you can get away with a lot with this accent

five hundred and forty two

2010-07-04T21:41:07Z

Title: Lighting A Fuse Might Result In A Bang
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Rating: NC-17, for graphic smut and swearing.
Outline: It's like something out of a bad porno.
Characters: Emily, Andrea. Nigel in a cameo appearance.
Notes: AU fic, as I've never done one before. First time for everything, right? Timeline is true to early parts of TDWP except there's one big glaring difference: Andy's gay and lusts after Emily. Characters belong to Lauren Weisberger. No copyright infringement intended.

Dedication: This one's for you, Sarah (theagonyofblank).

There was nothing Emily loved more than a good party - yes, even the pitiful ones which Runway hosted. Well, if she were to be perfectly frank, they weren't really all that bad. As long as there was alcohol then she didn't mind showing her face for an hour or two because, usually, after that, she would just secretly retreat into Miranda's office and abuse the hell out of the bottle of vodka that she had managed to wrench away from the party. And, if she got so blindingly drunk that she couldn't stand up straight, then well, Miranda also had a nice couch to crash on. That was one of the perks of having a rich boss - one who was not present this evening, thank God. Or at any other office soiree for that matter. Be it someone's birthday or a national celebration such as this. Too good for it, Emily wagered bitterly. The woman probably had her own fourth of July plans anyway – ones that didn’t involve socialising with the mere Runway cattle.

Nevertheless, Miranda let them have their parties on the sole condition that they steered clear of the closets which housed the expensive fashions. Those were strictly off limits. Good job, too, because who knew what wrath awaited their eager little heads if there was so much as a crease on the latest Alexander McQueen.

Yes, it was best to avoid doing anything that could result in an instant dismissal.

And so, with that in mind, body full of liquor, Emily was giddy, really in the mood for something. What that something was, she didn't know, but she was stopping at nothing to get it. Venturing out of Miranda's immaculate office and into the main area where she sat on a day to day basis, wasting her life away in the hope of claiming that oft dreamed of promotion, Emily heard that truly god awful music that was playing down the corridor in the recess room, the same music she had attempted to drown out by seeking tranquillity in Miranda’s plush quarters. Evidently the office hadn't been that good enough of a place to block out the rabble.

No, the only way Emily was going to get some peace was by heading outside for a smoke.

She would have smoked in the office but knowing her luck, Miranda would smell the stench a mile off tomorrow morning. Not to mention the barrage of questions that would come her way in the aftermath of such insolence. It was funny because smoking wasn't something that Emily done when sober, no, but rather something she done on a whim, particularly craving it when she was drunk, or well on her way to being drunk.

Like right now for example.

Yanking the glass door shut behind her - in a truly haphazard fashion, it had to be said - Emily cursed her luck, barely making it out into the reception area when she heard the ding of the elevator about to depart, its doors subsequently closing over. Shit, she had better get a move on and catch the damn thing!

Running towards it, she shouted in the hope that there was someone within. "Hey! Hold that bloody lift!"

Getting there, Emily jammed her clutch between the doors trying to stop them from shutting over. The doors gave a demented moan at her actions and thus quickly retreated but not before one final indignation that saw Emily catching the heel of her shoe in the gap, causing her to awkwardly fall inside.

Five minutes earlier....

Why in the hell was she at an office party on the fourth of July when she could be at home in Ohio spending the time with her family? Oh, right, because her boss, whom you couldn't say no to, said she couldn't. Andrea had no choice but to stay in New York and 'be available' as Miranda had put it. Available my ass, Andy thought, knowing that ‘be available’ was actually code for ‘be at my beck and call’. Though she had only been at Runway a short while, Andrea was well versed in reading the signs and deciphering hidden meanings.

If truth be told, a party - which everyone had wanted and one that Miranda would, thankfully, not be at - sounded like a good enough idea at the time. Though, about an hour ago, Lil and Doug had called asking if she'd like to cut out early and meet up with them at a shindig down in lower Manhattan. Of course, Andrea jumped at the chance as anywhere was better than standing about with a bunch of people she hardly knew, or had anything in common with, trying to make nice when she wasn't sure if either she or they really meant it.

So she would leave. But not until she had visited Nigel first, Nigel being her only real friend in this inexplicable universe of cotton candy. She would tell him that she had tried to interact with everyone else but just didn't have the patience for it - especially when she could be elsewhere getting hammered with actual friends who truly appreciated her company.

Swallowing a tired sigh, one that had bored of watching everyone partying in disturbing fashion, Andrea made the trip from the recess room to find Miranda's trusted right hand man and trade her goodbyes for the evening. It was then that she realised that even he had other plans tonight. Why did she know? She couldn't remember. Why did she care? Well, there were slim pickings for a viable mate around the area of Manhattan that she resided in, let alone females who were into their own kindred gender. Even in a crowd of people, Andrea felt alienated and to feel that way around one's co-workers just seemed doubly pathetic.

Jabbing the call button for the lift that would take her down to the main foyer of Elias Clark, the brunette tapped an impatient toe and fidgeted with her necklace as the elevator made it's way up. As the doors opened, she stepped inside and pushed the 'door close' button when she heard someone yelling to hold the lift.

She hadn't realised at the time that this voice was a familiar one until the source of said tones clumsily crashed into her, knocking her against the wall. Andrea promptly righted herself when she discovered the added weight was that of one sexy redhead who was all too familiar. Shit. Go figure, that on the Fourth of July, in a lift, with no panties on, Emily-fucking-Charlton - source of many a wet dream, would crash into her.

It was just too much.

Untangling herself from Andrea, Emily straightened up, narrowing her eyes as best she could before giving her fellow woman a quick once over, her sparkling eyes dancing across the brunette’s sleek blue-clad frame with intent. Ooh, was that the latest Marchesa? "Evening Andrea! How lovely to see you looking so... lovely?"

Emily frowned. Good God, was she well canned.

Andrea swallowed hard, watching as Emily pulled away, her heart pounding a mile a minute in her chest. For the moment she was thankful that it was impossible for Emily to smell the arousal on her skin or hear the blood coursing through her veins. Would have been a touch embarrassing if she possessed such an ability.

Still, there they were, Andrea unable to find the words to respond. It was a compliment, of that she was sure, but how much of it did Emily really mean? She was, after all, very drunk.

On the contrary, Emily didn't think she was that far gone. Her thoughts weren't even on herself but instead on that of this lift, and how slow it seemed to be operating. It was quite possibly the slowest piece of mechanical equipment that she had ever rode in her entire life. Seriously, she had fucking vibrators that went ten times the speed of this ridiculous piece of "craftsmanship". For a building which housed many important businesses, such important clientele, the owners were really slack with simple maintenance.

Though, with what was about to happen, elevator maintenance would be the last thing on her mind.

Andrea smiled a cocky smile full of champagne and spunk in her colleague's direction. Emily noticed and in turn cocked an eyebrow, knowing full well the meaning of that smile, hell, she had used that smile many a time when she went on to claim any poor, unsuspecting prey that she had set her sights on.

And it seemed that Andrea here wasn't any different.

As she moved to wrap an arm around Emily's midsection, an action which at first was easily mistakable for a helping hand, it soon became apparent that the look in Andrea's eyes conveyed anything but helpful.

In a split second the sweet smell of Andrea’s perfume tickled Emily's fancy in a way that she hadn't been expecting - a way that had furiously hastened her pulse into an excited flap. Emily concealed her emotions, however, and chose not to offer any verbal indication of said feelings. Instead she gave Andrea a questioning look as if to say, 'excuse you, hands off my merchandise' which was pretty tongue in cheek because Andrea hadn't even touched any part of Emily's body that she classed as merchandise.

Of course Andy knew that it would be a bit on the daring side for her to just go for it like that but she knew exactly what she wanted and if she didn’t do this now then there was absolutely no way that such an opportunity would ever present itself again. The opportunity to find out what Emily tasted like. The time was right to build on that sudden flash of composure she had displayed a mere moment ago.

She had come this far, no chickening out now.

"Happy Fourth of July, Em."

No sooner had she whispered those words, full of mischief and want, fireworks could be heard shooting off out on the streets and in the park, in what was certain to be an amazingly beautiful spectacle of celebration for this legendary weekend of independence. In a slow moving lift, fireworks went off between Miranda Priestly’s two most trusted assistants as Andrea went in for the kill.

Sure, Emily was surprised at first, thinking that perhaps this was just some sort of weird 'Happy Fourth of July' kiss that these silly Americans dreamt up. But, considering the urgency in Andrea's tongue in parting her lips, she figured that no, this was not just some chaste little kiss of celebration. This was a kiss of desire, want and need all rolled into one, as if she had been coveting for this moment for the longest time.

The clutch which Emily had been holding fell to the floor as she felt herself being tugged one way by Andy who seemed more than hell bent on having something happen here tonight in this elevator.

It was quite surprising that Andrea had pushed this, had sought the upper hand. In fact, such control was a feat in itself because it was usually always Emily who snatched Miranda's unclaimed leverage. Not today it seemed. Perhaps she had bruised her ego so badly that it would take her a moment or two to come to terms with what was going on. Because of this, Andrea continued to make the most of it, purposefully pushing her against the wall, hands roaming, deepening the kiss to distraction. She should stop this, but she'd be damned if she could. Emily tasted just like she had imagined, except tinged with a strong hint of vodka mixed with an undercurrent of pepper and strawberries, a flavour which was all too pleasant on her tongue.

Suddenly the elevator's alarm trilled, and in that moment, Andrea knew her wish was coming true. Their slow moving box grounded to a halt, prompting her to vaguely wonder if Emily had accidentally nudged the emergency stop button (which was entirely possibly given their positioning) or if she had deliberately slammed the breaks. Whichever it was, she didn't particularly care because, for her, this meant she had the chance of prolonging her longstanding fantasy of having Emily all to herself.

Yes, it was selfish and admittedly, yes, she did feel a little bit guilty considering the circumstances yet somehow, it still wasn't enough to make her stop. Drunk or not, Emily was reacting and if this was the only way that this was going to play out, then so be it. Of course, she wouldn't make her do anything she didn't want.

But, luckily for her, Emily didn't seem to care for the circumstances whatsoever, already at the point where she would do just about anything within the realm of possibility. It was hard to argue anyway and she wasn't about to try, not when she was being kissed with such eagerness.

Her impatience escalated as she wound a hand around Andrea’s lower back, dragging dexterous fingers across the fabric of the stunning Marchesa, just above her backside, hauling her closer. She could feel herself beginning to grow wet as their tumultuous kissing took on dizzying new heights. In one fluid motion, Emily took a breath and began kissing her way from Andrea's mouth, across her cheek until she eventually reached her neck, briefly resting her lips there and nipping at the flesh, trying to incite her into an explosive reaction - one which might see one of their dresses being pushed up in an effort to really get things going.

Tilting her head back and raising her eyes to the heavens, Andrea moaned, still unable to quite believe her luck. Never had she dreamt Emily to be so receptive. Never had she gone from zero to horny so goddamned fast, either. It actually hurt! She could not even imagine what this must be like for a guy. The lack of a bra made her nipples pert with desire, betraying what little hope she had at being demur after the kiss. She had no such hope, just the desire to continue this for as long as possible, until they were both mad with passion.

Feeling hands exploring her back, Andrea was left with little option but to trail along Emily's front and side, taking a very ample breast in her hand and massaging it gently while rubbing a playful thumb over the nipple hidden beneath the silky fabric of her dress. God, she had been waiting for this for so very long - every time that tight little ass was bent over her desk, the plump cleavage hanging in front of her as Emily chastised her for whatever cardinal sin she had committed that day. How many times had she wanted to throw the bitchy Brit on her desk and bury her face in her breasts before moving south and burying her face elsewhere?

In fact, if someone were ever to ask her to define their relationship, Andrea would classify it as a rather twisted form of courtship, but how much of that Emily was conscious of, had long remained a mystery.

Until now.

Emily’s tone was despairing as she eventually found her voice, her breath hot on Andy's ear. "Fuck, why didn't we think of this before?" It was true. If there was anyone in Runway that Emily would turn dyke for, then it would be Andrea Sachs, the primer than prim second assistant who was quite the patented pain in her arse.

She had heard whispers about Andrea and her sexuality. That she liked women. If that were true then Emily didn't have a right to discriminate. If that was how she wished to live her life, then who was she to deny the woman her desires? Truth be told, Emily was more interested in Andy doing her job properly than anything else that she might get up to in the privacy of her own home and bedroom. However, she'd be lying if she denied ever having gone the whole nine yards with another woman. She worked at Runway for bloody hell’s sake and because of that Emily, naturally, tried everything once.

Though at the end of the day it didn’t really matter. All that did matter, right here and now, was that she was quickly working herself into such a delicious frenzy that she didn't care whom she was doing this with. Sex was sex. Everything else was just finer details, like the small print at the bottom of a contract.

Good God did she want Andrea to get to the small print.

Though the question that she had asked, why had they not done this before, almost had Andrea laughing. It would be a lie to say that she had not considered this moment, but she knew Emily was as straight as an arrow. Well, as straight as any heterosexual woman was, which was actually just a teeny bit gay. Of course, copious shots of vodka did not hurt the situation, Andrea still savouring the high octane alcohol on her taste buds.

It was quite literally a dream come true as she slid her hand down Emily's body, loving on each curve as she went, grabbing the firm ass before allowing her hand to disappear under the tight skirt and panties. Playing a finger along the slickness that had grown between her thighs, she teased that sensitive little bump on her front that would make her gasp, make her moan. All would be right in the world if she could just get the feisty redhead to cry out her name.

Emily gasped instinctually at the change in direction of Andrea's fingers as they swiftly slid between her thighs, discovering her wetness, palpable and unavoidable. It took all of her willpower not to capitulate there and then, instead suspending both of her hands on either side of her body, palms flat as she grabbed onto the metallic bars which ran the perimeter of the elevator, figuring she’d need something to hold on to.

Once the skirt had been lifted as far as she needed, Andrea pulled back slightly, kicking off her shoes so that she could soon be at a better, more submissive height before kissing across Emily’s concealed torso, still stroking the wet heat between her legs.

Emily couldn't help but groan loudly, hands grasping tighter as Andrea's nimble fingers pulled her underwear aside and once again began caressing her soaring centre, taunting idly. A steady heat was now building and all she wanted was for Andy to drop the fucking foreplay and get on with it. She watched through hooded eyes as the second moved her way down, having to trade soft skin for smooth fabric as she knelt before her. Those big doe eyes looked up in a mixture of a pout and a request as she temporarily halted proceedings. Emily looked downwards, seeing an expression which ached to taste, ached to taste her.

"Please?"

Bloody hell, the way she said it. If this was truly what Andrea wanted then heaven help her, Emily was not going to say no. "Christ, yes." she practically spluttered, finally finding her words.

Andrea smiled, keeping her imploring eyes firmly fixated on Emily's. She wanted this, had wanted it for some time, and now here she had Emily Charlton practically begging for it. Of course, Emily would never beg, especially not when she probably had guys lined up a mile long for such an honour. But that was the thing, Andrea didn't feel honoured, she felt horny and naughty and just that little bit cocky.

Still, she was no tease, though she had nothing against teasing, as evident with the tortuously slow speed that she was lifting the hem of Emily's dress. Continuing in her ascendance, Andrea spread the standing woman's legs gently and soon reached the moist juncture that she had been craving. Angling her head upwards, long licks took her from the delicious source of Emily's excitement to her front, where she was able to flick the tip of her tongue against the magic button that could get even the coldest woman going.

Jolting involuntarily, Emily's grip on the bar tightened as Andrea dutifully went about her business. Her eyes rolled back into her head with the initial caressing causing her to bite down on her bottom lip. "We really should have thought about this before." Her words were strained, mind all over the place, cloudy with alcohol and consumed with frenzied arousal. She laid the blame solely at the door of the blasted vodka she had consumed. She also partly blamed Andrea, the big damned lesbian. Christ almighty, she had been turned into a quivering wreck! And by the very woman whom - without fail - tested her patience day in, day out. This same woman who was now testing a very different level of patience.

It soon became apparent that Andy's defiant tongue wasn't enough and was quickly joined by two industrious fingers making an adventurous entrance. Emily instinctively clenched at the infringement, knees almost buckling. "Goddamnit, Andrea." It wasn't so much a reprimand as it was an exclamation of joy.

For Andy, however, there was a smug satisfaction knowing that she was the cause of those unstable gams. Her own desire grew as she continued to lick and suckle, putting in a most earnest effort. Before long, Emily began flirting with the fringes of that first orgasm, prompting Andrea into a throaty groan as she both supported and coaxed her towards the crest. She wanted Emily to come as many times as was possible before either her legs gave out or someone pried the door open with a fire axe out of concern for the screaming.

That was another thing - Andrea wanted Emily to scream. She did not care what: her name, her boyfriend's name, the Vice Chancellor of Zimbabwe's name, whatever - she just wanted to hear her hit E above high C.

As that first wave hit, another quickly followed as Andrea attacked with her probing tongue once again. Emily vocalised her gratification with various indecipherable words, the only one registering was that of ‘yes’ which she groaned over and over in a mad rush. It wasn't quite an outcry but it was certainly audible enough for anyone who happened to be passing by on the floor that the elevator lay suspended on.

Within a few moments, once everything had came to pass, Andy pulled back, licking her lips and giving Emily a moment or two to compose herself. She raised to her feet, turning her head to wipe any stray moist from her chin before slinking in for another heated kiss. She couldn't think of what to say. What could she say? Thank you? Hope you liked it? It was true, she had had lovers. One night stands, even a girlfriend from time to time. But now she had her wettest of dreams coming true - all because of one random stroke of luck. Yes, Andrea Sachs was going to be using this night in her 'self-help' sessions in the forthcoming weeks.

Pulling away, Emily attempted to catch her breath, faintly tasted herself in the aftermath of Andy's roaming tongue. It had been a languorous kiss in every way. Shame her body wasn't feeling quite lethargic, she was ready for round two, ready to reward Andrea as she deserved at least some sort of recognition for all of the hard work she had put into making her come.

Without a word of warning, Andrea found herself being shoved backwards towards the opposing wall, Emily coming up behind her. She was a little surprised at first, fully expecting her to press the button to get the lift moving again. But the air was whuffed out of Andy's lungs as she was tossed about like some plaything, the moan out of her mouth before she could even think about stopping it - an almost snarl playing at her lips as she revelled within Emily's tight hold, one that made escape impossible, almost like an arresting officer and their charge. Oh, she'd happily be her personal prisoner if this was the way things were going to be!

Pressing up against her, Emily guided the brunette back against her, allowing for the freedom to ruffle the dress upwards. "I bet this is like a dream come true for you, isn't it?" she taunted, planting her feet whilst her hand ventured under the dress. Cupping the quivering mound of flesh, she effortlessly slicked the tip of her fingers and pushed them into the moist entrance. All Andy could do was nod - yes - this was the stuff that her dreams were made of, that this was what she had wanted so very badly.

"The thought of having my hands all over you," continued Emily, using her free hand to guide Andrea’s head back gently, her mouth close to her ear. "Inside of you. Fucking you. Doing things that you can only dream about night after night." Her fingers then skipped over Andy’s clit. "Well here I am. You have me."

Andy swallowed hard, willing herself to speak but somehow couldn’t grasp the notion. Not only was she getting more than she could ever have hoped for, in having the ‘favour’ returned, the tone in Emily’s voice almost rendered her speechless. Then again, when she was being touched like this, finger fucked with such fervour, then there really wasn’t any need for words.

So Emily sustained her probing, unable to help but wonder at how being so incredibly horny done wonders for sobering up. Andrea, damn her, was so bloody tight which only served to further encourage her into making her fingers work all the more faster. The nod which she had been given simply prolonged her determination. Knowing that she had such control over another person, being able to dictate their pleasure, was a real turn on. Christ, it was more empowering than being Miranda Priestly herself.

It wasn’t long before Andrea’s ragged breaths caught in her throat, a signal in itself that she was on the brink. It was as if she was free falling into a canyon of passion until she was tugged upwards again – lifted on an air of pleasure until she came – again and again – her vocal cords finally finding some use and gasped Emily’s name as the two fingered thrusting became an almost ruthless act of desperation.

The intensity of it all wasn’t at all surprising and Emily had to make sure that she had enough control over both her body and Andrea’s to combat against slumping on the floor in a tired heap of overwrought passion. What neither of them had been expecting, however, was the elevator doors dinging open, revealing their antics to whomever had called upon the lift. If there was one thing more sobering than arousal, it was getting caught.

Emily, realising they were not alone, retrieved her nestled hand as if she had just been scalded and grinned impishly as she nudged her lover in the back. At the prompt, Andrea shifted her weight and righted herself, tugging at her ruffled dress in an effort to make herself presentable again. Turning to face the music, both girls came face to face with Nigel who harboured an initial expression of shock that quickly and impressively morphed into casual recovery. His eyes, however, continued to wander between them knowingly.

Andrea had that deer in headlights look about her, wondering how they had acquired a spectator when she could have sworn that the lift was idle. The only logical explanation was that one of them must have bumped the stop button sometime during the throes of passion. Of course that would mean that they would have had to have been so wrapped up in one another to not even realise that they were moving. Andy thought back on it, pleased that Emily had been as good as she had imagined her to be, if not better. One night, though. One night was all she reckoned Emily would be up for this kind of play and she sure as hell was not going to press it.

The only thing she had to deal with, for now, was Nigel.

"Nigel," she eventually said, bending down to slip her shoes back on. "I thought you had left?" It was easier to deflect the situation with a question as opposed to denying the obvious. Doing so would be such an insult to the man's intelligence and she valued way him too much to treat him as such.

"You thought correct, Six," he said, entering the lift and pushing his glasses back up his nose. "Unfortunately, I walked three blocks before I realised that I had foolishly forgotten my portfolio." Offering the girls his chequered back, Nigel steadied the folder underneath his arm and smiled smugly to himself as he reached across to the control panel and thumbed the button for ground. The tone in his voice was completely mocking.

"Going down?"

five hundred and thirty nine

2010-05-12T21:17:27Z

How nice to see Emily and JKras all cute as opposed to out walking their dogs/grocery shopping looking unimpressed. Sure, I love any and all pictures I get of Emily (yes, even pap pics *is ashamed*) but there's only so much one can take of her doing normal, every day activites. I WISH THEY'D LEAVE HER ALONE, GODDAMNIT. But that last one, omg she is such a dork. <3

And if that's not enough for me today, oh glorious today, someone please peel me off of the fucking ceiling!
HER OWN ACCENT. OMG. WHAT. I HADN'T BEEN EXPECTING THAT. EMILY, YOU ARE STUNNING.

five hundred and thirty six

2010-03-31T20:07:02Z

Do I even need to explain myself? I adore Emily Blunt. Completely and utterly. You know it, my folks know it, hell, every man and his dog knows it. My love knows no boundaries. Henceforth, 50 (favourite and in no particular order) images of this amazing woman who has managed to enchant my life for the past three and a half years. Never stop doing so, Emily. I beg of you.

images credited to Emily Blunt.net & Emily Blunt Fans

For challenge eighteen at picspammy.

Five Hundred and Thirty One

2009-10-31T23:31:02Z

Title: Maybelline Ain't Got Nothing On This
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Rating: PG-13 mostly.
Outline: Halloween crack!fic.
Characters: Andrea, Emily. Nigel.
Notes: I've not written fic for almost a year so this feels a little rusty. Some of it I like, some of it I don't. As usual, the majority of characters belong to Lauren Weisberger. No copyright infringement intended whatsoever. Blah, blah, blah.

Halloween. The only time of year where it was socially acceptable for adults to play dress up.

When it came down to it, there wasn’t much of a difference between the kids Trick or Treating and their grown-up counterparts attending costume-themed parties. The obvious main distinction being that the kids were showered with various candies that would rot their teeth whilst the adults savoured champagne and assorted wines and spirits that temporarily rotted away their sobriety.

Andrea had enjoyed Halloween ever since she was old enough to go door to door with her sister. Once she had finished that tradition, she simply got involved in another. It was part of growing up. Of adapting. And changing. Consuming alcohol as opposed to devouring chocolate. She still enjoyed the occasional munching of treats despite it being frowned upon by practically everyone at Runway.

If truth be told, most people didn’t even look twice at her. She couldn’t be any more different from them if she tried. She wasn’t as skinny, she wasn’t as fashionable and she certainly wasn’t as worshipping of Miranda Priestly like they were. There wasn’t a single thing that she had in common with any one of them.

Speaking of pleasing the boss, she wondered if the Dragon Lady herself would break tradition and attend the annual Halloween party. Andrea had heard through the grapevine that, every time the thirty-first of October rolled around, the top floor of the hotel was never available to anyone else but her. It had been that way for many years, ever since Miranda had taken the helm. It was no secret that whatever Miranda Priestly wanted, Miranda Priestly got.

Every year there were rumours of her imminent attendance but that was just what they were. Rumours. It was probably because such an event was beneath the wretched woman. At the same time, though, Andrea couldn’t really picture her staying at home either, with copious amounts of kids incessantly knocking on her door demanding treats. Then again, she wondered who in their right mind would even want to stumble upon the witch’s door and invoke her fiery wrath.

In hindsight, it was probably a good thing that Miranda didnt’t attend. There would be no tolerance for fun and that pretty much defeated the purpose of Halloween.

Runway’s creative department had done an excellent job in transforming the top floor into a haunted mansion style arena. The entire building was incredibly charming so it was of little wonder as to why so many companies and establishments sought to rent part of it out for their seasonal functions. It was modern yet ubiquitously traditional. Each and every table, chair, wall, and lamp were awash with various items of traditional paraphernalia. Even the bar was laced with authentic-looking spider webbing and orange and black streamers.

The ceiling was equally impressive. Banners hung everywhere, screaming ‘HAPPY HALLOWEEN’ whilst fairy lights, of all size and colours, ran from one corner of the room to another, giving the room a soft glow. The team had even managed to bring in a good old fashioned Grandfather clock which was situated by the ladies restroom and was adorned with already burst party poppers. It chimed dementedly as nine o’clock struck.

Taking in all of the lavish decorations, Andrea figured that even if she didn’t end up having fun tonight then she could at least say she had attended one of the most glamorously stylish Halloween parties to have ever gone ahead.

As she walked up to the bar, still in awe of the décor, she ordered a drink. It wasn’t long before someone approached her to say ‘hello’. She was thankful that it was was Nigel, who was masquerading as an Admiral.

“Clever costume, Six.” He commented, putting an arm around her waist and bestowing air kisses on either cheek in frivolous greeting.

“Aww, thank you.”

“It just screams ‘Look at me, I’m lost in Wonderland’. Or, should that be, ‘I’m lost in Runway’?”

Andrea laughed as she adjusted the blonde wig atop her head, visibly pleased that he had understood the meaning of her costume.

“Yeah, that’s what I was aiming for. And you! You’re looking very dapper this evening.”

He voiced his humility. “As always, darling. As always.”

“Two twenty five,” interrupted the barman, plopping her drink down atop the faux spider webs which spanned the length and breadth of the bar. She went to pay but Nigel thrust a hand into his pocket, bringing out his own money. “I’ll get that.”

Handing over the coins and thanking the bartender as he done so, he soon reverted his attention back to Andrea.

“Now, have you chosen somewhere to sit? I’ll have you know that company is all important at a Runway soiree so pick wisely.”

Smiling, she shook her head. “No I haven’t. I mean it’s kinda hard when I only really know a handful of people.”

Nigel gave a sympathetic smile and held out his arm for her to take. “Then you shall sit with my friends and I. You’ll adore them.”

He began walking, bringing Andrea with him. “In fact, I’ve told them so much about you and they are very much looking forward to meeting you.”

~

The hours had passed quickly. Two hours and thirty minutes, to be precise. And not once during that time had Andrea felt the need to go and freshen up. Well, until now. The debate she had became engaged in with Nigel and his art department buddies, about the lack of sufficient funds for several other sectors involved in the day to day running of the magazine, seemed to be a real talking point. Yet, in the midst of everything Andrea had almost forgotten, that Runway was not the only publication running from within the offices of Elias Clark. There were countless others pressurizing Irv Ravitz for money every hour of every day.

Eventually excusing herself from her company, Andrea made the short journey to the bathroom, passing the huge clock as she done so. Walking in, she discovered Emily to her immediate right, alone and standing in front of the mirrors, carefully and meticulously grooming herself. This was the first Andrea had seen her actually, despite them being in the same building for the majority of the evening. Since she hadn’t even bumped into or indeed glimpsed her once, she had come to the conclusion that her colleague wasn’t in attendance.

Looking out of the corner of her eye, Emily simply groaned. “Oh, it’s you.”

Charming.

“Emily, hi. I didn’t think that you were here.”

“Oh, I’m here alright. I’ve just been avoiding you.”

Andrea made a face at the admission, she had been under the impression that they had been getting on rather well lately. Obviously she had grossly misjudged in her assumption.

Emily continued to ignore her and instead went back to messing around with the voluptuous waves that were lined throughout her hair. She was looking quite vibrant this evening, although the green of her costume clashed furiously with her red locks.

“So, you’re Poison Ivy, right?” Andrea ventured a moment later, not quite sure why she was still standing there when it was obvious that her company was neither sought nor warranted. “I never would have guessed that you were a comic book geek.”

“I’m not,” Emily rebuked. “Hot redhead, is all. I found her personality quite fitting.”

Andrea narrowed her eyes. “You do realise she’s evil, right?”

“I would say ‘misunderstood’ but whatever adjective pleases you.” After a beat she then said sneeringly, “So, ‘Alice’ who picked your outfit for you? Your mother?”

“No, actually, I did.” Andrea countered, clutching at the hem of her dress and swaying her arms like a proud little seven year old. “I thought she was rather symbolic. You know, for how ‘lost’ I am in your world.”

“Yes, because Runway is that fantasy world at the end of the rabbit hole. Absurd and improbable.”

She noted that Emily had tacked on that last bit with a hint of resentment. Again, nothing unusual but she could have of at least tried to hide the dislike she harboured towards her. If her tone was one thing then her expression simply added to it. A cursory but ultimately dismissive glance came Andrea’s way via the mirror, indicating that the Brit was done speaking with her, her attention now moving on to the ransacking of her purse.

After a moment, Emily exclaimed, “Where the bloody hell is it?!”

“Something I can help with?”

Emily simply sneered, horrified at such a possibility. “No.”

“Come on, let me help. What have you lost?”

“My lipstick. I could’ve sworn it was in here.”

“Here, I’ve got a spare one.”

It was said as if Andrea were offering her a friendly drink. Shame they were anything but on good terms. Though, that being said, it wasn’t entirely strange that she had offered considering that this was a women’s restroom after all. Much juicier things had probably been said between these walls. Secrets spilled, drinks too and perhaps the odd narcotic.

If Emily felt her reputation was threatened, over a measly tube of lipstick, then they really had problems.

Pulling the small cosmetic out from the confines of her own purse, Andrea decided to lend it to Emily anyway, tossing it in her direction.

As soon as it was in her possession she immediately began examining it.

“I hope this isn’t contraband.”

“What makes you think that?”

“The disclaimer, it’s in Arabic.” Emily’s face suddenly went white, as if possessing such an item was going to land her in trouble. “Is this a foreign import? Where did you get it?”

“Um, Morocco. My mother bought it at a flea market in Marrakech.”

The horrified look turned to one of revulsion. “Oh, then I’m definitely not wearing it then.”

“What? Why not?”

“A flea market? Bloody hell! Have I taught you nothing?” With a sigh, Emily began making her way towards her, wearing her best lecture face. “A flea market is scraping the bottom of the barrel, Andrea. In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re on Fifth Avenue. Women like me? We don’t wear such second rate makeup. I’m appalled that you would offer me such a thing.”

“Emily, it’s just lipstick. No one will notice if it’s not Maybelline or Rimmel or whatever brand it is you prefer. Besides, it apparently has some sort of special ingredient.”

A look of scepticism danced across Emily’s face. “What kind of ingredient?”

“I don’t know, I've never used it. All my Mom said is that it’s supposedly special and that it makes the wearer more happier, more confident, more decisive. That sort of thing.”

Resisting the temptation to laugh, Emily cast yet another disapproving look upon Andrea. “Now I understand why it was bought for you. It sounds right up your street.”

Rolling off the lid, she examined it more closely. Her expression was contemplative, as if she were trying to decide if there was anything here that she’d approve of.

Probably the shade of the lipstick, but even that was at a push.

“Look,” began Andrea, reaching out to regain possession of the lipstick. “If you don’t want it-”

Emily swatted away her hands. “Alright, fine. You can help me out this one time. But only because I’m desperate.”

Relaxing her shoulders and backing off, Andrea smiled. “Great! Then my work here is done.”

Moving to leave, she stopped and turned back as if forgetting something important. Seeing that Emily was already back in front of the mirror, tending to her lips, Andrea found herself standing there, transfixed. From out of nowhere, she reflected on the many times she had watched her staring at her pale reflection in the bathroom at Elias Clark, applying her favourite shade of lipstick and wondering what those lips tasted like.

True, it was only for the smallest of micro-moments, which were almost always immediately relegated to the darkest recesses of her mind, but still they lingered.

Finally finding her voice, she spoke again, moving towards the door. “Aren’t you coming?”

Emily scoffed at the question but never once took her eyes away from her task at hand.

“I don’t particularly want to watch you go all googly eyed over the nibbles that nobody else besides you would ever eat. Plus, I’m avoiding you, remember?”

And with that she tossed the lipstick across to Andrea.

~

Fifteen minutes later and still Emily hadn’t materialised from the ladies’ room. Andrea practically had her head in her hands. Not because she was worried, no, but because of some guy (dressed up in a cockamamie soldier outfit) who had previously been at the bar and had made his way over to Andrea, sitting down without so much as an ‘excuse me, can I sit here?’ He was sleazy, no doubt, and his reason for coming to her table became apparent the second he began asking if she knew Emily.

Andrea hadn’t caught his name or anything, but she didn’t want to lie and say that they weren’t acquainted. However, minutes later she found herself wishing that she hadn’t said she knew Emily because this guy’s inane drunken chatter was beginning to annoy her. Still, she forced herself to try and listen politely.

“You know, I always thought that British chicks were stuffy and stuck up. But your redheaded friend-”

Andrea felt the need to stop him right there. “She’s not really my friend, but-”

“She’s fantastic.” He declared, eyes wide, grin luminous. “I mean, just wow.”

The fake smile that Andrea had plastered on her face became tighter as his vocabulary became thinner with each passing opening of his mouth. As more and more seconds ticked by, her patience for drunk guys wanting to bang her so-called ‘friend’ also ran equally thin. Maybe it was the sheer idiocy of the man that made him annoying. Or maybe - just maybe - it was because Andrea was secretly strangely overprotective of her.

Deciding that enough was enough and that it had been much too long for Emily to be simply sorting those perpetually pouting lips of hers, Andrea forced herself to make the excuse to go and find her.

“Listen, I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name-”

“Derek.”

“Okay, Derek, I think you would get on a lot better if you actually told Emily all of this yourself, alright? So, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and find her for you, okay? Just... Stay there.”

As soon as she had slid to the other end of the booth, in order to avoid squeezing past Dull Derek, Andrea dropped her painted, put on smile and made her way back to the rest room, her sanity silently praying – demanding – that Emily was still in there.

Pushing the door open, she announced half heartedly, “Emily, some fake Marine is asking for-” trailing off, mid-sentence, she found that the bathroom was vacant. “-You.”

Glimpsing around the room, Andrea noticed that the doors of each of the four stalls were open, signifying that no occupants were currently within.

The room was definitely, completely and utterly empty.

Sighing, Andrea put a hand to her head, at a loss. Perhaps Emily had come back out long ago and she hadn’t noticed? She had, after all, said she had been actively avoiding her. But that was neither here nor there because Andrea had been sitting no less than a few feet away from the bathroom, so the chances of not seeing the Brit exiting were slim to none.

It was slightly worrying that it was taking her an awfully long time to fiddle about with her appearance and such a delay was very uncharacteristic. This was of course bearing in mind the woman’s frustrating insistence on being as succinct as humanly possible. It just didn’t add up. Andrea couldn’t, for the life of her though, figure out why Emily felt the need to prolong her stint in front of the mirror since she was already looking pretty much perfect.

At that thought, Andrea cringed, feeling her face reddening. Shaking her head in disbelief, she brought up a hand to rub at the corner of her eyes, realising it had snuck up on her again. That niggling, now-not-so-hidden desire to think of Emily as more than just a work colleague. God, what was wrong with her? Just what was provoking all of these hidden feelings to announce their existence?

Damn Halloween, that was what. Everything seemed to being happening without reason nor explanation.

“Alone at last.”

Whirling around with her hand across her chest as if she’d just seen a real life ghost, Andrea found her nerves shot to hell as Emily sauntered out from behind the door.

“Jesus, don’t do that!” She yelped, her heart racing crazily. Of all nights to be sneaking up on people! “Nevermind. There’s some guy out there who- What?”

Glimpsing over her shoulder as she simultaneously turned the lock on the door, Emily smirked with intent. Andrea was perplexed, not quite sure what was going on. Just what had she been getting up to these past fifteen minutes? Or should that be what in the hell had she been drinking for the past fifteen minutes? What she had just said was way out of left field.

As was the sudden movement towards her which was very slow and predatory.

“You know, Andrea, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

Great. What cardinal sin had she dared commit now? Turn her sleeve cuffs inside out? Mix and match the wrong sweater/skirt combo? No, wait. Already done that. Twice.

“Um, can’t it wait?” Andrea asked, not really in the mood for a lecture. “I mean, I only came to check on you because some former Frat boy is desperate for your company.”

Emily made a face, as if she had just tasted something rather retched. “Sounds a lot like Derek Carver. That man is a pest. A sordid, sleazy, perpetual pest. Same can be said of his preposterous attempts to try and nail me. He just can’t seem to take no for an answer. It’s sad, really.”

With her man lambasting seemingly at an end, she continued in her approach. With each passing step, Andrea took an automatic, if slightly defensive step in the opposite direction but the more she done so, the more she inched closer to being trapped against the wall, leaving nowhere to run. Thoughtless actions always came hand in hand with consequences and, as usual, Andrea wouldn’t realise their underlying gravity until right before she could do anything about them.

“Tell me, though,” announced Emily, her tone notably curious. “Why on Earth would I want that cretin when there’s something much, much closer to home topping my... to do list?”

A to do list? As in a sexual to do list? Andrea couldn’t quite wrap her brain around such an insinuation. She didn’t even dare think it. Having Emily consider her in that way – even secretly – went against all laws of God and man. This had to be some sort of cruel, annual Runway Halloween prank – one which caught at least one girl out every year. It was as if they were trying to wheedle out the weak from the strong, in what she could only imagine as one of Miranda’s twisted parlour games.

In fact, Andrea half expected someone to jump out on her, video camera in hand and announce that it was indeed all one big joke. However, when no such revelation came to pass, she didn’t know whether she ought to feel worried or relieved. Truth was, it didn’t really matter how she was feeling because whilst she had been too busy trying to understand why this was happening, she had failed to notice Emily closing the gap between them. And, now that they were nothing but an arm’s length apart, Andrea could feel her heart starting to race again in a mixture of apprehension and excitement.

Her questioning eyes desperately searched the other woman’s, as if begging her just to admit the joke and put her out of her misery. Laughing nervously, she couldn’t help but continue to stare at Emily, noticing how her normally icy blues had been replaced with this new, darkened quality. Either she had slipped in an awesome set of contact lenses or something genuinely spooky was going on.

“Jesus, Em, you are freaking me the hell out here! What’s wrong with you? Did you take something?”

Biting her bottom lip, Emily simply shook her head, continuing to eye up Andrea’s own mouth as if it were some candy treat she were about to devour.

“No, no. Just seeing things for what they really are.”

“And that is?”

Leaning across her, Emily brought an arm up over her shoulder, and rested a hand on the wall behind, effectively pinning Andrea in. Her other hand had sneakily progressed up the brunette’s neck with a tantalising slowness, stroking flushed flesh softly, her fingers like a fountain of needles.

“I didn’t realise it until just now but you have the most inviting set of lips of any of the second assistants I’ve ever had the displeasure of working with.”

Feeling her breath constricting within her throat, Andrea couldn’t quite believe how scarily sincere those words sounded, even if wholly illogical. Her evening had been pretty uneventful thus far yet as it edged closer and closer to midnight, the stranger things seemingly became. Having Emily reveal such a concealed admiration prompted Andrea to contemplate everything she held within – including her own recently conscious fantasies about kissing the other woman. There was no way she could be vocal about such private thoughts and that, she figured, was the difference between the two of them.

Pulling her hand back, Emily licked the pad of her thumb and tended to wiping away what Andrea guessed was smudged lipstick. How she had gotten into such a mess was anyone’s guess but if she was to be spared looking like a total idiot out there, then she would welcome any form of assistance. The only problem was that it should have felt as innocent as a mother tending to their child’s chocolate smudged face and not the start of a prospective seduction.

If she let Emily get that far, of course.

“Just what do you taste like?”

Andrea could feel her face flushing a thousand shades of red, unable to keep her lips from naturally parting. Her heartbeat pounded a mile a minute in her ears.

This truly was some crazy turn of events. Emily was certainly not acting like herself.

“Are you... flirting with me?”

Emily gave a nonchalant shrug. “If you want me to.”

Those words, as casual as they were, was the first proper indication that she was not messing about.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Andrea said, weakly. “It’s just... Have you forgotten who I am? I mean, you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Emily dismissed, cruelly yanking the blonde wig from the American’s head. “Certainly you frustrate me most of the time but it doesn’t mean I hate you.”

“Okay, fine. I frustrate you, whatever, but-”

“If that were the case, then why would I find myself wanting to do unspeakable things to you?”

“I don’t know,” Andrea replied, exasperated. This was like trying to explain to a junkie why drugs were bad for him. “That’s what I’m trying to get at. It’s not making any sense. You are not making any sense. I mean, ever since I gave you that lipstick you’ve been acting really...”

Trailing off, it suddenly dawned on her. The lipstick. It had to have something to do with the way Emily was acting. Sure it was an outright bizarre claim but it was also the only explanation that her frazzled mind could offer. The sudden interest, the flirtatious touches - whilst incredibly flattering - just reeked of farcical implausibility.

Thinking back on what her mother had told her about the Moroccan lipstick, she contemplated that whatever this unique component was, whatever it was designed to make the wearer feel, perhaps it had the opposite effect on someone with too much confidence. Like maybe it accelerated an already existing level of confidence and encouraged them to act upon their most closeted desires?

“This is going to sound really farfetched,” Andrea began, managing to push past Emily and putting a couple of feet between them. “I can’t believe I’m actually going to say this but... That lipstick I gave you? I think that, maybe, it might be sorta, um, cursed.”

“Cursed?”

“Yes, cursed.”

Emily laughed derisively. “With an imagination like that, it’s little wonder you aspire to be a writer.”

“I’m being serious, Emily. I’m not screwing around.”

“Oh, screwing. Yes, let’s.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Liar.”

Venturing forward once again, the redhead licked her lips. “Say, here’s an idea: Why don’t you stop all of your foolish nonsense? Everything would be so much easier if you just simply admit that you want what I want. Resistance is futile so why don’t you just bloody give in?”

“Because it’s not real!” Andrea exclaimed, her outburst effectively halting Emily’s burgeoning advance. “Look, I know that you think your feelings are real and that you want this but I can assure you, you don’t. Okay? You’re under some sort of spell that I haven’t even the slightest idea how to break.”

Turning her back, Andrea knew full well that she was merely a second or two from having a meltdown. If there was one thing that the lipstick hadn’t seemed to have changed then it was Emily’s inability to listen to reason. What if this couldn’t be reversed? Then where would they be? She would no doubt be sacked for turning the great Miranda Priestly’s first assistant into a flirty temptress with a sex drive rivalling that of a horny teenage boy. Oh, how the gossip rags would have a field day with such a scandal.

Desperate to prevent any firing whatsoever, Andrea figured that a contingency plan might be a temporary solution. It was possible that this one of those twenty four hour things that would eventually wear off.

“Okay, I think maybe I should leave. That way, this thing, whatever it is, has a chance to wear off and-”

Whatever she had been thinking clearly didn’t matter because Emily had suddenly blindsided her, forcefully grabbing her arm and turning her around. Before she could stop it from happening, Andrea was in her arms and being kissed with a surprising force and ferocity. Truth was, if she hadn’t of turned her back, then she might have been able to have seen it coming. But she had turned away and now here she was, a stone’s throw from becoming a lusty bitch herself.

Pulling out of the kiss, Andrea pushed herself away, trying to shake off the wooziness.

But, oh, if only it were as simple as that.

She wasn’t without her hope though. That clinging hope that there hadn’t been sufficient time for the transition to take place. But as soon as she felt a harsh bout of dizziness exploding behind her eyelids, Andrea sincerely doubted that she would emerge from this as her usual self. The manner in which it had turned Emily, and how quickly, was frightening.

Emily, meanwhile, licked her lips, victorious of catching Andrea unawares. She revelled in the silly girl’s sweet, saccharine taste – one which she hadn’t thought existed.

The surprising flavour had her lips tingling, greedily hankering for more.

“Was that real enough for you?”

For a split second, Andrea’s mind was at a total blank. Like the last two minutes had been totally erased from her memory. Seeing Emily standing before her, with her tongue peeking out from between her lips, she remembered their conversation, albeit rather vaguely. What she did remember, vividly, was the rather brilliant sensation of Emily’s mouth upon her own, kneading and fixing for an explosion of passion.

Intent on further exploring said passion, Andrea moved forward without so much as a word of warning, allowing her lips do the talking. Keen hands closed around the redhead’s face and pulled her forward, mouth greedily attacking her partner’s, tongue instantly demanding attention. It was a kiss that one could only ever dream about; the need for air evident but the need to stop themselves even less.

With hands going everywhere and anywhere, Andrea flaunted her newfound sense of confidence, showing Emily just what she was capable of when in the right frame of mind. It had obviously been there all along. Lying beneath the surface but too afraid to come out.

And whilst she might have prompted this round, Andrea surrendered all endeavours. She couldn’t take full control of the situation even if she wanted to. It just wasn’t in her nature to be so aggressive - even with a supernatural aide. She left everything to her superior, a budding master in the art of control.

Gasping loudly as she felt Emily’s hand traverse up her thigh, tongue simultaneously administering salacious licks against the sensitive patch of skin beneath her left ear. The ascent continued along, further, higher. Within a moment she felt the hem of her Alice costume being pushed upwards. Emily’s fingers brushed across her hip and around to the small of her back, digits wantonly palming at the flesh just above her backside, hauling her closer. Andrea held on for dear life, knowing that if she did lose it and fell over then at least she would drag the Englishwoman down with her.

Emily sucked harder, prompting Andrea to worry about bruising in the morning. She felt enthusiastic teeth pinching her skin and as a result her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

“Oh my God,” she rasped, her self-control taking a thorough beating. “Oh, that’s-”

Just then, a very deep chime from that stupid old persistent Grandfather clock out in the bar interrupted her words.

It was quickly followed by a fourth and a fifth chime.

A sixth, a seventh, all the way up to a twelfth.

Midnight was upon them. Halloween was over and November first had arrived.

As if being electrocuted, both women jolted in surprise.

It seemed that the lipstick’s magic had worn off.

Recoiling sharply, Emily scowled harshly, looking Andrea up and down as if to say, ‘Christ, why are you touching me?’. It more than evident that she hadn’t a clue what had happened to her within the last half an hour. Andrea, however, remembered everything – probably because she had only been affected for a couple of minutes.

“What’s going on? Were we-?” Emily gestured between them, somewhat ashamed to say it.

“Kissing? Yep.”

The scowl effortlessly morphed into a look of horror. “And why would I want to kiss you?”

“Only you can answer that. You really don’t remember?”

“Well, I’m not asking for the sake of my health now am I?”

Andrea shrugged and leaned against the wall. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“No,” Emily agreed, turning and walking away. “I probably wouldn’t.”

~

When it was announced that the bar would be closing at 1am, the majority of people decided that it was time to leave and either go home or carry on partying elsewhere. Andrea would be doing the former as she was too tired, too freaked out to continue on with anything else. It had been a funny old Halloween, the most strangest she had ever experienced. She still couldn’t get her head around what had happened and how quickly it had worn off. Monday morning at work was going to be awfully awkward to say the least.

Gathering up her jacket and handbag, Andrea had soon made her way out, heading for the elevator. Stepping into the empty cab she thumbed the ground floor button, all set to go when Emily suddenly appeared and jammed her purse between the doors to stop them closing. Upon seeing Andrea, however, she immediately wished she hadn’t stopped the elevator.

Sighing, she got in. “I knew I should have taken the stairs.”

“You’d want to walk down all those flights of stairs just to avoid me?”

The question was met with a wall of silence, Monday morning now far from Andrea’s mind. She glimpsed out the corner of her eye, watching Emily aimlessly staring at the ceiling in a bid to do anything but talk. Either she had fully known what had happened in that bathroom and just didn’t want to admit to it or she really wasn’t in the mood for small chit chat.

“Sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable back there,” announced Emily, pretty much out of nowhere.

Andrea turned in surprise, not expecting to hear anything on the subject. She had been under the impression that Emily hadn’t remembered what had happened.

“I thought that you said you didn’t remember anything?”

Emily didn’t return the look but didn’t ignore her. “I don’t. But, whatever that was, I apologize. I don’t know what came over me. Coming on to you like that.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not. You’d tell me but-”

“You wouldn’t believe me, yeah I know.”

Emily smiled to herself, sneaking a glance in at her colleague. Andrea couldn’t help but laugh too, amused at finishing off her sentence, the mood invariably lighter now.

She opened her mouth to say something else but was beaten to it by the dinging of the elevator signifying that they had arrived at the ground floor.

The doors opened and Emily exited, without further word.

Andrea was left to stand there and look on as she walked away, out of sight. Such a brisk getaway only served to illustrate that things were back to normal.

Preparing herself to move out of the elevator, Andrea entered the lobby.

It had certainly been an eventful end to an otherwise regular All Hallow’s Eve. The first thing that she would do when she got home would be to tuck that lipstick far, far away at the back of a drawer in her bedroom. It was more trouble than it was worth and if carelessly tossed away then who knew whose hands it might fall into?

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Andrea stopped when she her cell bleeping from within. She had to call a cab anyway so she might as well read the message.

She delved into the bag pulling out the Sidekick.

The text was from Emily.

My place. Twenty minutes. You needn’t bring that stupid lipstick. I’ll show you that you don’t need some silly paranormal accouterment to make you let go of your inhibitions.

Andrea’s lips curled into a small smile.

Didn’t remember anything? Yeah, right.

Happy Halloween folks!!

five hundred and seventeen

2009-04-09T20:07:05Z

The Kissing Dare Sequence // Jeux D'enfants (2003)

Jeux D'enfants is a French language film better known by it's English title Love Me If You Dare. It is one of my all time favourite movies. For those of you who haven't seen it, I urge you to immediately! The film's synopsis is simple: two adults, best friends Julien and Sophie, continue the odd game they started as children -- a competition to outdo one another with daring and outrageous stunts. Their game, however, is pretty much a way for them to avoid admitting the fact that they are truly meant to be. It's such an incredibly cute film with great performances from two of France's leading film stars (and real life couple), Marion Cotillard and Guillaume Canet. I first saw this film after I discovered Marion in her Oscar winning role as Edith Piaf in La Vie En Rose.

Here, I have responded to the latest picspammy challenge (scenes and sequences) with one of my favourite parts of the movie, the kissing dare sequence. In the scene directly preceeding this one, Julien and Sophie indulge in a hilarious slapping dare with a guy that Sophie has been sort of seeing. Eventually, the guy, Igor, tires of the incessant slapping and when Julien dares his best friend to kick him in the testicles she ends up with a sprained wrist for her troubles. The kissing dare sequence takes off after we discover that Sophie has injured herself from Julien's dare.

Sophie: Say you're sorry.
Julien: Come on, it was fun!
Sophie: Say you're sorry.
Julien: Not game? Then don't play.
Sophie: Look, you know I'm game for anything. Now apologise!
Julien: Don't hold your breath!
Sophie: Give me the box!
-- they fight for it --
Sophie: Kiss me. I dare you.
Julien: (agreeing) Dare!
-- Julien gives her a small peck on the lips. Disatisfied, Sophie climbs atop a car --
Sophie: I said kiss me.
-- Julien takes the dare and climbs atop the car as well --

Car owner: (shouting) Are you crazy? Get off my car! Get down I said! They're totally nuts! Get down! You hear?! Stupid idiots!
-- Julien and Sophie jump off of the car and run to a secluded area, continuing where they left off --
Sophie: (between kisses) Hold me... Love me.
Julien: (also between kisses) Dare!
-- Unimpressed that Julien is not taking her seriously, Sophie pulls away --
Sophie: Is this a game for you?
Julien: No, a dare. You put it out there.
Sophie: Well, if I did, you didn't take it.

screencaptures credited to Marion-Media.org

For challenge nine at picspammy.

five hundred and sixteen

2009-03-31T20:54:59Z

7. You Get Several Gratuitous Shots Of Both New York and Paris

"And most importantly I get to go with her to Paris for Fashion Week in the Fall. I get to wear couture, I go to all the shows and all the parties."

Ask anyone what city they would most love to visit and I'd wager that most people would say either New York City or Paris. I know I'd definately say the former as it is, imo, the best city in the world. I visited in 2004 and my short five day stay there was enough to make me want to live there permanently. I also visited Paris but I was only a kid and there purely for Disney World. One day, I'd like to go back. Along with Milan, these two cities are often described as 'the fashion capital of the world'. Both have great places where you can shop; both stage various (important) fashion shows throughout the calendar year and both are just visually stunning, fashion or no fashion. Visiting either is a must for any holidaymaker.

6. You Get An Unintentional Laugh Out Of Simon Baker's Eyebrows

"Did you mention my good looks? My killer charm?"

Simon Baker is pretty. There's no denying that little factoid. But in Prada... Gosh, I don't know what happened to him. It is as if the makeup artist, whoever she (or indeed, he) may be, decided to crazy experiment and frost his eyebrows instead of his hair. Either that or they were looking to turn them into that of something vaguely similar to a catepillar. They're so distracting that everytime I see him, I feel they're just gonna pop right out at me. The Christian character, in the book at least, is supposed to be this tall, handsome, dish of a man. Here, he's awfully smarmy, irritating and clearly a little too into his looks. This isn't necessarily Baker's fault, but really, those freakish eyebrows give off more of a laugh than they ought to.

5. You Get To Revel In All Things Pretty In The Fashion World

"Runway is a fashion magazine so an interest in fashion is crucial."

I will be the first to admit that I'm not really a girly-girl. Neither am I fashion concious in the slightest. But part of what makes me adore Prada is the utter revelry I get out of seeing the pretty people running around in some equally pretty amazing outfits - as well as feeling a smidge of jealousy towards every one of them. The one item that I badly wanted to steal out of the movie was those devastatingly stunning boots from the opening credits. They're fantastic. Granted, I might not look all that great in them but that didn't stop me from desiring them. And as for that outfit that Miranda and Nigel put together? Man, that was hideous. I mean, is that really what some people deem fashionable? It looks like a mismatched, muddled mess. But, that being said, it kind of works - but only in context, i.e. Miranda's fabulouso speech about items of clothing being plucked out of "a pile of stuff". Only someone like Meryl Streep's Miranda Priestly could put a positive spin on that monstrosity. On one final note, though, Prada wouldn't be a genuine fashion-themed movie without snagging a surprise appearance from someone who lives in that world, so to Mr Valentino, we thank you!

4. You Get The Ugly Duckling Protagonist Transformed Into A Swan

"Same Andy. Better clothes."

Okay, so the title of this reason is a bit of a lie as Anne Hathaway is hardly what one would label ugly but she is, undoubtedly, the Queen of Movie Makeovers. The character here, Andrea Sachs, is a hardworking just-out-of-college grad who comes to New York to fulfil her dream of becoming a journalist. She takes up the position of assistant to one of the most respected but feared magazine editors, Miranda Priestly. Soon Andrea finds herself pitted against the pitfalls of working for said tyrannical boss, as well as trying to hold on to her private life. Initially she is rather naive about the environment she has to work in and it takes a few stumbles along the way for her to realise that if she wants to taken seriously she needs to prove that she wants this life. In other words she's gotta dress to impress her superior. Step in Nigel with a handy makeover and, predictably before our very eyes, we see Andrea go from a fashion outcast to a more self confident fashionista. And boy, aren't we jealous of the clothes she gets to wear!

3. You Get Inklings of Glorious Femslash By The Bucketload

"You look good. What? She does."
"Oh shut up, Serena."

Femslash, femslash, femslash... It's present in almost everything - even if you don't initially see it. Some elements of femslash are obvious and in your face. Other hintings are more subtle. Indirect, even. Truth be told, I'm not quite sure where Prada sits on the scale of 'Teh Ghey' but it definately has its fair share of girl/girl potential, namely in Emily/Andrea, Andrea/Miranda as well as hints of Emily/Serena. When it comes to fanfiction, the former is pretty much the Holy Grail whilst the latter seems to be the universal choice amongst that same group of fans. I personally don't see the Andrea/Miranda attraction because Emily/Andrea has always been my Prada weapon of choice. Their relationship is rather strained but its full of banter and unresolved sexual tension all at the same time. Emily's dislike to Andrea is as obvious as the days are long, yet she continues to begrudgingly help her settle in at Runway. It is from the wonderful chemistry between Emily Blunt and Anne Hathaway that gives off this impression and you can't help but think that somewhere, secretly, every day Andrea and Emily are taking little trips to the bathroom or storage closet for some hot make-out sessions. The Andrea/Miranda pairing, on the other hand, is more the traditional boss/employee fantasy. Miranda is a tough task master and rides Andrea until she cracks from the pressure. It's probably from this as well as the fleeting, quasi-flirtatious glances that Miranda bestows upon Andrea that has won them their legions of loyal fans. Finally, Emily/Serena is more of a minor pairing but there does seem to be something there worth exploiting. Or perhaps I've just had too much Waldsen from Gossip Girl that I look for similar signs in BFFs from various other fandoms. The bottom line is, however, that no matter what your preferred pairing is, there is plenty of imagination riot running to be had.

2. You Get To Watch Emily Blunt Steal A Lot of Scenes

"It's for Paris, I'm on this new diet. Well, I don't eat anything and when I feel like I'm about to faint I eat a cube of cheese."

26 year old Emily Blunt is a great British Ingenune. Or perhaps, more fittingly in the context of Prada, the Great British Scene Stealer. Because that is essentially what she does throughout the movie. And so damn consistently well, too. She hams it up and it pays off every time. Scenes which do not contain either Blunt or Streep aren't nearly half as fun. Streep wasn't lying when she stated that Blunt ought to be given a carbon copy of the movie so that she didn't steal the movie outright. It's a pretty justified statement to make as pretty much every supporting player doesn't quite match her outlandishness. Stanley Tucci tries his best to outdo his English counterpart in the comedy stakes but always seems to comes off second best. Blunt's character is choc full ofacidic remarks, quips, comebacks, bitchy glares even witty improv, dreamt up by Blunt herself. Each disdainful look is accompanied by that sharp, witty dialogue and even the snarkiest, meanest comments manage to rouse a chuckle out of the audience, Do you have some prior comittment? Some hideous skirt convention you have to go to? immediately springs to mind. The character is so on the edge of fashion that she's almost fallen off that metaphorical cliff. Hideously bitchy Emily Charlton may be but adorably clueless she most definately is.

1. You Get To See The Legendary Meryl Streep At Her Most Fiercest

"...Because of the list. The list of designers, photographers, editors, writers, models, all of whom were found by me, nurtured by me and have promised me they will follow me whenever and if ever I choose to leave Runway."

The number one reason why everyone should love The Devil Wears Prada. Predictable in having Meryl Streep top the list? Maybe. But you do know that it is true. Without her, Prada would probably have been your typical run of the mill chick flick. Sure, it would have still had Emily Blunt pulling the rug out from underneath almost everyone who shares screen time with her but it would still be lacking the one thing that holds the picture together and that is the fierceness of Miranda Priestly, effortlessly portrayed by the woman who is, arguably, the greatest living actress on the planet. Let's face it, the Miranda character is downright terrifying. She needn't need to raise her voice or shout in the faces of her employees to be scary. The fact that she remains relatively calm when she's being tyrannical, demanding and/or fuming is scary. It's unnerving. The viewer is never quite sure what Miranda is going to make of a sitatuion and thats what makes Streep's portrayal so memorable. She's the Dragon Lady without actually making this overly obvious or flamboyant. Never has a phrase as simple as 'that's all' sounded so dismissive as it does here.

credits: screencaptures by me

For challenge eight at picspammy.

five hundred and five

2009-01-16T17:32:04Z

Selina Kyle: Um, I have a suggestion. Actually, more like a question.

Max Shreck: In the plus column though, she makes a hell of a cup of coffee.

-- Whilst the chaos enrages around her, Selina goes looking for her glasses only to be captured by one of the Red Triangle Circus gang --

Selina Kyle: Well, that was very brief. Just like all the men in my life. What men? Then again there's you but you need therapy.

Selina Kyle: Yes, to you I seem pathetic. But I'm a working girl, gotta pay the rent. Maybe if you were chipping in instead of stepping out.

Selina Kyle: (on machine) Hi Selina, this is yourself calling. To remind you honey that you have to come all the way back to the office unless you remembered to bring home the Bruce Wayne file because the meeting's on Wednesday.

Selina Kyle: It can be our little secret. Honest! How can you be so mean to someone so meaningless?!

-- Selina falls to her death and subsequent revival --

Selina Kyle: (dazed) Honey I'm home... Oh, I forgot. I'm not married.

-- Selina freaks when she realises whats happened to her and promptly begins to take out her frustration on her apartment --

-- Using the leather jacket found in the closet, she begins to make her catsuit --

Catwoman: I don't know about you Miss Kitty but I feel... So much yummier.

Catwoman: You make it so easy don't you? Always waiting for some Batman to save you. I am Catwoman. Hear me roar!

Selina Kyle: But last night... Complete blur. Couldn't you just die?

-- On her first night of wreaking havoc, Catwoman decides on wrecking Shreck's Department store --

Catwoman: You poor guys. Always confusing your pistols with your privates.

Catwoman: Meow.
-- Shreck's explodes in the background before she makes her escape --

-- Batman hits Catwoman and she falls to the ground, pissed --
Catwoman: How could you?! I'm a woman!

Catwoman: As I was saying, I'm a woman. And can't be taken for granted. Life's a bitch, now so am I!

-- Catwoman toys with Penguin's pet bird before agreeing to work together in order to bring down Batman --

Catwoman: The thought of busting Batman makes me feel all... Dirty. Maybe I'll give myself a bath right here.

Selina Kyle: It's gonna be a hot time on the cold town tonight.
Bruce Wayne: You've got kind of a dark side, don't you?
Selina Kyle: No darker than yours, Bruce.

Selina Kyle: It's the so-called "normal" guys who always let you down. Sickoes never scare me. Least they're comitted.

Selina Kyle: Would you tell him from me that I've been going through a lot of... changes and- No. Um, just that this is not a rejection. My abruptly leaving. In fact he makes me feel the way I hope I really am. No. Could you just make up a sonnet or something? A dirty limerick?

Catwoman: Gotta go! Girl talk.
-- Catwoman drags out the Ice Princess in hope of luring Batman out onto the rooftops --

Batman: Mistletoe can be deadly if you eat it.
Catwoman: Hmm, but a kiss can be even deadlier if you mean it.

-- After attempting to stab Batman, he pushes her off. As he departs she checks to see that she has lost one of her talons --
Catwoman: Damn.

-- After the Ice Princess has fallen to her death --
Catwoman: You said you were going to scare the Ice Princess.
Penguin: She looked pretty scared to me, hahaha! Touch of the bubbly?

-- Catwoman is thrown into the air with one of Penguin's umbrellas --
Penguin: (from below) Goodbye my uninitended. Go to heaven.

-- She breaks free from the umbrella only to freefall into a glass house. Embittered at losing another life, her screams shatter the glass --

-- Selina looks on as Penguin's crowd of followers begin to turn on him as they realise he has been scamming them all along --

-- Bruce Wayne was not planning on attending Shreck's Masquerade Ball but the lure of Selina Kyle being there prompts him to attend --

Bruce Wayne: Why'd you come here tonight?
Selina Kyle: You first.
Bruce Wayne: To see you.
Selina Kyle: That's lovely. I really wish I could say the same but I came for Max.
Bruce Wayne: Not you and Max?
Selina Kyle: (hysterical laughter) Me and Max? (laughter) No. Not me and Max. (brings out a small pistol) This and Max.

-- Bruce tells Selina that although she's got problems with her boss she shouldn't risk it all by killing him --
Selina Kyle: (forlorn) I don't know who I am anymore, Bruce...

Selina Kyle: A kiss under the mistletoe. You know, mistletoe can be deadly if you eat it.
Bruce Wayne: But a kiss... (pause, realising he's exchanged these words before) can be even deadlier if you mean it.

Selina Kyle: (desperately) Oh my God. Does this mean we have to start fighting?
Bruce Wayne: Lets go outside.

Max Shreck: I don't know what you want but I know I can get it for you. Money? Jewels? A very big ball of string?
Catwoman: Your blood, Max.
Max Shreck: My blood? I gave at the office.
Catwoman: A half pint. I'm talking gallons.

-- Batman swings down to try and halt her from killing Shreck --
Catwoman: Don't be naive! The law doesn't abide to people like him or us.

Batman: Lets just take him to the police. Then we can go home. Together. Selina...
Selina Kyle: Bruce. I would love to live with you in your castle. Forever just like in a fairytale. (scratches his face) I just couldn't live with myself! So don't pretend this is a happy ending!

Max Shreck: And Bruce Wayne, why are you dressed up like Batman?
Selina Kyle: Because he is Batman, you moron!

-- After being shot several times by Shreck, losing 4 lives in the process, Selina staggers towards him when he pulls the trigger once again. But this time he is out of bullets. Selina laughs at him --
Selina Kyle: Two lives left. I think I'll save one for next Christmas.

Selina Kyle: But in the meantime... How about a kiss anti-Claus?

Bruce Wayne: (voice over) Good Will toward men. And women.

credits: screencaptures by me

I decided to go with my all time favourite movie character, Selina Kyle/Catwoman from Batman Returns (1992). Michelle Pfeiffer should get a lot of credit for bringing this HBIC to life. I first saw this movie when I was 7 years old and I guess it just stuck with me for the following 16 years how good Pfeiffer actually was. Without her stunning performance I don't think it would have been anything like this should Annette Benning have been cast like had been originally planned. I would give my life to see Emily do this role in Nolan's next Batman movie but if the casting rumours about her playing The Black Widow/Natasha Romanoff in Iron Man 2 are confirmed (which I suspect they will be) then I guess I'll never see a dream realised (even though she will STILL be wearing skin tight leather, woah). Besides, Nolan might not even opt for Catwoman at all. I guess its just a waiting game. But until then lets celebrate Pfeiffer's effortless performance.

For challenge seven at picspammy.

five hundred and two

2008-12-18T19:15:51Z

Title: Sixty Second And East
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Rating: PG-13, mild swearing.
Characters: Andrea, Emily. Ellie and Josh are originals. Miranda, Nate and Serena by name only.
Outline: It's the annual Lukas Warner Christmas party and Emily is drunk. Guess who has to take her home?
Notes: Christmas fic! What can I say, I got in the festive mood. Any excuse to write Emily/Andrea. As usual, the majority of characters belong to Lauren Weisberger. No copyright infringement intended whatsoever. Blah, blah, blah.

Everyone had suddenly vacated her table. Three of them had gone up to the bar area to sample the cocktails, promising that they would be back as soon as they had gotten served. That was over ten minutes ago. Another one had gone to the toilet but seemed to have dropped off the face of the Earth completely whilst the other two were outside having a smoke, adhering to the establishment's Non Smoking policy. Restless, Andrea stared down at her cell, wishing that someone would text her just to make it look like she wasn't actually bothered about being abandoned by a bunch of people that she didn't know. She inwardly cursed the incompetent twerp who had designed the seating plan.

The evening had been truly horrid so far. Firstly, Nigel had been called away to some sort of emergency at Miranda's town house and with his exit went Andrea's only real shot at a proper conversation. Secondly, some careless moron had accidentally attempted to stub a cigarette out on her arm as they had hurried off to some other event half way down Lexington Avenue. Apparently George Clooney was in attendance. And to top it all off, she now sat by herself like some sad little charity case. She really should have refused the invitation outright. She knew it would only end up like this. But it was Runway's annual Christmas Eve party and any non-attendance would have had you immediately labelled antisocial. And if she was going to see out her proposed year at the publication then she needed all the friends she could possibly get.

But conversation wasn't forthcoming. She sighed and decided that she would go to the bathroom when a familiar voice stopped her.

"Andrea, hey."

Glancing up from her mixer, she faced Eleanor Nolan. Ellie was a twenty something Amazonian type blonde beauty who stood at six feet in height and worked in the beauty department on the floor below. She had been Nigel's partner in crime the day Andrea received her make over and, unlike the others who had been pampering and dressing her up like a Barbie doll, she had actually been nice to her. Treated her like an actual human being and not an overwrought, insipid, vapid Runway lackey. Since that day, they remained relatively friendly with one another.

"Can I talk to you for a second? It's kind of important."

Smiling, she gestured for her to sit beside her. "Sure."

"Actually, it's more like a favour... of sorts."

Andrea blinked, not following at all. "What do you mean?"

"Well..." Ellie began but trailed off. She instead pointed in the direction she had just came from. Andrea looked across the hall to where she was gesturing and took in a sight she never thought she would ever see: Emily Charlton slouched against the wall, quite obviously drunk. Wasted, actually. Jeez, what had she been drinking? Or the more important question was: what idiot at the bar was still serving her?

"Someone's going to have to take her home," Ellie concluded, stating the obvious. "I mean look at her, Andy. She can't even sit up straight. If Miranda were here she would no doubt be throwing some sort of fit right about now. And you do know that she'd only blame you."

Knowing Miranda, she probably would have had the audacity to blame her because that was what the woman did when things went wrong: blame the second assistant. Although, this fact aside, she still couldn't understand why Ellie had come to her. There was never a day that went by where Emily didn't criticise Andrea for one thing or another so the possibility of the redhead letting her take her home was slim to none.

"And that someone would be me, because-?"

"We drew straws and.. Well, you got the short one."

Andrea frowned. "I didn't even get to draw my own straw?"

"Serena substituted for you. We were a number short."

Silence.

"Come on, be a pal. You even said yourself that you were only staying until midnight because you had stuff planned with your boyfriend. Look, if you call a cab I'll arrange for someone to help her out. Please, Andrea. No one really wants to leave early - especially not a Lukas Warner party. His parties always make Page Six, they're that amazing, so it's always worth staying for the scandal that follows. Oh, please say yes."

Not particularly wanting to be saddled with a guilty conscience, Andrea sighed, nodding her consent. In fairness to Ellie, she had spoken true words. Andrea did have plans with Nate since he was spending Christmas Day with his parents and that was the last they would see of each other for a few days. So upon her seal of approval, Ellie let out a delighted clap, a hurried 'thank you' and scampered off back across to the table which housed the inebriated first assistant. Aside from the fact that she wouldn't be staying long, Andrea couldn't fathom why the others wanted her to take care of Emily. They hadn't exactly been getting on all that well lately, she and the bitchy Brit. Not that they got on at the best of times but right now, it was worse. She had exhibited a rather neurotic side around Christmas time, making her more intolerable than usual. It was terrifying. Emily was really into it and, judging by tonight's lack of self discipline, also rather silly and careless as well.

Gathering up her jacket and purse, Andrea headed out towards the front entrance, ready to hail a cab. She would be better off doing this than phoning one. She really wanted to get home so she and Nate could exchange gifts before he left. The cold air immediately assaulted her bare arms so she quickly slid into her nice warm jacket, teeth chittering. Hopefully Emily would be out in five minutes, fit to walk.

-----
She was out quicker than expected. In fact, Andrea heard her before she saw her, that posh English enunciation being a dead giveaway.

"Josh, you do not need to manhandle me out of the door. I'm fine! Look, I'm walking aren't I?"

Andrea rolled her eyes. She had a very bad feeling that this was going to be an absolute nightmare. Emily crashed into her, giggling and practically stumbling in the slush. Not wanting her to fall over, Andrea used both hands to grab her by the upper arm and bring her closer.

"Will you be alright with her?" called Josh, half in and half out the glass door.

"I think so," Andrea declared just as Emily attempted to hug her. "I put up with her every day. I'll manage, thanks."

Smiling, Josh saluted and ducked back inside. Andrea nervously eyed the bouncers as she felt Emily groping around her arm for no apparent reason. Not having a clue what she was trying to do, she turned to her and was instead greeted with a clumsy, flirtatious smile.

"Ooh, Andrew, looking sexy tonight," she declared, obviously not recognising Andrea in the slightest. She continued her innocent flirtation, caressing Andrea's cold cheek softly. "Are you taking me home? You- You don't even know where I live. I- Wow. I think I've had just..."

"...a little too much?" finished Andrea, still holding onto her whilst scanning the streets for a cab. "Yeah, I'd say you had."

A frown made its way onto Emily's features. "Who are you to say I've had enough? I know when to say no... Andrew."

Wow. Still thinking she was Andrew, huh? Time to put that to bed. So to speak.

"It's Andrea. Not Andrew, alright? Andrea. A-N-D-R-E-A."

Emily stilled in abject horror. "Andrea? Oh God, no. Ellie told you to babysit me didn't she? Well, no thanks. I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, by babbling and stumbling?" challenged the sober girl, now getting irritated. "Good job, Em. Please, just behave, will you?"

This was quite a considerable role reversal. Usually Emily would be the one telling Andrea off for silly things. Again, she wondered how the woman had let herself get into such a state. Surely she must have been drinking before attending the party. She couldn't have possibly...

Just then a cab approached, which Andrea waved down. As it pulled up to the kerb, she tightened her grip on the hyperactive redhead and ushered her forwards. Understandably, Emily was having none of it, trying to shrug her away. "Would you bloody stop it?!"

Swaying slightly, she reached out and attempted to grab the door handle. Worried that she might completely miss and trip over in those insanely expensive shoes of hers, Andrea rushed forward and opened the door, unintentionally shoving Emily in the back. "Get inside."

"Damnit, Andrew. Don't push. There's no hurry. We'll be having amazing sex in no time."

The cab driver's ears perked up and he looked somewhat hopefully at Andrea who had just clambered in after Emily, slamming the door shut. Rolling her eyes she shook her head. "Do I look like Andrew to you? She is obviously drunk, so we'll just take her home to..." She paused momentarily as she realised she didn't have a clue where Emily lived. She was almost too afraid to ask in case she turned around and demanded they go back to her place for this "amazing sex" they would apparently be having in no time at all...

"Sixty second and East," announced Emily, completely oblivious to her last statement. "That's where I live."

Andrea sighed, relieved. That could have been tricky trying to get an answer out of her. The only downside to this supervised ride home was that Emily lived on the complete opposite side of Manhattan from Andrea. The cab fare was going to be one hell of a joke.

-----
But the ride was over before Andrea had even realised it. Emily was quiet the whole way home. No doubt ready to sleep it off and prepare herself for the hangover that was surely going to hit on Christmas morning. Andrea stole a glance at her watch. 12.17. Nate should just be getting in from his shift at the restaurant so it wasn't as if she was going to be outrageously late for their mini date at their apartment.

She hopped out of the cab before reaching back in to grab her colleague's hand. "Emily, we're here. Home."

But she did not move. She didn't even take the proffered hand. Andrea's shoulders sagged in frustration at the lack of cooperation. Looks like she was going to have to drag her out. Shit, this was certainly not going to go down very well.

"Emily! Get up, would you? We're at your apartment."

When she got no answer she ducked back into the vehicle and slapped the British girl on the arm with force. "Emily!"

That prompted movement all right. "Jesus, Andrea! I'm drunk. Not deaf. God, you are worse than my mother."

Oh, so it was Andrea now was it? Thank God. Some sort of normality had been restored!

Emily began her exit - albeit a little too hastily for her liking and subsequently, her head began to spin violently. The dizziness kicked in as she managed to haul herself out onto the slushy sidewalk, once again stumbling right into Andrea who had to fight to steady the beleaguered girl. Glancing upwards into the apartment block, Andrea prayed that she lived on the first floor. Or if she didn't, there would at least be a lift.

"Keys, Emily."

Not bothering to seek them out, she just chucked her purse at Andrea. "They're in there somewhere."

"Twelve dollars and six cents please, ladies." Announced the cabbie, looking for his fare.

"You're paying," scoffed Emily, letting go of Andrea and woozily making her way up to the steps which led into her apartment building.

In a complete hurry to get this over with, the brunette deposited a twenty-dollar bill into the waiting man's palm. She didn't bother to wait on the change for she had the equivalent of a wandering five year old behind her. Emily would've no doubt cracked up over the lack of change had she been sober but it was either suffer injury or a few measly missing dollars. Andrea quickly followed after her, not wanting the former to transpire. She slung Emily's arm over her shoulders whilst she used her own hands to keep her steady as they walked into the warm building.

And luckily for them, her apartment was indeed on the first floor - information courtesy of the young doorman. The walking distance was not too far so Andrea didn't need the doorman to assist - as if he would ever be allowed to anyway. She had had enough trouble in coaxing Emily into letting her help her home so goodness knows what it would take in order for her to allow a complete stranger a look in.

“You’re gonna have to tell me which key,” Andrea prompted, her free hand fumbling through the variety of metal. She frowned, not knowing how many keys someone could possibly need. She herself had a maximum of two – one for her apartment and one for her parents’ back home.

Emily untangled herself from Andrea and snatched the keys out of her grasp, noticeably favouring the silver one. “You are not coming in.”

“The hell I am,” retorted Andrea, grabbing the keys once again. "I'm not leaving until I'm satisfied that you're gonna be okay."

"Why do you care?"

"I just do. So I'm coming in whether you like it or not."

Emily just grumbled. Taking that as permission to enter, Andrea inserted the key into the lock, opened the door and found the lightswitch immediately to her left. But before she could even blink, Emily had zipped by her and into the apartment. If she hadn't of had to keep a close eye on the redhead then she would have no doubt been scoping out her furnishings. From the quick look she had, however, Andrea could see that it was nicely decorated if a little sparse. It wasn't as small as her apartment so that was probably why it looked rather empty.

The banging of a door quickly grabbed Andrea's attention which had deviated from Emily for only a mere ten seconds. Obviously this had been just ten seconds too much as the girl was practically thundering about in her own apartment, intent on making as much noise as possible.

Closing the door behind her, Andrea speedily made off in the direction she thought she might have gone.

"Emily?" she called, reaching the door of the dimly lit bedroom. "Hey, are you okay?"

Stepping inside she observed she was sprawled across the king sized bed, head buried deep in the pillow but still facing in her general direction. She articulated a muffled response to which Andrea sighed with relief. She moved closer to the bed and noted that she looked comfortable enough but perhaps she should be under the covers. It was freezing outside and her heating didn't appear to be on. Not that she was going to notice the cold, conked out like that, but since Andrea was leaving she figured she would feel a lot better knowing that she wasn't going to get an angry phone call the next day about why she had left Emily to freeze her ass off. Or if she even remembered tonight at all.

Andrea stood over her, suddenly fascinated by watching her sleeping. Hmm, how odd that she was intrigued like this. But she just couldn't help it. Emily just looked so... Calm. Not irritated or rushing like she did day in, day out at work. But calm. It was such a contrast. Though with that being said, how else did people look when they were sleeping? Andrea wasn't sure why she was staring at her but she just couldn't take her eyes away. There was something there that just warranted looking at. Her messed up hair was covering her face slightly, making her look beautifully disheveled. Bending over, Andrea reached out a hand and softly moved the random tendrils from her face. She repeated this action again when Emily suddenly reached out and grabbed her wrist, stilling her. Apparently she wasn't out for the count whatsoever.

"That tickles."

Even though she had drunk as much as a sailor swore, she was still strangely coherent and had managed to yank Andrea down with one flick of her wrist. She crash landed on top of her, half on and half off of the bed. Andrea felt extremely awkward as she noticed how perfectly her body seemed to fit against Emily's. And she had thought that the way she fitted against Nate's was incomparable.

"I don't want you to leave."

Andrea wasn't sure if she heard correctly. She didn't want her to leave? Why, what was wrong with her? Had she cracked her skull on the headboard on her way down onto the bed? Did she need medical attention? This was not the Emily she knew. The real Emily would surely be telling her to get her ass out of her apartment. But instead here she was, telling her that she did not want her to leave. Given the rather intimate closeness of their bodies, she couldn't help but notice that Emily's complexion was awfully pale, like she would be sick at any moment. She probably was going to be. That was iron clad. However she was really vulnerable and Andrea didn't know what to do.

In the midst of all her thoughts she had only just noticed that her wrist was still encased tightly within Emily's grasp. She also noticed that she was still on top of her. An uneasy silence filled the room. She looked down at her for what felt like the longest time, as if trying to decide on a course of action. Or something to say, at least. It took her even longer to try and even do that as a lump formed in her throat.

"You- No?"

"I don't want you to leave," she repeated, even more drowsy than the first time. It was quite clear that she wasn't fit to be on her own but it was also obvious that Andrea had gotten so caught up in her thoughts that she had only just realised the uncomfortable angle her body was at whilst she needlessly lay atop of Emily. She finally shifted her weight off of her and onto the other side of the bed. The redhead then half turned to her, looking rather anxious. "I don't want to be alone tonight. It's cold and I'm worried I might- Just... don't leave."

Andrea was not liking the desperate tone in her voice and she was now overly concerned. This wasn't like her at all. Had she taken something with her drink? Or had someone spiked it? Or was it just too much alcohol consumption? In any event, she needed calming.

"I thought you didn't need babysitting," she said. "You know the, 'no thanks, I can take care of myself' comment? Do you remember that?"

Emily shook her head and attempted to slap Andrea on the arm, which she spectacularly mistimed. Her hand hit the pillow instead.

"I don't remember," she whispered sullenly. "I was obviously talking utter nonsense. Please, just... Stay. Will you? Promise me you'll stay."

Andrea sighed and stared at the ceiling. It wasn't that she didn't want to stay. But since Emily was practically pleading with her, she had no choice. Although there was a whole other problem: Nate. And their plans for the rest of the evening. She couldn't not come home but at the same time she couldn't leave her stricken colleague, either. She was sure Nate would understand. He would just have to. But what would he say? Their relationship was already shaky enough without her ditching him in favour of someone she often moaned about. She would be such a hypocrite if she did so. But really, what choice did she have? She would never forgive herself if she left and something happened to Emily.

Andrea rubbed her forehead in exasperation. She simply couldn't stand her thoughts any longer and so she chose to do the right thing.

"Okay. I promise to stay. But I need to call Nate first. Just to let him know where I am and-"

She trailed off upon hearing Emily's soft and steady breathing against the crook of her neck. Glancing down, Andrea discovered that Emily had her head firmly snuggled on her shoulder, sleeping. And for real this time! Ohhh, victory! Sweet, sweet victory! She smiled wryly to herself and decided to text Nate instead. She didn't want to run the risk of waking her by getting into an argument with her boyfriend.

I'm at 62nd and East. Kind of an emergency. The work kind of emergency.
I have to crash here for the night. It's nothing for you to worry about.
I'm so, so sorry. I swear I'll make it up to you.
Call you in the morning. xoxo

And with that she turned her phone off and set it down onto the bedside table on her side. The only sound left was that of Emily's breathing.

-----
Emily groaned, feeling the morning sunshine beaming onto her face through the blinds. The Venetian blinds which she hadn't even bothered to tilt the previous evening. She raised a hand in an attempt to shield her eyes from the sunlight, before rubbing at them. Her stomach lurched uncontrollably even with the briefest of movement. Oh, hell. What on Earth had she had to drink last night? It took her a further second to realise what day it was. Christmas Day. Ugh! She wanted to crawl beneath the covers and hide away. Christmas dinner was most certainly out of the question and the biggest hangover known to man would no doubt fill that void. Ugh. She wanted to die a quick, painless death.

Grumbling at her stupidity she proceeded to roll over away from the sun. The bloody thing was just too damn bright, hangover or not!

But what she hadn't been expecting was to wake up to another person lying beside her. And not just any person...

Andrea Sachs.

Oh, shit. She hadn't..? Had they...? No. They couldn't have possibly...? No, definitely not. Trying not to panic, the first thing Emily did was check her appearance. Glancing down she was mightily relieved to find that she was still fully clothed but sans her Gucci heels. The second thing that proved that nothing had transpired between them was that she wasn't under the covers and neither was Andrea, who was also still fully clothed. So she hadn't totally annihilated herself with the drink, flirted with and then seduced the other girl into her bed after all!

Scowling, she lashed out, repeatedly jostling the brunette's shoulder. "Andrea! Andrea! Wake the hell up! Do you hear me, get up!"

Andrea immediately jolted awake, her frantic heart racing ten times over. What was wrong? Was there a fire? Was it an earthquake? Shaking off the initial grogginess, she realised that earthquakes don't happen in Manhattan, so that option was null and void. The events of the previous evening quickly came back to her as she remembered that she had spent the night in Emily's apartment. And, judging from the manner in which she was woken, Andrea guessed that Emily was absolutely horrified at seeing her lying beside her.

"Well good morning to you too," she said, not totally understanding the hostility. "Do you normally wake people up like that?"

"Andrea, what in God's name are you doing in my apartment and in my bed?!"

"First of all, I am not in your bed. I am on top of it. And secondly you were the one begging me to stay with you."

Emily scoffed. "Me? Begging? I never beg. Least of all, anything of you."

"Well, you were."

"I don't believe you."

Andrea shrugged. "So don't. You never believe anything I say anyway."

Throwing herself back down on to the bed, Emily put her hands across her face and groaned once again. Could she truly have begged Andrea to spend the night? If only her memory wasn't so hazy right now. Maybe it would come back to her in time. Although, if she thought about it then she wagered that it had something to do with the annual Lukas Warner Christmas Eve party. And that she had gotten into the Christmas spirit in her usual, over the top fashion. Once again her stomach lurched. Twisting and turning in more ways than imaginable. Not good.

"I assume you took me home?"

Andrea nodded. "Yep."

"Was I really that bad?"

No point in lying. "You were a bitch."

"What else is new."

"A flirty bitch, I might add."

Emily frowned. "Did I flirt with you? Is that why I begged you to stay? Oh, please don't tell me I planned to have sex with you!"

"You could hardly walk, Em, let alone get your clothes off and have your wicked way with me."

A relieved sigh escaped her lips. "So, I didn't make a pass at you then? I do tend to try seduce anyone in my path when I'm like that."

Andrea paused for a moment, deliberately trying to unease her. "Well, you did tell the cab driver that we were going to have 'amazing' sex."

Emily's eyes widened in shock before she once again threw her hands over her face. How fucking embarrassing! That quick death she had wished for would have come in real handy right about now. Especially with Andrea's victorious laughter making it all the more worse. Damn her for thinking that this was all just one big joke. Just absolutely damn her! Annoyed, she began bashing her about the head with a pillow.

Andrea couldn't stop laughing but still cowered, throwing her arms up in an futile attempt at self defence. Emily, however, kept whacking her until she eventually relented, seeing the funny side. "I'll have you know that I am amazing in that department. I rarely disappoint."

"Tell me, is that the drink or your ego talking?"

The Brit smirked. "Neither. It's the truth."

And for that she received a playful shove on the shoulder. "Glad to see that you’ve kept that ego in check, Emily."

"Naturally. But I also happen to feel like shit, so..." she trailed off, glancing across to the clock on her wall. 8.21am. What in the world was Andrea still doing here? Wouldn't her perfect boyfriend be having kittens? "Shouldn't you be at home, with Nate- Unwrapping presents?"

Following her gaze to the clock on the adjacent wall, Andrea took one glimpse and immediately remembered that she had promised to call Nate. However her face fell as she realised that he was probably on his flight by now. She only hoped that he wasn't sitting in his seat, eating peanuts and sulking. She would have a lot of making up to do after Christmas was over, of that she was absolutely sure.

"Yeah," she said, rather distantly. "Though I think I've missed it. Nate's on his way back to Illinois as we speak."

Judging from her disheartened demeanor, Emily promptly sussed that Andrea had blown him off in order to stay with her.

"So, you ditched your boyfriend in favour of me?"

"You needed me more than he did."

Emily blinked, taking that statement in. The sincerity in the other girl's voice had pretty much stunned her into silence. Now, there was a first. How did that make her feel? Did she feel guilty? Did she feel wanted? Truth be told, she didn't actually know what she felt. Considering all of the times she had been a complete bitch to Andrea she figured that she didn't have any right to possess any feelings at all.

"I see," she said, trying to pick her words carefully. "I would have just left me if I were you."

Andrea shook her head, taking Emily's hand and squeezing. She really had no idea of the reasoning behind her actions but it felt right to do so and she noticed that Emily didn't pull away. Perhaps Andrea was starting to see the inner Emily. The one that hid behind all of the bravado and the scathing, catty remarks. The Emily that was human just like everyone else and susceptible to the odd moment of weakness. The Emily that she could actually be friends with. "You were really vulnerable. The way you were talking.. It was.. I got scared, okay? It's in my nature to worry. And my leaving you would only have made me feel guilty had anything of happened to you. Can't you just deal with that?"

The thing was, Emily probably could deal with it, yes. If only she could just get over her pride first.

But she never gave Andrea an answer to her question.

"Shit, I really have to go," announced the brunette. "My parents are coming over for the day and my apartment is a total mess."

Emily gave a vacant nod, her head still reeling from the shock of how much Andrea had sacrificed her perfect Christmas morning with Nate in order to stay over and keep a watchful eye on her. And she hadn't deserved any of her goodwill. Not a single ounce of it.

Andrea picked up her shoes and slipped them on before depositing her cell phone into the waiting pocket of the creased coat. The same coat that she had been lying in the entire night. It would now, most likely, need a thorough seeing to at the nearest dry cleaners. But unfortunately for her, it would need to wait until after the holiday as there were other, more important things to be seen to - like Christmas dinner.

She had just made her way around the bed when Emily called out to her. “Wait, I have a present for you."

Delving into the top drawer of her beside table, she pulled out an tan coloured envelope which had Andrea's name written on the front. Holding it out in front of her, she gestured for her to take it. She had meant to give her it earlier in the week but had forgot. "It is Christmas after all."

"Emily, you shouldn't have..." she said, reaching out and taking the item from her outstretched hand. Unfolding the sealed tab of paper, she opened the envelope to reveal a pair of tickets for the Chicago musical. Her eyes widened in disbelief, absolutely stunned at such generosity from a girl she thought hated her guts. "Like, really shouldn't have. This is... It's too much. I can't accept it."

"Yes, you can." Emily insisted. "Do you recall that weekend when your father was in town? And Miranda called, demanding that you get her home from Miami? And you couldn't do it? You couldn't get her home for the twins' recital, which really pissed her off, remember?"

Andrea nodded, wincing at the mere thought. That night had probably been one of the most stressful nights of her entire existence. Like it had somehow been her fault that she couldn't get the fucking woman a jet in the middle of a tropical storm. But she had been desperate to impress. And she should have impressed. The fact that being Miranda Priestly's assistant would open a lot of doors for her should have been the catalyst for her to show off and subsequently impress. But the truth was it didn't seem to be doing anything. At least not then it hadn't.

"I remember hearing you on the phone to Nate that following Monday," Emily continued. "Telling him all about how your father managed to convince you to just forget about it and go and see Chicago as you had planned. If I didn't know you any better, I'd be willing to bet that you didn't enjoy it all that much out of fear for what Miranda was going to say to you when she eventually did get home from Miami. Am I right?"

Of course she was right. Andrea had been naive to think that it would have all been okay. That Miranda would have somehow understood. And with that careless reasoning she had sat in the theatre, not enjoying the show and fretting the arrival of Monday morning. She had been such a fool that night and Emily pointing this out wasn't helping her quash the memory. Surely there was a point in this little trip down memory lane?

"Anyway," sighed the redhead, rubbing at the back of her neck. "The point I'm trying to make is that you should accept the tickets because you never got to enjoy it the first time around. I'm offering you the chance to go again with your father. I won't take no for an answer."

"I don't get why you care." confessed Andrea.

She shrugged, a half smirk. "I just do."

The comment mirrored Andrea's the previous evening, prompting her into thinking that Emily did remember last night. Or bits of it, at least.

"But I didn't get you anything."

"Yes, you did."

Andrea frowned, perplexed.

"You took me home. You made sure that I was safe. That's about as generous as any gift could be."

If that hadn't of sounded so amusing it would have been sickly sentimental. "God, that's so cheesy Emily and you know it."

An agreeable pause. "Mmm. But seriously.. if you don't take those tickets I just may be forced to start being nice to you in the office."

"Oh, please, no!" Andrea wailed, complete with faux dramatics. "That would be the worst form of torture."

"No, that would be my hangover. So, if you don't mind..."

Taking that as a hint that she ought to leave, Andrea stepped outside of the bedroom. "Of course, of course..."

She turned in to face her again. "Merry Christmas, by the way. Try not to yak too much."

Emily winced visibly, turning over and away from Andrea. "You are evil."

"No, that would be you," the brunette interjected, fishing the apartment keys out of her pocket and tossing them onto the end of the bed.

"Your keys, by the way. Before you try to blame me for stealing them as well.."

"Ugh, goodbye Andrea."

I hate the ending, I thought it was a bit abrupt but I kinda just lost my mojo. That being said, I had so much fun writing it! :D

And in semi-related news, as cute as they are together, Emily really ought to just admit that JKras is just a cover for her very, very, VERY hot and naughty sexy time with Hathaway beneath the sheets as we all know that they are QUITE OBVIOUSLY FUCKING.

four hundred and ninety three

2008-09-16T15:28:12Z

OH MY GOD. I AM GOING TO EXPLODE FROM THE CUTENESS. OH, I THINK I JUST DID.

"I think Emily will have no problem having a career to equal that of Cate Blanchett, but I’m not sure I’m talented enough for that, so I’d like to go as far as my talent will take me for as long as I can."

Whilst that is such awesome praise to lavish onto my beloved Ms Blunt, I don't understand why Anne is so depreciating of herself. I know she's having a real rotten time of it at the moment with that fraud merchant but, dang, you rock girlie, don't let anyone tell you any different.

And then, a day or so after I read that, I came across this response from Emily. They're destined. I swear.

"She [Anne] puts pressure on herself, but I think she’s at a point where she can breathe and discover her whole bag of tricks. She has this newfound sense of confidence, and as her friend, that’s very exciting to see."

And this one just because.

"Emily kind of changed my approach to acting. She just fucking got on with it. She’d just jump off the diving board. I’d stop, look at the water and then jump. And suddenly I just thought, Why, her way looks so much more fun."

Obligatory

Interlaced hand!holdage :D

HEEEE!! This is exactly why Emily/Anne are so totally my favourite real life pairing. They are so freakin' BFF it's unbelievable. The compliments they give to one another is just... GUH. They are so having sweet, hot girly-sex. They know it. I know it. EVERYONE FUCKING KNOWS IT.

TIME FOR GOSSIP GIRL Y'ALL. *flees*

four hundred and ninety one

2008-08-28T16:03:49Z

Title: Let’s Have Each Other Again
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Rating: NC-17, for graphic descriptions of F/F sex and some swearing.
Characters: Andrea, Emily. Eduardo, Mickey and Serena are minors. Miranda by name only.
Outline: Miranda’s desk is used for many a thing. It’s only fair that someone should have sex on it.
Notes: This piece takes place six months after Andrea has left Runway. As usual, all the characters belong to Lauren Weisberger. Even the security guards Eduardo and Mickey aren’t mine. The title comes from lyrics featured in the brilliant song Rescue by Eve 6. No copyright infringement intended whatsoever.

Dashing into the Elias Clark building, a hurried and breathless Andrea practically collided with one of the exiting patrons. She had been in a rush. Desperate to get into a sheltered spot, out of the thunderstorm which had descended upon the streets of Manhattan. The heavens had been threatening to burst open for a good half hour and Andrea had foolishly thought that she would make it in time. But the truth was that as soon as the first droplets had begun to fall she had still been a good few blocks away from her final destination. She knew that she would’ve been absolutely drenched by the time she actually made it there.

And now, apologizing to the suited businessman that she had crashed into, Andrea only had herself to blame. It was her fault for deciding to not only walk the streets of New York at such a late hour but also without an umbrella despite actually watching the weather report earlier. Accepting her apology and excusing himself, the gentleman whipped out an umbrella and exited out into the horrendous rain.

Attempting to shake herself off, Andrea noticed Eduardo and Mickey behind the front desk. The former had his raincoat on, obviously preparing to leave Mickey on his own for, what she remembered to the best of her knowledge, his weekly stint on the nightshift. It was the Hispanic gentleman who noticed her first.

“Andrea Sachs,” he boomed animatedly, flashing her that old toothy grin. “How the hell are you?”

She approached the desk, smiling somewhat abashedly. Mickey nodded his greeting, sipping at a scorching Starbucks latte. “I’m good. Soaked but yeah, yeah. I’m very well. How’s the wife and kids?”

“Ahh, same old, same old.” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “Alejandro is actually bringing home his new girlfriend for the first time. Very exciting. I’ve been teasing him about it all week. I probably shouldn’t but I just couldn’t resist it. So tell me about you, how’s your new job? You liking it? And Nate, how is he?”

Shuffling awkwardly, she shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s in Boston. We broke up. Almost six months now.”

“Sorry to hear that,” commiserated Mickey in his thick Brooklyn accent, tossing the latte into the bin, clearly dissatisfied. “I don’t know how you girls drink that shit. Four bucks for that damn thing. Horrible.”

Andrea chuckled, remembering all of those hot Starbucks she had had to get Miranda in order to help her prep for the day ahead. Oh how she did not miss that morning queue where she had to wait in line for quarter of an hour just to pick up that dreadful order Emily tossed at her daily. Thinking of the redhead whom she had come all the way through the rain to see, Andrea inquired as to her whereabouts.

“Is, uh, Emily working late at all?”

Mickey sniggered. “When is she ever not? That girl is married to her job. Which is a shame. A damn shame. She should be out there giving all those eligible bachelors a good seeing to. Man, what I wouldn’t give for just one date with that girl. Just one lousy date. Do you know what I’d do, Andrea? I’d-”

Eduardo shoved him roughly, not best pleased.

“Do you think you could stop thinking with your dick for just one second, eh?” He lamented, shaking his head before turning to Andrea and sliding a security pass across the desk. “Just ignore him. And yeah she’s still here. Go on up. I on the other hand am out of here. Mickey, please take your head out of the gutter before I see you tomorrow and Andy, don’t leave it too long before your next visit, you hear?”

Nodding her promise Andrea headed off towards the elevator. “You bet. Take it easy.”

She had missed those two jokers. In truth, that was the thing that made her sad the most about leaving Elias Clark. Leaving behind the genuine folk. Like them. And Nigel. Oh, Nigel. How could she forget him? He had been her utmost savior at times. Unlike the whole Runway experience which had been a torrid nightmare. She had to leave. She just couldn’t stay any longer. Not with the way Miranda was carrying on. With all her deceitful lies and manipulations. And Emily. Christ, Andrea had actually missed her. Missed her and her neurotic little quirks. Missed her scathing sarcasm and demeaning looks. If it weren’t for her, she wouldn’t have been out in the rain, on her way to see her, wanting to make things right between them.

The elevator binged at the floor Runway was situated on and Andrea exited into the darkened front reception area where Melissa and Louisa would sit on a daily basis, endlessly greeting models and their agents. As well as all the high profile designers who had come for exclusive appointments with Miranda.

As she passed through the many glass doors, Andrea walked through the deserted office space, heading towards Miranda’s office. Placing her purse onto her old desk she inched towards the door frame of the Dragon Lady’s abode. And there she was. The Dragon Lady’s right hand woman. Back turned and busy.

She stood there for a few minutes, watching Emily assemble Miranda’s desk in that immaculate manner she insisted upon. Andrea noted that, in the six months since her departure from the publication, the preparations that had to be made for the forthcoming day hadn’t changed. And neither, it seemed, had Emily. Here she was still working her ass off late at night. Waiting around for this, waiting around for that. The new second assistant was quite obviously hopeless or else she, whoever she was, would have been the one stuck behind late at night. Either that or Emily just loved her job that little bit too much. Andrea could never quite grasp the fact that when you worked for Miranda Priestly that was exactly what you did.

Emily was, however, still aesthetically pleasing; she still sported those glossy red tresses, the length still the same and sitting on her shoulders, flawlessly groomed beyond words. Her attire was still trendy and edgy as ever and her scent still intoxicating. If Andrea didn’t know any better then she would say she was guilty of having a serious crush. A crush on someone so self-centered, arrogant and highly unlikeable. But it was a crush none the less. And it had only taken this long for her to realise it.

“Hi,” she announced, finally finding her voice. Emily stilled her actions almost instantaneously, knowing immediately who was behind her. Andrea bit her bottom lip nervously, wondering how she was going to react to her sudden, unannounced presence. Even though they had, she believed, parted on good terms Andrea still felt that air of intimidation whenever she was in the redhead’s company. Although, she could always blame her jittery state on the drenching she had just received outside in the thundering rain.

Turning around to face her, Emily crossed her arms in that expectant manner of hers.

“Well, this is a surprise. Not entirely unwelcome but surprising to say the least.”

Surprising, maybe. But Andrea had come here with a game plan. A plan that she had carefully and meticulously thought out. A plan which stipulated that for once and for all she would show some goddamned backbone and not let Emily kick her around emotionally. It was one thing to be fully prepared for such a task as psychologically battling Emily Charlton and her damning wit but when you were actually around her then all pre-planning would inexplicably disappear. Andrea only hoped that she would be able to go the distance this time, so to speak.

“Yeah, that’s me. I’m just full of surprises. How are you?”

The answer was characteristically succinct. “Fine.”

“You look-”

“Great. Yeah, well tell me something I don’t know, like, your reason for being here?”

Wow, really straight to the point. She certainly wasn’t going for the small talk.

“I was in the neighbourhood.”

A disbelieving chuckle escaped Emily’s lips as she took in Andrea’s drenched appearance. “You were in the neighbourhood, in the pissing rain, at 11.45 in the evening? Right, Andrea. Whatever you say.”

Okay, so it was a little unbelievable, her just showing up out of the blue like this. She hadn’t called or emailed to say that she was stopping by. Truth was, she doubted that Emily would even entertain the idea of seeing her. Andrea knew all to well how good the girl was at holding a grudge.

“Is there any chance I could have a towel? I think I’m coming down with something.”

Emily rolled her eyes, not bothering her backside to go and locate said item. “Oh, don’t exaggerate. It’s just a little downpour, its hardly going to kill you.” She suddenly smirked out of nowhere, before continuing. “I do have a towel but I’m quite content with having you suffer for a little while longer. Sorry.”

And with that she moved away from the front of the desk and around to Miranda’s end where she began to sort through the magazines, tossing anything that was out of date into the trash. Andrea rolled her eyes and unbuttoned her soaked cardigan, throwing it onto a nearby chair making sure Emily didn’t notice. She would no doubt be yelling at her to get it off of Miranda’s precious suede apparel as it would “ruin” it.

“So... how’s your leg?” she asked, running a hand through her matted hair.

“Healing. Although I’ve still not let you off the hook for that infliction.”

Andrea sighed dramatically, throwing her arms up into the air in frustration. How could she show her how sorry she was for all that had happened? How could she apologise for the accident? How could she apologise for inadvertently screwing Paris and anything else that may have been detrimental to Emily’s feelings? How could she possibly apologise for everything that had gone wrong if all Emily wanted to do was rattle off sarcastic remarks? At this rate, Andrea would be apologising forever. She had to think of something she could do to win her over. Something astonishingly daring and out of character.

So she moved closer to the desk. Edging back into the crazy world of Runway and all of the superficial bullshit that came with it. Whenever Emily turned and leaned over to pick something up Andrea cocked her head, smiling lazily as she was treated to one hell of a view of-

Focus, Andrea! Don’t forget what you came here to do. Concentrate, you hear? Stop staring at Emily’s ass!

She dropped the grin, keeping her voice steady. “Come on, Em, you know that wasn’t my fault.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, was I not on the phone to you when that cab bodyslammed me into Lexington and Fifth?”

“Yes, but-”

“But nothing, Andrea.”

Somewhere in the midst of their petty arguing, Andrea had followed Emily around to the other side of the desk. She wasn’t giving up until she had explained herself, apologised and had said apology accepted.

“Come on,” she pleaded ruefully, trying again and grabbing at the redhead’s wrist, stilling her actions. Emily glanced briefly at Andrea out the corner of her eye as she felt the brunette’s thumb rubbing at her skin softly. “Aren’t you tired of this? I know I am. I haven’t seen you in months and yet you continue to play games with me. Can’t we just stop all this nonsense and just make peace with one another?”

“No.”

“No?”

“That’s what I said. Now let go.”

Andrea shook her head.

“I said get your hands off of me.”

“No. Don’t you want to make things right between us?”

Emily looked away, her words strained. “As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing to discuss.”

There was nothing to discuss? Sure there was! There was plenty to be said. And done. If Andrea didn’t do what she had come here to do then she would never get the courage to do it later. Closing the gap which remained between them, she reached out for the black tie that hung loosely around Emily’s neck and successfully won back her attention. She really was looking hot. Especially when she sported this stubborn, wounded expression. It was damage limitation. Any talking that they had to do could most definitely wait.

Her breath caught in her throat as she responded. “Who said there was anything to discuss?”

Using the tie as a sort of makeshift leash, she pulled Emily towards her, who surprisingly didn’t resist. Their hips clashed softly as Andrea bent her head and kissed her exposed neck, trying to incite a reaction. Emily shivered involuntarily as she felt Andrea’s wet skin against her body which was, by contrast, scorching hot. Fuck, maybe she needed a sprint out in the lashing rain in order to cool herself off.

“I’m not in the mood for this.”

Her words were shockingly hollow. She let out an aroused growl as Andrea’s twisting tongue teased at her skin, tickling her weakest spot. Her hands naturally landed on Andrea’s hips as she reluctantly leaned into the other woman, succumbing. She felt her skilled resistance beginning to crumble around her. Damn.

“Really? You’re not putting up much of a resistance.”

“Maybe that’s because I’m not.”

Emily moaned softly as Andrea left a trail of impassioned kisses along her neck and cheek, inching towards her mouth in what seemed like an eternity. But she got there eventually, enclosing her lips around her partner’s. Their kiss was frantic; so much so that Andrea grabbed a fistful of Emily’s hair in order to deepen their embrace. Emily’s tongue caressed the bottom of Andrea’s lips, seeking entry. She complied, opening her mouth and angling her head in order to savour every sweet inch of her invading tongue.

Their breathing became erratic as they gripped tighter at one another. Emily stumbled against the desk, naturally bringing Andrea along with her. She pressed her body against her all the more harder, completely and utterly overtaken by insatiable desire. Hands roamed recklessly, grabbing at the remaining piece of wet material adorning the top half of Andrea’s body. Things had escalated pretty quickly in such a short space of time and Andrea realised that the both of them obviously had so much pent up sexual aggression that it was just waiting to spill over and be exorcised.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Andrea just about managed, pretty much out of nowhere. Considering the weather outside, the question was a little absurd. Emily didn’t answer and instead flipped Andrea around, pushing her back across the desk before quickly swiping everything off the top. Miranda’s perfectly assembled magazines flew everywhere. Pens rolled off the desk as paperclips clinked against the glass surface. Even stray coins hit the floor as just about everything except Andrea herself was violently discarded from the desk. Emily had gathered a vicious momentum and there was nothing on this Earth that was going to stop her. Andrea felt her heart pounding in her ears, flushed with excitement.

“What’s the point when we can fuck right here on Miranda’s desk?”

Taking a second to think about it Andrea grinned her approval as Emily loomed over her, sporting her own delicious smirk. Here was hoping that Miranda didn’t have a secret camera stashed away somewhere in her office. What an absolutely embarrassing situation they would find themselves in if that were the case!

Grabbing the tie once again, Andrea pulled Emily down on top of her forcefully, her lips desperately seeking hers with a matter of urgency. Their embrace was as intense as before. If Andrea had known that kissing her would be like this then she would have done it a long, long time ago. Emily’s hand slowly began traversing up Andrea’s right leg. Her fingernails briefly dug into her skin as she pushed the skirt upwards, targeting her inner thighs. Andrea jolted slightly and despite knowing fine well where Emily’s fingers would eventually end up, she didn’t push her away, both wanting and needing it at the same time.

Emily suddenly abandoned her pursuit and instead attended to getting that drenched shirt off of Andrea’s back. Not bothering to unbutton the blouse she instead clawed at the fabric, prompting the buttons to loosen and bounce across the glass surface. The blouse soon followed suit, similarly flopping to the carpet.

“I seem to be at a slight disadvantage here,” Andrea hinted as she discarded the tie from around Emily’s neck and tossed it far across the room. She then set about working on removing the matching silk shirt, her hands greedily groping at her backside. “Fair’s fair.”

“And since when did I ever play fair?” she shot back rather matter of factly with a groan. “Breaking the rules is my forte. I mean, just look at us. Miranda would die a death if she were to walk in.”

Andrea shrugged, unbuttoning Emily’s shirt and roughly yanking the shoulders down. “Screw her.”

“Hmm, no thanks,” she replied with a leer, running her hand up the inside of Andrea’s leg once again. “I’d rather touch you. I’d rather kiss you. And I’d rather fuck you. And you know you want it. That’s why you’re here tonight, right? Don’t think that for one second I actually believed that cock and bull story about being in the neighborhood. You aren’t half a terrible liar.”

“You’re no saint either,” Andrea breathed. “And you talk too much. You- Holy, shit!”

Emily had brusquely shoved her hand between Andrea’s thighs, angered by her cheap insult. Her finger slipped into her slick vascular walls with relative ease and stroked languidly. “And you’re too observant.”

As her probing intensified, Emily inserted a second finger, pushing all the way in up to her knuckles. Andrea squirmed and moaned loudly, her back arching off the gleaming table surface as the fingers delved deeper and deeper into her cervix. A self satisfied smirk wormed it’s way onto Emily’s features as she watched the other woman articulate her heightened pleasure with erotically charged gasps.

Andrea silently prayed that the redhead never stop fucking her like that. What she was doing was not taught; that was a god given talent right there. In fact, she vaguely wondered how many women Emily had actually been with for it all seemed to come very naturally to her. Not that it mattered. It was just one of those mindless things that had begun steamrollering through Andrea’s brain as she bit her bottom lip, trying desperately to curtail the need to scream her release.

Emily’s embedded fingers twisted faster, thrusting harder whilst her thumb pressed wickedly against her clit, finally enticing Andrea into screaming out her name along with several expletives.

Within seconds Emily felt Andrea contracting around her fingers violently as her orgasm hit in full flow. Pulling her fingers out in uneasy strokes she then thrust them back in again to the hilt with more force . It soon became too much for the brunette as she grabbed at the edge of the glass surface, holding on for dear life as she rode out the final waves of pleasure. A few seconds passed by before Andrea settled down.

“I never pegged you for a screamer,” Emily announced with a pleased grin, one that could match the River Thames in terms of width. “Although, I can’t say I’m all that surprised. I work hard for those screams.”

Andrea smiled back, a little embarrassed by her vocals. “Yeah, well I hadn’t expected you to be so damned good.” She had never ever screamed like she had there. Never. She hadn’t thought that such pleasure was achievable. She guessed it just needed the right person to drag it out of her.

“And I’m going to get you back for that,” she threatened, grabbing at Emily’s shirt and yanking it over her head, tossing it onto the glass. Capturing her lips in another searing kiss, Andrea switched their positions and blindly unhooked the redhead’s lacy black brassiere, using her hands to grope at her now bare breasts. Her fingers tweaked at the nipples prompting an amorous groan from Emily who raised her knees and settled them against Andrea, holding her in place. Not that she was going anywhere or anything...

Snaking a hand down towards the juncture of Emily’s thighs, Andrea traced the outline of her moist opening before teasingly pushing aside her underwear and inserting a venturous finger inside. Her palm smacked wetly against her crotch with each perfectly timed plunge whilst her tongue trailed across her breasts. Emily writhed and moaned beneath her, twisting her head away and scrunching her eyes shut in intense concentration. She grasped at Andrea’s hair, spurring her on, delighting in the pleasure that was now purposefully coursing throughout her body. Fuck, anymore of that and she’d be completely catatonic.

Andrea smiled wryly against her skin, introducing in a second digit and driving her fingers into her channel ruthlessly. She had picked up a wicked strumming rhythm that even the world’s best drummer would approve of. Twisting. Stroking. Pulling. Prodding. Licking. Fucking. All actions met with passionate moans and groans. Emily was nearing that infamous point of no return as Andrea deliberately shortened the gaps between her thrusts, knowingly accelerating the other woman’s impending liberation with her teasing.

Pulling Andrea’s head up, Emily crashed her lips against hers rather suddenly, groaning into her mouth with a lackadaisical cry. The brunette’s busy fingers pushed all sorts of boundaries, testing Emily’s limitations, evoking reactions and challenging her resistance. Her timely thrusts bordering on excruciating.

She was close, oh so very --

“Holy shit!” interrupted a masculine voice in a loud, astonished tone which made both girls jolt in horror.

Emily reacted quickest to the disturbance. Pulling herself up and off of Andrea’s fingers, she grabbed at her abandoned shirt and covered up her naked torso, heart pounding a thousand times a second. She concealed herself despite having her back turned. She felt her face reddening, feeling both mortified and furious. Andrea wasn’t fairing much better in the humiliation stakes either, throwing her arm up across her cotton-clad breasts. The first thought that actually entered her head was that of Miranda Priestly not being able to fire her not the fact that she and Emily had just been caught having sex by the security guard.

“Mickey! I- We, uh-”

Switching his gaze from one hot flushed woman to the other, Mickey sported an impressed grin. He crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame of Miranda’s office. “You ladies need a hand?”

“You wish, Richardson,” snarled Emily with a roll of her eyes. She was clearly not impressed with his attempt at sordid humour. “What are you doing standing there anyway? Were- Were you spying on us?!”

He shook his head, still grinning like he had just won the lottery - and in this case, he certainly felt like he had just scooped the multi-million dollar jackpot. It wasn’t every day that he had the good fortune to stumble upon two very hot girls having very hot sex with one another.

“No, I heard screaming whilst securing Mr Ravitz’s office. Thought I’d come investigate. Never in a million years did I think I’d see you two... y’know.” He wiggled his eyebrows knowingly before focusing his gaze on Emily who had began to slip her shirt back on. “I guess a date is out of the question then, huh, Charlton?”

Now standing, Emily put her hands on her hips and glared at him accusingly. “Excuse me?”

“Well, y’know, since... Since you’re one of... them. Not that lesbians aren’t hot because, wow, they are.”

Marching across to him in her insanely expensive heels, Emily grabbed him by the arm and began pushing him through the door, absolutely livid with his cheeky demeanour. “Oh, just get out of here would you?!”

Stumbling out into the reception Mickey turned on his heel and retreated out into the now darkened hallway. Emily sighed, pushing a hand through her hair, exasperated. Andrea shuffled somewhat uneasily though she actually managed to see the funny side. “You’ve just crushed his world, by the way.”

“I’ll crush him if ever he mentions this to anyone,” Emily ranted, walking back into the office and picking up Andrea’s discarded blouse. “I doubt he will if he knows what’s good for him.” She tossed the shirt across the room towards it’s owner before letting out an annoyed sigh. “And I was almost there too. Fuck.”

Andrea shrugged, slipping into her blouse. “He’s gone now. If you want we could-”

“I’m definitely not in the mood anymore,” she interjected, sullenly, bending over to pick up the magazines and strewn pens. “I am sorry that you had such a wasted trip.”

Joining her at the table, Andrea knelt down to help her pick up the mess she had made.

“I wouldn’t say that,” she smiled as they both simultaneously reached for the same magazine. Emily glimpsed her smile and returned it, catching on to its meaning. “You know, I was being serious before... About your place. That- that’s if you want to. I’ve still to get you back for the screaming, remember?”

“Hmm, how could I forget?” she said with a leer. “But I’m afraid you can’t. Not tonight anyway. I’ve got plans to pack for a flight that leaves in...” she trailed off and looked at her watch as she stood up. “Five hours. I’m going back home to London for my sister’s wedding and I haven’t even packed yet.”

Andrea nodded and straightened up before walking across to Miranda’s suede chair and picking up her now semi-dry cardigan. “I hope that... after what we just did... that I’m forgiven. For everything that’s happened. The accident. Paris. I really am sorry, you know. And I only came here to show you that.”

“I know. And you are. Forgiven, that is. But you see... You now owe me once again.”

“Oh, I do, do I?”

A smirk. “Clearly.”

Smiling and shaking her head with mock disbelief, Andrea made her way out to her old reception area and gathered up her purse. Trust Emily to turn the tables yet again. She didn’t know when they would see other again but she had a funny feeling it wouldn’t be too long. They, once again, had unfinished business.

“Oh, Andrea!”

Turning around she was confronted by Emily tossing an umbrella at her.

“Wouldn’t want you catching a cold now, would we?”

The brunette didn’t say a word. She needn’t have to. If the sex hadn’t been a peace offering then the umbrella most certainly was. And she gladly took it. Pushing open the glass door, Andrea exited the office.

She hadn’t been gone two minutes when Emily’s cell phone trilled irritably. Picking the phone up from the window ledge, she glanced down at the caller ID which revealed that it was Serena. Flipping the cell open, she was greeted by the chirpy voice on the other end surrounded by blaring music and background chatter.

“Emily, hey, where are you?”

“Just about to leave the office. Why, where are you?”

“The Met. For Francesca’s 26th birthday party. Why aren’t you here? You said you were coming.”

Emily tapped her fingernails across Miranda’s desk, trying to remember when she had actually agreed to this party. Come to think of it, she had repeatedly told Serena throughout the week that she couldn’t make it. Obviously, she hadn’t been listening to a single word she had been saying.

“I’ve been telling you all week that I couldn’t make it. I’ve an early flight back to London for my sister’s wedding tomorrow. Don’t you remember me mentioning it at all?”

“Aww, yeah, now I remember. I’ll tell Fran you’re going back home. I’m sorry. Get a good night’s rest.”

Rest? Ugh. She couldn’t possibly do that. Not after what had just happened with Andrea.

“I wish I could but I don’t think I’ll be able to.”

“What? Why? Just turn your cell off and that way you won't have to deal with me drunk dialing your number.”

Rubbing at the side of her neck she sat on the ledge, crossing her legs. “I wish it were that easy. Serena, I’ve got something to tell you. You are never going to believe who just showed up at the office...”

I'm not entirely happy with this but it's done now and clocked in at eleven pages with 4,700+ words.

four hundred and eighty eight

2008-07-30T06:04:12Z

Title: Truth Or Dare
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Characters: Andrea, Emily.
Rating: R, for some language.
Outline: Emily and Andrea are trapped in an elevator. Sexual tension and bitching ahoy! Dialogue only.
Notes: I originally intended to do a sequel to Bait but I had a new idea, which, well, turned into this fic. As I was writing it I realised that I could make it a sequel to Five After Midnight and so I did. So this is set after the events of FaM, maybe a few days later or so. Eh, the usual disclaimer applies. Not mine, etc, etc.

22.11

“Oh my god, we've stopped moving.”

“Yes. That is generally what happens when an elevator malfunctions.”

“That doesn't mean what I think it means, does it?”

“It would appear so, yes.”

“How can you be so calm?”

“I'm naturally calm.”

“Even in situations like this?”

“Yes, even in situations like this. And much worse. We work for Miranda Priestly remember?”

“I know, but we're actually stuck in an elevator. I can't believe it.”

“It's a mere power failure. You won't be here for all eternity or anything.”

“You make it sound like this is an all too common occurrence.”

“It has been known to happen from time to time, yes.”

“It's just that I hate elevators. Besides, being in here with you makes it feel like an eternity.”

“You should consider this moment a privilege then. You won't get another chance like it.”

“Oh, would you get over yourself?”

“I was never under myself to begin with.”

“Come on, you have to talk to me.”

“I don't have to do anything.”

“Please, it's the only way I'll stay calm. Uhm, what do you do for fun?”

“Is this a cleverly disguised attempt at befriending me, Andrea?”

“No, no. I'm curious.”

“What about?”

“I don't know. I'm just trying to make conversation.”

“Well, I'd rather you didn't.”

“So, you just want to sit here in absolute silence?”

“If it were an option then I would prefer it, yes.”

“Ugh, this is my worst nightmare.”

“You continuing to talk – that's my worst nightmare.”

“Oh my god, I hate this.”

“Are you claustrophobic?”

“Very. Besides, you intimidate me.”

“I intimidate you? Surely I'm not that unappealing.”

“You're a lot of things, Emily.”

“That's a pretty damning assessment.”

“Well, that's how you make me feel.”

“You don't even know me. You couldn't even begin to.”

“From the way you conduct yourself, I wouldn't want to anyway.”

“I think I liked it better when we weren't talking.”

“Yeah, that's right, go on and dismiss me like you normally do.”

22.31

“What are you listening to?”

“I was under the impression that you weren't speaking to me.”

“I'm not. But whatever you have on, God, it's bloody awful.”

“Really? I never would have guessed by your distasteful expression.”

“Please, turn it down. It truly is making my ears bleed.”

“Call Serena then. You could drown it out with your constant bitching.”

“I'd have a hard task calling. There's no reception. We are trapped in an elevator after all.”

22.37

“Seriously, Andrea, would you turn that off?”

“Okay, how's this? Arcade Fire all right with you? That's a band, by the way.”

“I know who they are. Better than whatever that noise was you had on previously.”

“Well I'm glad that I'm listening to something that you would approve of.”

“You needn't seek my approval. I just never would have thought that you'd listen to them.”

“There's a lot you don't know about me.”

“Evidently.”

“You never even gave me a chance.”

“Am I at liberty to?”

“No, but you cast your eyes down upon me that very first day we met.”

“I could feel you staring at my arse, that's why.”

“What? I was not.”

“Don't lie. I know how good it looks when I walk.”

“Emily, I was not staring at your ass.”

“Okay, if you say so.”

22.45

“I socialise.”

“Hmm?”

“You asked me what I do for fun.”

“Oh, right.”

“I also shop. Eat. Drink. Cook. Sleep. Read. Go to the bathroom. Have sex-”

“Now you're just making fun of the question.”

“Well, you did ask.”

“Do you date?”

“I'm not an alien, Andrea.”

“It was just a question.”

“To which I answered.”

“Good, glad to know we're on the same page.”

“May I remind you that you're the one with the boyfriend.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You tell me. You're the one asking me if I date.”

“I wasn't coming on to you, if that's what you're asking.”

“Well considering what's happened between us already then I'd argue that you were.”

“You were the one who threw yourself at me.”

“It takes two to tango, Andrea.”

“Could you please stop saying my name like that?”

“Like what?”

“In that condescending tone that you seem to have mastered.”

“Why, does it bother you? I didn't hear you complaining the other night.”

“I didn't have a choice.”

“There's always a choice. And you chose the more pleasurable option.”

…

“Oh, what's the matter, cat got your tongue?”

“Rather it than you.”

“Haha, you liked it. You liked me having my hands all over you.”

“I did not.”

“You did so.”

“I can assure you that I didn't.”

“Liar. Although, I can't really say that I blame you.”

“Again with the need to get over yourself.”

“Your denials are most amusing, Andrea.”

“I'm glad that you've found something funny outta this shitty situation.”

“Can you honestly say to me that if I were to attempt such a thing again you wouldn't react?”

“Would you just drop it already?”

“Hmm, that's what I thought.”

23.09

“Usually I'd enjoy the silent treatment but it's sort of unnerving now.”

“You were the one moaning about how I was your worst nightmare.”

“I said your continuous talking was, not you personally.”

“Whatever. I propose a suggestion to relieve you of your boredom.”

“Ooh, aren't we the little sapphic! I knew you'd come around.”

“Hardly. I was about to suggest a game of truth or dare.”

“Bloody hell, what are you, five?”

“What would you rather we do then?”

“I said I was bored. Not desperate.”

“Come on, it'll help us to get to know each other better.”

“I'd say we're well past getting to know each other wouldn't you?”

“Emily, please, stop looking at me like that.”

“And exactly how am I looking at you?”

“Like you're the spoon and I'm the ice cream.”

“Mmm, what I wouldn't give for some Ben and Jerry's. The air conditioning in here is appalling.”

“Then take your jacket off if it'll stop you moaning.”

“Oh, I bet you'd love that.”

“Yes, I planned for us to be trapped here in order to watch you stripping.”

“Wow, you scheme better than I do.”

“Seriously, do you want to have a go at this or not?”

“Go on then, if we must.”

“Okay, I'll go first. Truth.”

“What's your favourite sexual position?”

“What kind of first question is that?”

“You're stalling. Answer the bloody question.”

“Certainly not the position you had us in the other day.”

“That's not a definitive answer, Andrea.”

“Alright then… I guess I'm a traditionalist: missionary.”

“That doesn't make you a traditionalist that just makes you lacklustre.”

“Well, what's yours then, if you're so outrageous?”

“Oh, that would be telling wouldn't it? Besides, I didn't pick truth.”

“So you choose a dare then?”

“No, I'll take a truth. Though you don’t get to ask me the same question…”

“Are you a natural redhead?”

“You're kidding, right?”

“Nope, I’m totally serious.”

“That has to be the worst truth question I’ve ever heard.”

“Hey, I'm starting out easy, unlike some people....”

“I guess you don’t play this game often. But to answer your ‘question’ no, I'm not.”

“See, that wasn't so bad.”

“No, it really was. Okay, your turn. Pick your poison.”

“Uhm… Dare.”

“Hmm, you sound indecisive. Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay, I want you to get this gum out of my mouth.”

“By using my fingers? No way. You’ll kick my ass if you end up with an infection.”

“No, no, you misunderstand me. I meant with your tongue.”

“You really like doing the outlandish don't you?”

“Well, it’s not as if we haven't kissed before.”

“That was different.”

“Of course it was different, Andrea, we fucked for Heaven’s sake! If you can't do something as trivial as-”

…

“Mmm, that was impressive. The way you just shut me up.”

“Being a forward thinking person, I thought you might approve.”

“Oh, I approve alright. I more than approve.”

“So, what will it be this time, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Why won't you take a dare?”

“I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

“No, that's my question: why won’t you take a dare?”

“If that previous ‘truth’ question is anything to go by then I don't hold out much hope for your dares.”

“Just answer the bloody question.”

“Don’t you dare mimic me.”

“What are you getting so upset for?”

“Believe me, when I’m upset… you’ll know it.”

“Okay, fine, whatever you say.”

“Good, I’m glad we’ve got that established.”

“But if you don’t mind me saying-”

“I do mind, actually. So don’t bother.”

“You’ve never had a problem speaking your mind in the past.”

“And I still don’t.”

“Obviously you do. So... why won’t you take a dare?”

…

“Come on Emily, this is getting ridiculous now. It’s not a trick question. I just want you to be honest with-”

“It’s because I don’t trust myself with you!”

“You… you don’t trust yourself with me?”

“That’s what I said. I don’t trust myself with you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Christ, must you have everything spelled out for you?”

“Apparently I do.”

“See, I don’t believe that. You want me to admit it. In fact, you’re daring me to admit it.”

“Admit what? What are you saying? Are you saying you have feelings for me? That you want me?”

“Oh, about bloody time!”

“…So you do have feelings for me?”

“What? No. The elevator’s working again.”

“Oh.”

23.51

“Look, about what just happened-”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll call an engineer out in the morning.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Is that so? I wasn’t aware I had telepathic abilities.”

“Damnit, Emily! Could you please be serious for just one second?”

“I was being serious. Come on, you should know that by now.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“Well, you better get sure or else-”

“What?”

“Never mind. You were saying?”

“Right, about what you said up there… about not trusting yourself with me…”

“You want to know if I meant it or not?”

“And did you?”

“Yes, I did. I meant every word.”

“Oh, my god.”

“Every single day I deny it to myself… or at least, I try to. I deny that I could ever like someone like you. I often tell myself that I dislike you, that you don’t belong in our world. But on the inside I’m craving you. It’s eating me up and I hate it. Sometimes when you walk by I get this feeling. It’s like a sudden rush of adrenaline. I can’t explain it, but it’s like I can’t resist you. No matter what I tell myself-”

“Emily, I-”

“Let me finish. Whenever you say daft, silly things it makes me want to strangle you yet at the same time I want to devour you. Whenever Miranda tells you off for something I crave to be the one who does it, but I have no right. It’s fucking driving me insane. I hate feeling like this. I hate that you occupy my thoughts. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I do like you, regardless of the snide looks I tend to dish out.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“But I feel like I should say something.”

“Really, it isn’t necessary. It’s my head that’s fucked up and-”

“I lied.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Before, I was lying. When you were teasing me and I said that I didn’t like you having your hands all over me? I lied. That was some of the best sex I’ve ever had. And I'm not just saying that to boost your ego. Granted, it was angry and frantic but I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t enjoy it.”

“Oh, I could have told you that. You had sex with me. I saw that impious expression on your face. Hell, I gave it to you, remember? As well as- You’re thinking about it right now aren’t you?”

“I am not.”

“Your grin says otherwise, Andrea. Tell me, would you like to have it again sometime?”

“Which, the sinful expression or the frantic, hateful sex?”

“Hmm, both…”

“I don’t know. Besides, I would appreciate it if you stopped smirking at me like that.”

“And exactly how am I smirking at you?”

“Like you’re about to do something immoral; you’re making me want to laugh.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“It is when you’re supposed to hate me.”

“Touché. Besides, I won’t be able to stop smirking at you in the office now that I have intimate knowledge of what turns you on and what doesn’t. I have a reputation to uphold. I couldn’t possibly jeopardize said status with rumours that I actually like my co-worker, now could I?”

“No. We couldn’t have that.”

“Just promise me one thing, Andrea.”

“Anything.”

“Don’t tell Serena. She’d only get jealous.”

I really need to stop these. I'll soon become the undisputed queen of Emily/Andrea fics as I honestly think I've actually written more than what's actually available in the fandom, which is just plain WRONG imo. There is too much Andrea/Miranda out there which I, quite frankly, just can't wrap my head around.

four hundred and eighty seven

2008-07-22T06:08:03Z

Title: Five After Midnight
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Characters: Andrea, Emily.
Rating: NC-17, for graphic descriptions of F/F sex. Shameless PWP.
Outline: Emily doesn't like feeling this way. And the only person she can take it out on is Andrea.
Notes: This little tale of debauchery takes place immediately after the scene where Andrea gets her makeover. You know the one, where Emily's expression is pretty much like this? Well, she's about to do something about it. So if you were ever wondering why Andrea was happy to see Nate at the end of the night, then, well she wasn't. She was just stoked because she's had more than a fumble with Emily.

Andrea didn’t see it coming.

Or rather, she didn’t see her coming.

How anyone could miss that striking red hair in all its glossy gloriousness was beyond anyone’s guess. Especially when it moved at such a phenomenal speed across the room and specifically in your direction.

Throughout her life Andrea had pretty much been oblivious to those around her so it wasn’t any surprise that, just as she was on her way out of the office, she hadn’t realised that a highly confrontational Emily had grabbed her by the arm and began inexplicably dragging her back across the room.

Within seconds they were out of their reception area and into one of the larger closets that was mainly used for dressing the models that were on call for the various shoots that took place daily at Runway. Andrea was thrust into the darkened room first whilst Emily attended to the lights and the locking of the doors behind her. Andrea was dumbfounded at the reason behind this sudden, unexpected imprisonment.

“Is this about the Chanel boots?” she asked hesitantly, dropping her handbag to the floor before ruffling her hair nervously, wondering just how far this girl was willing to go to get her hands on a pair of fucking boots. Emily had looked awfully jealous earlier that day upon seeing the fashion miracle that Nigel had performed and right now she looked more than capable of scratching Andrea’s eyes out in blind hatred.

“If it is then surely you’ll find a pair in-”

Her words were insignificant, unheard and ultimately ignored for Emily had forcefully thrown herself at Andrea, her lips clamping down around her rival’s. Stumbling backwards they hit a wall, or rather Andrea had, her spine almost cracking the vertical mirror, which had occupied the unblemished white décor. She tried to push the red head away but her grip was tight and unyielding. The same went for her unrepentant tongue which was hungry for approval.

Finally mustering some of that inner strength she knew she had buried somewhere deep within, Andrea pushed Emily from her, aghast at her actions.

“What the hell was that?” she demanded, eyes wide and hand wiping at her mouth.

Emily smirked cruelly. “You are in no position to ask me questions, Andrea.”

Determined hands sprung out to grab the lapels of the preppy jacket adorning Andrea’s lithe frame.

“I’m not done with you yet. In fact, I’ve only just begun.”

When Emily had enough fabric between her fists she yanked her co-worker towards her brusquely, their mouths fusing together once again, teeth biting violently at Andrea’s no doubt now swollen pink lips.

Andrea’s mind screamed to break the kiss but her lips had no intention of retreating much to her disgust. This surely was the fight or flight response of kissing. She could either give in to the aggressive force of nature before her or she could try once again to push her away and make a dash for the exit.

“Emily this isn’t the way,” she managed in a ragged breath between kisses. “You can’t make me do this.”

“I can make you do whatever the hell I please,” she threatened, smirk still in place. “It’s five after midnight. You and I are the only ones left in the entire building. No one knows we are in here. You won’t leave this room until I’m satisfied that you’re sorry. And who knows how long that’s going to take.”

Not divulging any more of her scheme, her soft lips found Andrea’s neck instead and the brunette suddenly felt her knees weakening radically . If the wall behind her hadn’t of been supporting her then she would have no doubt been on the floor. Giving in to Emily’s amazing talents, she sucked in her breath as her opposite number's tongue danced across her skin laboriously. Andrea’s subsequent words were jagged in comparison to the smooth licks that Emily was currently applying to her neck.

“What… what could I possibly have to apologise to you for?”

“For making me do this,” Emily elaborated as she nibbled her neck, subsequently making Andrea jolt against her. She clutched at her waist and reeled her in closer, their hips clashing ferociously. “I hate that you’ve made me feel this way. I don’t normally do this sort of thing. But I just couldn’t resist you.”

Emily’s hands teased at the small of Andrea’s back. Her digits caressed the skin she found there, drawing lazy circles back and forth. Andrea still attempted a pathetic resistance but it was futile. Emily soon had Andrea’s hands elevated above her head, away from any scratching or slapping that she might attempt.

“There isn’t any point fighting me, Andrea,” she reminded her calmly, unbuttoning the jacket. “Somewhere in your pretty little brain you know that boyfriend of yours isn’t giving you what you want. I won’t say that I know what you want but I have a damn better idea than he ever would. And bloody hell, where did you get this hideous jacket? Nigel ought to be strung up for this schoolgirl monstrosity. He’s getting worse, I swear.”

Not bothering with the rest of the buttons Emily impatiently ripped the jacket open, revealing a shimmery vest underneath, as well as Andrea’s heaving chest. The buttons dropped to the carpet in silent contrast.

Andrea glared at her, incredulous at her dig at Nigel. The woman had absolutely no shame.

“If I had been wearing any of my own clothes I’d never hear the end of it from you.”

Emily nodded her agreement, offering a faux pout before pulling Andrea's arms back down and roughly removing the jacket. “Then I guess it’s a good thing that I’m about to fuck you senseless then isn’t it? I’d hope that after we’re done here this evening you’re not going to remember what you’ve had on. Those minor details will quickly become irrelevant and all you will remember is having the time of your life.”

Not heeding her warning, Andrea attempted a half-hearted attempt at writhing out of her grasp once more. It only resulted in a defiant smirk on Emily’s part as she slid her hand up underneath the flimsy top. Pulling Andrea's arms up once again, she removed the top before groping at her breasts, teasing the hardened nipples through her lacy brassiere.

“If you wanted to squirm all you had to do was ask,” she admonished, using her free hand to tease at the rim of Andrea’s jeans, her index finger rubbing at her smooth stomach before dipping just below the waist line to further caress her skin. “Although…I am open to suggestions.”

Andrea swallowed hard, her eyes gleaming. “I suggest you let me go.”

Emily shook her head, tutting. “No, no, no. We’re too far along now, Andrea, to allow such escapism. You’re liking this much more than you’d care to admit. I can see it in your eyes. I can sense your arousal.”

As fingers fumbled with the buttons on the jeans Andrea squirmed her disapproval but didn’t attempt to break free. Emily scowled and stilled her hips, irritated at her constant struggling. Such a child! “If you want to deny it - to deny that you want this as much as I - then you have my sympathies.”

Emily suddenly shoved a hand down Andrea's jeans making her gasp. She naturally thrust her hips forward to smack against the palm of her hand. The red head smirked at the forcefulness of her movements before snaking her free hand around her waist, drawing her closer.

“You know… this is awfully one sided,” she commented as her fingers teased at Andrea’s slick folds, seeking entry. “Are you always this selfish in the bedroom department? What would your boyfriend say if he saw you like this? Here I am doing all the hard work. Hardly fair is it? Honestly, you are so self-centred sometimes, Sachs. It’s pathetic, actually. Poor, pathetic little Andrea Sachs.”

Her subtle attempt at reverse psychology must have worked for the vindictive, damning words brought out Andrea’s aggressive side. Out of nowhere she grabbed at Emily, pulling her forward and kissed her ferociously, their teeth clacking clumsily. Emily smirked into her mouth, her tongue attacking Andrea’s. Now that they were on the same wavelength, progression could be made.

“Must you do that?” enquired Andrea, pulling away, out of breath.

Emily’s expression was gleeful. “What, this?”

She maliciously inserted a finger, forcing a startled cry as Andrea’s hips bucked forward gauchely. She clutched at Emily’s shoulder helplessly. Her head was spinning wildly and her breath caught in her throat.

“You’ve got no self control Andrea,” Emily assessed ruefully, opening the jeans a little wider with her free hand. He gaze flickered back to the brunette. “Whatever power you thought you just had… Well, let’s just say that I don’t see you lasting very long. Not in here and especially not in the office. Miranda is going to see that you’re not cut out for this, if she hasn’t sussed you out already.”

Andrea grimaced, a slight trace of disappointment creeping across her flushed features.

“You’re thinking about Miranda Priestly right now?”

The question was absurd.

And Emily was pissed.

So for her troubles Andrea got a dose of double digits. She let out a timid gasp at the malicious prodding, her head lolling backward against the wall. A new, savoury gasp quickly escaped her inflamed lips. She gripped at Emily’s shoulder once more but with much more desperation this time.

“Are you trying to kill the mood?” whispered the red head throatily, her fingers gathering a momentum and plunging deeper. “Or is this your twisted way of asking for more? Either way you’ll get what you want.”

Andrea offered no response, instead choosing to bite at her bottom lip and thrust her hips back dutifully. She could feel herself throbbing against Emily’s busy fingers and that only made her all the more aroused.

“You and I should fight more often if this is the end product,” Emily sneered callously, sucking at her neck with ardent zest. “It’s been interesting.” Her tongue continued to apply pressure as her fingers also sped up, subconsciously threatening to execute her earlier words. She dragged her thumb lazily across the brunette’s clit, which in turn incited an agonized blasphemous groan from Andrea. “Jesus fucking Christ!”

As Andrea’s hands reached out to grab at her, Emily reluctantly relented her strokes. What was this? Was she giving in? Demanding that they stop? She scowled furiously at the thought. Heck no! She wasn’t even done with her yet. But as Andrea seized her dress, Emily realised what she was attempting. The frown disappeared. She wasn’t exactly going to say no to her unspoken request. After all, she had been doing all of the work and getting shit in return. It was about time she returned the favour.

Andrea turned Emily around, her back now against the white wall. She shoved her hands up the dress, slowly dragging a hand across her thighs, working upwards towards her goal. She could give just as well as she got and this mouthy bitch was going to see that.

Unfortunately she found it slightly difficult to maintain the searing eye contact and pleasure her at same time given their upright position. The whole thing had been rather impromptu and she doubted that Emily gave a shit. As long as she got off then why would she care? Everything Andrea had ever done with Nate had always been soft and tender. Secretly she was tired of it and ached some sort of variance. This was definitely the kind of thrill she had always wanted to experience but was too afraid to ask him for.

Pushing aside the lacy lingerie, Andrea inserted a finger with relative ease and twisted viciously, offering her own brand of delicious fingering. She felt a sudden tightening and her eyes flickered to Emily who was rolling her own in ecstasy. Her hips moved in time with Andrea’s movements and she soon introduced another finger. The red head sharply sucked in her breath, that goddamned mouth of hers finally shut.

The tables were most definitely turned now.

Or so Andrea had thought.

Just when she thought she was beginning to get the upper hand over her rival, Emily worked just twice as fast. Her movements were shockingly swift and unrelenting. Before she knew it she and Emily had swapped places and once again Andrea was against the wall, surrendering. Her release was dangerously close.

Well, let’s just say that I don’t see you lasting very long. Those earlier words haunted Andrea as Emily began to fuck her much harder, her two fingers now joined by an adventurous third. Her thrusting palm smacked wetly against her crotch, not letting up for a second. Senseless was the word she had used to describe how she was going to do it. And as usual the mouthy mare was spot on in her alarmingly correct predictions. Andrea trembled against her helplessly, gasping out for breath over and over as Emily’s fingers slid deeper, pushing all sorts of boundaries. Andrea tried desperately to keep up with her own dancing fingers.

Emily smirked victoriously as she felt Andrea’s walls clenching around her fingers in total capitulation. She continued to weave her fingers in and out expertly, feeling the brunette’s body trembling beautifully.

With her tremulous fingers spiralling out of control, Andrea blindly triggered Emily’s own orgasm. Her fingers took on a life of their own, moving faster, harder, her rapturous liberation driving her on to share out her glorious satisfaction. Desperately trying to contain herself, Emily grabbed Andrea by the shoulders as a means of something to hold onto. She pushed her against the wall angrily as her breathing sped up. Her fingernails dug into her partner’s skin as Andrea’s fingers continued to slide in and out maladroitly.

Andrea vehemently cursed Emily as she felt the skin around her neck being pinched together by enthusiastic teeth. Their violent jostling hadn’t been kind to the vertical mirror, which had been forever digging into Andrea’s back throughout the session. As the red head finally came, she, unsurprisingly, shoved Andrea into the mirror. Not liking the sudden contact, the mirror fell off its unsteady hinge. Quickly seizing Emily by the arms, Andrea hauled their bodies sideways in order to avoid the falling speculum.

The glass shattered loudly as it smacked a porcelain table right in the centre of the closet. Shards flew everywhere but none posed any threat to the girls. Andrea’s eyes widened as she let go of Emily, suddenly realising the extent of the damage that their hateful sex had just inherently cost their tyrannical boss.

“Oh my god!” Andrea breathed, beginning to button up her jeans haphazardly, her mind still clearly dazed. She was absolutely astounded at the devastation that lay before them. And it had all been Emily’s fault.

“My sentiments exactly.”

Andrea rolled her eyes at the flippant remark.

“Oh, very clever! No, look at that! Miranda is going to kill us.”

“Now who’s thinking about Miranda Priestly, hmm?” Emily returned accusingly, referring to that preposterous comment Andrea had made somewhere in the midst of their sordid little rendezvous. Straightening out her crumpled attire, Emily noted a distasteful expression upon Andrea’s face. She offered her nothing but a nonchalant shrug, unperturbed by the events of the past fifteen minutes.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll just tell her whatever she wants to hear.”

Andrea’s face fell and Emily offered yet another twisted grin at seeing her panic stricken face. She almost laughed in spite of herself. This girl was far too easy to wind up. Oh, and what a joy it had been, too.

“Don’t look so worried, Andrea. As if I’m going to tell her what you and I were just up to. Could you imagine the look on her face if she knew that her two assistants were violently fucking one another after hours?”

The question had been rhetorical for she didn’t even bother to wait on Andrea’s response and had instead sashayed on over to the locked doors. Andrea stared after her, wondering how in the hell she could be so blasé. As if they hadn’t just been at it like a couple of horny schoolgirls. Emily killed the lights within and subsequently swung the doors open to reveal the dim light emanating from the desk lamps.

“Don’t forget Nigel’s monstrosity,” Emily chided, a good few feet out into the office already. She glimpsed back at Andrea. “You dropped it somewhere on the floor along with your dignity.”

Andrea frowned, turning behind her. “That’s not even remotely funny, Em!” she retorted, grabbing at her top, jacket, bag and skidding out after her. Ugh, tomorrow was going to be one hell of a day.

I need to stop writing these fics. They consume my brain, lmao.

four hundred and sixty six

2008-02-13T12:40:02Z

Okay, it's time for yet another pic!spam. I do way too many these days, lmao.

Emily and Marion are my new OTP - without them ever actually having met. Well, they sat in the same auditorium for a couple of hours at the Baftas, Marion watched Emily present and Emily applauded Marion's shock victory. Total makings of a friendship, non?

Plus, I tried and found some similarities between them whilst making this pictorial! =D

That dude's face pisses me off. Look at that stare he's giving her. I want to punch him. / jealous

I love how instantly calm I feel upon seeing Marion and her pretty lips.

Emily at the Academy Awards last year. I wonder if she'll attend this year *is doubtful*

Est-ce que je peux veuillez être le chewing-gum ?
(I have no idea if I just said that properly, lmao)

The one scene that made Charlie Wilson's War worth it. And it's called Emily Blunt's rack.
( More on that later, ahem... )

There are simply no words for how beautiful this shot of Marion is.

Oh, Emily, bb, y u so ~fierce~ ? (she is TEH SEX and we must be having it pronto)

TONGUE. Why, yes Marion, you ARE tasty.

No. Words. Needed. Okay, how about a plea? Emily, do me now. Sincerely, Leeann.

Her eyes are simply SMOULDERING.

Emily once again reinforcing why we need to be having sex as soon as possible.

Marion and Bafta. Oscar is also waiting to make your acquaintance.

Emily and her Globe. She looked absolutely stunning that evening.

Marion looking rather cheeky in yellow...

...whilst Emily (notice how also in yellow!) cheekily proceeds to grab Nathalie's arse.

Marion playing Edith Piaf in La Vie En Rose...

Emily dancing to Piaf's La Foule in My Summer of Love. FANDOM COLLISION, HEE.

Yup. I'm a rock star.

*melts*

This is just sweet, sweet perfection.

Speaking of sweet perfrection, Bublé appropriately treating his girl like a ~goddess~

They both do similar press conferences...

...with nice shiny white pearls. Delicious.

They're always winning awards...

...though Emily's doesn't seem to be weighing her down, hehehe.

Marion and the amazingness that is (a very pregnant) Cate Blanchett...

...and Blanchett happens to be Emily's idol.
Not being able to get Cate, this pregnant chick sort of makes up for it!

Marion just being superbly A-D-O-R-A-B-L-E.

No one is meant to be this perfect, surely, not!

Marion and her new BFF, Javier Bardem. Vamos, vamos por favor!

Meryl's bitches, ahem, I mean, Emily/Anne!
Anyone remember those on-set rumours surrounding these two total BFFs?

And, as a finale, a grand sweep of the devine Ms E. Blunt...

This is probably my favourite shoot, asides from the GQ one this year.

Chilly night in Vancouver perhaps? Eskimo!Emily!

She's looking intently at that Prada DVD. And ooh, Channing Tatum. I fucking love him.

" I'm bring SexyBack, them motherfuckers don't know how to act "

I love it when Emily is signing things/reading intently. Shes so intellectual =D

And she makes lying down look damn fuckable.

I just love how bitchin' she looks here. Sistah got it goin' ONNNN.

Aww, her face.

Um, yes, hello.

Okay, really, Emily STOP TORMENTING ME!

GUH. (Watermarks, the scourge of the universe!)

Makes you proud to be British, no?

En fin.

Oh and eventhebest if you see this, then consider it a birthday present. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

friends only

2003-10-03T06:33:30Z

All posts featuring fanfics and challenge picspams are for public consumption :D