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Miranda sat at her desk, marking up prints from the last photo shoot. So far, the spread for the August edition appeared surprisingly well thought out. It seemed that Emily was succeeding in her new post as Arts Director. Miranda wasn’t sure if the English woman's success made her marginally proud, or annoyed her because she no longer had a reason to torment the woman. Either way, the photos were visually pleasing. The idea of body piercings had always intrigued the editor, who had never been brave enough to get more than her earlobes pierced. At the time in her youth when it had been fashionable, she was working her way up the corporate ladder and had no spare means for such trifles. This set appealed to Miranda’s closeted fantasy, with a dark haired model in a white “wife-beater”-esque blouse, a bold golden suit jacket with a feminine touch, and snugly tailored dress slacks. The model, with hands tucked in her pants pockets, had the sides of the jacket parted just enough that the reader could tell that she wore no bra. The barbells in her nipples peaked the fabric of her blouse just enough to be noticeable. With another model, in another pose, this ensemble would come off as an insult to the respectable business woman. But in this image….the model looked sexy, powerful, and entirely in control.
“Miranda?”
The voice of Emily startled the editor out of her trance. She pulled her hand back from where it had been absentmindedly been stroking the model’s covered piercings. She resisted the blush threatening to climb up her neck. Emily pretended to have missed the editor's actions.
“Miranda, my department is ready to finalize the spreads for the August edition and meet with you about concepts for the October edition.”
“Where is Alexander?” Miranda murmured.
“Yes, Miranda?” Alexander responded from the doorway. The lanky brunette man was the latest in a line of second assistants that Andrea had recommended, and the pair worked together flawlessly. The two were practically twins.
“Alexander, is Andrea back from Versace? And who is the photographer for the August edition? I dare say I, enjoy this spread. I am entirely surprised.”
Alexander hid his shock well, and blinked owlishly from behind his chic glasses, “Andrea should be back within the next five minutes, she messaged that Versace was further along than planned, so she has extra samples. The photographer is Eugene Rutherford of North Carolina. He was relatively unknown until about five years ago when he gained notoriety as a National Geographic photographer.”
“If he’s so very successful, what drew him here?” Miranda asked.
“His style is decidedly more suited to the studio than the plains of Africa. After an accident with rebel protests in Cairo during the rebellions, he lost use of his right arm. After his recovery, he decided that the fast paces of an international photographer weren’t for him.” Alexander recited this information as if he had expected her to ask, and prepared it ahead of time. This was one of the many things she loved most about competent assistants.
“Excellent. I would love to meet him in person. Emily, I will meet with your department at two for finalization and meet about the October edition directly after. When Andrea arrives, someone send her in. Now both of you, out.”
When they both left, Miranda found herself gazing at the rest of the photos. Many of them displayed nipple, navel, or eyebrow piercings with class. Miranda found herself needing to cross her legs, not so much at the models themselves as at the mental image of the piercings. Taking a lovers barbells in her teeth. Kissing Andrea’s navel piercing as…...wait. Andrea? Miranda’s eyes widened, and her breathing hitched.
“Miranda, Alexander said you wanted to see me--Miranda?”
Miranda looked up into Andrea’s eyes, pupils blown and an undeniable color in her cheeks.
“What is it, Andrea?” Miranda snapped, internally cringing when Andrea flinched from the sharpness in her voice.
“Alexander said--”
“I needed you twenty minutes ago. Now you are useless. Go.”
For a terrible moment, Andrea seemed struck, as if she might burst into tears in the middle of the editor's office. But instead, she set her jaw and whirled out of the room and back to her desk. Miranda closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. This was the first time she had snapped at Andrea so directly in several months. Her intentions were not to run off her very beautiful first assistant, but that is exactly what she had done.
“Andy, are you okay?” she heard Alexander whisper quietly across the outer office. Sharp ears and excellent acoustics meant Miranda could hear every sound in the outer office. The editors breath hitched as she heard Andrea sniff.
“Sure, Lex. What happened while I was out?”
“A meeting with Emily’s team at 2, likely to run well. After that, a meeting about October. Double booked with a meeting upstairs, definitely intentional.”
“Great. Just what I need, Irv marching his short ass down here when Miranda is late to another ‘working lunch’.”
Alexander stifled a chuckle, “What took you so long? I covered for you with the Versace thing, but I know you can make that trip in half the time.”
“Serena needed more sterling silver piercing studs for a photoshoot. Apparently the feature model for the September shoot has a nickel allergy, and they needed new sets pronto.”
“Ooohh. Where did you go? The same place you got those cute winged barbells for yourself the other day?”
Miranda almost choked on her Starbucks. Andrea had her nipples pierced?
“Ornamental Lace? Yeah, they have some really edgy stuff in there, and it’s all very very high quality metals. So I picked up another 10 pairs of standards, and put some cool things on order that I think Eugene or Serena will like. And maybe even for myself.”
“Wait, Serena has her nipples pierced too?!”
“Oh yeah. She got them done a few years ago, we kind of have a running contest of who has the cutest and most daring piercings. So far, I’m winning.”
“Wait….how?”
“Well….in college I got my…..”
Unfortunately for Miranda, the conversation was interrupted by a slew of phone calls and a very confused mail courier who had been attempting to deliver several hand-made indonesian scarves to the people in Auto Universe. The two assistants never got back to the conversation of exactly WHERE Andrea had more metal. Miranda was plagued with thoughts of Andrea’s piercings until 2 o'clock, when the art department finally came in to distract her. Andrea slipped in behind her to take notes. Seeing those photos again, with Andrea standing so close that she could practically feel the heat from her body, shot desire through Miranda’s body. Eventually, Miranda had had enough.
“Acceptable. Everyone, out. Not you Emily or Andrea. Bring in Mr. Rutherford. This is a perfect time to meet him and brainstorm his ideas for his next feature in October.”
Andrea and Emily shot glances at each other. It was rare for Miranda to feature the same photographer in two editions so close together. The editor must really like his work. When Eugene Rutherford entered, he was dressed impeccably, if a little on the metro-sexual side. Miranda, ever cognisant of those in her employ, raised her left hand to shake his. As Alexander had informed her, Rutherford’s right hand remained limp at his side.
“Miranda, it is truly lovely to meet you in person,” the man’s wide smile shone with sincerity against his dark complexion. It was almost impossible to age him, given that his frame seemed at once slender and well muscled, hands delicate but scared. When he turned his head slightly to the side, Miranda could see that his face and the revealed part off his neck was a lattice of faded scars, no doubt a remnant of his accident.
“Your work for the August edition is truly inspired. I have hopes that you would be willing to do another shoot for us?” Miranda asked cordially, knowing that this was a man she wanted to take the time to sweet talk.
“Working with Selena and her team, as well as the designer, has been a wonderful experience. I know that photographers in a city like this are a dime a dozen, and rarely get the opportunity of your presence unless something has gone horribly wrong. I would love to do another shoot, however after that, I would like to take a break. Perhaps not permanently, but for several months,” Rutherford smiled easily again, almost impishly.
The white-haired editor studied him for several long minutes, “As much as I would love to hire you full time, it is obvious to me that this is not your true calling. Talent such as yours is wasted on posed models, it needs to be out in the world capturing beauty rather than staging it so entirely.”
Rutherford inclined his head, “Your industry is inspiring and artistic in it’s own way, Miranda. I would never discredit that.”
The tension in Emily and Andrea’s shoulders fled as Miranda smiled a rare sincere smile, “It is nice to meet someone as like minded as yourself. Once we have the pieces assembled, and a more developed project, Emily will contact you with specifics,” Miranda stood to signal the end of their meeting, “It has been my pleasure.”
The gentleman stood as well, and left without another word. Miranda looked after him for several long minutes, then turned to Andrea and Emily, “I want to see the proposed collections for the October issue.”
Emily’s shoulders regained all of their tension tenfold, “Yes Miranda.”
When the racks were wheeled in, the editor gingerly began to leaf through a rack of formal wear in dark colors. She pulled out a short dress in midnight blue. At the bottom, the pattern of cherry tree branches was thick and dense, but as it ran up the bodice, the material became almost sheer. When draped on a body, the hips would be tastefully covered, but the navel would be exposed, as would most of the breasts. When she laid eyes on it, Andrea’s breath hitched. It was beautiful.
Miranda turned to her assistant thoughtfully, and draped the dress on her desk, away from the rest of the collection. Emily looked panicked, afraid that Miranda hated the dress, or god forbid, everything EXCEPT that dress. To Miranda’s heightened senses, Andrea stood unnervingly silent. After some strict comments, and the harassment of one art department lackey, Miranda waved the selections out of her office, ultimately pleased but requiring quite a few revisions. She left the midnight dress on her desk.
“Andrea, there is a gala on Friday, is there not?”
Andy blinked, “Yes, Miranda. It’s being hosted at the Met.”
“You will wear this dress. You’re a size two now, I imagine. Really, dear, you could stand to gain a few pounds. Have Serena pair some shoes with it, as God himself knows that you can’t find acceptable footwear. Honestly, what is even on your feet? Now go, do your job.”
The first assistant let, flabbergasted. ‘Did she call me DEAR?’ she thought to herself as she began fielding calls from Irv Ravits assistant, assuring her that Miranda would be present for Mr. Ravit's meeting in a few short minutes.
~*~
The night of the gala, Andrea slipped into her dress in her bedroom. The event was early, set to start at 6, and Serena promised to do Andrea’s makeup for the event. The Brazilian gracefully applied makeup as Andrea sat on the bed. The redheaded English woman sat out in the living room, sniffing at Andrea’s “below par” furnishings.
“This couch is yellow, Andy.”
“I know, Em. It came with the apartment. Not much of this furniture is really mine.”
Serena smiled at Andy, and turned to her English fiance, “I think her home is lovely, Emily. We were both over-worked and underpaid once. I happen to recall a blue plaid arm chair in your first apartment, do you recall it as well?”
The blush on Emily’s face suggested that it brought back some very fond memories, indeed.
“Adrea, what have you done with your piercings?” the brazilian asked, startled.
“This dress shows so much, I figured that I would take them out and keep them in my purse, just until the show is over.”
Serena frowned lightly, “You are correct that the dress is very...revealing. Perhaps you are right.”
Eventually, Serena declared her “stunningly beautiful” and Emily called her “not entirely horrible”. Her two friends shuffled her out the door and into Miranda’s waiting town car, ready to cater to Miranda for the rest of the evening.
~*~
When Miranda flowed up the steps and into the event, fashionably late of course, and removed her coat, Andrea was constantly behind her. Understanding that the fashion goddess preferred to make her entrance alone, Andy and Lex entered the main floor well ahead of the famous editor. When Miranda entered, it was as if someone cut off the valve to Andre’s breathing supply. The fashion maven looked stunning in a signature off the shoulder gown, gliding into the room like a biblical angel come to bless the commoners. When Miranda’s sweeping gaze caught that of her second assistant, the editors gaze perused the lean body. The gown was beautiful, the face was stunning….but blue eyes turned a steel gray in anger. Andrea flinched. Why was Miranda angry so early in the evening?
When Miranda reached the two assistants, she grabbed Andrea by the elbow and hissed dangerously in her ear, “Andrea, where are your piercings?”
Shocked, Andy could hardly form two words, “Miranda--! I just….I just thought….”
“Well you thought wrong. Honestly, where is your fabled intelligence?”
Andrea’s eyes began to water, “I’m sorry, Miranda. They’re in my clutch. Let me go put them in.”
Miranda nodded sharply, then proceeded to ignore Andrea as she dashed off to put her barbells and naval bar back in.
When the brunette returned, she could feel the eyes of the party goers perusing her body a hundred times stronger than before. The rich and famous of the publishing world seemed intrigued by the metal straining against the sheer fabric. What before could have been before mistaken as a flesh colored fabric was revealed to be entirely…..revealing. The thin branches of the pattern barely concealed the color of her areolas, and Andrea was afraid that she would shift the fabric accidentally and bare herself. She garnered far more sexual attention than she was generally comfortable with. When she made it back to Miranda, Andrea could have sworn that the editor's eyes, too, sparked with desire.
Miranda mingled among the movers and shakers of the publishing community and all it’s far reaching influences. Eventually she waved Andrea so that the brunette could use the restroom and freshen up her, now warm, drink. Andrea had left Miranda with a gaggle of her “real” friends, so the younger woman took her time and decompressed by the bar before returning to her boss’s side.
“Finally, Andrea, you’ve learned to follow a direction, I can see that you’ve certainly….relaxed,” Miranda drawled, eyeing her assistants chest. The small crowd of peers around her chuckled at Andrea’s expense. Miranda took a drink of her second glass of champagne….or was it her third?
The assistant kept her head down, and barely managed a polite smile, “My apologies, Miranda.”
“Yes, well. At least now you’re somewhat interesting to look at,” This time the chuckles from the group were distinctly uncomfortable. Andrea just gaped at the silver-haired editor, realizing she must be very intoxicated to speak so freely.
Andrea grabbed her elbow, and began leading her towards the coat closet while simultaneously calling Roy to pick them up, “My god, you’re drunk.”
Miranda squinted, trying to decide which Andrea she was seeing to address before finally settling in the middle one, “So what if I was...am...whatever. I had quite a few glasses of that,” here Miranda waved her hand in what would have been a regal manner in any other situation, “....stuff.”
Andrea just rolled her eyes as she shuffled Miranda into the back seat of the town car. She rolled up the privacy screen after directing Roy to the townhouse, not wanting anyone else to be subjected to an inebriated Miranda Priestly.
Miranda leaned her head onto Andrea’s shoulder, “You smell very nice Ahn-drey-ah,” the editor walked her fingers up the brunette's arm, “And I jut’ love that breast--I mean dress.”
Here even a drunk Miranda had the decency to blush, and the young woman found she could not even formulate a response. Andrea prompted Miranda to drink one of the waters she kept stocked in the car for emergencies. By the time they made it inside the townhouse, Miranda seemed far less ditsy than she had at the Gala.
“Miranda, when’s the last time you ate something?”
The editor just tried to roll her eyes, “Lunch maybe. Had a salad. The cheese was far too sog...snogg….it was wet.”
“Three glasses on an empty stomach….” Andrea muttered to herself as she put together a light chicken salad sandwich from the supplies she found in Miranda’s fridge. Thank god the twins were at their father’s, or she would have three insane Priestly’s to deal with.
Eventually she settled Miranda into bed with a glass of water and a bottle of Aspirin on her bedside table for the morning. Andrea was ready to get home so she would take a shower and try to wash off the scent of Miranda’s perfume before it drove her crazy. The editor grasped her wrist as she passed the bedside, her eyes had lost their drunken gloss.
“Please don’t leave. We’ll talk in the morning. I have so much I need to tell you.”
“Miranda, I don’t even have any sleep clothes.”
“Top drawer of the bureau. Take anything you want.”
“But...but why?”
Miranda smiled very slowly, “You must know that I care for you. So very much.”
Andrea rubbed her hands over her face a few times, wondering if she was really dreaming. She changed into a modest pair of cotton sleep pants and a comfortable sleep t-shirt. The younger woman could hardly believe that Miranda owned something so plebeian as cotton pajamas. Before she could leave the room, Miranda grasped her wrist again and pulled her down into the bed beside her.
“Miranda! What the hell!”
Miranda just shifted so that Andrea was spooning her, curling Andrea’s arm around her waist, “Go to sleep, Andrea. Don’t worry, I’m now very sober. The food helped tremendously.”
Andrea just let out a strangled squeak, trying to stop breathing altogether. Eventually Miranda turned to her, afr
aid she might asphyxiate herself if she held her breath any longer.
“For god's sake woman, just relax,” she wrapped her arms around the brunettes waist and softly stroked her back.
Andrea let out her breath and hesitantly nuzzled her face into the juncture between Miranda's neck and shoulder.
“I care for you too, Miranda. I….I love you.”
Miranda kissed brunette hair, “I know, my darling. We will talk in the morning.”
Andrea fell asleep in the arms of the woman she had once feared, but come to love with her entire being. Miranda fell asleep with a smile on her face, knowing that by this time tomorrow night, she would know the exact location of every piercing on her love’s supple young body.