Pandamonium!
Title: Pandamonium
Rating: R
Prompt:
writtensword - Panda
Andy couldn’t hear her cellphone ring over the blare of the speakers.
The base pounded through her body as she lifted her arms in the air - careful not to spill any of her longneck clutched in one hand, on herself at least - and lost herself in the music. She finally had a free night and getting wasted with hundreds of strangers seemed like a good way to spend it. Besides, the cover charge went to a good cause.
Jostled by other happy, drunk dancers it took Andy a minute to realize that it was her cell buzzing in her pocket. The random guy who was currently grinding on her backside protested as she pulled away. She fished out the flashing device and waved it in his face apologetically, but secreatly glad for the excuse to move away. She pushed for the door, answering the call the second before it rolled to voicemail.
“Hello-“
“Andrea. I do not appreciate being kept waiting. Get the Gabbana samples and bring them to my house. That’s all.”
Andy sighed before swigging the last of her beer. Leaving the empty on a table cluttered with others, she pushed out into the New York night. At least her friends were long gone, swallowed up in the huge crowd that tirelessly seethed inside the warehouse she had just left. She was sick of their disappointed and pointed glances and bitchy comments about the endless demands of her job, or more specifically, her boss.
She pressed through the people who swarmed the entrance, the quietly chatting couples and hoards of smokers, to reach the curb to hail a taxi. There was no way she was taking the subway at this time of night, in this state.
In the back of the cab on the way to Runway offices, her anger at the night disrupted grew and she decided she was going to say something to Miranda about it. She was just past the point of drunk where bad ideas became really good ideas and the night will be hazy the next morning.
Throwing an extra ten at the cabbie to get him to wait while she darted inside the dark skyscraper to collect Miranda’s requested items, the alcohol in her system lending an extra boost of energy for the trip. It was worth it to see the yellow car still waiting when she staggered back out, laden down by garment bags and shoes boxes.
Unfortunately the man wasn’t kind enough to wait as Andy trudged up the stairs to the townhouse. If her hands hadn’t been full, she would’ve sent him the bird. As it was, she was having a hard enough time juggling packages to fit the key in the door. After the third attempt saw the key clinking on the concrete step, Andy admitted that the alcohol was defiantly a factor. As she bent down to retrieve the pesky key, the door flew open.
“Quit that banging around and get inside,” her boss ordered already clacking through the foyer to the sitting room.
Andy kicked the door closed behind her, giving an exaggerated wince when it slammed. She followed Miranda into the next room and was grateful to dropped the increasingly heavy boxes on the coffee table. Draping the garment bags gently over a nearby chair, she stepped back and gazed at Miranda, waiting for the next set of orders.
“Tomorrow I want Justin on the phone immediately and make sure Kathryn knows about the color changes… What in God’s name is on your face?” Miranda had stopped mid tirade and was gapping. If she thought that Andrea’s initially getup before Nigel’s makeover was bad, this was downright insulting to the senses.
Andy grinned for the first time since receiving the other woman’s call. “Its panda face paint.” Sure enough her entire face was painted white with black oval circling her eyes and a matching circle on the tip of her nose. “I was at a party called “Panda”monium.”
“I can see that,” Miranda snapped, her gaze drifting down from Andy’s face to her chest where, on a white t-shirt, black lettering proclaimed the party name above a panda paw print stretched tightly across her assistant’s ample chest.
In Andy’s alcohol fogged brain, some things suddenly can clear. Stepping forward she asked, “Did you really need these samples tonight?”
Another step forward, another question, “You knew it was my night off. Not Emily’s. Why didn’t you call her?”
Another step, “Why did you call me, Miranda?”
Miranda took a step back for each step Andy took, refusing to answer the younger woman’s questions. She brought her eyes back up to her face and her own eyes grew wide at the dominating continence the face paint lended to the normally docile features. Her back hit a wall yet the girl kept coming.
Andrea’s hands slammed down on either side of Miranda’s head, her black tipped nose near touching Miranda’s clean one.
“I think your silence answers my questions adequately, don’t you?”
Miranda could near taste the beer on the girl’s breath, but that wasn’t enough to stop the trembles of excitement her close proximity caused. She panted delicately through her nose, trying to draw her composure back to her. But Andrea’s eyes were so black, the rings only making them seem larger and Miranda was drowning.
She opened her mouth to get at the oxygen that seemed to be sucked from the room, but didn’t get a chance to breathe as Andrea covered her lips in a bruising kiss. Miranda moaned helplessly as she opened underneath the onslaught, her hands sliding into wild brown tresses, still damp with sweat from dancing.
Andrea groaned and pressed the surprisingly shorter woman harder into the wall. Her kiss was sloppy, wild, and demanding and she couldn’t stop herself. All her anger and admiration she poured into the kiss until Miranda was mewling, pressing back into her, demanding - always demanding - for more.
Dizzy, from the kiss or lack of oxygen Andy didn’t know, she pulled back panting heavily. Miranda whimpered at the loss, hands still entangled in her hair prevented her from going far.
Reaching up, Andy pulled her free and wrapped an arm around the other woman’s waist to near carry her away from the shadowy wall, throwing her down on the butter soft leather sofa that bathed in the warm glow of a nearby lamp. Miranda struggled to sit up, but Andy straddled her in one smooth movement and held her hands pinned above her head, swooping down for another mindblowing kiss.
Inches away, Andrea stopped suddenly, blinking in surprise. Then she sat up abruptly, threw her head back and laughed.
The passion dissipating, Miranda renewed her struggles to get out from under the other woman.
“No, no, no,” Andy said, recapturing Miranda’s hands, a chuckle still escaping her now and then. “I wasn’t laughing at you. Well I was.” Miranda’s struggled intensified. “But not insulting way. Stop that!” she ordered and Miranda stilled, surprised at the flash of heat Andrea’s dominance caused.
Calm now, Andy gave her a stern look. “I was only laughing because my face paint rubbed off on you.” This time she didn’t resist when Miranda pushed her off. The editor stalked over to the large mirror above the fireplace and blinked at her reflection in stunned surprise.
Andrea hadn’t been lying. Where the girl had the “proper” panda look, Miranda’s new acquisition was exactly opposite with a large white smudge covering most of her nose and big black circles on each cheek.
“I like it.” Andrea’s voice brought her out of her shock. She was still on the sofa looking more like a lounging tigress than a cuddly panda. Miranda turned to give her an incredulous look, which was annoyingly made ineffective by the transferred face paint.
“It’s cute.”
Miranda sputtered.
Andrea laughed. A sultry sound that reminded Miranda of the passionate kiss they had shared a moment ago.
Andy noticed the glint of arousal that returned to Miranda’s eyes. “Come here,” she ordered in deepening lilt.
Miranda’s legs jolted forward, her body not responding to her brain, but to Andrea’s voice. She was pulled back down onto the couch and once again Andrea crouched over her, the wildness back in her eyes. Fire shot down her spine as Andrea kissed her again, leaving her helpless in the wave of her overwhelming arousal.
Andy pulled away and sat back a little, surveying the conquered territory. “I like it,” she declared again, “It shows you are mine.”
A/N: I did go to a party called Pandamonium, I’ve got the shirt to prove it. I went to the party without face paint, necked with a guy who did, and returned home with face paint in some unusual spots.
Rating: R
Prompt:
writtensword - Panda
Andy couldn’t hear her cellphone ring over the blare of the speakers.
The base pounded through her body as she lifted her arms in the air - careful not to spill any of her longneck clutched in one hand, on herself at least - and lost herself in the music. She finally had a free night and getting wasted with hundreds of strangers seemed like a good way to spend it. Besides, the cover charge went to a good cause.
Jostled by other happy, drunk dancers it took Andy a minute to realize that it was her cell buzzing in her pocket. The random guy who was currently grinding on her backside protested as she pulled away. She fished out the flashing device and waved it in his face apologetically, but secreatly glad for the excuse to move away. She pushed for the door, answering the call the second before it rolled to voicemail.
“Hello-“
“Andrea. I do not appreciate being kept waiting. Get the Gabbana samples and bring them to my house. That’s all.”
Andy sighed before swigging the last of her beer. Leaving the empty on a table cluttered with others, she pushed out into the New York night. At least her friends were long gone, swallowed up in the huge crowd that tirelessly seethed inside the warehouse she had just left. She was sick of their disappointed and pointed glances and bitchy comments about the endless demands of her job, or more specifically, her boss.
She pressed through the people who swarmed the entrance, the quietly chatting couples and hoards of smokers, to reach the curb to hail a taxi. There was no way she was taking the subway at this time of night, in this state.
In the back of the cab on the way to Runway offices, her anger at the night disrupted grew and she decided she was going to say something to Miranda about it. She was just past the point of drunk where bad ideas became really good ideas and the night will be hazy the next morning.
Throwing an extra ten at the cabbie to get him to wait while she darted inside the dark skyscraper to collect Miranda’s requested items, the alcohol in her system lending an extra boost of energy for the trip. It was worth it to see the yellow car still waiting when she staggered back out, laden down by garment bags and shoes boxes.
Unfortunately the man wasn’t kind enough to wait as Andy trudged up the stairs to the townhouse. If her hands hadn’t been full, she would’ve sent him the bird. As it was, she was having a hard enough time juggling packages to fit the key in the door. After the third attempt saw the key clinking on the concrete step, Andy admitted that the alcohol was defiantly a factor. As she bent down to retrieve the pesky key, the door flew open.
“Quit that banging around and get inside,” her boss ordered already clacking through the foyer to the sitting room.
Andy kicked the door closed behind her, giving an exaggerated wince when it slammed. She followed Miranda into the next room and was grateful to dropped the increasingly heavy boxes on the coffee table. Draping the garment bags gently over a nearby chair, she stepped back and gazed at Miranda, waiting for the next set of orders.
“Tomorrow I want Justin on the phone immediately and make sure Kathryn knows about the color changes… What in God’s name is on your face?” Miranda had stopped mid tirade and was gapping. If she thought that Andrea’s initially getup before Nigel’s makeover was bad, this was downright insulting to the senses.
Andy grinned for the first time since receiving the other woman’s call. “Its panda face paint.” Sure enough her entire face was painted white with black oval circling her eyes and a matching circle on the tip of her nose. “I was at a party called “Panda”monium.”
“I can see that,” Miranda snapped, her gaze drifting down from Andy’s face to her chest where, on a white t-shirt, black lettering proclaimed the party name above a panda paw print stretched tightly across her assistant’s ample chest.
In Andy’s alcohol fogged brain, some things suddenly can clear. Stepping forward she asked, “Did you really need these samples tonight?”
Another step forward, another question, “You knew it was my night off. Not Emily’s. Why didn’t you call her?”
Another step, “Why did you call me, Miranda?”
Miranda took a step back for each step Andy took, refusing to answer the younger woman’s questions. She brought her eyes back up to her face and her own eyes grew wide at the dominating continence the face paint lended to the normally docile features. Her back hit a wall yet the girl kept coming.
Andrea’s hands slammed down on either side of Miranda’s head, her black tipped nose near touching Miranda’s clean one.
“I think your silence answers my questions adequately, don’t you?”
Miranda could near taste the beer on the girl’s breath, but that wasn’t enough to stop the trembles of excitement her close proximity caused. She panted delicately through her nose, trying to draw her composure back to her. But Andrea’s eyes were so black, the rings only making them seem larger and Miranda was drowning.
She opened her mouth to get at the oxygen that seemed to be sucked from the room, but didn’t get a chance to breathe as Andrea covered her lips in a bruising kiss. Miranda moaned helplessly as she opened underneath the onslaught, her hands sliding into wild brown tresses, still damp with sweat from dancing.
Andrea groaned and pressed the surprisingly shorter woman harder into the wall. Her kiss was sloppy, wild, and demanding and she couldn’t stop herself. All her anger and admiration she poured into the kiss until Miranda was mewling, pressing back into her, demanding - always demanding - for more.
Dizzy, from the kiss or lack of oxygen Andy didn’t know, she pulled back panting heavily. Miranda whimpered at the loss, hands still entangled in her hair prevented her from going far.
Reaching up, Andy pulled her free and wrapped an arm around the other woman’s waist to near carry her away from the shadowy wall, throwing her down on the butter soft leather sofa that bathed in the warm glow of a nearby lamp. Miranda struggled to sit up, but Andy straddled her in one smooth movement and held her hands pinned above her head, swooping down for another mindblowing kiss.
Inches away, Andrea stopped suddenly, blinking in surprise. Then she sat up abruptly, threw her head back and laughed.
The passion dissipating, Miranda renewed her struggles to get out from under the other woman.
“No, no, no,” Andy said, recapturing Miranda’s hands, a chuckle still escaping her now and then. “I wasn’t laughing at you. Well I was.” Miranda’s struggled intensified. “But not insulting way. Stop that!” she ordered and Miranda stilled, surprised at the flash of heat Andrea’s dominance caused.
Calm now, Andy gave her a stern look. “I was only laughing because my face paint rubbed off on you.” This time she didn’t resist when Miranda pushed her off. The editor stalked over to the large mirror above the fireplace and blinked at her reflection in stunned surprise.
Andrea hadn’t been lying. Where the girl had the “proper” panda look, Miranda’s new acquisition was exactly opposite with a large white smudge covering most of her nose and big black circles on each cheek.
“I like it.” Andrea’s voice brought her out of her shock. She was still on the sofa looking more like a lounging tigress than a cuddly panda. Miranda turned to give her an incredulous look, which was annoyingly made ineffective by the transferred face paint.
“It’s cute.”
Miranda sputtered.
Andrea laughed. A sultry sound that reminded Miranda of the passionate kiss they had shared a moment ago.
Andy noticed the glint of arousal that returned to Miranda’s eyes. “Come here,” she ordered in deepening lilt.
Miranda’s legs jolted forward, her body not responding to her brain, but to Andrea’s voice. She was pulled back down onto the couch and once again Andrea crouched over her, the wildness back in her eyes. Fire shot down her spine as Andrea kissed her again, leaving her helpless in the wave of her overwhelming arousal.
Andy pulled away and sat back a little, surveying the conquered territory. “I like it,” she declared again, “It shows you are mine.”
A/N: I did go to a party called Pandamonium, I’ve got the shirt to prove it. I went to the party without face paint, necked with a guy who did, and returned home with face paint in some unusual spots.