Vocalise - Chapter 12
Title: Vocalise
Rating: NC-17 (Mature/NSFW/DRAW) (Yes, although I sometimes feel like Mary Fisher when I write all that... at least I don’t have a boxy, pink laptop ^_^)
Warning: Established character death. T__T
Pairing: Andy/Miranda
Length: 6800 (this chapter) (yeah... so I wrote about 11,5k words but nearly half of that needed to be deleted... :3)
Prompt: based on a prompt by amles80
Summary: A/U - Miranda is a choral director and Andy is a journalist who enjoys singing. Miranda has a painful past and Andy has to learn to believe in herself. Miranda is 47, Andy is 26 in this story.
Disclaimer: I don’t own The Devil Wears Prada.
Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11
A/N: For some reason this chapter gave me a lot of trouble. I deleted over five-thousand words and started over because it somehow all went wrong. :3 I guess sometimes you just derail and need to take a step back or something. Sorry that this made it take long longer to get finished... Sorry!! >_<
Chapter 12
Andy leaned against the worn-down elevator wall as the cabin ascended through the community centre building. Her week had been exhausting, but also oddly comforting, as it had seen a significant progression of her relationship with Miranda. She had pulled double-shifts on Tuesday and Thursday, but had enjoyed the conductor’s offer of spending the nights and mornings, in the older woman’s apartment, which was only a few blocks away from The Mirror. It had greatly cut down on travel time, and the sensation of snuggling into Miranda’s arms after a sixteen-hour work day had been pure bliss.
She had spent a busy few days researching the “Opus 118 Harlem School of Music”, had spoken with teachers and students and interviewed scrupulous school board officials for her series on the cuts to arts and music education programmes. The evenings when Andy had arrived at Miranda’s apartment rather late, the conductor had been waiting with delicious, albeit ordered, food and had attentively listened to the journalist’s sleepy babble. A snug, homey feeling had enveloped Andy, and the strain and tension of each day had disappeared as soon as Miranda had kissed her.
The elevator doors opened and she strolled along the hall with a spring in her step. On Wednesday afternoon she had assisted the older woman with putting the finishing touches to Caroline’s new bedroom. Workers had spent two days getting the colours of the walls and woodwork just right, and Andy had to admit that her former teenage self would have been utterly jealous of the rockstar-quality of Caroline’s new abode. Miranda had glowed at the brunette’s vivid approval and had thoroughly spoiled her in bed that night.
Not that she didn’t usually spoil Andy. Their lovemaking was so beautiful and rich, so tender, yet demanding, so soul-shattering, that Andy knew nothing else would ever compare. Sometimes their connection was so intense that they had to stop what they were doing and simply hold each other, and in those moments Andy realised that, no matter how young their relationship was, she needed Miranda by her side for the rest of her life. The conductor wasn’t some mere, blinding addiction, no, she was the single, most important reason for Andy’s survival, trumping even oxygen and food.
With a lazy, love-ridden smile, the journalist pulled open the door and waltzed into the auditorium, her eyes immediately finding the regal figure of Miranda standing by the piano and talking to Nigel. As if instinctively sensing her lover’s presence, the older woman turned her head and locked eyes with the brunette. There was no need for secret signs of acknowledgement, their gazes already spoke volumes. So Andy simply stored her coat and bag at their usual spot on the front row seats, and grabbing her sheet music, she climbed the few stairs up to the stage to join the already present group of singers.
Rehearsal was a successful mixture of refining the beautifully arranged harmonies of “Scarborough Fair” and exchanging inconspicuous, but promising glances with Miranda. Andy was surprised at how well the song was suited for the choir, but she knew most of it was thanks to the conductor’s skill of reading and adapting music. There was a specific line in the song where the four distinct voices split into eight, producing a range of different frequencies that vibrated through Andy’s entire body. It encompassed the auditorium, and everyone in it, in an intense cloud of sound that caused delicious goose bumps and spread warmth across tired skin.
After Miranda’s final speech and her customary ‘that’s all’, an awed silence rested over the choir as the men and women began their journey home. The young journalist grinned to herself as she slowly packed her things and grabbed her coat. Miranda was pure brilliance. If they kept going like this, the preliminary rounds would be a piece of cake.
Andy leaned against one of the front row seats and while the rest of the singers trickled away from the auditorium, she patiently watched how the older woman elegantly gathered her papers from the grand piano. When Miranda turned around their gazes met and thanks to the nearly empty surroundings, the conductor allowed a tiny smile that buried itself deep into the brunette’s heart.
“Oh, would you bloody stop it?”
With a roll of her eyes, Andy turned around and faced the owner of the quiet, but venomous voice.
“What’s your problem, Emily?”
The redhead had been ignoring her throughout the previous week, but Andy had known that it would only be a matter of time before Emily eventually blew. That moment was apparently now.
“You,” the redhead hissed, “and Her Majesty, that bloody twat.” She pointed at Miranda who seemed to study their exchange with alerted interest.
“What did you just call her?” The brunette’s happy feelings had evaporated and fury now rolled through her veins like an angry steam train.
“You heard me.” The Briton scoffed as she donned her coat. “The way you eye-shag each other makes me sick.” She pinned Andy down with a fiery look and scrunched up her nose. “I come here to sing, not to throw up.”
And with that Emily grabbed her bag and stormed out of the auditorium.
Unsure about exactly what had just happened, the brunette only blinked at the closed door until she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Are you alright?” Miranda’s warm voice embraced her and Andy allowed herself to relax with a deep sigh.
“Yeah, I guess. Just getting tired of people freaking out on me.”
A careful look around the vast room ensured that they were alone, and the journalist reached up to tenderly stroke the older woman’s fingers.
“She has feelings for you, you know that right?” Miranda said softly.
“Pff... you mean feelings of intense hate.” Andy grumbled.
Miranda closed the distance between their bodies, snaked her arms around the younger woman’s waist and rested her chin on Andy’s shoulder. “The line between love and hate is often blurred, Andrea.”
“I don’t believe it. Emily has been nasty from the moment I joined the choir.” The thought of the redhead harbouring any kind of affection for her seemed preposterous to Andy. First Nate and now Emily? They’re just crazy, that’s all it is.
As if reading the brunette’s mind, Miranda nuzzled the spot behind Andy’s jaw joint and whispered, “Why is the thought of someone finding you attractive so strange to you? You’re incredibly beautiful, smart, funny and unbelievably kind.”
The journalist wanted to snort but the wonderful sensation of Miranda’s warm breath on her skin turned the sound of exasperation into a blissful hum. She pressed her hips back into the conductor’s soft curves and sighed happily. As soon as she felt the older woman’s touch, all her worries simply ceased to exist. She reached back to slide her hand from the nape of Miranda’s neck into the conductor’s short, silver hair, curling her fingers and allowing her nails to teasingly stroke across the older woman’s scalp. Miranda rewarded the action with an adorable mewing sound and a sensual forward push of her hips that turned Andy’s abdomen into jelly.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
---------
Miranda watched in awe as Andrea bit the tip of her tongue in severe concentration. The brunette sat on the living room floor, wrapping Caroline’s present and was encountering some problems with the dark blue paper and a roll of sticky tape. The warm light from the Tiffany floor lamp cascaded down on Andrea, causing her long lashes to cast delicate shadows across her cheeks as she slowly peeled off some misplaced pieces of tape and attempted to hold the wrapping paper in place.
The conductor set aside her pencil and the stack of sheet music and slid down onto the carpet to assist the younger woman.
“Here, let me...”
She leaned forward on her knees and slid her fingers over the large guitar case, straightening the paper in the process and meticulously aligning the edges.
Her eyes never left the brunette’s face as Andrea carefully stuck small pieces of scotch tape along the corners, chewing on her bottom lip and using her fingers to smooth away any potential air bubbles. The conductor realised how young Andrea looked at that moment, and a painful burn spread itself through her chest. Suddenly Miranda felt old and silly. It was almost like an afternoon of crafts with her daughter. The two-decade gap between them was momentarily blinding.
When the younger woman finished she looked up, lashes still impossibly long and the sweetest glow to her cheeks as she leaned closer and whispered, “Thank you.”
The unpleasant burn in her chest intensified, and the conductor involuntarily flinched. Of course Andrea picked up on the tiny movement and sat back with a puzzled expression.
“Miranda, are you alright? You’ve been kind of quiet since rehearsal.”
The older woman regarded the brunette, the lamp casting a beautiful halo onto Andrea’s rich, chestnut hair. Miranda loved her beyond words, but her desire to lean over and touch the younger woman only fuelled the sudden unease in the pit of her stomach. What if she was bad for Andrea? What if she held her back? The journalist was young, and obviously popular, although she didn’t seem to realise that yet. How long until she’d grow tired of Miranda and move on with someone closer to her own age?
“Mira... if something upset you, please talk to me.”
Andrea reached out and clasped her hand around Miranda’s. The shortened version of her name sounded so perfect and delicious on the brunette’s lips, and the conductor knew that she would not be able to let Andrea go. She felt possessive and it scared her.
She pushed off the floor and seated herself back on the sofa. The younger woman was visibly worried and Miranda released a deep sigh, knowing that honesty was one of the most important things between them.
“How is it that the age difference between us doesn’t bother you?” Her hands found each other and she began to fidget with her fingers.
“Uhm... what?” The brunette seemed taken aback by the sudden topic. “I... I don’t know. It just doesn’t.” Andrea crawled forward on her hands and knees to then settle by the conductor’s feet, and she reached up and took the older woman’s nervous hands into her own. “I love you Miranda. I don’t care about our ages. I see you, and I know that I belong, that I’m home.”
The words, so sweet and sincere helped ease some of the tension around her heart, but doubt still gnawed at Miranda.
“What if you’ll get bored of me in the future... and leave me for somebody younger?” The deep breath she took was shaky. “What if I don’t survive that?” She added in almost a whisper.
Andrea’s grip on her fingers tightened. “Why would you even think something like that, Miranda? Is it because of what idiots like Nate and Emily said about you?”
No reply would come from her lips, but Miranda knew that the vicious stabs at her age had left their mark. The brunette understood, and she rose from the floor.
“I don’t care what they say, Miranda. I don’t care what anyone says. They will never touch my feelings for you. My heart belongs to you, and only you.” Her face drifted closer until she pressed her mouth sweetly against the conductor’s lips. It was a strong-willed kiss of reassurance and Miranda felt more of her doubts fall away. When they parted, Andrea held onto the older woman’s cheeks and stared deeply into her eyes.
“You’re everything I will ever need. Please believe me.”
Miranda nodded, overwhelmed by the brunette’s intensity. “I believe you.”
With a satisfied smile, Andrea let go of her face and walked toward the hallway.
“Where are you going?”
There was no answer but after a few seconds the younger woman returned with her own guitar case.
“Andrea, it’s past eleven. The neighbours will complain.”
The brunette retrieved the instrument from it’s casing and sat down on the sofa armrest opposite Miranda, her feet resting on the cushions.
“It’ll be okay, I promise it won’t be too loud.”
Miranda raised a brow, pretty much suspecting the contrary. She hadn’t seen or heard Andrea play guitar yet, but she knew how the sound waves carried and the walls of her apartment were rather thin.
As soon as the brunette began to softly strum the nylon strings, though, the conductor forgot about the neighbours, and she settled back into the sofa and watched mesmerised as Andrea’s fingers danced along the frets. Then, to her surprise, the younger woman began to sing.
”I just want you close... where you can stay forever... you can be sure... that it will only get better...”
Somehow in the scope of this intimacy between them, Andrea’s voice had a sexy smokiness to it that she didn’t possess during choir rehearsal, and the sound of it completely captured the conductor.
”You and me together... through the days and nights... I don’t worry ‘cause everything’s gonna be alright.”
Andrea smiled through the words and Miranda felt herself swoon.
”People keep talking... they can say what they like... but all I know is... everything’s gonna be alright...”
Here the conductor heard the slight anger in the way the younger woman sang, and Miranda felt foolish for letting other people’s trash-talk get to her.
“And no one, no one, no one... can get in the way of what I’m feeling... no one, no one, no one... can get in the way of what I feel for you... you... you, can get in the way of what I feel for you...”
They held each other’s gaze, allowing the magnetic pull between them to drown out everything else. There it was again, that intense connection. The lingering presence they felt constantly while it was calmly resting in the background, but which also rose to the surface every time they shared music or kisses... or orgasms. Miranda brought her legs up from the floor and stretched them out over the length of the sofa, turning her ankles so her feet were curled around the brunette’s.
”When the rain is pouring down... and my heart is hurting... you will always be around... this I know for certain...”
The love and sincerity in those brown eyes called out to Miranda, and she scooted closer and sat before Andrea and pressed her palms against the younger woman’s calves. The brunette shivered and closed her eyes, her voice becoming slightly less steady.
”You and me together... through the days and nights... I don’t worry ‘cause everything’s gonna be alright.”
The younger woman’s pantyhose couldn’t contain the heat that radiated off Andrea’s legs and Miranda slowly trailed her hands higher and toward the hem of the brunette’s skirt.
”People keep talking... they can say what they like... but all I know is... everything’s gonna be alright.”
By now, half the words were merely a whisper and on several occasions Andrea had to swallow hard between lines.
“No one, no one, no one... can get in the way of what I’m feeling... no one, no one, no one... can get in the way of what I feel for you... you... you, can get in the way of what I feel for you.”
When naughty fingers slid along inner thighs, the younger woman reopened her eyes and looked down at Miranda, cheeks flushed and chest heaving with emotion and sensation.
”I know some people search the world... to find something like what we have... I know people will try... try to divide something so real... so, till the end of time, I’m telling you there’s no one.”
Andrea stopped playing the guitar but continued singing while propping the instrument against the edge of the side table, her gaze remaining locked with Miranda’s.
“No one, no one, no one... can get in the way of what I’m feeling... no one, no one, no one...
With a languid slide, Andrea moved off the armrest and lowered herself onto the conductor’s lap, placing her knees to either side and dipping her forehead against Miranda’s. She whispered the final words.
”...can get in the way of what I feel for... you.”
The conductor’s arms had wrapped themselves around Andrea’s torso and with a firm push against the brunette’s upper back Miranda pulled the younger woman into a passionate kiss. Nimble hands slipped deftly under the older woman’s sweater and up her bare back as their tongues eagerly rolled together like mating snakes. Their noses pressed against each other, tickling as both women moaned, and Miranda slowly tugged them down the sofa so she could recline back against the pillows.
Once comfortably in place she pulled firmly at Andrea’s hips and guided the brunette’s pelvis against her lower abdomen. The younger woman groaned at the contact, her spread legs and ridden-up skirt allowing full access.
“Ugh... Mira...” She bent forward and pulled at the sweater under her thighs, exposing Miranda’s bare stomach. When Andrea pressed back down against the warm skin, she threw her head back, flashing her slender, creamy neck to the conductor’s eyes. The older woman groaned.
“I want your legs bare. Now.”
Her fingers were already impatiently tugging at the waistband of the pantyhose before the brunette even had a chance to lift her hips. In a matter of seconds, and thanks to refined skills, Miranda felt the incredible softness of Andrea’s inner sides press against her stomach. The younger woman’s silk panties were definitely drenched and the sticky heat against her skin drove the conductor wild. With a greedy tug, she pulled Andrea down for another kiss.
All the earlier doubt was easily squashed by the unbridled responses the younger woman was giving her. Andrea moaned when Miranda rubbed her palms along the exposed thighs and around her backside for a languid squeeze.
“Mira... I’m yours.” She murmured between kisses. “Only yours. Forever. My heart, soul and body belong to only you...”
“Hmmm, Andrea...” Miranda guided the younger woman’s eager hips up and then began unzipping her own slacks. At first the brunette groaned in protest until she understood and assisted the conductor in pulling off the garment.
------
The beautiful sight before her was so overwhelming it lured tears. Miranda’s shoulder-free brown sweater was pushed up and exposed the conductor’s flat stomach, which gently heaved with every laboured breath the older woman took. Her smooth legs were now bare except for the black lace panties, and her hair was mussed from their previous kisses. The slight flush to her otherwise pale cheeks and the raw, brooding glimmer in her darkened eyes were the siren call Andy could not resist, and the brunette hastily unzipped the back of her skirt and shimmied out of it as quickly and gracefully as she could manage.
As soon as their lower bodies were bare, save for the underwear, Andy nudged a knee between Miranda’s thighs and lowered herself back onto the older woman. She slid her arms along the conductor’s sides, under the cashmere wool of the sweater, and hugged their chests together. Instead of capturing the enticing mouth in another kiss, she buried her face in the curve between shoulder and neck and began to suckle on the incredibly soft skin.
“Hmmm... Mira... I’ve wanted to... hmmm... do this all evening.” She murmured while licking along a delicate collar bone. “This sweater always kills me...”
Miranda’s chuckle changed into a moan as the brunette sucked hard at the base of her throat. Andy loved the skin there. It was soft and so sensitive. The older woman writhed beneath her, pushing a thigh against Andy’s centre and causing both to exhale sharply at the amount of moisture that had proven too much for the thin layer of silk. The younger woman couldn’t resist sitting up and grinding against the powerful leg, shivers dancing through her muscles. The sensation forced her head back and her lids, heavy with desire, closed.
“Ah... Mira...”
Quickly Andy’s blouse and sweater were pushed up when warm hands expertly unclasped her bra and then glided slowly to the front. The conductor began to tenderly stroke and massage the younger woman’s breasts, joining the rhythm of their hips as they swayed in dreamy waves.
Andy lost herself in the increasing pressure, feeling the strong muscle of Miranda’s upper leg - trained by many years of walking in high heels - work between her own thighs. The older woman was touching her almost possessively and the brunette knew she wanted to give herself to Miranda completely and forever. She didn’t want the conductor to worry about other people stealing her away anymore.
“Mira... claim me.”
“What?”
“Claim me. Please... make me yours.”
Miranda’s nostrils flared and she leaned up to pull the remaining garments off Andy’s torso. The apartment was warm enough, but the sudden contrast in temperature still had the brunette gasping. After carelessly tossing Andy’s blouse and sweater behind the sofa the older woman slowly slid her hands up the brunette’s thighs and then firmly cupped her centre through the ruined silk.
The urge to close her eyes was strong, but Andy managed to gaze back at Miranda through lowered lashes, revelling in the pulsing current of electricity between them. There was no point in playing around or tease. On some days they would make love slowly, tenderly, drawing things out to simply bask in each other’s presence. Today was no such day. Sucking on her bottom lip Andy undulated against the conductor’s hand, inviting her, begging her.
With the other arm pressing against Andy’s lower back, Miranda trailed her fingernails up the silk panties and used her index finger to slip under the waistband. Without pause or hesitation her hand dove into slick heat and entered Andy with a single, determined push. The brunette’s hips bucked as three fingers melted into her and she held on to Miranda’s shoulders, sensations flooding her consciousness. Warm, wet lips closed around her nipple and the conductor began sucking in the rhythm of their joined thrusts.
“Ahh..... Mira...”
She felt stretched, filled, possessed and loved. And so safe. Miranda’s hold on her was secure and allowed Andy to completely let herself go. When the older woman propped up her high, effectively pushing her fingers deeper inside the brunette, Andy rolled her head back and groaned in pleasure. No one could do what Miranda did.
At that moment nothing else in the universe mattered. The moon could crash into earth and all the stars could fall from the heavens for all Andy cared. The only thing that existed for her now was Miranda. How her tongue caressed her aching nipples, how those soft lips moved from one breast to the other, planting deep, bruising kisses on the skin along the way. And the conductor’s beautiful hands, one so deeply buried inside Andy, and the other possessively cupping her butt, pulling at the cheeks with each motion. How those elegant fingertips brushed against her inner walls, teasing her pulse, racing it toward the glorious finish line. And the warm palm, so viciously pressing between her legs and against the bundle of nerves in a steady rhythm, caused even the last tiny sliver of control to slip from Andy’s grasp.
“Darling, come for me now,” Miranda husked while she flexed her fingers, stretching Andy almost painfully.
The brunette pushed hard, impaling herself on the conductor, wanting to feel every inch of how Miranda marked her territory. She could sense the faint tingle, rushing like a tidal wave from a great distance at amazing speed. Anticipation already had her moaning and then her body clamped up like a spring, tremor after tremor rippling through her as she clung to Miranda for dear life. Every one of her muscles tightened, and in the corner of her mind, within the last grains of remaining consciousness, she worried that the force of her clenched thighs and clawing fingers would injure the older woman.
Miranda, however, just hummed in bliss as she safely guided Andy through the intensity of her orgasm.
“Mine,” she murmured against the brunette’s slick, upper chest as Andy slowly came down, revelling in a last few languid thrusts and squeezes.
Dipping her head forward, the younger woman then rested her head on the exposed curve between Miranda’s neck and shoulder and attempted to catch her breath.
“Yes... yours. Forever.”
The older woman held her tightly, keeping her fingers still buried inside and suckling on Andy’s collar bone.
“And I’m yours, Andrea. Always.”
Andy sighed happily and trailed kisses along the conductor’s jaw until their lips found each other. They kissed lovingly, tenderly, until Miranda began slowly thrusting her fingers again. The brunette yelped in surprise but quickly joined the rhythm and undulated her sore flesh against the demanding digits. Much of their previous lovemaking had included multiple climaxes, but never this shortly after another. It was delicious and foggy, so hot and messy, and Andy was a slave to the sensation. Suddenly a fierce burning thundered over her and through her muscles like an avalanche. It was almost like an echo of the first wave, but this one was much harsher in intensity, tearing into her almost violently, and she lost her grip on Miranda.
A warm arm held her gently in place as she slowly descended once more, aftershocks rippling through her like the final tremors of an enormous earthquake.
“Oh dear god... Mira...” she groaned breathlessly.
The older woman gave a happy chuckle and gently withdrew her fingers. She tenderly rested her hand between Andy’s thighs, her warm palm soothing the agitated flesh.
“So... have I claimed you sufficiently?” She asked with a grin that spoke of victory and absolute conquest.
“Ugh... oh, fuck yes...”
With bits of strength returning, Andy pulled Miranda close and kissed her passionately, shifting their weight so the conductor slowly fell back against the cushions.
“Now... you said something about being mine as well...” She pressed her thigh firmly against the older woman’s lace panties, slick warmth coating her skin immediately.
Miranda’s answer was only a purr and Andy happily slipped her hands under the older woman’s sexy, brown sweater.
------
Saturday brought a peaceful morning with sunshine that warmed chilled faces, and Miranda stood near the cemetery gates basking in the absence of biting winds. Andrea and her were waiting for Caroline and the girl’s grandparents to arrive in order to visit Cassidy’s grave together on the twins’ birthday. The conductor felt a certain melancholy at the conflicting emotions surrounding this day. On the one hand they were celebrating Caroline’s life, her Sweet Sixteen, a significant moment in a teenage girl’s life. On the other hand, they came to remember and mourn Cassidy and the young woman she would never get to be.
Andrea stepped closer and linked her arm with the conductor’s.
“You okay?”
Miranda turned her head to gaze at her lover and had to smile. The silly green hat sat bunched up on the younger woman’s head, allowing a few brown locks to frame her sweet face and cascade down her shoulders, and it made her appear thoroughly elf-like. The early sun revealed shades of copper and dark, rich coffee beans in Andrea’s hair and the conductor raised her free hand to stroke an index finger across the brunette’s reddened cheek.
“Yes, I’m alright.” She tapped Andrea’s cold nose. “Thank you.”
A silver Lexus pulled into the parking lot and Miranda saw her daughter wave enthusiastically from the backseat. Pulling the brunette by their linked elbows she walked over to greet her parents and Caroline.
“Mom!” The teenager clambered out of the vehicle and, flung herself at the conductor.
“Happy birthday, my Darling.” Miranda hugged her daughter fiercely and kissed her cheeks. “How are you feeling?”
Caroline pulled away and accepted her crutch from her grandfather. “I’m good, Mom. Look... only one!” The teenager wiggled the crutch back and forth in emphasis and then turned to Andrea.
“Hi, Andy! Thanks again for the book! I really liked it!”
“No problem. Happy birthday, Caroline!”
Miranda watched their friendly chatter with a sense of elation. She would focus on all the good things today, instead of only mourning the loss of Cassidy. The presence of Andrea and Caroline would certainly help with that.
She greeted her parents and after they and the brunette exchanged pleasantries they began their walk onto the cemetery and in the direction of Cassidy’s grave. Andrea remained by her side, their arms entangled, and Caroline hobbled in front of them. Miranda had to admit that her daughter was making amazing progress. She would probably never be able to become a star athlete, but it seemed very possible that she could be moving completely without aid in the near future.
They walked in silence, Marianne and Charles behind them, and their combined footsteps echoed across the otherwise quiet grounds. The conductor kept Andrea close as they neared the weeping willow under which Cassidy was buried. She was glad that she had taken the brunette here already the previous week, for it took some of the tension away and allowed the younger woman to fully support and her and not be intimidated by a first time visit.
Caroline was the first to arrive in front of the grave. She scrambled to the ground and sat next to the headstone to remove the previous week’s lilies. Miranda smiled and handed her daughter the fresh flowers.
“Hey Cassie. It’s us!” Caroline began as she traced her fingers over the engravings in the cold marble and arranged the pink lilies. “Happy birthday, Sis. We’re all thinking of you.”
The image of her one daughter sitting next to her other daughter’s grave still clawed at the old wounds and the conductor tightened her hold on Andrea. There was something she had planned to do, and although she had prepared for it for two weeks, in her current emotional state the task was daunting. She looked over at her parents, whom she had told about her intentions, and Mr. Priestly gave his daughter an encouraging nod.
With a deep, steadying sigh, Miranda stepped away from the brunette and straightened her shoulders. It shouldn’t be that hard. She had rehearsed during the hours Andrea had been at work and she knew she was prepared. Closing her eyes she gave herself over to the sun, the fresh air, and the day.
”Sleep, my child, for the red-bee hums... the silent twilight falls...”
She heard a sudden intake of breath and she opened her eyes to see Caroline look up at her with complete shock, which nearly caused Miranda’s voice to break.
“Aibheall from the Grey Rock comes... to wrap the world in thrall.”
She continued singing slowly, quietly; allowing her voice to settle. Her eyes never left Caroline and the headstone as she was singing a lullaby for her babies. It was something she wished she had done before, when they had both still been alive, but of course she couldn’t turn back time. The past five years had taught her that. Painfully so.
”Dusk is drawn, and the Green Man's Thorn is wreathed in rings of fog...”
Unstoppable tears rolled down her cheeks, and she saw equally glistening tracks on the faces of Caroline and Andrea. She wasn’t really sobbing, though, and the tears didn’t cause her to falter, so she continued, letting the words dance from her tongue as she put all her love for the twins into the melody.
”Siabhra sails his boat till morn, upon the Starry Bog. A leanbhan O, the paly moon, hath brimmed her cusp in dew. And weeps to hear the sad sleep-tune... I sing, my love, to you.”
Once she was done her four companions remained silent and mutely regarded her with an air of awe. The conductor felt self-conscious and exposed, and she wondered what her daughter thought of the fact that, now, after sixteen years of refusing to sing, she finally opened that part of herself again, albeit five years too late.
Andrea’s fingers carefully intertwined with hers.
“Mira... that was beautiful,” the younger woman whispered as her thumb gently stroked the conductor’s palm.
Caroline straightened off the ground and hobbled over to tightly wrap her arms around her mother. The teenager didn’t say anything, but the firm way she held on to Miranda’s waist spoke volumes. On her shoulder the conductor felt the large, warm hand of her father and Marianne drew close to give a teary-eyed nod. The sensation of peace spreading over her heart was overwhelming and Miranda pulled Andrea closer, holding on to her two favourite living girls as a soft breeze teased the low, draping branches of the tree above.
She looked up into the clear sky and sent all her love to Cassidy, hoping that wherever she was, the girl would smile down on them.
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Back in Miranda’s apartment Andy stood in the kitchen and was busy arranging sixteen candles on the large, round chocolate cake. The cloud of complete wonder and adoration for the conductor’s beautiful singing still floated through her mind, and she smiled to herself as she remembered the sweet burn Miranda’s voice had left in her heart. Lost in thought, she didn’t hear the door swing open and someone walk behind her until she felt warm hands slide around her middle and come to a rest on her belly.
“Hmmm, that looks sinful. Are you sure you should be eating that?” Miranda murmured close to her ear while softly pressing her hips against Andy’s backside.
“Mira, once you’ve had my chocolate cake, you will never want anything else. It’s better than sex!” The brunette hummed as she licked some chocolate off her thumb.
The older woman suddenly pulled her backward.
“Stay away from that cake!” She pinned Andy’s arms to her side and placed several wet, open-mouthed kisses just below the younger woman’s left ear, causing her to shiver deliciously.
“That cake will need to be destroyed,” Miranda proclaimed quietly as she took a step back and turned Andy around. “I can’t believe I have to compete with a pile of fat and carbs.”
The conductor’s beautiful lips were pursed and mischievous blues sparkled at Andy through lowered lashes.
The brunette chuckled and leaned in for a kiss.
“Hmmm...” Miranda moaned as her tongued stroked inside the younger woman’s mouth. Andy knew she must still be tasting of the rich, creamy frosting and she smiled into the kiss. When Miranda pulled away she licked her own lips and then looked from Andy to the cake on the counter.
“Hmmm... actually...” She pushed the brunette away and hastily stepped forward.
“Miranda!” Andy giggled and now it was her turn to pull the older woman away from the chocolate temptation.
“That’s Caroline’s cake! Be patient!”
Being playful with the conductor was one of Andy’s favourite things. It seemed to her that Miranda didn’t make a habit of sharing that side of hers with others and the young journalist felt privileged and cherished for being allowed this treasure. She slipped her arms tenderly around the older woman’s waist and rested her chin on an elegant shoulder.
“If you behave you can have both cake and sex later...”
“Hmmm,” Miranda leaned back into the embrace and Andy swayed them gently from side to side.
“I love you, Andrea.”
The brunette smiled into soft, silver hair and tightened her grip. “Because I give you sex and delicious cake?”
Miranda gave a pretend annoyed snort. “Obviously.”
Nimble fingers slid over Andy’s hands and grasped them firmly. “And because you’re the most amazing human being, I’ve ever had the luck to find.”
Deeply inhaling the conductor’s scent the brunette closed her eyes and committed this perfect moment to memory.
“I love you, too. More than humanly possible.”
They remained in their embrace, revelling in simply being together, until a soft knock pulled them out of their shared bliss.
Marianne poked her head around the door.
“Everything alright in here? We’re eagerly awaiting The Cake.”
The two lovebirds sheepishly pulled away and Andy pushed the final two candles into the chocolate icing and then picked up a lighter.
“Okay, here we go!”
Caroline’s face lit up beautifully when she not only spotted her first ever home-made birthday cake, but also heard her mother chime in the “Happy Birthday” chorus. As the cake with its sixteen little flames was placed before her on the table she clapped her hands together in delight, looking more like a ten-year-old, than a young adult.
With a single breath she managed to blow out all the candles and then closed her eyes to make a wish. When she opened her lids again she looked at her mother and then Andy with an unreadable expression.
-------
Miranda woke to the distinct smell of eggs and bacon. As she opened her eyes, bright sunlight greeted her through the curtains, and she craned her neck to look at the alarm clock. Nine-thirty. Sitting up she stretched her arms above her head and exhaled deeply through her nose.
The previous day had been wonderful. Caroline had utterly loved her new room and had made it overwhelmingly clear that she couldn’t wait to move in with her mother. After dinner the conductor’s parents had left for a hotel and Andrea and the teenager had spent a significant amount of the evening practicing on their guitars, a gift Caroline had welcomed with unbridled enthusiasm. The conductor had snuggled into her favourite armchair and had simply watched the two with a warm, comfortable glow in her stomach.
The scent of breakfast wafting in through the closed door proved too enticing to ignore, and Miranda slid out of the bed and into her designer slippers. Donning her favourite cashmere dressing gown she padded past a mirror to somehow tame her unruly bed hair and then quietly opened the door.
Hushed giggles travelled down the hallway as Miranda tiptoed toward the kitchen, and her heart leaped as she carefully pushed open the door and peered inside. Caroline sat perched on the counter next to the stove where Andrea expertly flipped what looked like an omelette in the pan. They were laughing together and the conductor’s chest expanded with the loving domesticity of the scene.
Barely able to contain the happy grin on her face, she pushed through the door. “Must you two make such a ruckus on this beautiful Sunday morning?”
“Morning, Mom! We’re making breakfast!”
Miranda raised an eyebrow and stepped next to Andrea to place a hand on the younger woman’s shoulder and take a peek at the frying pans on the stove.
“Good morning, Beautiful,” the brunette turned her head and nuzzled the sensitive area behind the conductor’s ear. “You can sit down, I’m nearly done and there’s fresh coffee.”
With a tender kiss to the younger woman’s cheek Miranda allowed a sigh and went in search of a cup.
Only a minute later they were all seated at the kitchen table and the conductor watched as both Andrea and Caroline dug into their eggs with fervour. Miranda brought the steaming coffee to her lips and smiled as her daughter eagerly told the brunette about Dalton and their music education program which included a rock-band and guitar workshops. Andrea listened intently and then offered some information of the research she had been doing into public schools and their lack of funding.
The conductor hadn’t really known how bad the situation was for the less privileged schools, but then again, she hadn’t really been paying much attention to anything for the past five years. She listened as the young journalist spoke about current initiatives to save art and music at elementary schools and she was completely mesmerised by the passion that caused Andrea’s face to appear radiant and full of conviction.
Caroline asked a few intelligent questions and Miranda was in awe at how grown-up and smart her daughter had become. The urge to fall back into self-pity and wallow in lost years was strong, but she was stronger, and she managed to simply enjoy her Sunday morning coffee while basking in the feeling of standing on the verge of something incredibly wonderful.
This situation gave every signal of working out and she realised that sooner, rather than later, she would need to ask Andrea to move in with them. They might become a small family with a broken background and some unforgettable pains, but they would stick together and take care of each other, and Miranda knew that they would make each other very happy.
------
To be continued...
Rating: NC-17 (Mature/NSFW/DRAW) (Yes, although I sometimes feel like Mary Fisher when I write all that... at least I don’t have a boxy, pink laptop ^_^)
Warning: Established character death. T__T
Pairing: Andy/Miranda
Length: 6800 (this chapter) (yeah... so I wrote about 11,5k words but nearly half of that needed to be deleted... :3)
Prompt: based on a prompt by amles80
Summary: A/U - Miranda is a choral director and Andy is a journalist who enjoys singing. Miranda has a painful past and Andy has to learn to believe in herself. Miranda is 47, Andy is 26 in this story.
Disclaimer: I don’t own The Devil Wears Prada.
Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11
A/N: For some reason this chapter gave me a lot of trouble. I deleted over five-thousand words and started over because it somehow all went wrong. :3 I guess sometimes you just derail and need to take a step back or something. Sorry that this made it take long longer to get finished... Sorry!! >_<
Chapter 12
Andy leaned against the worn-down elevator wall as the cabin ascended through the community centre building. Her week had been exhausting, but also oddly comforting, as it had seen a significant progression of her relationship with Miranda. She had pulled double-shifts on Tuesday and Thursday, but had enjoyed the conductor’s offer of spending the nights and mornings, in the older woman’s apartment, which was only a few blocks away from The Mirror. It had greatly cut down on travel time, and the sensation of snuggling into Miranda’s arms after a sixteen-hour work day had been pure bliss.
She had spent a busy few days researching the “Opus 118 Harlem School of Music”, had spoken with teachers and students and interviewed scrupulous school board officials for her series on the cuts to arts and music education programmes. The evenings when Andy had arrived at Miranda’s apartment rather late, the conductor had been waiting with delicious, albeit ordered, food and had attentively listened to the journalist’s sleepy babble. A snug, homey feeling had enveloped Andy, and the strain and tension of each day had disappeared as soon as Miranda had kissed her.
The elevator doors opened and she strolled along the hall with a spring in her step. On Wednesday afternoon she had assisted the older woman with putting the finishing touches to Caroline’s new bedroom. Workers had spent two days getting the colours of the walls and woodwork just right, and Andy had to admit that her former teenage self would have been utterly jealous of the rockstar-quality of Caroline’s new abode. Miranda had glowed at the brunette’s vivid approval and had thoroughly spoiled her in bed that night.
Not that she didn’t usually spoil Andy. Their lovemaking was so beautiful and rich, so tender, yet demanding, so soul-shattering, that Andy knew nothing else would ever compare. Sometimes their connection was so intense that they had to stop what they were doing and simply hold each other, and in those moments Andy realised that, no matter how young their relationship was, she needed Miranda by her side for the rest of her life. The conductor wasn’t some mere, blinding addiction, no, she was the single, most important reason for Andy’s survival, trumping even oxygen and food.
With a lazy, love-ridden smile, the journalist pulled open the door and waltzed into the auditorium, her eyes immediately finding the regal figure of Miranda standing by the piano and talking to Nigel. As if instinctively sensing her lover’s presence, the older woman turned her head and locked eyes with the brunette. There was no need for secret signs of acknowledgement, their gazes already spoke volumes. So Andy simply stored her coat and bag at their usual spot on the front row seats, and grabbing her sheet music, she climbed the few stairs up to the stage to join the already present group of singers.
Rehearsal was a successful mixture of refining the beautifully arranged harmonies of “Scarborough Fair” and exchanging inconspicuous, but promising glances with Miranda. Andy was surprised at how well the song was suited for the choir, but she knew most of it was thanks to the conductor’s skill of reading and adapting music. There was a specific line in the song where the four distinct voices split into eight, producing a range of different frequencies that vibrated through Andy’s entire body. It encompassed the auditorium, and everyone in it, in an intense cloud of sound that caused delicious goose bumps and spread warmth across tired skin.
After Miranda’s final speech and her customary ‘that’s all’, an awed silence rested over the choir as the men and women began their journey home. The young journalist grinned to herself as she slowly packed her things and grabbed her coat. Miranda was pure brilliance. If they kept going like this, the preliminary rounds would be a piece of cake.
Andy leaned against one of the front row seats and while the rest of the singers trickled away from the auditorium, she patiently watched how the older woman elegantly gathered her papers from the grand piano. When Miranda turned around their gazes met and thanks to the nearly empty surroundings, the conductor allowed a tiny smile that buried itself deep into the brunette’s heart.
“Oh, would you bloody stop it?”
With a roll of her eyes, Andy turned around and faced the owner of the quiet, but venomous voice.
“What’s your problem, Emily?”
The redhead had been ignoring her throughout the previous week, but Andy had known that it would only be a matter of time before Emily eventually blew. That moment was apparently now.
“You,” the redhead hissed, “and Her Majesty, that bloody twat.” She pointed at Miranda who seemed to study their exchange with alerted interest.
“What did you just call her?” The brunette’s happy feelings had evaporated and fury now rolled through her veins like an angry steam train.
“You heard me.” The Briton scoffed as she donned her coat. “The way you eye-shag each other makes me sick.” She pinned Andy down with a fiery look and scrunched up her nose. “I come here to sing, not to throw up.”
And with that Emily grabbed her bag and stormed out of the auditorium.
Unsure about exactly what had just happened, the brunette only blinked at the closed door until she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Are you alright?” Miranda’s warm voice embraced her and Andy allowed herself to relax with a deep sigh.
“Yeah, I guess. Just getting tired of people freaking out on me.”
A careful look around the vast room ensured that they were alone, and the journalist reached up to tenderly stroke the older woman’s fingers.
“She has feelings for you, you know that right?” Miranda said softly.
“Pff... you mean feelings of intense hate.” Andy grumbled.
Miranda closed the distance between their bodies, snaked her arms around the younger woman’s waist and rested her chin on Andy’s shoulder. “The line between love and hate is often blurred, Andrea.”
“I don’t believe it. Emily has been nasty from the moment I joined the choir.” The thought of the redhead harbouring any kind of affection for her seemed preposterous to Andy. First Nate and now Emily? They’re just crazy, that’s all it is.
As if reading the brunette’s mind, Miranda nuzzled the spot behind Andy’s jaw joint and whispered, “Why is the thought of someone finding you attractive so strange to you? You’re incredibly beautiful, smart, funny and unbelievably kind.”
The journalist wanted to snort but the wonderful sensation of Miranda’s warm breath on her skin turned the sound of exasperation into a blissful hum. She pressed her hips back into the conductor’s soft curves and sighed happily. As soon as she felt the older woman’s touch, all her worries simply ceased to exist. She reached back to slide her hand from the nape of Miranda’s neck into the conductor’s short, silver hair, curling her fingers and allowing her nails to teasingly stroke across the older woman’s scalp. Miranda rewarded the action with an adorable mewing sound and a sensual forward push of her hips that turned Andy’s abdomen into jelly.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
---------
Miranda watched in awe as Andrea bit the tip of her tongue in severe concentration. The brunette sat on the living room floor, wrapping Caroline’s present and was encountering some problems with the dark blue paper and a roll of sticky tape. The warm light from the Tiffany floor lamp cascaded down on Andrea, causing her long lashes to cast delicate shadows across her cheeks as she slowly peeled off some misplaced pieces of tape and attempted to hold the wrapping paper in place.
The conductor set aside her pencil and the stack of sheet music and slid down onto the carpet to assist the younger woman.
“Here, let me...”
She leaned forward on her knees and slid her fingers over the large guitar case, straightening the paper in the process and meticulously aligning the edges.
Her eyes never left the brunette’s face as Andrea carefully stuck small pieces of scotch tape along the corners, chewing on her bottom lip and using her fingers to smooth away any potential air bubbles. The conductor realised how young Andrea looked at that moment, and a painful burn spread itself through her chest. Suddenly Miranda felt old and silly. It was almost like an afternoon of crafts with her daughter. The two-decade gap between them was momentarily blinding.
When the younger woman finished she looked up, lashes still impossibly long and the sweetest glow to her cheeks as she leaned closer and whispered, “Thank you.”
The unpleasant burn in her chest intensified, and the conductor involuntarily flinched. Of course Andrea picked up on the tiny movement and sat back with a puzzled expression.
“Miranda, are you alright? You’ve been kind of quiet since rehearsal.”
The older woman regarded the brunette, the lamp casting a beautiful halo onto Andrea’s rich, chestnut hair. Miranda loved her beyond words, but her desire to lean over and touch the younger woman only fuelled the sudden unease in the pit of her stomach. What if she was bad for Andrea? What if she held her back? The journalist was young, and obviously popular, although she didn’t seem to realise that yet. How long until she’d grow tired of Miranda and move on with someone closer to her own age?
“Mira... if something upset you, please talk to me.”
Andrea reached out and clasped her hand around Miranda’s. The shortened version of her name sounded so perfect and delicious on the brunette’s lips, and the conductor knew that she would not be able to let Andrea go. She felt possessive and it scared her.
She pushed off the floor and seated herself back on the sofa. The younger woman was visibly worried and Miranda released a deep sigh, knowing that honesty was one of the most important things between them.
“How is it that the age difference between us doesn’t bother you?” Her hands found each other and she began to fidget with her fingers.
“Uhm... what?” The brunette seemed taken aback by the sudden topic. “I... I don’t know. It just doesn’t.” Andrea crawled forward on her hands and knees to then settle by the conductor’s feet, and she reached up and took the older woman’s nervous hands into her own. “I love you Miranda. I don’t care about our ages. I see you, and I know that I belong, that I’m home.”
The words, so sweet and sincere helped ease some of the tension around her heart, but doubt still gnawed at Miranda.
“What if you’ll get bored of me in the future... and leave me for somebody younger?” The deep breath she took was shaky. “What if I don’t survive that?” She added in almost a whisper.
Andrea’s grip on her fingers tightened. “Why would you even think something like that, Miranda? Is it because of what idiots like Nate and Emily said about you?”
No reply would come from her lips, but Miranda knew that the vicious stabs at her age had left their mark. The brunette understood, and she rose from the floor.
“I don’t care what they say, Miranda. I don’t care what anyone says. They will never touch my feelings for you. My heart belongs to you, and only you.” Her face drifted closer until she pressed her mouth sweetly against the conductor’s lips. It was a strong-willed kiss of reassurance and Miranda felt more of her doubts fall away. When they parted, Andrea held onto the older woman’s cheeks and stared deeply into her eyes.
“You’re everything I will ever need. Please believe me.”
Miranda nodded, overwhelmed by the brunette’s intensity. “I believe you.”
With a satisfied smile, Andrea let go of her face and walked toward the hallway.
“Where are you going?”
There was no answer but after a few seconds the younger woman returned with her own guitar case.
“Andrea, it’s past eleven. The neighbours will complain.”
The brunette retrieved the instrument from it’s casing and sat down on the sofa armrest opposite Miranda, her feet resting on the cushions.
“It’ll be okay, I promise it won’t be too loud.”
Miranda raised a brow, pretty much suspecting the contrary. She hadn’t seen or heard Andrea play guitar yet, but she knew how the sound waves carried and the walls of her apartment were rather thin.
As soon as the brunette began to softly strum the nylon strings, though, the conductor forgot about the neighbours, and she settled back into the sofa and watched mesmerised as Andrea’s fingers danced along the frets. Then, to her surprise, the younger woman began to sing.
”I just want you close... where you can stay forever... you can be sure... that it will only get better...”
Somehow in the scope of this intimacy between them, Andrea’s voice had a sexy smokiness to it that she didn’t possess during choir rehearsal, and the sound of it completely captured the conductor.
”You and me together... through the days and nights... I don’t worry ‘cause everything’s gonna be alright.”
Andrea smiled through the words and Miranda felt herself swoon.
”People keep talking... they can say what they like... but all I know is... everything’s gonna be alright...”
Here the conductor heard the slight anger in the way the younger woman sang, and Miranda felt foolish for letting other people’s trash-talk get to her.
“And no one, no one, no one... can get in the way of what I’m feeling... no one, no one, no one... can get in the way of what I feel for you... you... you, can get in the way of what I feel for you...”
They held each other’s gaze, allowing the magnetic pull between them to drown out everything else. There it was again, that intense connection. The lingering presence they felt constantly while it was calmly resting in the background, but which also rose to the surface every time they shared music or kisses... or orgasms. Miranda brought her legs up from the floor and stretched them out over the length of the sofa, turning her ankles so her feet were curled around the brunette’s.
”When the rain is pouring down... and my heart is hurting... you will always be around... this I know for certain...”
The love and sincerity in those brown eyes called out to Miranda, and she scooted closer and sat before Andrea and pressed her palms against the younger woman’s calves. The brunette shivered and closed her eyes, her voice becoming slightly less steady.
”You and me together... through the days and nights... I don’t worry ‘cause everything’s gonna be alright.”
The younger woman’s pantyhose couldn’t contain the heat that radiated off Andrea’s legs and Miranda slowly trailed her hands higher and toward the hem of the brunette’s skirt.
”People keep talking... they can say what they like... but all I know is... everything’s gonna be alright.”
By now, half the words were merely a whisper and on several occasions Andrea had to swallow hard between lines.
“No one, no one, no one... can get in the way of what I’m feeling... no one, no one, no one... can get in the way of what I feel for you... you... you, can get in the way of what I feel for you.”
When naughty fingers slid along inner thighs, the younger woman reopened her eyes and looked down at Miranda, cheeks flushed and chest heaving with emotion and sensation.
”I know some people search the world... to find something like what we have... I know people will try... try to divide something so real... so, till the end of time, I’m telling you there’s no one.”
Andrea stopped playing the guitar but continued singing while propping the instrument against the edge of the side table, her gaze remaining locked with Miranda’s.
“No one, no one, no one... can get in the way of what I’m feeling... no one, no one, no one...
With a languid slide, Andrea moved off the armrest and lowered herself onto the conductor’s lap, placing her knees to either side and dipping her forehead against Miranda’s. She whispered the final words.
”...can get in the way of what I feel for... you.”
The conductor’s arms had wrapped themselves around Andrea’s torso and with a firm push against the brunette’s upper back Miranda pulled the younger woman into a passionate kiss. Nimble hands slipped deftly under the older woman’s sweater and up her bare back as their tongues eagerly rolled together like mating snakes. Their noses pressed against each other, tickling as both women moaned, and Miranda slowly tugged them down the sofa so she could recline back against the pillows.
Once comfortably in place she pulled firmly at Andrea’s hips and guided the brunette’s pelvis against her lower abdomen. The younger woman groaned at the contact, her spread legs and ridden-up skirt allowing full access.
“Ugh... Mira...” She bent forward and pulled at the sweater under her thighs, exposing Miranda’s bare stomach. When Andrea pressed back down against the warm skin, she threw her head back, flashing her slender, creamy neck to the conductor’s eyes. The older woman groaned.
“I want your legs bare. Now.”
Her fingers were already impatiently tugging at the waistband of the pantyhose before the brunette even had a chance to lift her hips. In a matter of seconds, and thanks to refined skills, Miranda felt the incredible softness of Andrea’s inner sides press against her stomach. The younger woman’s silk panties were definitely drenched and the sticky heat against her skin drove the conductor wild. With a greedy tug, she pulled Andrea down for another kiss.
All the earlier doubt was easily squashed by the unbridled responses the younger woman was giving her. Andrea moaned when Miranda rubbed her palms along the exposed thighs and around her backside for a languid squeeze.
“Mira... I’m yours.” She murmured between kisses. “Only yours. Forever. My heart, soul and body belong to only you...”
“Hmmm, Andrea...” Miranda guided the younger woman’s eager hips up and then began unzipping her own slacks. At first the brunette groaned in protest until she understood and assisted the conductor in pulling off the garment.
------
The beautiful sight before her was so overwhelming it lured tears. Miranda’s shoulder-free brown sweater was pushed up and exposed the conductor’s flat stomach, which gently heaved with every laboured breath the older woman took. Her smooth legs were now bare except for the black lace panties, and her hair was mussed from their previous kisses. The slight flush to her otherwise pale cheeks and the raw, brooding glimmer in her darkened eyes were the siren call Andy could not resist, and the brunette hastily unzipped the back of her skirt and shimmied out of it as quickly and gracefully as she could manage.
As soon as their lower bodies were bare, save for the underwear, Andy nudged a knee between Miranda’s thighs and lowered herself back onto the older woman. She slid her arms along the conductor’s sides, under the cashmere wool of the sweater, and hugged their chests together. Instead of capturing the enticing mouth in another kiss, she buried her face in the curve between shoulder and neck and began to suckle on the incredibly soft skin.
“Hmmm... Mira... I’ve wanted to... hmmm... do this all evening.” She murmured while licking along a delicate collar bone. “This sweater always kills me...”
Miranda’s chuckle changed into a moan as the brunette sucked hard at the base of her throat. Andy loved the skin there. It was soft and so sensitive. The older woman writhed beneath her, pushing a thigh against Andy’s centre and causing both to exhale sharply at the amount of moisture that had proven too much for the thin layer of silk. The younger woman couldn’t resist sitting up and grinding against the powerful leg, shivers dancing through her muscles. The sensation forced her head back and her lids, heavy with desire, closed.
“Ah... Mira...”
Quickly Andy’s blouse and sweater were pushed up when warm hands expertly unclasped her bra and then glided slowly to the front. The conductor began to tenderly stroke and massage the younger woman’s breasts, joining the rhythm of their hips as they swayed in dreamy waves.
Andy lost herself in the increasing pressure, feeling the strong muscle of Miranda’s upper leg - trained by many years of walking in high heels - work between her own thighs. The older woman was touching her almost possessively and the brunette knew she wanted to give herself to Miranda completely and forever. She didn’t want the conductor to worry about other people stealing her away anymore.
“Mira... claim me.”
“What?”
“Claim me. Please... make me yours.”
Miranda’s nostrils flared and she leaned up to pull the remaining garments off Andy’s torso. The apartment was warm enough, but the sudden contrast in temperature still had the brunette gasping. After carelessly tossing Andy’s blouse and sweater behind the sofa the older woman slowly slid her hands up the brunette’s thighs and then firmly cupped her centre through the ruined silk.
The urge to close her eyes was strong, but Andy managed to gaze back at Miranda through lowered lashes, revelling in the pulsing current of electricity between them. There was no point in playing around or tease. On some days they would make love slowly, tenderly, drawing things out to simply bask in each other’s presence. Today was no such day. Sucking on her bottom lip Andy undulated against the conductor’s hand, inviting her, begging her.
With the other arm pressing against Andy’s lower back, Miranda trailed her fingernails up the silk panties and used her index finger to slip under the waistband. Without pause or hesitation her hand dove into slick heat and entered Andy with a single, determined push. The brunette’s hips bucked as three fingers melted into her and she held on to Miranda’s shoulders, sensations flooding her consciousness. Warm, wet lips closed around her nipple and the conductor began sucking in the rhythm of their joined thrusts.
“Ahh..... Mira...”
She felt stretched, filled, possessed and loved. And so safe. Miranda’s hold on her was secure and allowed Andy to completely let herself go. When the older woman propped up her high, effectively pushing her fingers deeper inside the brunette, Andy rolled her head back and groaned in pleasure. No one could do what Miranda did.
At that moment nothing else in the universe mattered. The moon could crash into earth and all the stars could fall from the heavens for all Andy cared. The only thing that existed for her now was Miranda. How her tongue caressed her aching nipples, how those soft lips moved from one breast to the other, planting deep, bruising kisses on the skin along the way. And the conductor’s beautiful hands, one so deeply buried inside Andy, and the other possessively cupping her butt, pulling at the cheeks with each motion. How those elegant fingertips brushed against her inner walls, teasing her pulse, racing it toward the glorious finish line. And the warm palm, so viciously pressing between her legs and against the bundle of nerves in a steady rhythm, caused even the last tiny sliver of control to slip from Andy’s grasp.
“Darling, come for me now,” Miranda husked while she flexed her fingers, stretching Andy almost painfully.
The brunette pushed hard, impaling herself on the conductor, wanting to feel every inch of how Miranda marked her territory. She could sense the faint tingle, rushing like a tidal wave from a great distance at amazing speed. Anticipation already had her moaning and then her body clamped up like a spring, tremor after tremor rippling through her as she clung to Miranda for dear life. Every one of her muscles tightened, and in the corner of her mind, within the last grains of remaining consciousness, she worried that the force of her clenched thighs and clawing fingers would injure the older woman.
Miranda, however, just hummed in bliss as she safely guided Andy through the intensity of her orgasm.
“Mine,” she murmured against the brunette’s slick, upper chest as Andy slowly came down, revelling in a last few languid thrusts and squeezes.
Dipping her head forward, the younger woman then rested her head on the exposed curve between Miranda’s neck and shoulder and attempted to catch her breath.
“Yes... yours. Forever.”
The older woman held her tightly, keeping her fingers still buried inside and suckling on Andy’s collar bone.
“And I’m yours, Andrea. Always.”
Andy sighed happily and trailed kisses along the conductor’s jaw until their lips found each other. They kissed lovingly, tenderly, until Miranda began slowly thrusting her fingers again. The brunette yelped in surprise but quickly joined the rhythm and undulated her sore flesh against the demanding digits. Much of their previous lovemaking had included multiple climaxes, but never this shortly after another. It was delicious and foggy, so hot and messy, and Andy was a slave to the sensation. Suddenly a fierce burning thundered over her and through her muscles like an avalanche. It was almost like an echo of the first wave, but this one was much harsher in intensity, tearing into her almost violently, and she lost her grip on Miranda.
A warm arm held her gently in place as she slowly descended once more, aftershocks rippling through her like the final tremors of an enormous earthquake.
“Oh dear god... Mira...” she groaned breathlessly.
The older woman gave a happy chuckle and gently withdrew her fingers. She tenderly rested her hand between Andy’s thighs, her warm palm soothing the agitated flesh.
“So... have I claimed you sufficiently?” She asked with a grin that spoke of victory and absolute conquest.
“Ugh... oh, fuck yes...”
With bits of strength returning, Andy pulled Miranda close and kissed her passionately, shifting their weight so the conductor slowly fell back against the cushions.
“Now... you said something about being mine as well...” She pressed her thigh firmly against the older woman’s lace panties, slick warmth coating her skin immediately.
Miranda’s answer was only a purr and Andy happily slipped her hands under the older woman’s sexy, brown sweater.
------
Saturday brought a peaceful morning with sunshine that warmed chilled faces, and Miranda stood near the cemetery gates basking in the absence of biting winds. Andrea and her were waiting for Caroline and the girl’s grandparents to arrive in order to visit Cassidy’s grave together on the twins’ birthday. The conductor felt a certain melancholy at the conflicting emotions surrounding this day. On the one hand they were celebrating Caroline’s life, her Sweet Sixteen, a significant moment in a teenage girl’s life. On the other hand, they came to remember and mourn Cassidy and the young woman she would never get to be.
Andrea stepped closer and linked her arm with the conductor’s.
“You okay?”
Miranda turned her head to gaze at her lover and had to smile. The silly green hat sat bunched up on the younger woman’s head, allowing a few brown locks to frame her sweet face and cascade down her shoulders, and it made her appear thoroughly elf-like. The early sun revealed shades of copper and dark, rich coffee beans in Andrea’s hair and the conductor raised her free hand to stroke an index finger across the brunette’s reddened cheek.
“Yes, I’m alright.” She tapped Andrea’s cold nose. “Thank you.”
A silver Lexus pulled into the parking lot and Miranda saw her daughter wave enthusiastically from the backseat. Pulling the brunette by their linked elbows she walked over to greet her parents and Caroline.
“Mom!” The teenager clambered out of the vehicle and, flung herself at the conductor.
“Happy birthday, my Darling.” Miranda hugged her daughter fiercely and kissed her cheeks. “How are you feeling?”
Caroline pulled away and accepted her crutch from her grandfather. “I’m good, Mom. Look... only one!” The teenager wiggled the crutch back and forth in emphasis and then turned to Andrea.
“Hi, Andy! Thanks again for the book! I really liked it!”
“No problem. Happy birthday, Caroline!”
Miranda watched their friendly chatter with a sense of elation. She would focus on all the good things today, instead of only mourning the loss of Cassidy. The presence of Andrea and Caroline would certainly help with that.
She greeted her parents and after they and the brunette exchanged pleasantries they began their walk onto the cemetery and in the direction of Cassidy’s grave. Andrea remained by her side, their arms entangled, and Caroline hobbled in front of them. Miranda had to admit that her daughter was making amazing progress. She would probably never be able to become a star athlete, but it seemed very possible that she could be moving completely without aid in the near future.
They walked in silence, Marianne and Charles behind them, and their combined footsteps echoed across the otherwise quiet grounds. The conductor kept Andrea close as they neared the weeping willow under which Cassidy was buried. She was glad that she had taken the brunette here already the previous week, for it took some of the tension away and allowed the younger woman to fully support and her and not be intimidated by a first time visit.
Caroline was the first to arrive in front of the grave. She scrambled to the ground and sat next to the headstone to remove the previous week’s lilies. Miranda smiled and handed her daughter the fresh flowers.
“Hey Cassie. It’s us!” Caroline began as she traced her fingers over the engravings in the cold marble and arranged the pink lilies. “Happy birthday, Sis. We’re all thinking of you.”
The image of her one daughter sitting next to her other daughter’s grave still clawed at the old wounds and the conductor tightened her hold on Andrea. There was something she had planned to do, and although she had prepared for it for two weeks, in her current emotional state the task was daunting. She looked over at her parents, whom she had told about her intentions, and Mr. Priestly gave his daughter an encouraging nod.
With a deep, steadying sigh, Miranda stepped away from the brunette and straightened her shoulders. It shouldn’t be that hard. She had rehearsed during the hours Andrea had been at work and she knew she was prepared. Closing her eyes she gave herself over to the sun, the fresh air, and the day.
”Sleep, my child, for the red-bee hums... the silent twilight falls...”
She heard a sudden intake of breath and she opened her eyes to see Caroline look up at her with complete shock, which nearly caused Miranda’s voice to break.
“Aibheall from the Grey Rock comes... to wrap the world in thrall.”
She continued singing slowly, quietly; allowing her voice to settle. Her eyes never left Caroline and the headstone as she was singing a lullaby for her babies. It was something she wished she had done before, when they had both still been alive, but of course she couldn’t turn back time. The past five years had taught her that. Painfully so.
”Dusk is drawn, and the Green Man's Thorn is wreathed in rings of fog...”
Unstoppable tears rolled down her cheeks, and she saw equally glistening tracks on the faces of Caroline and Andrea. She wasn’t really sobbing, though, and the tears didn’t cause her to falter, so she continued, letting the words dance from her tongue as she put all her love for the twins into the melody.
”Siabhra sails his boat till morn, upon the Starry Bog. A leanbhan O, the paly moon, hath brimmed her cusp in dew. And weeps to hear the sad sleep-tune... I sing, my love, to you.”
Once she was done her four companions remained silent and mutely regarded her with an air of awe. The conductor felt self-conscious and exposed, and she wondered what her daughter thought of the fact that, now, after sixteen years of refusing to sing, she finally opened that part of herself again, albeit five years too late.
Andrea’s fingers carefully intertwined with hers.
“Mira... that was beautiful,” the younger woman whispered as her thumb gently stroked the conductor’s palm.
Caroline straightened off the ground and hobbled over to tightly wrap her arms around her mother. The teenager didn’t say anything, but the firm way she held on to Miranda’s waist spoke volumes. On her shoulder the conductor felt the large, warm hand of her father and Marianne drew close to give a teary-eyed nod. The sensation of peace spreading over her heart was overwhelming and Miranda pulled Andrea closer, holding on to her two favourite living girls as a soft breeze teased the low, draping branches of the tree above.
She looked up into the clear sky and sent all her love to Cassidy, hoping that wherever she was, the girl would smile down on them.
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Back in Miranda’s apartment Andy stood in the kitchen and was busy arranging sixteen candles on the large, round chocolate cake. The cloud of complete wonder and adoration for the conductor’s beautiful singing still floated through her mind, and she smiled to herself as she remembered the sweet burn Miranda’s voice had left in her heart. Lost in thought, she didn’t hear the door swing open and someone walk behind her until she felt warm hands slide around her middle and come to a rest on her belly.
“Hmmm, that looks sinful. Are you sure you should be eating that?” Miranda murmured close to her ear while softly pressing her hips against Andy’s backside.
“Mira, once you’ve had my chocolate cake, you will never want anything else. It’s better than sex!” The brunette hummed as she licked some chocolate off her thumb.
The older woman suddenly pulled her backward.
“Stay away from that cake!” She pinned Andy’s arms to her side and placed several wet, open-mouthed kisses just below the younger woman’s left ear, causing her to shiver deliciously.
“That cake will need to be destroyed,” Miranda proclaimed quietly as she took a step back and turned Andy around. “I can’t believe I have to compete with a pile of fat and carbs.”
The conductor’s beautiful lips were pursed and mischievous blues sparkled at Andy through lowered lashes.
The brunette chuckled and leaned in for a kiss.
“Hmmm...” Miranda moaned as her tongued stroked inside the younger woman’s mouth. Andy knew she must still be tasting of the rich, creamy frosting and she smiled into the kiss. When Miranda pulled away she licked her own lips and then looked from Andy to the cake on the counter.
“Hmmm... actually...” She pushed the brunette away and hastily stepped forward.
“Miranda!” Andy giggled and now it was her turn to pull the older woman away from the chocolate temptation.
“That’s Caroline’s cake! Be patient!”
Being playful with the conductor was one of Andy’s favourite things. It seemed to her that Miranda didn’t make a habit of sharing that side of hers with others and the young journalist felt privileged and cherished for being allowed this treasure. She slipped her arms tenderly around the older woman’s waist and rested her chin on an elegant shoulder.
“If you behave you can have both cake and sex later...”
“Hmmm,” Miranda leaned back into the embrace and Andy swayed them gently from side to side.
“I love you, Andrea.”
The brunette smiled into soft, silver hair and tightened her grip. “Because I give you sex and delicious cake?”
Miranda gave a pretend annoyed snort. “Obviously.”
Nimble fingers slid over Andy’s hands and grasped them firmly. “And because you’re the most amazing human being, I’ve ever had the luck to find.”
Deeply inhaling the conductor’s scent the brunette closed her eyes and committed this perfect moment to memory.
“I love you, too. More than humanly possible.”
They remained in their embrace, revelling in simply being together, until a soft knock pulled them out of their shared bliss.
Marianne poked her head around the door.
“Everything alright in here? We’re eagerly awaiting The Cake.”
The two lovebirds sheepishly pulled away and Andy pushed the final two candles into the chocolate icing and then picked up a lighter.
“Okay, here we go!”
Caroline’s face lit up beautifully when she not only spotted her first ever home-made birthday cake, but also heard her mother chime in the “Happy Birthday” chorus. As the cake with its sixteen little flames was placed before her on the table she clapped her hands together in delight, looking more like a ten-year-old, than a young adult.
With a single breath she managed to blow out all the candles and then closed her eyes to make a wish. When she opened her lids again she looked at her mother and then Andy with an unreadable expression.
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Miranda woke to the distinct smell of eggs and bacon. As she opened her eyes, bright sunlight greeted her through the curtains, and she craned her neck to look at the alarm clock. Nine-thirty. Sitting up she stretched her arms above her head and exhaled deeply through her nose.
The previous day had been wonderful. Caroline had utterly loved her new room and had made it overwhelmingly clear that she couldn’t wait to move in with her mother. After dinner the conductor’s parents had left for a hotel and Andrea and the teenager had spent a significant amount of the evening practicing on their guitars, a gift Caroline had welcomed with unbridled enthusiasm. The conductor had snuggled into her favourite armchair and had simply watched the two with a warm, comfortable glow in her stomach.
The scent of breakfast wafting in through the closed door proved too enticing to ignore, and Miranda slid out of the bed and into her designer slippers. Donning her favourite cashmere dressing gown she padded past a mirror to somehow tame her unruly bed hair and then quietly opened the door.
Hushed giggles travelled down the hallway as Miranda tiptoed toward the kitchen, and her heart leaped as she carefully pushed open the door and peered inside. Caroline sat perched on the counter next to the stove where Andrea expertly flipped what looked like an omelette in the pan. They were laughing together and the conductor’s chest expanded with the loving domesticity of the scene.
Barely able to contain the happy grin on her face, she pushed through the door. “Must you two make such a ruckus on this beautiful Sunday morning?”
“Morning, Mom! We’re making breakfast!”
Miranda raised an eyebrow and stepped next to Andrea to place a hand on the younger woman’s shoulder and take a peek at the frying pans on the stove.
“Good morning, Beautiful,” the brunette turned her head and nuzzled the sensitive area behind the conductor’s ear. “You can sit down, I’m nearly done and there’s fresh coffee.”
With a tender kiss to the younger woman’s cheek Miranda allowed a sigh and went in search of a cup.
Only a minute later they were all seated at the kitchen table and the conductor watched as both Andrea and Caroline dug into their eggs with fervour. Miranda brought the steaming coffee to her lips and smiled as her daughter eagerly told the brunette about Dalton and their music education program which included a rock-band and guitar workshops. Andrea listened intently and then offered some information of the research she had been doing into public schools and their lack of funding.
The conductor hadn’t really known how bad the situation was for the less privileged schools, but then again, she hadn’t really been paying much attention to anything for the past five years. She listened as the young journalist spoke about current initiatives to save art and music at elementary schools and she was completely mesmerised by the passion that caused Andrea’s face to appear radiant and full of conviction.
Caroline asked a few intelligent questions and Miranda was in awe at how grown-up and smart her daughter had become. The urge to fall back into self-pity and wallow in lost years was strong, but she was stronger, and she managed to simply enjoy her Sunday morning coffee while basking in the feeling of standing on the verge of something incredibly wonderful.
This situation gave every signal of working out and she realised that sooner, rather than later, she would need to ask Andrea to move in with them. They might become a small family with a broken background and some unforgettable pains, but they would stick together and take care of each other, and Miranda knew that they would make each other very happy.
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To be continued...