New fic: Devil's Night
Title: Devil's Night
Pairing: Andy/Miranda
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I don't own anything relating to the Devil Wear's Prada book or film.
Author's note: Thanks as always to my beta, Xander, and to a few folks who were kind enough to provide some fabulous prompts. The saddest part: I didn't use any of them, and instead ripped myself off and wrote something completely unoriginal. In other words, you've read this story before. My bad, but it was all I had time for during an incredibly busy week. Sorry folks who were looking for something related to ghosts. Maybe at Christmas!
---
Devil's Night
Miranda swept down the empty halls of Runway, irritated. It was not unusual for the place to be deserted late in the evenings, but it was only 9pm on a Friday. For that, there was no excuse. What on earth could people be doing? It wasn’t a holiday, not really. Devil’s Night, they called it back when she was a girl. She had no idea what it was called now. Perhaps the same thing. Regardless, her girls were out at their first Halloween party of the weekend, and Miranda was supposed to be at a dinner, but there had been some sort of issue with the book. And something must have happened to Andrea too, since she’d begged Miranda to come to the office to solve whatever issue had come up.
Why a text message or an email or a phone call wasn’t enough, Miranda didn’t know. Nor did she care. Rarely did she answer to the beck and call of another human being, much less one who was to be her minion, so to speak. But there was a real thread of fear, despair almost, in Andrea’s voice, and Miranda’s will crumpled under the onslaught. She had a soft spot in her heart for the girl, so youthful and full of vitality.
And beautiful. One could not forget beautiful. Those eyes… well, Miranda saw her as a fine specimen of femininity, her voluptuous figure drawing the eye of many. A body like hers was rarely seen in the pages of Runway. It almost seemed a shame. Miranda thought if she had a greater readership of straight men, Andrea would be the perfect model. Not that any of the designers could fit her. Not with those breasts spilling over, the derriere so round it ached to be-
Miranda actually had to shake her head to dislodge the thought of Andrea bending over her desk, looking over one shoulder with that submissive gaze. She caught her breath at the force and realism of the vision, embarrassed at the heat that flared between her legs. Her libido had vanished a few years ago, which had greatly disappointed Stephen, not to mention herself. Nevertheless, blood rushed to places that had seen little activity of late, even by her own hand.
She paused for just a moment to collect her thoughts before barreling toward her office, ready to demand an explanation. When she reached the entryway, her mouth opened, but she didn’t speak. The chair at Andrea’s desk was vacant, though a light was on in her office. She pursed her lips.
The sound of her heels on the tile echoed in her ears, and while her ire was still piqued, there was something else niggling at her. Something that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. The air smelled odd, like a lightning storm had just occurred inside the building.
When Miranda crossed the threshold of her office, her eyes widened. She was infuriated and titillated simultaneously, not that she’d reveal the latter to a single soul. Andrea was seated in Miranda’s chair, Louboutin-clad feet propped on the desk, red soles shining in the dim light. She wore the dark skirt and white blouse she’d donned for the workday, with a single alteration: the blouse was now unbuttoned to reveal the crimson lace bra beneath it. A long strand of pearls completed the outfit.
Dark red lips parted. “Hi, Miranda. I’m so glad you’re here. Thank you for coming.”
Miranda had to clamp down on the rare urge to shout. Instead, her voice infused with malice, she said, “Excuse me?”
A smile now, one that made Miranda’s nipples tighten. “I wasn’t sure if the ruse would work.” She put on the high-pitched voice again, laced with anguish. “‘Oh, Miranda, the book, there’s something terribly wrong. Can you please stop in at the office, just for a minute? I really need you,’” Andrea flicked her tongue out to touch the corner of her mouth. “I mean, you’re not exactly known for your kindness to wayward assistants. I thought you might fire me over the phone. But I hoped, and I was right.” Andrea leaned back in the chair and steepled her fingers together. “I love to be right. Ninety percent of the time I am, but you… your behavior is erratic. Unpredictable, which is thrilling to someone like me. I should have come for you sooner, but you really are like a fine wine. This age suits you best.”
Miranda blinked. There was something very, very wrong here. Not only did she not understand a single thing her assistant was saying, but she felt-what was it-afraid? Yes, that was it. She was afraid, of this woman, this girl, who was looking at her as though she were a child. “Excuse me?” Miranda said, inadvertently repeating herself. “I don’t know what you’re going on about-“
“Oh, just that you are so, so lovely now, Miranda,” Andrea said, gracefully lowering her legs to the floor and standing. In those heels, she seemed taller than usual, as though she’d grown inches in the few hours they’d been apart. “I could look at you this way forever. Even a few years ago wouldn’t have been right.” Andrea was close now, and had the audacity to trace her finger around the faint lines that Miranda knew framed her mouth. “Your skin is perfectly imperfect. As a young woman you were pretty, I suppose. Unique. But now-” Miranda flinched when Andrea looked down at her, biting her lip. “Now you are magnetic. Perhaps I just had to wait until you came into your power a little more fully.” Andrea sighed, and the sound was so full of lust and longing that Miranda’s clitoris throbbed in reply.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Miranda said, ashamed that her voice was much weaker than she wished it to be.
“I had my eye on you,” Andrea said, sliding one hand into Miranda’s hair. “For a long time. Decades.”
“Decades,” Miranda choked. “Don’t be ridiculous, and stop touching me-”
“I thought playing the clumsy naïf would draw you in. That shaping a young mind, especially one just out of school, might excite you. Modern women are so curious that way. They long to be mentors to one another, but eventually a sense of competition often overshadows it. Not with you, though. I never sensed that from you. I truly believe had I been who I purported to be, you would have continued to help me along in my career, even if it hurt you in the end.”
Now Miranda truly was afraid. She jerked, but Andrea’s grip on her hair was strong. “What are you doing-“
“Don’t try and run,” Andrea said, stepping closer, smelling of cedar and spices that made Miranda almost dizzy with want. “I’d catch you. Don’t waste your strength.”
Miranda watched her, confused and shaky. “You’re going to have to spell it out for me, you must realize. What you’re saying does not make sense. Explain.”
The smile returned, and heat shot down Miranda’s legs. “That’s better. That’s the Miranda I know.” Andrea tweaked her nose, and Miranda couldn’t help the indignant expression that crossed her face. “So tough. So brutal. Absolutely without remorse, never second-guessing yourself. At least that I can tell. If you do, you hide it better than almost every other human I’ve ever met.”
Human. This was absurd. Was Andrea trying to tell her that she wasn’t human? Really. It must be a trick. A Devil’s Night conspiracy.
“All right, I can see I won’t get anywhere until I explain.” Andrea stepped back, and Miranda felt as though she could breathe again. “I’m a vampire, which you’ve probably realized. Quite a bit older than you, in fact. Born August 8, 1899, died November 17,1923. I went to Hollywood to be an actress, and I’d have made it too. I was damned good. I’d even have survived the advent of the talkies, unlike so many of the other girls back then.” She glanced down at Miranda. “You know I’m a good crier. Always have been.” She winked.
Miranda wondered how far she would get if she ran. Perhaps she could make it to the elevator without getting killed. But Andrea must have a knife, or a gun, or something--
“Anyhow, one night I was walking home from an audition at Warner on Sunset-you know, before they moved up to the Valley-and there I was, minding my own business when this fella wearing a cape-a cape, can you believe that? He came up to me and said, ‘Dearest, you are exquisite. Allow me to make your beauty last for centuries.’” Andrea giggled at that, and Miranda felt sweat drip down her spine. Desire and fear and anger were all raging within her, but she had no choice but to listen. “I didn’t know what the heck this guy meant. I really am from Ohio, you know. But I wasn’t stupid, and I told him to scram. Unfortunately, vampires usually get what they want. So, I died that night, and woke up the next morning on a sunny balcony on Ivar. I can still remember the color of the sky.” She tapped her lower lip. “What was really a shame was that I got the job, as an extra in ‘Beau Brummel.’ Can you believe it? I woulda been in a picture with John Barrymore. Probably would’ve gotten a contract too.” Andrea exhaled sadly, as though reliving the memory. “Anyway, being in the movies was out, since I wasn’t going to get any older. I moved around a lot. Fell in love a few times, made a few more of my kind along the way. We have to be careful, though. Too many blood-suckers in one city and things can get a little haywire.”
Miranda was becoming impatient, and as usual was not good at hiding it.
“All right already, I’m getting to you.” She frowned. “You were scared of me a few minutes ago, but not anymore. I can smell it.” With a shrug, she continued. “You were at Studio 54 a lot back in the day if you recall.”
Miranda nodded, and flushed. Those were heady times. Miranda had done her share of things she wasn’t exactly ashamed of, but they didn’t fit into her way of living now. Cocaine and casual sex, to be precise. And a very memorable threesome that survived in her fantasies to this day.
“I saw you once, and you intrigued me. I read all about you, clawing your way to the top. And I looked out for you, because why shouldn’t I? My kind avoids the limelight, but we crave it, too. Or some of us do. And as you grew older, and more lovely, I couldn’t shake the thought of you. So last year I put on my sweetest hick face and walked in the front door, and lo and behold, you hired me. Couldn’t have planned it better myself.”
“Really,” Miranda said, her tone desert dry.
“And I didn’t plan it, truly. Or turn your thoughts. I wanted everything go as naturally as it could.”
Miranda wanted more information, details rather than this silly story of transformation and admiration from afar. “If you’re a vampire, how do you walk around in sunlight?”
Andrea rolled her eyes. “Come on, Miranda. That stuff’s all myth. Bram Stoker did us a huge favor with his book, because we’re not really like that. Sure, we live on human blood, and we don’t age, and some of us have powers that most humans couldn’t even imagine, but we don’t go around sleeping in coffins. Please. I prefer a bed, with lots of pillows and a zillion-count cotton duvet. Doesn’t that sound like the cat’s pajamas?”
Miranda frowned. “Why me? And what do you want with me?”
Andrea grinned, and her teeth-oh dear-her teeth! Were her canines always so long? “To turn you, natch. I want to be with you. You’ll make a great vampire, Miranda. I just know it. You’ll have to leave Runway eventually, maybe in another fifteen years or so. We can chalk your looks up to plastic surgery, but people will start to notice that you’re as stunning at 70 as you are today. It doesn’t matter though. That’s a decision for another day.” She stepped close again. “Now, tonight, you’ll be mine, like I’ve been yours.” Andrea leaned down and actually licked Miranda’s neck. Against her will, Miranda shuddered, liquid dripping down her thighs. “Gosh, I could just fuck you into eternity. Is this ever going to be fun.”
“What if I-” God help her, Miranda was suddenly terrified. “My girls-” The thought of death, immediate death, loomed up and overwhelmed the desire that snaked through her belly. “I don’t want to die-” But it seemed so ridiculous, still, the idea that vampires actually existed-
“It’s so easy, Miranda. You won’t feel a thing. I’ll take care of everything.” She grinned. “I always do, don’t I? I take the best care of you, better than anyone. Because I want you the most. I need you. Can’t you feel how much?”
And then Andrea took Miranda’s hand and pulled it up under her short skirt, and she felt just how much Andrea needed her.
Quite a bit, in fact. As much as Miranda wanted her in return. It occurred to Miranda that if vampires could have sex, maybe being dead wasn’t as bad as it seemed.
“Your body will reawaken, Miranda, I promise. I know you and Stephen haven’t exactly been tearing it up lately, but I can assure you that will end right now.” She bit her lip again, and Miranda felt a yearning to do the same thing. “I’m sure you’ve, uh, noticed something different already?”
Miranda started. “You did this to me?”
Andrea pushed Miranda’s hand more firmly into her wet flesh. “Well, I couldn’t wait any longer. I always get hot and bothered around Halloween for some reason. Spirit of the season, I guess. Oh, boy, you have great hands-” And then Andrea was humping her fingers, eyes slipping shut. As much as Miranda wished she could be indignant and enraged that not only was Andrea threatening to kill her, but that she was getting off without the slightest hint of bringing Miranda along with her, she instead angled her hand up, and pushed inside. “Ahh, oh, yeah, yeah, yeah,” she panted, nostrils flaring, cheeks flushing. After another moment, she glanced down and seemed to come back to herself. She slowed Miranda’s motion, but left her fingers in place, hips taking on a slow cadence. “Sorry, you just do that to me. But you’re wet, aren’t you? Since you first walked in. I know you are. You smell gorgeous, Miranda. Like a garden of earthly delight. I can’t wait to have a taste.”
She leaned forward, and Miranda swayed close, wanting it so badly. Miranda didn’t even know if it was her decision to make: live or die, survive or be killed. She usually considered her major decisions over a long period of time, weighing the pros and cons, gathering advice from various sources.
However, when all was said and done, she often went with her first instinct. Usually it worked out.
Her first instinct tonight was to have sex with this girl, who was apparently not a girl. Then she’d probably die, and if things went according to plan, she’d wake up tomorrow as a member of the undead.
“Say yes, Miranda, say yes, say yes-“
“Yes,” Miranda said, momentarily stunned by her own reply.
Sensation exploded within her when Andrea’s mouth crushed down on hers; a tongue invaded, and with it came the taste of blood. Whose it was Miranda pretended not to worry about, growing distracted when her shirt was torn, literally, from her body. Carefully Andrea laid her out on the pristine floor. Her eyes went black when she looked down at Miranda’s prone form. “You won’t be sorry, Miranda, I swear it. I’ll make it so good you won’t feel a thing-” her skirt was gone then, and her stockings and shoes and everything else after it. Hands were everywhere-speed and dexterity were two noticeable vampire abilities-and then a preternaturally long tongue pushed inside her and Miranda didn’t notice anything else except how good it all felt.
She rode the wave high and fast and screamed when she came very shortly thereafter. Andrea did not pause in her motion, stripping off her own skirt to bare her astonishing body to Miranda’s eyes for the first time. The bra stayed, as did the white shirt, and the pearls that trailed along Miranda’s chest. Andrea’s eyes were desperate, and briefly Miranda had second thoughts. Why was she doing this? She was happy with her mortal life, wasn’t she?
Staring into those obsidian eyes, Miranda was revived by the passion and promise so plainly offered, and she answered the question herself with a resounding “no.” She grabbed at Andrea’s hair and pulled her down for a messy kiss. Andrea’s teeth were sharp, and Miranda tasted blood again, this time her own. Andrea rubbed against her leg. “I’m going to-” Andrea began, “Oh, it’s never been like this before… I waited so long-I have to--”
Already Miranda felt like coming again, as though if Andrea touched her she’d do it over and over, but then a mouth was at her breast, sucking and pulling, and there was no pain, only pleasure. But there was blood, she thought, but she climaxed again, and so did Andrea, who didn’t let up on the pressure at her breast, making Miranda writhe in ecstasy even as she felt strange and weak and unsure. Andrea gasped as she drank, moving against Miranda in rapture, and with one last burst of energy, Miranda managed a blinding orgasm even as she felt her life slipping away.
“Oh yes, Miranda,” Andrea was muttering as night closed in. “Oh, yes, yes, yes…”
The darkness enveloped her, and Miranda knew no more.
---
The Next Day
Miranda opened her eyes to the view of a startlingly blue sky overhead. She was awake in an instant, and sat up to glance around. She was on the top of a building, still in New York, surrounded by lush greenery, flowers, and a gurgling fountain. Someone sat next to her, and Miranda smelled her before she saw her: Andrea. Her mate. Her maker.
“Morning, gorgeous,” Andrea said, kissing her neck. “Happy Halloween.”
~end
Pairing: Andy/Miranda
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I don't own anything relating to the Devil Wear's Prada book or film.
Author's note: Thanks as always to my beta, Xander, and to a few folks who were kind enough to provide some fabulous prompts. The saddest part: I didn't use any of them, and instead ripped myself off and wrote something completely unoriginal. In other words, you've read this story before. My bad, but it was all I had time for during an incredibly busy week. Sorry folks who were looking for something related to ghosts. Maybe at Christmas!
---
Devil's Night
Miranda swept down the empty halls of Runway, irritated. It was not unusual for the place to be deserted late in the evenings, but it was only 9pm on a Friday. For that, there was no excuse. What on earth could people be doing? It wasn’t a holiday, not really. Devil’s Night, they called it back when she was a girl. She had no idea what it was called now. Perhaps the same thing. Regardless, her girls were out at their first Halloween party of the weekend, and Miranda was supposed to be at a dinner, but there had been some sort of issue with the book. And something must have happened to Andrea too, since she’d begged Miranda to come to the office to solve whatever issue had come up.
Why a text message or an email or a phone call wasn’t enough, Miranda didn’t know. Nor did she care. Rarely did she answer to the beck and call of another human being, much less one who was to be her minion, so to speak. But there was a real thread of fear, despair almost, in Andrea’s voice, and Miranda’s will crumpled under the onslaught. She had a soft spot in her heart for the girl, so youthful and full of vitality.
And beautiful. One could not forget beautiful. Those eyes… well, Miranda saw her as a fine specimen of femininity, her voluptuous figure drawing the eye of many. A body like hers was rarely seen in the pages of Runway. It almost seemed a shame. Miranda thought if she had a greater readership of straight men, Andrea would be the perfect model. Not that any of the designers could fit her. Not with those breasts spilling over, the derriere so round it ached to be-
Miranda actually had to shake her head to dislodge the thought of Andrea bending over her desk, looking over one shoulder with that submissive gaze. She caught her breath at the force and realism of the vision, embarrassed at the heat that flared between her legs. Her libido had vanished a few years ago, which had greatly disappointed Stephen, not to mention herself. Nevertheless, blood rushed to places that had seen little activity of late, even by her own hand.
She paused for just a moment to collect her thoughts before barreling toward her office, ready to demand an explanation. When she reached the entryway, her mouth opened, but she didn’t speak. The chair at Andrea’s desk was vacant, though a light was on in her office. She pursed her lips.
The sound of her heels on the tile echoed in her ears, and while her ire was still piqued, there was something else niggling at her. Something that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. The air smelled odd, like a lightning storm had just occurred inside the building.
When Miranda crossed the threshold of her office, her eyes widened. She was infuriated and titillated simultaneously, not that she’d reveal the latter to a single soul. Andrea was seated in Miranda’s chair, Louboutin-clad feet propped on the desk, red soles shining in the dim light. She wore the dark skirt and white blouse she’d donned for the workday, with a single alteration: the blouse was now unbuttoned to reveal the crimson lace bra beneath it. A long strand of pearls completed the outfit.
Dark red lips parted. “Hi, Miranda. I’m so glad you’re here. Thank you for coming.”
Miranda had to clamp down on the rare urge to shout. Instead, her voice infused with malice, she said, “Excuse me?”
A smile now, one that made Miranda’s nipples tighten. “I wasn’t sure if the ruse would work.” She put on the high-pitched voice again, laced with anguish. “‘Oh, Miranda, the book, there’s something terribly wrong. Can you please stop in at the office, just for a minute? I really need you,’” Andrea flicked her tongue out to touch the corner of her mouth. “I mean, you’re not exactly known for your kindness to wayward assistants. I thought you might fire me over the phone. But I hoped, and I was right.” Andrea leaned back in the chair and steepled her fingers together. “I love to be right. Ninety percent of the time I am, but you… your behavior is erratic. Unpredictable, which is thrilling to someone like me. I should have come for you sooner, but you really are like a fine wine. This age suits you best.”
Miranda blinked. There was something very, very wrong here. Not only did she not understand a single thing her assistant was saying, but she felt-what was it-afraid? Yes, that was it. She was afraid, of this woman, this girl, who was looking at her as though she were a child. “Excuse me?” Miranda said, inadvertently repeating herself. “I don’t know what you’re going on about-“
“Oh, just that you are so, so lovely now, Miranda,” Andrea said, gracefully lowering her legs to the floor and standing. In those heels, she seemed taller than usual, as though she’d grown inches in the few hours they’d been apart. “I could look at you this way forever. Even a few years ago wouldn’t have been right.” Andrea was close now, and had the audacity to trace her finger around the faint lines that Miranda knew framed her mouth. “Your skin is perfectly imperfect. As a young woman you were pretty, I suppose. Unique. But now-” Miranda flinched when Andrea looked down at her, biting her lip. “Now you are magnetic. Perhaps I just had to wait until you came into your power a little more fully.” Andrea sighed, and the sound was so full of lust and longing that Miranda’s clitoris throbbed in reply.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Miranda said, ashamed that her voice was much weaker than she wished it to be.
“I had my eye on you,” Andrea said, sliding one hand into Miranda’s hair. “For a long time. Decades.”
“Decades,” Miranda choked. “Don’t be ridiculous, and stop touching me-”
“I thought playing the clumsy naïf would draw you in. That shaping a young mind, especially one just out of school, might excite you. Modern women are so curious that way. They long to be mentors to one another, but eventually a sense of competition often overshadows it. Not with you, though. I never sensed that from you. I truly believe had I been who I purported to be, you would have continued to help me along in my career, even if it hurt you in the end.”
Now Miranda truly was afraid. She jerked, but Andrea’s grip on her hair was strong. “What are you doing-“
“Don’t try and run,” Andrea said, stepping closer, smelling of cedar and spices that made Miranda almost dizzy with want. “I’d catch you. Don’t waste your strength.”
Miranda watched her, confused and shaky. “You’re going to have to spell it out for me, you must realize. What you’re saying does not make sense. Explain.”
The smile returned, and heat shot down Miranda’s legs. “That’s better. That’s the Miranda I know.” Andrea tweaked her nose, and Miranda couldn’t help the indignant expression that crossed her face. “So tough. So brutal. Absolutely without remorse, never second-guessing yourself. At least that I can tell. If you do, you hide it better than almost every other human I’ve ever met.”
Human. This was absurd. Was Andrea trying to tell her that she wasn’t human? Really. It must be a trick. A Devil’s Night conspiracy.
“All right, I can see I won’t get anywhere until I explain.” Andrea stepped back, and Miranda felt as though she could breathe again. “I’m a vampire, which you’ve probably realized. Quite a bit older than you, in fact. Born August 8, 1899, died November 17,1923. I went to Hollywood to be an actress, and I’d have made it too. I was damned good. I’d even have survived the advent of the talkies, unlike so many of the other girls back then.” She glanced down at Miranda. “You know I’m a good crier. Always have been.” She winked.
Miranda wondered how far she would get if she ran. Perhaps she could make it to the elevator without getting killed. But Andrea must have a knife, or a gun, or something--
“Anyhow, one night I was walking home from an audition at Warner on Sunset-you know, before they moved up to the Valley-and there I was, minding my own business when this fella wearing a cape-a cape, can you believe that? He came up to me and said, ‘Dearest, you are exquisite. Allow me to make your beauty last for centuries.’” Andrea giggled at that, and Miranda felt sweat drip down her spine. Desire and fear and anger were all raging within her, but she had no choice but to listen. “I didn’t know what the heck this guy meant. I really am from Ohio, you know. But I wasn’t stupid, and I told him to scram. Unfortunately, vampires usually get what they want. So, I died that night, and woke up the next morning on a sunny balcony on Ivar. I can still remember the color of the sky.” She tapped her lower lip. “What was really a shame was that I got the job, as an extra in ‘Beau Brummel.’ Can you believe it? I woulda been in a picture with John Barrymore. Probably would’ve gotten a contract too.” Andrea exhaled sadly, as though reliving the memory. “Anyway, being in the movies was out, since I wasn’t going to get any older. I moved around a lot. Fell in love a few times, made a few more of my kind along the way. We have to be careful, though. Too many blood-suckers in one city and things can get a little haywire.”
Miranda was becoming impatient, and as usual was not good at hiding it.
“All right already, I’m getting to you.” She frowned. “You were scared of me a few minutes ago, but not anymore. I can smell it.” With a shrug, she continued. “You were at Studio 54 a lot back in the day if you recall.”
Miranda nodded, and flushed. Those were heady times. Miranda had done her share of things she wasn’t exactly ashamed of, but they didn’t fit into her way of living now. Cocaine and casual sex, to be precise. And a very memorable threesome that survived in her fantasies to this day.
“I saw you once, and you intrigued me. I read all about you, clawing your way to the top. And I looked out for you, because why shouldn’t I? My kind avoids the limelight, but we crave it, too. Or some of us do. And as you grew older, and more lovely, I couldn’t shake the thought of you. So last year I put on my sweetest hick face and walked in the front door, and lo and behold, you hired me. Couldn’t have planned it better myself.”
“Really,” Miranda said, her tone desert dry.
“And I didn’t plan it, truly. Or turn your thoughts. I wanted everything go as naturally as it could.”
Miranda wanted more information, details rather than this silly story of transformation and admiration from afar. “If you’re a vampire, how do you walk around in sunlight?”
Andrea rolled her eyes. “Come on, Miranda. That stuff’s all myth. Bram Stoker did us a huge favor with his book, because we’re not really like that. Sure, we live on human blood, and we don’t age, and some of us have powers that most humans couldn’t even imagine, but we don’t go around sleeping in coffins. Please. I prefer a bed, with lots of pillows and a zillion-count cotton duvet. Doesn’t that sound like the cat’s pajamas?”
Miranda frowned. “Why me? And what do you want with me?”
Andrea grinned, and her teeth-oh dear-her teeth! Were her canines always so long? “To turn you, natch. I want to be with you. You’ll make a great vampire, Miranda. I just know it. You’ll have to leave Runway eventually, maybe in another fifteen years or so. We can chalk your looks up to plastic surgery, but people will start to notice that you’re as stunning at 70 as you are today. It doesn’t matter though. That’s a decision for another day.” She stepped close again. “Now, tonight, you’ll be mine, like I’ve been yours.” Andrea leaned down and actually licked Miranda’s neck. Against her will, Miranda shuddered, liquid dripping down her thighs. “Gosh, I could just fuck you into eternity. Is this ever going to be fun.”
“What if I-” God help her, Miranda was suddenly terrified. “My girls-” The thought of death, immediate death, loomed up and overwhelmed the desire that snaked through her belly. “I don’t want to die-” But it seemed so ridiculous, still, the idea that vampires actually existed-
“It’s so easy, Miranda. You won’t feel a thing. I’ll take care of everything.” She grinned. “I always do, don’t I? I take the best care of you, better than anyone. Because I want you the most. I need you. Can’t you feel how much?”
And then Andrea took Miranda’s hand and pulled it up under her short skirt, and she felt just how much Andrea needed her.
Quite a bit, in fact. As much as Miranda wanted her in return. It occurred to Miranda that if vampires could have sex, maybe being dead wasn’t as bad as it seemed.
“Your body will reawaken, Miranda, I promise. I know you and Stephen haven’t exactly been tearing it up lately, but I can assure you that will end right now.” She bit her lip again, and Miranda felt a yearning to do the same thing. “I’m sure you’ve, uh, noticed something different already?”
Miranda started. “You did this to me?”
Andrea pushed Miranda’s hand more firmly into her wet flesh. “Well, I couldn’t wait any longer. I always get hot and bothered around Halloween for some reason. Spirit of the season, I guess. Oh, boy, you have great hands-” And then Andrea was humping her fingers, eyes slipping shut. As much as Miranda wished she could be indignant and enraged that not only was Andrea threatening to kill her, but that she was getting off without the slightest hint of bringing Miranda along with her, she instead angled her hand up, and pushed inside. “Ahh, oh, yeah, yeah, yeah,” she panted, nostrils flaring, cheeks flushing. After another moment, she glanced down and seemed to come back to herself. She slowed Miranda’s motion, but left her fingers in place, hips taking on a slow cadence. “Sorry, you just do that to me. But you’re wet, aren’t you? Since you first walked in. I know you are. You smell gorgeous, Miranda. Like a garden of earthly delight. I can’t wait to have a taste.”
She leaned forward, and Miranda swayed close, wanting it so badly. Miranda didn’t even know if it was her decision to make: live or die, survive or be killed. She usually considered her major decisions over a long period of time, weighing the pros and cons, gathering advice from various sources.
However, when all was said and done, she often went with her first instinct. Usually it worked out.
Her first instinct tonight was to have sex with this girl, who was apparently not a girl. Then she’d probably die, and if things went according to plan, she’d wake up tomorrow as a member of the undead.
“Say yes, Miranda, say yes, say yes-“
“Yes,” Miranda said, momentarily stunned by her own reply.
Sensation exploded within her when Andrea’s mouth crushed down on hers; a tongue invaded, and with it came the taste of blood. Whose it was Miranda pretended not to worry about, growing distracted when her shirt was torn, literally, from her body. Carefully Andrea laid her out on the pristine floor. Her eyes went black when she looked down at Miranda’s prone form. “You won’t be sorry, Miranda, I swear it. I’ll make it so good you won’t feel a thing-” her skirt was gone then, and her stockings and shoes and everything else after it. Hands were everywhere-speed and dexterity were two noticeable vampire abilities-and then a preternaturally long tongue pushed inside her and Miranda didn’t notice anything else except how good it all felt.
She rode the wave high and fast and screamed when she came very shortly thereafter. Andrea did not pause in her motion, stripping off her own skirt to bare her astonishing body to Miranda’s eyes for the first time. The bra stayed, as did the white shirt, and the pearls that trailed along Miranda’s chest. Andrea’s eyes were desperate, and briefly Miranda had second thoughts. Why was she doing this? She was happy with her mortal life, wasn’t she?
Staring into those obsidian eyes, Miranda was revived by the passion and promise so plainly offered, and she answered the question herself with a resounding “no.” She grabbed at Andrea’s hair and pulled her down for a messy kiss. Andrea’s teeth were sharp, and Miranda tasted blood again, this time her own. Andrea rubbed against her leg. “I’m going to-” Andrea began, “Oh, it’s never been like this before… I waited so long-I have to--”
Already Miranda felt like coming again, as though if Andrea touched her she’d do it over and over, but then a mouth was at her breast, sucking and pulling, and there was no pain, only pleasure. But there was blood, she thought, but she climaxed again, and so did Andrea, who didn’t let up on the pressure at her breast, making Miranda writhe in ecstasy even as she felt strange and weak and unsure. Andrea gasped as she drank, moving against Miranda in rapture, and with one last burst of energy, Miranda managed a blinding orgasm even as she felt her life slipping away.
“Oh yes, Miranda,” Andrea was muttering as night closed in. “Oh, yes, yes, yes…”
The darkness enveloped her, and Miranda knew no more.
---
The Next Day
Miranda opened her eyes to the view of a startlingly blue sky overhead. She was awake in an instant, and sat up to glance around. She was on the top of a building, still in New York, surrounded by lush greenery, flowers, and a gurgling fountain. Someone sat next to her, and Miranda smelled her before she saw her: Andrea. Her mate. Her maker.
“Morning, gorgeous,” Andrea said, kissing her neck. “Happy Halloween.”
~end