips linger on your earlobe, hand moving higher up inside your shirt, towards your breasts, resting just below.

“I won’t give it up to you that easily”, she presses her mouth lightly on your jawline, trailing down your neck. As if about to take her first bite of you.

It’s heaven and it’s torture, doing unspeakable things inside you and all over your body.

“I’ll make you work for it”, she slides back up so her lips are by your ear again.

“You spoilt girl”, her voice whispers right inside.

“Don’t you think I’ve imagined what you might sound like underneath me?”.

“If it wasn’t for your voice being gone and this mess you’re in with Andrea. I would have you this very moment”.

“I want to hear your every squirm and whimper when I finally take this needy little cunt”, her hand moves from below your breasts down to the waistband of your borrowed pyjamas.

‘Please go inside’.

“Did you touch yourself? After ogling me in my study everyday. Instead of focusing on your homework”, there’s a deep lust in her delivery.

You nod desperately.

“Did you imagine my hands all over you?”, her fingers dip into the pyjamas, as if about to rub.

God, yes.

Sometimes even in Cassie’s room, when they were at their dad’s and it was just you and her.

Though you could never admit it to yourself back in high school, that it was Miranda Priestly directly making you feel this way.

It always was, obviously.

You nod again, feeling your face heat up.

“There was never a crush on a boy at school was there? You lied to me”, her voice is low.

‘Of course, I lied’, you wish you can say.

“It was me, wasn’t it? Your silly little crush”.

‘Yes, always you’.

“I saw it miles away, before you uttered a word”.

‘I wish I’d been bolder’.

“Do you know how much that frightened me?”, her voice turns a bit breathy.

“My daughters’ teen best friend lusting over me”.

The older woman swallows thickly.

She pauses.

“You wanted to get me in trouble, didn’t you?”.

You shake your head.

“What would your father have said?”.

‘I don’t care’.

“Why do you think I never looked your way.”

“If I hadn’t been as careful, disciplined as I was…I would have lost everything because of you”.

‘I wouldn’t have told anyone’, you want to say.

“You, however, have zero discipline”.

“We’ll soon straighten that out”, her voice is firm.

‘Please, do it now’.

“I can already smell how soaked you are”, she hovers directly onto your panties without touching.

‘Please, let her have me’, you pray to Aphrodite.

“It doesn’t take much, does it?”.

“Are you always this needy?”, she taunts.

Yes, and you need her more than ever.

Your hand covers hers, pressing it down. She releases a small sound, like a moan, feeling you so wet, but slips her hand away, back to your waist.

Miranda tuts disapprovingly.

All she needs to do is rub once or twice, over your panties and you think you’ll come hard.

That’s how close you feel.

“I need you to finish whatever you have left with my former assistant”.

“I will not be sharing you”.

You tilt your face more towards her as if to express that it’s already done.

The older woman laughs.

“Don’t be naive”.

“It’s never as simple as her getting with Emily Charlton. She’s clearly still in love with you”.

Why is this turning you on so much?

“Andrea will come begging for you, disguised as closure. She’ll seduce you with those innocent eyes and next thing you’ll be in bed with her”.

Okay, well, that’s kind of how it happened to begin with and then all the final, final, final times that followed. You couldn’t resist her doe eyes.

“I saw the challenge in her tonight”.

“She’ll be coming for you, mark my words”.

Well, she cheated. There’s no unseeing her kissing Emily, so there’s no way you’d just sleep with her again, after all that.

You’re done.

Right?

“I am a very jealous woman, Rayna”, her fingers move from under your shirt to caress your cheek.

This causes you to shiver.

You remember the story of a young Jacqueline Follet and a vengeful Miranda Priestly.

“Do you know how much I had to hold myself, watching that brunette all over you these past months?”, her hand moves to rest on your neck.

You shake your head.

“Finish this thing with her”, she leans in more.

You nod, feeling exhilarated by her demand.

“Then, you’ll plan that date you begged me for”, you can hear the smugness in her tone.

Miranda suddenly departs from your body and you immediately want to cry from the empty space now beside you instead.

She turns and faces the other way.

‘Please don’t leave me like this’.

All you can think of is if you can die from arousal.

Your body mimics hers, this time being the one who scoots closer, until you’re a perfect fit again.

Not wanting to push her boundaries, you simply hook your arm around her waist and press your face against the back of her neck.

She allows it.

Without further words exchanged.

You ache so badly, you consider slipping back to the guest bedroom to take care of yourself.

You can be quick.

But what did she say again?

‘Zero discipline’.

She’ll know.

‘I’m so fucked’.

Your hand holds her tighter as an anchor to your impulsive thoughts.

And as the night continues, her hand slowly finds itself on top of the one on her waist, leaving it to rest there, like a safety blanket.

You decide before falling asleep that you’ll do anything and absolutely everything to keep her.

Miranda won’t fall through your grasp again.

You’ll no longer be another sad ‘bachelor’ waiting for her turn. You plan to marry her and stay married to her, for the rest of your lives.

Although the steps towards this are a bit unclear.

But if you’re here, snuggled in bed with said woman, after everything, after years of yearning, then anything is possible. Surely?

The last thought in you is the ending scene of the 1952 novel, ‘The Price of Salt’, for some reason.

When the first light of the morning sun streams through her windows, you’ve already been in the kitchen for at least an hour, figuring out how to work the stove and deciding which ingredients would be contributing to your breakfast.

Oeufs en Cocotte is what comes to mind, your mother made it all the time. You watched her and sometimes she’d let you ‘help’.

It can’t be hard, can it?

Okay, eggs, some cream, unsalted butter? You might have to run out for that specifically. No Zucchini, no Parmesan, but she has Gruyère, perfect. Ham, garlic, black pepper, yup, chives? Might have to add them to the shopping list, oh and a probably a baguette. That should be it.

Easy peasy.

A little taste of the South of France once again.

You shower, the steam is wonderful but your voice still isn’t back. You leave a note in case the older woman wakes up, happy to be wearing your own clothes from the suitcase Andy dropped off.

{Just gone to pick up more ingredients for our breakfast and some coffee! Bisous x}

Miranda’s apartment is in one of the prettiest buildings you’ve seen in Paris. It’s ancient, in that romantic way, compared to your modern one.

Roy offers to drive you to the nearest bakery and market to find the items on your list.

It takes you much longer than you anticipated, feeling a little out of your comfort zone.

No one recognises you with the dark shades, although you still feel exhausted by the time you return. Your hands balancing too many items.

Thankfully, Miranda is still asleep.

You rummage quietly through the kitchen, looking for a cast-iron pot before grabbing your phone upstairs to search up the recipe.

The second you turn it on, you’re bombarded by so many messages and missed calls, from people you haven’t even heard from in years.

All of them discussing the Matthieu Delacroix collection and the live streamed fashion show, especially your proposal to Andy.

‘Fuck me’.

Speaking of which, you decide to check her reply to you from last night. Your heart rate already increasing at the thought alone.

‘I won’t ever stop being sorry for hurting you. I really wish I could erase that moment, with all my heart. And you have to know that I did feel secure with you, until phase four was getting closer to the end and we finally talked about it.

I didn’t mention the other job offer I have in NY because I still hoped we could somehow make it work, you and me. But with everything now, I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable seeing me around, so I decided to resign and start fresh somewhere else.

Honestly, I agree with you. It might be for the best that we do have some space. But I think we should also talk beforehand? Like, have some kind of closure about all this?

When do you fly back?

I’m taking an earlier flight.

Can we just talk about this face to face when your voice comes back, please? Then we can move on.

I’ll miss you too, a lot.

You know this.

You’re my best friend.

I still love and care for you.

I’m just sorry I fucked things for us to even be friends right now. I think that’s what hurts most because you told me at the start it could end this way and I was so sure it wouldn’t.’

Voicenote 00:32

“hey…it’s me. i’m just kinda freaking out over everything…and i don’t know what to do……………. i know i’ve texted you lot, ray…and i’m really sorry to ask again, but please can i see you?…please let’s not do this over text…not just for closure alone, but so we can figure out how to best navigate the media…[sighs]…i don’t know if you’ve seen by now, the proposal has been printed pretty much everywhere…and i don’t know what to do from here, without speaking to you properly”, her voice has a particular tone that eats at you a little, because you can’t stand to see her sad or crying.

The heaviness in your heart returns after reading through all of this and hearing her for the first time since the Palace of Versailles.

She sounds low and heartbroken.

‘I don’t know if I can see you right now.’

With the oven now pre-heating and the casserole dish greased with olive oil, you move with your phone to the sink to fill up the kettle with water.

‘How come?’

‘Do you hate me?’

You sigh deeply and lock your phone, re-focusing on arranging the ham at the bottom of the dish.

‘I hate the situation I’m in with you.’

The recipe suggests to sprinkle a tablespoon of Gruyère cheese, pour in cream, then season it with garlic and black pepper.

This is the part you loved ‘helping’ your mother with most as a child. You can almost hear her.

‘Mate la neige noire tomber sur le sol blanc!’, she’d shout with excitement, back in the days.

Now you wonder what she would think of this scene of you, making breakfast for Miranda. The same woman she advised to marry rich, or at least be with some who respected and loved her.

‘Moi, c'est le mec blindé maman et je suis aussi à fond sur elle. T'es toujours OK?’.

Would she be understanding? Considering your father and her had a ten year age gap.

You’d like to think she’d be on your side.

No matter what.

Thankfully the yolks remain intact when you crack the eggs on top. This has to be perfect.

You sprinkle another tablespoon of the cheese, along with chives, the final little touch and voilà!

Your gaze slowly finds your phone and you pick it up, wanting the feelings inside you to disappear.

‘I hate me too.’

‘No Andy, obviously I don’t hate you.’

‘I just don’t know if it’s a good idea emotionally.’

‘Don’t you think we should have some kind of closure before we don’t speak, please?’

‘Yes, obviously it’s important that we talk about this.’

‘So, can I come see you when you’re back? I’ll get all of my things out before you do.’

‘I’m scared of seeing your face & falling into your eyes again’.

‘Fine. I’ll reach out’.

Miranda has a roasting pan which you use to place the casserole dish and finally pour the water you boiled earlier, so it reaches halfway in the pan? The recipe is pretty straightforward, so why do you feel so anxious?

At this point the stove has been pre-heated well enough to now bake your breakfast for about fifteen minutes, with regular checks in between.

‘Okay. Thank you.’

‘I don’t want to keep anything else from you right now, so I want to disclose that I slept with Em.’

Well, obviously.

You almost just slept with Miranda and would have if she let you. This isn’t news, you already imagined it, as much as you disliked it.

‘Before Paris’.

Your hands unintentionally slam the door of the oven and start the timer.

‘What the fuck?’.

A new wave of heartache hits you, staring at those two little words flashing on your screen.

You reply quickly, pulling out a bar stool by the kitchen counter to sit and focus on texting her.

‘What do you mean before Paris? When?’

‘When our fake dating started getting headlines and the media was still trying to uncover the brunette mystery’.

‘Then it stopped for some time, after the day you told me you felt attached to me, because I felt it back’.

‘But after we finally talked about phase four, it happened with her again’.

‘Why the fuck wouldn’t you tell me this?’

‘I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, at the time’.

‘As opposed to now then is it?’

‘Ray, it was confusing, we were still fake dating through most of it and with Em I thought she was the only real chance I had, until I found out about your feelings for me’.

‘So the day you came to my apt crying saying she slept with someone else, you’d been fucking her regularly?’

Your halfway point timer on the stove is going off, warning you to check, but you miss it.

‘Yeah, I’m sorry’.

‘And the day she asked you to go to the show, that wasn’t her reaching out to you for the first time, like I thought. You two were talking all the time then?

‘Well no, I wasn’t talking to her all the time’.

‘How?’

‘You’ve just said you were fucking for pretty much the whole time we were too?’

Your timer keeps going off, now over halfway.

‘We never talked, we just slept together, not like you and me were talking at the time. It was just sex with her, until Paris’.

‘Did you ever fuck her then fuck me on the same day?’.

Those three dots appear and disappear. You feel as though you’re going to explode waiting.

‘Yeah, a few times’.

‘How many?’.

‘I don’t remember’.

‘Yes, you do! You’re lying to me again.

‘Ray, I’m not lying! I didn’t keep count’.

‘So all those times you’d come home pent up, it’s because you spent all day around her, then she’d be unavailable?’

‘No, I was pent up because of you, I obviously wanted you, but you wanted Miranda. And if she’d offered to have sex with you then you would’ve dropped me in a heartbeat’.

‘That’s not true’.

It’s definitely true.

‘It’s true and you know it’.

‘Oh so, kinda like you dropped me for Emily immediately after I proposed to you in front of the entire world?’.

‘It wasn’t real! You said yourself that phase four shouldn’t end with us being together, remember?!’

‘Obviously I remember Andy! I just don’t recall the part where I asked if you can stab my heart on the same day we’re trying to pull this off!’

‘I told you I wasn’t myself, otherwise I don’t think I would have done that’.

‘You were literally fucking me and Emily Charlton at the same time and didn’t say one fucking word about it. Why should I believe you now?’

‘I already told you that I didn’t want to hurt your feelings and we were figuring things out. You were freaking out over seeing Miranda with Stephen all the time, then you’d immediately have sex with me to sooth yourself!’.

‘I’m not doing this over text with you’.

‘Let me know when you’re ready to meet up and talk’.

‘You’re the one still texting’.

‘You’re being so childish’.

‘I’d rather be childish than a cheating liar’.

‘Whatever’.

You lock your phone only to hear it ping again a few seconds after.

‘You’re still at Miranda’s aren’t you?’

‘So? You’re with Emily.’

‘I’m not with her right now’.

‘Okay?’.

‘I just thought you should know I haven’t slept with her whilst in Paris and I’m leaving for NY today’.

‘Just literally all the other times’.

‘Have you slept with Miranda?’

‘Why, are you jealous?’

‘Yes.’

‘I don’t know what you want me to do with that?’

Three dots appear and disappear a few times.

‘I miss you.’

‘You still lied to me.’

She doesn’t reply after this.

The final timer goes off and you snap out to of your hyper focused thumb war with Andy.

‘Oh fuck!’.

You rush to the stove to open it, releasing some smoke, and thankfully, your breakfast hasn’t burnt. In fact, it looks just right, but anymore time in there and it would’ve been another story.

Someone must be watching out for you.

Your hands feel a bit shaky as you place the Oeufs en Cocotte on the counter. It smells like your childhood and reminds you of happier days.

Your emotions are a mix between frustration, melancholy, nostalgia and the small joy of having actually achieved the recipe.

Tears fill your eyes as you fall into a trance, processing the texts from Andy and recalling old memories of being in your Manhattan home.

It was a year before everything fell apart. You were six years old, lying on your mother’s lap after watching her make this exact dish.

She was still herself and soothed the both of you by playing with your wild hair, everyday.

It was your safest place in the world.

“Maman, qui vous a appris à cuisiner cela?", you asked, already full with the breakfast.

"Ma tante m'a appris, celle avec qui j'ai grandi, tu t'souviens d'elle?", she smiled, smoothing your baby hairs.

“Yes, I remember. Et ta mère?”, you gazed with intent, wanting to understand.

“I did not grow up with my maman, elle était pas assez en forme pour s'occuper de moi", Regina expressed, carefully studying your expression.

“Where is your maman now?”, you pressed on.

You must have looked worried.

“Heaven”, her eyes flashed some sadness.

“Your aunt became your other maman?”

“Oui”.

“She’s a nice lady”.

Regina laughed at your delivery of this, noticing the worry your eyes carried whilst you were trying to be optimistic and kind about her situation.

“Yes, but I will always be your maman, watch you grow and I will teach you many things, my sweet”, she kissed your forehead and tickled your sides, making you giggle until you couldn’t take it.

"J't'ai entendue maman, s'il te plaît!”, you scream laughed in between, begging her to stop.

“Oké! J'voulais juste vérifier si ma p'tite chérie est toujours en toi", she released you, her eyes bright with the mischief you loved so much.

"T'es tout mon monde, Rayna. Tout c'que j'tiens à cœur dans cette vie. J't'aime trop”.

“I love you too maman”.

You snap out of the trance, before resuming setting the table. The electric cup warmers in the kitchen help keep Miranda’s nonfat, no-foam, extra-shot, extra-hot latte hot.

A quick glance at the clock tells you that the older woman will be down shortly.

She’s woken up at the same time during weekends for as long as you’ve known her. Taking her sleep more seriously in the past decade.

You’re feeling giddy having actually pulled it off. It looks like one of your Pinterest aesthetic boards, thanks to her exquisite taste in kitchenware.

Of course you capture it on your phone, for your own memories and a notification pops up mid review of the photos.

‘I did it to protect your heart.’

Andy.

‘And how did that work out?’

‘Obviously not great.’

Anyway, I’m boarding my flight soon. I guess see you in NY. I hope you have a safe trip back home.’ [read]

Deciding you may as well start on the dishes, you scrunch up your sleeves and get to work.

Another ping comes from your phone, but you don’t hear it, having fallen into another trance.

This time of Andy and her lying, cheating, perfect doe eyes looking up at you while kneeling on your kitchen floor, stark naked, her breasts bouncing just a little. And it makes you wonder if she did it for Emily Charlton, maybe even on the same day.

“My my, this is quite the spread”, Miranda’s voice brings you out of your thoughts.

Before you have a chance to turn around, her hand rests on your back and she leans forward, closing in on you to take a look at your face.

The older woman’s bewitching scent pours over you and her skin radiates warmth.

Your cheeks immediately grow hot with this level of proximity from someone who was so far from your grasp for years.

“Don’t do these right now, let’s eat”, her voice is low and her arms wrap around you from behind, helping you rinse your hands, hers over yours.

‘How is everything so erotic with this woman?’.

This is the second time you find yourself holding Miranda’s wet hands. Well, the other way around.

The first being three years ago, at your sink.

You desire to turn around, meet her eyes and challenge her a little, but feel paralysed, like last night when her thumb was rubbing your lips.

She overwhelms you sexually, to the point of being unable to do basic things.

Something about the older woman disarms your dominant energy, making you want to bottom.

Whereas with Andy, all she had to do was bat her big eyes, pout a little and you’d ruin her, taking all of her there and then, without overthinking it.

“Shall we?”, she’s watching your face.

You nod, once again limited in your expression.

Miranda Priestly smiles, releasing you from her hold to dry her own hands with a dishcloth. A subtle redness growing on her face, as if she’s also blushing from being so close to you.

Instead of lingering your gaze on her for too long, you wipe your hands on your trousers, to bring your still hot coffees at the breakfast table.

Both of you sit across from each other as you did during yesterday’s dinner, although you feel more dressed up in your own clothes than her pyjamas.

It’s still not quite a date, but the feeling of safety around her seems to have grown more overnight.

“You forgot your communication device”, she teases a little, sliding you her notebook and pen.

Miranda watches you under longing eyes as you write, focusing on your hands, but you miss it.

{You’re loving this a little too much. It’s not fair}

A warm tingle travels through your fingers when they brush against hers, passing the note.

She laughs after reading it, her head tilting slightly back in a way that looks seductive.

You think she wouldn’t protest if you grabbed her hand right now, but again overthink it in reality.

Did the wine make you that much bolder on the night of your dinner with her and the twins? You were ready to take her by that sink if you could.

“Thank you for this, it looks lovely”, her gaze follows the display of food on the table and her latte, which she immediately grabs.

You can’t help but grin hearing her little sigh of first sip satisfaction. It makes the morning hassle worth it to see her so happy.

Similar to last night, there isn’t much interaction except for the occasional shy glance from you and the curious one from her.

In some ways you have a feeling she prefers the quiet more. She always liked working in silence during your study sessions, so it’s not surprising.

In fact it makes total sense, for a woman who’s always having to voice her opinion all day.

You once told her during your high school years that you’re similar to her, enjoying a quieter companion than Cassidy and Caroline.

Now you wish you could’ve been more talkative, maybe then she would’ve revealed herself to you a little bit more than what she shared back then.

This particular train of thought reawakens yesterday’s moments in her bed.

Your face starts to warm up remembering what she actually whispered in your ear.

‘…when I finally take this needy little cunt.’

It makes you feel wet just thinking about it, her tone and pacing, her sense of control and firmness. She’s so…mm-

[*you can’t quite say it just yet, even to yourself]

Now she’s sitting across from you as if it never even happened. How can she pretend so well?

What if you share your thoughts?

You scribble once again and slide it to her.

{I liked what I heard from you last night…very, very much and I’m already planning our date}

This time she avoids looking up, but she smiles.

Your foot intentionally moves in between hers under the table, not really touching. The tension already feels so palpable.

“Good”, that’s all she replies with, her tone unreadable, but her pink cheeks give her away.

By the time you finish breakfast, you’ve replayed everything she said to you in bed twice over, soaking your own panties.

When you go to clear the table she stops you.

“I’m not above a little manual labour, remember?”, her smile sends butterflies to your stomach.

Of course you remember, but it still surprises you.

You return her warmth, lingering just a little.

“It’s the least I can do”, she adds, already at work.

You still help her, not wanting to be far from her presence. This time being the one to wrap your arms around her while she washes the dishes.

The feel of her body, the quietness, with only the sound of the water hitting both your hands does something to your brain chemistry.

It’s beautiful.

Her breathing changes the longer you hold her in this position. The air feels thicker even for you.

No words are exchanged from her side.

You decide to be bolder, beginning to slowly graze your cheek against hers, until it eventually rubs back and forth, continuously.

Her skin has a softness that feels expensive to touch. It’s delicate, as if it can bruise easily.

She must be enjoying the sensation because she rubs back, like an intimate ‘call and answer’.

At some point you forget the dishes altogether, your hands continuing to tangle under the running tap, dreaming.

‘Just be courageous’.

Maybe you can experience a transfer of power similar to what happened with Andy the first time you had sex. It was such a rush to switch over.

With the water still on, your wet hands move from in between hers to grab her waist, not caring if you wet her top. At first she tenses at the feeling, until you fully wrap around her body, locking her.

For a second, you think when she rests her hands on your arms she’s about to remove you from her, but she stays on top, which is very encouraging.

Just like she teased you last night, you take your revenge. Your lips graze the bottom of her neck, slowly climbing up to her jaw, then ear.

It sounds so hot, hearing the contact you make.

Miranda throws her head back slightly to give you better access, her hands grab your arms tighter.

So, naturally you also tighten your hold on her with each soft kiss becoming more and more firm and audible on her skin.

Her little hums don’t go unnoticed.

She feels perfect in your arms this way.

Your mouth trails up and down, from her ear to neck and back again, until her noises aren’t so subtle. The older woman hisses getting turned on.

One of your hands move up towards her face, to tilt it further to you for better access of her lips.

There’s a little resistance in her.

Her own hand comes up to stop you.

So, you move yours down to feel and squeeze her ass, starting to hike her skirt up with your fingers.

“You’re being naughty”, her voice is breathy and hushed. “I told you my conditions, but you’re making it hard for me on purpose”.

“I need that kiss”, you hear your voice finally come out of your mouth for the first time since losing it.

It surprises you both, she turns around.

Your grip tightens on her waist.

Miranda Priestly’s eyes are so dilated and she appears to be sexually frustrated.

“I think what you need is discipline”, she leans in until her nose is almost touching yours.

“Hard discipline”, she unhooks your hands in one swift move, leaving your little sink bubble and heading out of the kitchen to what seems like a living room space. It catches you off guard.

“Come”, her tone is firm, wrapped with a ‘no nonsense’ attitude around it.

Your feet feel stuck as you imagine she has in mind, the boldness you felt a few moments ago slowly disappearing and replaced by nervousness.

“I won’t repeat myself a third time”, Miranda calls.

“Fuck”, you say under your breath.

You don’t want to test her limits any further.

Suppose you’ll have to figure out how to successfully transfer the power to yourself another time. If it’s even possible with her.

The older woman readjusts herself on the sofa when you finally walk in, as if already impatient.

You move cautiously towards her, like a kitten.

Her unyielding gaze following your every step.

She pats her lap like she did yesterday before playing with your hair. So, by default you resume the same position, your head on her soft thighs.

But, you hear a disapproving tut and a slender hand reaching for your hair, only to grip it in a fist, instead of lightly scratching your scalp.

“I’m not rewarding you for bad behaviour”, she explains, tightening the hold. It honestly feels uncomfortable, but not quite painful just yet.

She controls you this way, moving your head further away from her, until it’s on the armrest. Your body face down and your ass staring up from her lap. She readjusts herself again.

You feel so aroused and anxious all at once.

“Miran-”

“Be quiet”, she silents you, using her work voice.

“Your first lesson will be to do as you’re told”.

“Take these off”, her other hand caresses your jeans, feeling your ass through the fabric and lightly rubbing her fingers in between your legs.

You repress a sudden moan and lift your hips to wiggle your trousers down to your knees.

All that’s left on are your pretty lace panties, feeling absolutely soaked through at this point. You’re scared your juices will run down your legs.

She can probably smell how turned on you are.

“Have you ever been spanked before Rayna?”, her hand cups one of your ass cheeks, jiggling it, as if inspecting and testing for something.

All you want to do is moan out loud.

But you hold it in, barely.

“No”, your voice has a little whimper.

She squeezes firmly, interchanging with the other cheek, until your panties are riding up in between them, pressing on your aching, starved pussy.

Miranda yanks them up even further, giving herself naked access without you having to take them off. You feel like you’ll come soon if she keeps touching your skin and toying with you.

“You’ve been a bad girl, haven’t you”, she gives you your first hard slap. It actually hurts and at the same time it travels right to your core.

You bite your bottom lip to stop your sound from coming out. But when she doesn’t continue right away you open your mouth to answer her.

“Miranda I-”

“No no, that wasn’t a question”.

The hand gripping your hair turns your head slightly, making you look back at her.

This time when she slaps you, her eyes are locked on yours. Making it hard for you to stay quiet, what comes out makes you feel embarrassed.

You release a whimpering cry on her third one and catch her lips forming a small smile. She likes this.

Her fourth slap somehow feels harder and more charged, testing your capacity to endure.

“It hurts”, you’re tearing up, your body wanting to both recoil from her and be soothed by her.

“It should”, she coos at you before giving her fifth.

“Please…”, you whimper loudly.

At this point the lines of pleasure and pain are feeling blurred. You want to be able to take it, but each slap stings more than the last.

“I’ll be good”, you manage between your cries, when she hands you her sixth and seventh slap back to back.

“Will you, princess?”, her eighth has you almost screaming, your tears finally roll down sideways on your face, blurring your vision of her.

Miranda’s tone and pacing, her sense of control and firmness. She’s so…

“Mommy, I’ll be good, I promise”, you cry out on her ninth, unintentionally revealing your deepest desire. One which she guessed she already knew.

Somehow this excites her, going in harder for her tenth and final one. She even grunts a little.

“Please mommy…”, your tears continue to fall.

“I’ll be good for you”.

“I’ll be so good”, your voice begging when you feel as if she might just add another hard slap.

There’s silence for some time, as you sniffle and eventually calm. Her grip in your hair loosens just enough for it to not be painful anymore.

She dips her fingers further in until she has access to your scalp.

The older woman begins to scratch lightly, the hand still on your sore ass cheeks now rubbing gentle circles on both.

Your sniffs lessen the more she soothes you this way and you feel your arousal creep up again.

“Perhaps…mommy was too harsh”, she offers, her voice soft on you.

When you don’t answer immediately, she gazes down at your face.

“Do you still want a kiss from mommy?”.

You finally turn your eyes towards her.

“Yes, please”, your voice is shy, feeling slightly embarrassed, but also like a missing piece of you has been found.

The older woman turns you over, so you’re now lying on your back on the sofa, she climbs on top of you, without pulling your jeans up, so you can feel her knee grazing your soaking panties.

You bite your bottom lip to repress a moan.

Miranda leans down until you can feel her full weight on top of you. She’s so warm, her scent envelopes you in a different way in this position.

You’re the on the inside of the sofa, whereas she’s by the edge, leaning on one elbow, to see you.

Her long fingers reach for the back of your neck and you melt straight away in anticipation.

She brings her face down to yours, looks into your eyes and whispers.

“You are so perfect babygirl”.

“You made mommy soak through her panties with your little cries and whimpers”.

“Just perfect”.

“I can’t wait to devour your pretty pussy”.

“But my conditions still stand and you must obey me when I ask for something, okay?”.

“Otherwise, I’ll have to be harsh with you again”.

All you can manage to do is nod, feeling completely paralysed by her energy.

Miranda Priestly then presses her soft mouth against yours, her hand moving to the front of your neck to hold it in place.

It’s a good thing too because you float inside.

Both of you release different kind of moans, hers is ravenous, yours is just ready to be taken.

The level of arousal in this living room feels feral, it does not allow for tenderness, with both of you dying for an orgasm and each other.

You find your tongue quickly inside her mouth, already warring with hers. It’s sloppy and messy and absolute heaven.

That knee of hers casually positioned directly against your hot pussy keeps lightly rubbing into it, without the older woman’s knowledge.

She’s too busy drinking you in to notice.

You start moaning into her mouth, feeling as if you’ll soon burst from the light contact.

Her hold on your neck tightens a little possessively the more you kiss each other.

God, her knee is killing you.

You can’t even warn her, she only realises when your body starts to vibrate underneath her.

You come hard.

All the build up from yesterday evening, mixed with today’s teasing felt unbearable.

Somehow watching you orgasm this way makes the older woman reach her heights, slipping her hand inside her skirt to quickly rub.

You don’t hear her moan because she captures you in another kiss as her body jerks on top.

It’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen or done in your life, with anyone, coming so intensely while still fully clothed.

And you don’t stop there.

Your arms wrap around her body to bring her further down on you and she starts dry jumping your jeans, her skirt riding up higher.

The friction is delicious.

Her wet tongue exploring your mouth makes it all the more sensual. You could come again.

She has to know how good it is, so you pull back a little from the aggressive kissing.

“Please mommy, don’t stop”, you whimper against her lips, feeling the build up in your gut.

“Mommy will never stop princess”, she almost grunts, she must be close too.

“You’re gonna make mommy come again babygirl, be a good girl and make me come”, her voice is struggling.

Your hand reaches under her skirt, whilst hers reaches for your panties, both of you rubbing frantically on the wet fabrics.

The sensation is magnified, not lasting no more than thirty seconds before you both violently come. It might be even better than the first one.

She growls, whereas you scream.

A little too loud, because you miss the front door being closed shut and the footsteps.

Miranda slumps down, both of you unable to descend from the high clouds anytime soon.

You wrap your arms around her protectively.

“Holy fuck”, she says quietly to herself.

“Yeah”, you agree.

“Mom? Ray?”, her presence is suddenly made known, making you tense up.

Both of you quickly turn your heads to the living room entrance, to see none other than

“CASSIDY”

“CASSIE”

“Oh my gosh”, she covers her eyes and turns.

“What the fuck is going on?! Someone please answer me!! I texted and called because you told me to not walk in people’s apartments anymore, but you weren’t answering me! So I let myself in”, her voice is panicking and angry.

In the time she’s freaking out, both of you are pulling yourselves together to be presentable.

She walks in the kitchen, her hands shaking.

“Cassidy, please calm down, let’s talk”, her mother is the first to follow her in and you trail behind, both your faces still flushed.

She whips around, hers visibly angry and on the verge of tears.

“We’ll answer everything”, you try to speak, your heart pounding out of your chest seeing her this way. She’s never turned her fury on you.

“Ray! Are you fucking serious?!”, she screams.

God, she has her mother’s temper.

“You and her?! What about Andy?! You proposed like two days ago! Mom! What is happening?! Please, what the fuck is this?!”.

“Ray, go upstairs, let me speak with Cassidy first, okay?”, she turns to you seeing your tears also about to fall.

You nod and run up to the guest bedroom, immediately crashing on the bed to cry.

‘Please don’t hate me’, you repeat to yourself hearing Cassie continue to shout downstairs.

It goes on for so long, you fear your friendship with her is over, like forever.

It’s only after a few hours it feels quieter, until there’s no longer any inaudible voices at all.

You hear footsteps coming upstairs and anticipate anyone. However, when the door opens, it’s Miranda’s head that pokes through.

She immediately comes to cuddle with you on the bed. Her face still in a state of shock.

“Does she hate me?”, are the first words out of your mouth.

You can’t lose your other best friend after Andy.

“Of course not. She just needs time to process it”.

“Right now, I think she dislikes me more”.

“She thought maybe I took advantage of you, that’s what most of her yelling was about. But I told her everything from your side and mine”.

“You’ll have to speak with her another time”.

She sighs heavily.

“I should probably call Caroline, one moment”, she releases you and heads back out into her bedroom.

Whilst the older woman is gone, you cautiously walk back down to the kitchen to grab your phone, feeling terrified of Cassie’s messages.

When you unlock it, it’s nothing of the sort.

She hasn’t yet messaged you since leaving and the only texts you have from her are from earlier asking about how you’re feeling.

‘I’m so sorry Cass, I wanted to tell you, I just didn’t know how’.

‘Please don’t hate me, can we talk about it?’

‘I’m sorry Cassie, please text or call when you’re ready, I can explain everything’.

She reads it immediately and starts typing.

‘Don’t bother’.

‘Cass, it wasn’t as simple to explain before’.

‘I think I have a crush on your mom and I think she likes me back. What was so hard?’

‘You lied to me for years!’

‘I didn’t want you to look at me differently, I was still figuring things out with my own sexuality and also her’.

‘Bullshit! You could have told me the truth but chose not to’.

‘Do you know how foolish I feel? Knowing the proposal with Andy isn’t even real, after everything we did together to make it special!’

‘I’m sorry Cassie, I didn’t want to hurt you’.

‘Oh, well it’s a little too late for that’.

‘Please don’t text me right now, I don’t want to speak’.

You sigh and turn off your phone.

Suddenly feeling what it might be like to be in Andy’s shoes, in the same way you are with Cassidy. It’s not as black and white after all and it’s hurt whichever side you’re on.

You just hope your best friend doesn’t relapse because of all this. She’s been pretty consistent in her sobriety journey. You can’t be the reason she it all falls apart.

Miranda finds you sat in the kitchen in a trance, wiping your tears with the back of your hand.

She sits beside you, her arms taking you into her warm embrace, making you feel instantly safe.

“It’s alright Rayna, I’ll take care of everything. You need not worry yourself like this”.

“It will work out, you’ll see, okay?”.

“Okay”, you just about manage.

How she will do that, you have no idea.

“When do you go back home?”, you suddenly ask, realising Paris Fashion Week has been over.

“I’m flying back to New York tomorrow”.

“I can’t stay here any more days, unfortunately, but I wish I could a little longer with you”.

She tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, her gaze tender and searching.

“Caroline and her wife are expecting the baby any day now. I promised I’d be available for them”.

“Plus, she was more understanding of us”.

“Her exact words being ‘I knew this since high school’”, the older woman chuckles nervously.

There’s quietness as you sit with what happened.

Both of you in your own heads.

“She gives you her blessing”, Miranda adds a few moments later.

“Really?”, your voice feels small.

“Yes, really”, she leans in to kiss your forehead.

Chapter Nine - The Drama

sapphics, how do we feel? 🫦😭

this song is bar for bar mommy priestly x reader/rayna