Patience - Chapter 2
Patience Series
By arakan
Beta distract_me_now
Chapter 002.Lips.
For the life of her, Andy could not understand why she was suddenly having difficulty concentrating. Although she did know, she had someone to blame and, honestly, she knew the cause of her sudden loss of focus. Nonchalantly, Andy looked around the bullpen of the Mirror, checking to see that her fellow-reporters were busy working on their own stories. Fortunately, for Andy, her desk was in the corner of the bullpen. Leaning back into her chair, she moved the mouse clicking it a couple of times to bring up the close-up of a picture of a woman's lower-face with the lens zoomed-in on a pair of lips. The picture had been sent by her ever-chivalrous friend, Nigel Kipling.
Her cheeks were warming, she recognized the owner of those red-hot lips. Andy had spent the better part of seven months in her former job staring at those lips. Why on earth she kept on staring at those lips was still a mystery to Andy. But, the doe-eyed sweetheart recognized to whom that specific body part belonged. And, like the time she still worked at Runway, Andy felt her body getting warm. Her heartbeat was picking up speed and her palms started to sweat. She did not need to produce the small item all women had in their purse, a pocket mirror, to see her cheeks are burning.
This pair of lips was the same lips that haunted her in countless dreams. The same pair of lips that spoke nothing but scathing remarks and cutting insults. But oh! Those lips! Andy quickly reached for the cup of coffee she had bought this morning. Horrified, she pressed it up against her lips to muffle the moan threatening to escape. She forced herself to swallow a mouthful of cold coffee. If she intended to calm her nerves, sipping the coffee did not sooth her in the least; rather than calming her down, her nerves were now are all over the place. Miranda hated her coffee cold.
After throwing away the coffee, Andy rubbed her face tiredly. What in the hell did Nigel mean by sending this picture to her? Reading the message that accompanied the email, Andy read another mysterious question. But today’s was so puzzling, Andy was speechless.
"'You thought about her eyes in yesterday’s email. What do you think about her lips?'"
Stunned, would have been an underestimated of the century to describe how Andy felt. Again, Andy looked around, casually avoiding eye contact with any of her colleagues that by chance may have been looking in her direction. Her gut told her she was perilously close to a dangerous territory.
'But Nigel wouldn’t tell Miranda. Would he?'
She assured herself Nigel would not dare bring up the issue of his eccentricity. How Andy found she is on the receiving end of Nigel’s sudden oddity she’d never know. But she was certain he wouldn’t risk the roaring Dragon’s fury. As she shifted a bit in her seat, Andy began typing her reply.
(--**--)
Meanwhile at Runway...
Her long-suffering friend, Nigel, confused Miranda Priestly. Twice this week already he exchanged words with her more suitable from those seeking intimate attention. Yet, the last time she checked, or cared to know, Nigel’s fondness swung in a different direction and he was hardly hiding about that fact. Oh, she was aware that most of her staff is they men or women had developed serious crushes on her throughout the years, but for the most part, such feelings lay safely dormant under layers of fear and reverence. So, what was with Nigel and his sudden fondness for sending he did not conceive her missive she acutely suspected? Now, that was indeed a mystery.
With each pronouncement, Nigel always referenced his 'source.' A source that, evidently, was romantic enough to produce such loving phrases and observations. The Editor swiveled her chair to gaze out of the windows behind her, away from the prying eyes of her staffs, outside the office. Truthfully, to hide the sudden heat blooming on her cheeks. Miranda was twice divorced, with more than a dozen failed relationships under her belt, but none of Miranda's suitors, women included, had ever uttered such romantic words to her.
Oh, they had tried, many had tried, but their words have left Miranda cold with nothing but a suspicion that their words were designed to gain some sort of control over her.
Nevertheless, the words of this mysterious person, using her Art Director as a medium, still carried the authenticity of genuine affection. Miranda's eyes gave a fleeting look to check the outer-office. Satisfied that Emily was busy with her task and the 'new Emily' wasn’t in sight. Miranda slipped her left palm inside her blazer pocket producing the small folded note Nigel had discreetly slipped it into her palm on his way out after a run-through. Miranda read the note for the second time.
"'Lips are one-half of the greatest gift heaven has bestowed on us, the other half is the voice. All for us to communicate, to express what we think about and what we feel inside our hearts. Those lips have been used to hurt. I wonder though, what loving words she has used to her children and perhaps, her lovers. Would she speak in that quiet way she often does? Or, would she whisper? I cannot help wanting to hear the words, from those lips and with her alluring voice uttering my name in my ear.'"
Miranda's head dropped low as a blistering red color adorned her cheeks, her silver locks working like a veil to hide her blush, even the tip of her ears had turned red.
Unbeknownst to Miranda, a certain Art Director had casually come into the Outer-Office to hand off a project to Emily. Nigel had purposely forgotten to delivery it that morning. Faking a disinterested look Nigel glanced down to his wristwatch and tossed a fleeting look into the Editor's office. Taking no notice of Emily as she eyed him strangely, Nigel shifted his body angling his head to get a better view of the Editor facing the windows. He developed many skills to check on his friend when she was in particularly distressing situations. One such trick, he had mastered years ago; by focusing his eyes on her reflection in the window, he could checks on his friend without endangering his life.
After befriending Miranda Priestly for over twenty years, Nigel was still often perplexed and could have difficulty predicting Miranda's reactions to things. But once the icy-persona began to crack, Nigel’s true skill at reading Miranda’s emotions had been perfected for years. Just like now, he knew his friend was embarrassed and that she was fighting to win back her composure.
Keeping a straight face, Nigel completely ignored Emily, as she shot suspicious glares at his back. As if by magic, Nigel all of a sudden had his phone in his right hand and he began to type.
"'Make certain to empty your schedule this evening, get beers and I will come to your place with Pizza. I'm really in a good mood.'"
He scroll down the phone book and sent the text to ‘A.S.’ with a smug smirk, he pocketed his phone in his chest-pocket and patted it several times. "Two down and still too many to go."
By arakan
Beta distract_me_now
Chapter 002.Lips.
For the life of her, Andy could not understand why she was suddenly having difficulty concentrating. Although she did know, she had someone to blame and, honestly, she knew the cause of her sudden loss of focus. Nonchalantly, Andy looked around the bullpen of the Mirror, checking to see that her fellow-reporters were busy working on their own stories. Fortunately, for Andy, her desk was in the corner of the bullpen. Leaning back into her chair, she moved the mouse clicking it a couple of times to bring up the close-up of a picture of a woman's lower-face with the lens zoomed-in on a pair of lips. The picture had been sent by her ever-chivalrous friend, Nigel Kipling.
Her cheeks were warming, she recognized the owner of those red-hot lips. Andy had spent the better part of seven months in her former job staring at those lips. Why on earth she kept on staring at those lips was still a mystery to Andy. But, the doe-eyed sweetheart recognized to whom that specific body part belonged. And, like the time she still worked at Runway, Andy felt her body getting warm. Her heartbeat was picking up speed and her palms started to sweat. She did not need to produce the small item all women had in their purse, a pocket mirror, to see her cheeks are burning.
This pair of lips was the same lips that haunted her in countless dreams. The same pair of lips that spoke nothing but scathing remarks and cutting insults. But oh! Those lips! Andy quickly reached for the cup of coffee she had bought this morning. Horrified, she pressed it up against her lips to muffle the moan threatening to escape. She forced herself to swallow a mouthful of cold coffee. If she intended to calm her nerves, sipping the coffee did not sooth her in the least; rather than calming her down, her nerves were now are all over the place. Miranda hated her coffee cold.
After throwing away the coffee, Andy rubbed her face tiredly. What in the hell did Nigel mean by sending this picture to her? Reading the message that accompanied the email, Andy read another mysterious question. But today’s was so puzzling, Andy was speechless.
"'You thought about her eyes in yesterday’s email. What do you think about her lips?'"
Stunned, would have been an underestimated of the century to describe how Andy felt. Again, Andy looked around, casually avoiding eye contact with any of her colleagues that by chance may have been looking in her direction. Her gut told her she was perilously close to a dangerous territory.
'But Nigel wouldn’t tell Miranda. Would he?'
She assured herself Nigel would not dare bring up the issue of his eccentricity. How Andy found she is on the receiving end of Nigel’s sudden oddity she’d never know. But she was certain he wouldn’t risk the roaring Dragon’s fury. As she shifted a bit in her seat, Andy began typing her reply.
(--**--)
Meanwhile at Runway...
Her long-suffering friend, Nigel, confused Miranda Priestly. Twice this week already he exchanged words with her more suitable from those seeking intimate attention. Yet, the last time she checked, or cared to know, Nigel’s fondness swung in a different direction and he was hardly hiding about that fact. Oh, she was aware that most of her staff is they men or women had developed serious crushes on her throughout the years, but for the most part, such feelings lay safely dormant under layers of fear and reverence. So, what was with Nigel and his sudden fondness for sending he did not conceive her missive she acutely suspected? Now, that was indeed a mystery.
With each pronouncement, Nigel always referenced his 'source.' A source that, evidently, was romantic enough to produce such loving phrases and observations. The Editor swiveled her chair to gaze out of the windows behind her, away from the prying eyes of her staffs, outside the office. Truthfully, to hide the sudden heat blooming on her cheeks. Miranda was twice divorced, with more than a dozen failed relationships under her belt, but none of Miranda's suitors, women included, had ever uttered such romantic words to her.
Oh, they had tried, many had tried, but their words have left Miranda cold with nothing but a suspicion that their words were designed to gain some sort of control over her.
Nevertheless, the words of this mysterious person, using her Art Director as a medium, still carried the authenticity of genuine affection. Miranda's eyes gave a fleeting look to check the outer-office. Satisfied that Emily was busy with her task and the 'new Emily' wasn’t in sight. Miranda slipped her left palm inside her blazer pocket producing the small folded note Nigel had discreetly slipped it into her palm on his way out after a run-through. Miranda read the note for the second time.
"'Lips are one-half of the greatest gift heaven has bestowed on us, the other half is the voice. All for us to communicate, to express what we think about and what we feel inside our hearts. Those lips have been used to hurt. I wonder though, what loving words she has used to her children and perhaps, her lovers. Would she speak in that quiet way she often does? Or, would she whisper? I cannot help wanting to hear the words, from those lips and with her alluring voice uttering my name in my ear.'"
Miranda's head dropped low as a blistering red color adorned her cheeks, her silver locks working like a veil to hide her blush, even the tip of her ears had turned red.
Unbeknownst to Miranda, a certain Art Director had casually come into the Outer-Office to hand off a project to Emily. Nigel had purposely forgotten to delivery it that morning. Faking a disinterested look Nigel glanced down to his wristwatch and tossed a fleeting look into the Editor's office. Taking no notice of Emily as she eyed him strangely, Nigel shifted his body angling his head to get a better view of the Editor facing the windows. He developed many skills to check on his friend when she was in particularly distressing situations. One such trick, he had mastered years ago; by focusing his eyes on her reflection in the window, he could checks on his friend without endangering his life.
After befriending Miranda Priestly for over twenty years, Nigel was still often perplexed and could have difficulty predicting Miranda's reactions to things. But once the icy-persona began to crack, Nigel’s true skill at reading Miranda’s emotions had been perfected for years. Just like now, he knew his friend was embarrassed and that she was fighting to win back her composure.
Keeping a straight face, Nigel completely ignored Emily, as she shot suspicious glares at his back. As if by magic, Nigel all of a sudden had his phone in his right hand and he began to type.
"'Make certain to empty your schedule this evening, get beers and I will come to your place with Pizza. I'm really in a good mood.'"
He scroll down the phone book and sent the text to ‘A.S.’ with a smug smirk, he pocketed his phone in his chest-pocket and patted it several times. "Two down and still too many to go."