Miranda's Greatest Disappointment part huit
I'm sorry this takes forever for me to post. I'm tre occupe!
Forgive me
So dun-dun-dun...big plot twist.
I had lost my plotline, but now it has taken a new turn and it should be tres interssant. :D
And ps...don't forget you can get caught up by going to my livejournal. The chapters are all there. :D
So:
Title: Miranda's Greatest (Biggest) Disappointment
Part: huit
By: Me
Summary: Well...Miranda and Andrea run in to one another...and then Miranda invites Andrea to Chicago for a weekend where they end up kissing...and now we find ourselves back in New York...and after a restless night and a dinner date set...things start to change.....
:D
Chapter 8
But Monday morning presented an entirely new predicament for Miranda. Irv caught her off guard, distracting her in a way which she hated more than any other. He stepped on to the elevator with her. She had rolled her eyes and edged her way into a corner, away from him.
“Good morning, Miranda.” He uncaringly stated. Despite his place as Miranda’s boss, even he was slightly afraid of her.
Instead of replying, Miranda nodded at him, her mouth stretching from annoyed to a faux smile.
“I had someone who wanted to meet you this weekend. He was at the conference, Clinton Russell. He’s in charge of the new Spotlight magazine that is due out next month.”
“Why would he want to meet me?” Miranda hissed, praying that the elevator would go faster.
“He would like to discuss business with you. He likes your editing, and he would be a wonderful person to have beneath our company.”
“What are you suggesting, Irv?” Miranda seemed to know where this was going. This sort of arrangement would have been fine twenty years or so ago, but to ask her to do this now was juvenile. She supposed Irv wanted her to suffer for taking Jacqueline Follet from beneath him. So she knew she would be forced into this unfortunate situation whether she wanted to be or not.
“He wants to have dinner with you. This evening. I’ve already planned it for you.”
Miranda knew not to fight. Tonight had been her night with the girls, but she would not make an excuse. She would take it, and she would do it. She supposed she owed Irv. The girls would understand, she supposed.
“Natsumi, 7 PM sharp. Don’t be late, or I swear to God Miranda…” the elevator doors clicked open and Irv didn’t have time to finish his sentence.
Miranda frowned, watching as the elevator doors closed behind him. She hated him, more than ever. She should have his job, she was overly qualified and she wouldn’t play her female employees like he so lovingly loved to do. She abhorred him.
~*~
She was not looking forward to this dinner. She could actually careless about it. But she was going.
As she sat in the back of her town car, mulling over how the girls were going to hate her, and how she was never going to have a free night…thoughts of Andrea flashed through her mind. The girl, her lips, her body…
But she couldn’t have those thoughts, not tonight. Tonight she had to fake her way through a dinner with a prospective business partner. Irv was always looking for ways to bring in new business. He was smart, but his ways were old-fashioned.
Roy arrived at Natsumi. He parked the car and then moved to let Miranda out. She stepped out of the car and moved towards the restaurant. As soon as she was about to step inside, however, she felt her phone vibrating. She stopped walking and turned away from the entrance, knowing it would look bad for her to enter talking on the phone. But when she glanced down at the caller ID and saw that it was Andrea, she knew she shouldn’t take it.
But something made her answer. “What?”
“Miranda?”
“Andrea, what do you want?”
“What are you doing?”
“I have a dinner…thing. I can’t talk.”
“All right, sorry.”
“I’ll call you later.” She would call her later?
“Oh…all right.” Andrea sounded shocked.
Miranda was shocked. Before she could say anything else embarrassing, she hung up and tossed her phone deep into her purse.
The maître’de ushered her in, towards a table in the back of the room. And from that table arose the most handsome man. His sandy-brown hair shimmered in the dim, recessed lighting of the restaurant. His body, though covered with smart business clothes, looked very built, and through his relaxed button up shirt, Miranda could see his biceps. And suddenly she began to question if her quick switch to lesbianism was for naught.
“Miranda.” Her name rolled off his tongue, his tone caressing it.
“Clinton?” She frowned, extending her hand towards him. His handshake was firm.
“Sit,” he pulled the chair out for her, and she seemed to be slightly under his spell. But Andrea’s voice was still ringing in her ear, her lips still felt like they’d just left her skin.
“I hear you want to talk business.” Miranda decided to get down to it.
Clinton laughed, “no, no. I wanted to meet you. You’re a legend, you know.” He poured her a glass of wine and pushed a plate of sushi towards her.
“Oh,” Miranda waved him off and took the wine from him. It had been so long since a man had wined and dined her and had been polite and sincere about it. But he was so young….and Andrea….
“I tried to talk to you after you received your award on Saturday, but I couldn’t seem to get to you. So I ran into Irv and he guaranteed a meeting.”
“Did he?” Miranda nodded.
“Yes. What are you wearing tonight?” He asked, his eyes freely scanning her body, taking her in.
She allowed him to revel in her beauty, though she felt slightly as if she were on display. For having done the same to many of her employees, she now realized how uncomfortable and offsetting it made them feel. She was nervous. “Chanel.” She purred, sipping her wine. The glass was almost empty.
Clinton refilled it. “Sushi?”
“Sure.” Miranda grinned, and before she could pick up her chop-sticks, he had already dipped a California roll into soy sauce and was holding it dangerously close to her face. She wasn’t sure what to feel, but she took the sushi into her mouth.
She quickly tried to change the direction of the sexual tension that seemed to have popped out of nowhere and was mounting by the second. “So you’re starting a new magazine?”
“Yes, Spotlight. It’s gossipy, high fashion. It’s going to be International, huge.” He boosted with manly egotism.
“Sounds fabulous.” Miranda accepted another sushi from his proffered chopsticks. “But, hopefully it won’t be in competition with Runway.”
“Oh no, never.” He grinned.
She didn’t like his grin. She didn’t even really like that he was filling her wine glass, again. But for some reason she allowed him to do so. She was losing all self-control. She was out of her right-mind.
A couple more glasses of wine later and Miranda was completely gone. She was still capable of making her own decisions, but everything seemed hazy. Clinton had paid the bill, they stepped out the door and Miranda lit up a cigarette. She had started smoking again after her recent divorce. Clinton didn’t seem to mind. He even took it from her and puffed away on it.
She unsteadily leaned against him, waiting for him to finish his puff off her cigarette before taking it away from him. “You know Irv wants you under him.” She realized the truth was coming out.
“I figured as much. It wouldn’t be a horrible idea. It would create stability.”
“But he’ll want to wait until you’ve had a successful first year.”
“I could imagine.”
“Where are we going?” Miranda had no idea where they were or why they were walking.
“We’re walking.”
“We’re just walking?” She hadn’t allowed herself to get this intoxicated in years. What was happening?
“Yeah, I live around here somewhere.”
“Oh, no, no, no. I can’t come home with you.” Miranda shook her head. This was wrong; but she wanted to. Her body was swimming, a bundle of nerves everywhere. Each time Clinton accidentally ran into her a shiver went down her spine.
“Why not?”
“My daughters…my job…” Andrea, “it’s wrong. This is wrong.” But his lips were on hers before she could protest.
“My apartments over there.” He pointed, and Miranda realized where they were and what they were doing. Her mind was yelling ‘no!’ but her body wanted it. Her body needed it.
They were in his apartment, a sleek, black, bachelor pad. Miranda could tell he was a ladies’ man. It was obvious that she was not the only one to come home with him after one dinner. As she began to take in his apartment, she felt his arms around her, pulling her coat off of her. Next was the unbuttoning of her shirt, his hands were roughly on her breasts, lips hungrily sucking at her lips. She couldn’t help but yearn for Andrea’s soft kiss, but all thoughts of that night they had spent together went out the window when she found her head falling against soft, black pillows.
She let out a moan as she felt hands parting her bare legs. “Condom?” She breathed, knowing that he should be smart enough to have some on hand. Lord only knew she didn’t carry them.
He nodded and continued to massage her legs, her arms, as he moved to his bedside table. He pulled a condom out and placed it over his very erect penis. She couldn’t help but find it intoxicating and intriguing. She was drunk, she had to be. She felt him enter her, pressing her legs apart. She moaned and allowed him to thrust into her. Her shirt was still on, it rolled up and down with her body. Her boobs were straining to get out of her bra. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer to her, her hands moving to his butt. She wanted it rougher, harder. He was going too slow. She needed this.
She cried out, moaning as he started going harder, nearing his own climax. She groaned and allowed him to pull her over with him. It was a sweet release when she finally got her orgasm. Or whatever it was. It wasn’t the best she’d ever had, it wasn’t even that fulfilling. But it had been better than masturbating and she had gotten a release.
She fell back onto the bed and allowed Clinton to draw himself out. He got out of the bed and went into the bathroom. She heard him pull off the condom and toss it into the trashcan. He relieved himself and Miranda stretched out on the bed. It had been too long since her last sexual escapade.
But this was wrong. Completely wrong. She hadn’t lost her good judgment this bad in a long, long while.
And Andrea…her soft touch, soft kiss….oh, God. This was horribly wrong. Miranda had to leave. She had to get out of there.
She sat up, adjusting her bra and buttoning her shirt up.
“Where are you going?” He asked, swooping down to kiss her.
“I have to go, home. To my….daughters.” She answered distractedly, leaning down to pick up her underwear and the skirt she had dropped moments before.
“Don’t go, I want you tonight.”
“You’ve had me tonight.” Miranda snapped, realizing that her cold hard demeanor wasn’t going to work in this instance.
“Come back to bed.” Clinton begged.
She shook her head and held up her hand, silencing him.
“Can I call you at least? Can we have dinner again?”
“Yeah…sure, maybe sometime…” she just wanted to leave.
“All right, dinner. Friday.” He had already decided.
Miranda just pulled her coat on and grabbed her bag.
Out the door she went, down the elevator.
How was she going to get home?
What had she done?
Once out on the street she dug through her bag, searching for a cigarette and a cell phone. She looked like hell and she hoped that the paparazzi were far, far away. And as soon as her hands collided with her cell phone, she noticed the time and also noticed a text. From Andrea. “Fuck.” She cursed, lighting her cigarette.
‘Well, I guess your business thing went long. I’m going to bed. See you tomorrow night.’
“Fuck,” Miranda had screwed up. This was all wrong. This was a mess.
She dialed her driver and told him where she was. She didn’t care when he pulled up and saw her outside an apartment building, looking completely sexed. She got in and moved to the window. She wasn’t going to cry…no. No tears. Not tonight.
But Andrea’s text made her so mad at herself.
She hated herself, she couldn’t even begin to imagine what Andrea would think of her.
She had a good enough mind to go to Andrea’s house and beg for forgiveness. But why? It was obvious she had just been having sex with a man…Andrea would hate her more.
But it wasn’t exactly like they were in a relationship….not entirely.
Miranda was fucked.
In more than one way.
TBC...hmmmmmm
Forgive me
So dun-dun-dun...big plot twist.
I had lost my plotline, but now it has taken a new turn and it should be tres interssant. :D
And ps...don't forget you can get caught up by going to my livejournal. The chapters are all there. :D
So:
Title: Miranda's Greatest (Biggest) Disappointment
Part: huit
By: Me
Summary: Well...Miranda and Andrea run in to one another...and then Miranda invites Andrea to Chicago for a weekend where they end up kissing...and now we find ourselves back in New York...and after a restless night and a dinner date set...things start to change.....
:D
Chapter 8
But Monday morning presented an entirely new predicament for Miranda. Irv caught her off guard, distracting her in a way which she hated more than any other. He stepped on to the elevator with her. She had rolled her eyes and edged her way into a corner, away from him.
“Good morning, Miranda.” He uncaringly stated. Despite his place as Miranda’s boss, even he was slightly afraid of her.
Instead of replying, Miranda nodded at him, her mouth stretching from annoyed to a faux smile.
“I had someone who wanted to meet you this weekend. He was at the conference, Clinton Russell. He’s in charge of the new Spotlight magazine that is due out next month.”
“Why would he want to meet me?” Miranda hissed, praying that the elevator would go faster.
“He would like to discuss business with you. He likes your editing, and he would be a wonderful person to have beneath our company.”
“What are you suggesting, Irv?” Miranda seemed to know where this was going. This sort of arrangement would have been fine twenty years or so ago, but to ask her to do this now was juvenile. She supposed Irv wanted her to suffer for taking Jacqueline Follet from beneath him. So she knew she would be forced into this unfortunate situation whether she wanted to be or not.
“He wants to have dinner with you. This evening. I’ve already planned it for you.”
Miranda knew not to fight. Tonight had been her night with the girls, but she would not make an excuse. She would take it, and she would do it. She supposed she owed Irv. The girls would understand, she supposed.
“Natsumi, 7 PM sharp. Don’t be late, or I swear to God Miranda…” the elevator doors clicked open and Irv didn’t have time to finish his sentence.
Miranda frowned, watching as the elevator doors closed behind him. She hated him, more than ever. She should have his job, she was overly qualified and she wouldn’t play her female employees like he so lovingly loved to do. She abhorred him.
~*~
She was not looking forward to this dinner. She could actually careless about it. But she was going.
As she sat in the back of her town car, mulling over how the girls were going to hate her, and how she was never going to have a free night…thoughts of Andrea flashed through her mind. The girl, her lips, her body…
But she couldn’t have those thoughts, not tonight. Tonight she had to fake her way through a dinner with a prospective business partner. Irv was always looking for ways to bring in new business. He was smart, but his ways were old-fashioned.
Roy arrived at Natsumi. He parked the car and then moved to let Miranda out. She stepped out of the car and moved towards the restaurant. As soon as she was about to step inside, however, she felt her phone vibrating. She stopped walking and turned away from the entrance, knowing it would look bad for her to enter talking on the phone. But when she glanced down at the caller ID and saw that it was Andrea, she knew she shouldn’t take it.
But something made her answer. “What?”
“Miranda?”
“Andrea, what do you want?”
“What are you doing?”
“I have a dinner…thing. I can’t talk.”
“All right, sorry.”
“I’ll call you later.” She would call her later?
“Oh…all right.” Andrea sounded shocked.
Miranda was shocked. Before she could say anything else embarrassing, she hung up and tossed her phone deep into her purse.
The maître’de ushered her in, towards a table in the back of the room. And from that table arose the most handsome man. His sandy-brown hair shimmered in the dim, recessed lighting of the restaurant. His body, though covered with smart business clothes, looked very built, and through his relaxed button up shirt, Miranda could see his biceps. And suddenly she began to question if her quick switch to lesbianism was for naught.
“Miranda.” Her name rolled off his tongue, his tone caressing it.
“Clinton?” She frowned, extending her hand towards him. His handshake was firm.
“Sit,” he pulled the chair out for her, and she seemed to be slightly under his spell. But Andrea’s voice was still ringing in her ear, her lips still felt like they’d just left her skin.
“I hear you want to talk business.” Miranda decided to get down to it.
Clinton laughed, “no, no. I wanted to meet you. You’re a legend, you know.” He poured her a glass of wine and pushed a plate of sushi towards her.
“Oh,” Miranda waved him off and took the wine from him. It had been so long since a man had wined and dined her and had been polite and sincere about it. But he was so young….and Andrea….
“I tried to talk to you after you received your award on Saturday, but I couldn’t seem to get to you. So I ran into Irv and he guaranteed a meeting.”
“Did he?” Miranda nodded.
“Yes. What are you wearing tonight?” He asked, his eyes freely scanning her body, taking her in.
She allowed him to revel in her beauty, though she felt slightly as if she were on display. For having done the same to many of her employees, she now realized how uncomfortable and offsetting it made them feel. She was nervous. “Chanel.” She purred, sipping her wine. The glass was almost empty.
Clinton refilled it. “Sushi?”
“Sure.” Miranda grinned, and before she could pick up her chop-sticks, he had already dipped a California roll into soy sauce and was holding it dangerously close to her face. She wasn’t sure what to feel, but she took the sushi into her mouth.
She quickly tried to change the direction of the sexual tension that seemed to have popped out of nowhere and was mounting by the second. “So you’re starting a new magazine?”
“Yes, Spotlight. It’s gossipy, high fashion. It’s going to be International, huge.” He boosted with manly egotism.
“Sounds fabulous.” Miranda accepted another sushi from his proffered chopsticks. “But, hopefully it won’t be in competition with Runway.”
“Oh no, never.” He grinned.
She didn’t like his grin. She didn’t even really like that he was filling her wine glass, again. But for some reason she allowed him to do so. She was losing all self-control. She was out of her right-mind.
A couple more glasses of wine later and Miranda was completely gone. She was still capable of making her own decisions, but everything seemed hazy. Clinton had paid the bill, they stepped out the door and Miranda lit up a cigarette. She had started smoking again after her recent divorce. Clinton didn’t seem to mind. He even took it from her and puffed away on it.
She unsteadily leaned against him, waiting for him to finish his puff off her cigarette before taking it away from him. “You know Irv wants you under him.” She realized the truth was coming out.
“I figured as much. It wouldn’t be a horrible idea. It would create stability.”
“But he’ll want to wait until you’ve had a successful first year.”
“I could imagine.”
“Where are we going?” Miranda had no idea where they were or why they were walking.
“We’re walking.”
“We’re just walking?” She hadn’t allowed herself to get this intoxicated in years. What was happening?
“Yeah, I live around here somewhere.”
“Oh, no, no, no. I can’t come home with you.” Miranda shook her head. This was wrong; but she wanted to. Her body was swimming, a bundle of nerves everywhere. Each time Clinton accidentally ran into her a shiver went down her spine.
“Why not?”
“My daughters…my job…” Andrea, “it’s wrong. This is wrong.” But his lips were on hers before she could protest.
“My apartments over there.” He pointed, and Miranda realized where they were and what they were doing. Her mind was yelling ‘no!’ but her body wanted it. Her body needed it.
They were in his apartment, a sleek, black, bachelor pad. Miranda could tell he was a ladies’ man. It was obvious that she was not the only one to come home with him after one dinner. As she began to take in his apartment, she felt his arms around her, pulling her coat off of her. Next was the unbuttoning of her shirt, his hands were roughly on her breasts, lips hungrily sucking at her lips. She couldn’t help but yearn for Andrea’s soft kiss, but all thoughts of that night they had spent together went out the window when she found her head falling against soft, black pillows.
She let out a moan as she felt hands parting her bare legs. “Condom?” She breathed, knowing that he should be smart enough to have some on hand. Lord only knew she didn’t carry them.
He nodded and continued to massage her legs, her arms, as he moved to his bedside table. He pulled a condom out and placed it over his very erect penis. She couldn’t help but find it intoxicating and intriguing. She was drunk, she had to be. She felt him enter her, pressing her legs apart. She moaned and allowed him to thrust into her. Her shirt was still on, it rolled up and down with her body. Her boobs were straining to get out of her bra. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer to her, her hands moving to his butt. She wanted it rougher, harder. He was going too slow. She needed this.
She cried out, moaning as he started going harder, nearing his own climax. She groaned and allowed him to pull her over with him. It was a sweet release when she finally got her orgasm. Or whatever it was. It wasn’t the best she’d ever had, it wasn’t even that fulfilling. But it had been better than masturbating and she had gotten a release.
She fell back onto the bed and allowed Clinton to draw himself out. He got out of the bed and went into the bathroom. She heard him pull off the condom and toss it into the trashcan. He relieved himself and Miranda stretched out on the bed. It had been too long since her last sexual escapade.
But this was wrong. Completely wrong. She hadn’t lost her good judgment this bad in a long, long while.
And Andrea…her soft touch, soft kiss….oh, God. This was horribly wrong. Miranda had to leave. She had to get out of there.
She sat up, adjusting her bra and buttoning her shirt up.
“Where are you going?” He asked, swooping down to kiss her.
“I have to go, home. To my….daughters.” She answered distractedly, leaning down to pick up her underwear and the skirt she had dropped moments before.
“Don’t go, I want you tonight.”
“You’ve had me tonight.” Miranda snapped, realizing that her cold hard demeanor wasn’t going to work in this instance.
“Come back to bed.” Clinton begged.
She shook her head and held up her hand, silencing him.
“Can I call you at least? Can we have dinner again?”
“Yeah…sure, maybe sometime…” she just wanted to leave.
“All right, dinner. Friday.” He had already decided.
Miranda just pulled her coat on and grabbed her bag.
Out the door she went, down the elevator.
How was she going to get home?
What had she done?
Once out on the street she dug through her bag, searching for a cigarette and a cell phone. She looked like hell and she hoped that the paparazzi were far, far away. And as soon as her hands collided with her cell phone, she noticed the time and also noticed a text. From Andrea. “Fuck.” She cursed, lighting her cigarette.
‘Well, I guess your business thing went long. I’m going to bed. See you tomorrow night.’
“Fuck,” Miranda had screwed up. This was all wrong. This was a mess.
She dialed her driver and told him where she was. She didn’t care when he pulled up and saw her outside an apartment building, looking completely sexed. She got in and moved to the window. She wasn’t going to cry…no. No tears. Not tonight.
But Andrea’s text made her so mad at herself.
She hated herself, she couldn’t even begin to imagine what Andrea would think of her.
She had a good enough mind to go to Andrea’s house and beg for forgiveness. But why? It was obvious she had just been having sex with a man…Andrea would hate her more.
But it wasn’t exactly like they were in a relationship….not entirely.
Miranda was fucked.
In more than one way.
TBC...hmmmmmm