Telling.

"We write what we are. However we disguise it, or try to deflect attention from the core of it, each of us has only one essential story which is who we are. And if we can't write it ourselves, we have to find a scribe to tell the story for us. That is what I can do. I want to tell people's stories. They need telling. I want to be a scribe."

Andrea Sachs was lying on the sofa in her beloved's town house study, her legs draped inelegantly over the end of the soft leather lounger and her head in Miranda's lap. It was the end of a long week at the Runway office, and they were both tired. Miranda played with Andy's hair, something which always calmed her down and soothed her restless fingers, but she felt unsettled and a little threatened nevertheless. Andy was waffling on like she so often did, but she knew she was trying to persuade her to agree to their professional separation, and she didn't like it. No, she didn't like it one bit.

"My darling girl, you can write and tell the world anything you want from right here, and you don't need to abandon me to the ignoramuses at Elias Clarke all day either. Just sit in the corner of the office where I can look at you now and then. That won't be too much of an imposition, surely."

"Imposition? It's flipping torture. I can't hack it, Miranda, I can't be that near to you and not want to climb up onto you and start taking your clothes off. It's been a month now since we got back from Provincetown, and it's worse instead of better. I'm entranced by you, by your house, by your children. What I can't afford to be entranced by is you as my boss 24/7. I need a plain office with no distractions. I need to be bored and dreary, so I go inwards and write. Can't you do the decent thing and quietly fire me."

"If I fire you I would have to keep you. You'll have no money of your own. Can I afford it?"

"Hey, I don't mind being your concubine. I'll charge you for sex if you like. Or you can just be my sugar mommy. I just can't hack being at Runway anymore, adoring you from the outer office, and not being able to concentrate on a single thing."

"Well, I don't entirely dislike the idea of being a sugar mommy. What precisely do you envisage that might involve?"

"Oh I'd cut you a very good deal. All you'd have to do is keep me in the very modest way in which I'm accustomed, and in return you would have sole rights of access, 24/7 care and attention, free tips on this season's various sports teams' chances, very reliable child care, and the chance to play with my hair."

Miranda tugged at Andy's hair, and didn't let go. She snorted, "It doesn't sound a good deal at all. I already do enjoy the right to everything on your list now, and the chance to dictate letters which you have to go off and type up for me, and watch you sashay back and forth in front of me all day. I don't care for the idea of not being able to do that, nor of not knowing what you're up to during working hours."

"Ah, now we have it! Miranda's lovely blue eyes have turned green again. You're so adorable when you're jealous, I may have to think of something to give you a real excuse for it. But to be serious, I do really need time and space to be able to do some writing, and you are going to let me, aren't you, sweetheart?"

"I already let you write. The article about Sally our friendly cop is set for the November edition."

"Yes, thank you for accepting it. It means the world and when it comes out I can send a copy to my Mom and Dad to show I am doing something with my time in New York, but it's given me the taste for more."

Andrea swung her feet to the floor, stood up, twirled round and pulled her lover up to join her. She wrapped her arms around Miranda's neck and nuzzled her ear. "Come on Babe, we've tried to make this work for six weeks now. Ask Emily to find you a new second assistant. She's so practised at the art, and she is frankly getting on my nerves a bit, always speculating aloud what on earth it is you can possibly see in me."

Miranda allowed herself to be nuzzled. "Oh well, I suppose you're right. Let's discuss it again tomorrow. You are staying tonight, aren't you?"

"Natch. I promised Cass and Caro I'd take them swimming tomorrow morning."

"Come to bed then. And you can explain the concubine idea in more detail."

Miranda's voice dropped to its most seductive, and they climbed the stairs together. Every so often Andrea pretended she might go to sleep back at her apartment, and so Miranda always made a point of asking her to stay at the town house. Andy usually gave an affirmative answer with a logical reason, unconnected with the real and obvious excuse of being head over heels in love and desperate to get into bed with her beloved. While Miranda's girls had been away at camp, they had spent several nights in Andy's apartment, but the twins obviously needed their Mom at home in the town house now.

Andy loved the two little girls and was building her relationship with them almost independently of Miranda. After such a disrupted childhood they needed stability and she didn't expect them to trust her without a lot more reassurance, and without them seeing she was in their lives for good, not just a temporary fancy of their mother's.

In the early months of working for Miranda, she could see they were repeatedly testing her resolve to stay around, in fact very like their crazy mom. Miranda had asked Andy to perform outrageous tricks and Herculean tasks on a daily basis, but she could now see all the games had been a ploy to secure her completely within the pages of her editor's personal life.

Miranda's needs were just as obvious and as straightforward as her children's. Andy realised now just how simple they were, to be able to love and be loved, and to hold her love on a permanent basis. What made it complicated was the outside world putting up objections to this simple idea. The loving bit was the easiest thing in the world. Telling it to others was much harder and this was where the waters became muddy.

Theirs was an intensely gay relationship without ambiguities, in a mainstream mostly straight world, but neither woman had come out nor identified as lesbian before. They considered themselves self-taught, but naturally gifted and improving with practice! None of the small circle of people who knew of their relationship, Emily, Serena, the beauty editor, Nigel and Roy, Miranda's driver, had any real understanding of the intensity of their passion. In fact it sometimes unnerved them both, which made the obstacles to it seem even more potent.

Andy was a generation younger than Miranda. She had no possessions, only student debts. Miranda was undoubtedly a millionaire, even though her finances remained in a land of mystery where Andy had no wish to pry. Miranda was also her boss, with a fire at will clause at her disposal, so this made their power imbalance look enormous to any observers. And to top it all, work based relationships were officially proscribed at Elias Clarke, and Miranda had a completely unsympathetic CEO above her who would relish the chance to pitch her out of being Editor in Chief of Runway at a moment's notice.

No wonder Andrea wanted to resign her post, and make life easier at work for her best beloved. And as for her own family's as yet untested reactions, Miranda's current divorce procedures, and her children's natural sensitivities, that cluster of complications created another whole ball-game.

For her part, Miranda had certainly screwed herself up in knots for months over it all, with the added stress initially of not knowing if Andrea even in any way reciprocated her passion. When she had finally lost control and lunged at the young woman after the French Consul's reception, Andy's complete delight and enthusiasm for the idea of a relationship had been her single most unexpected joy since the twins' birth.

The other thing which helped them, over all the inevitable bumps of blending their lives, was their shared sense of humour, and the way they enjoyed playing off each other. They could make the other laugh almost as easily as they could be enticed into a white hot frenzy of desire. Miranda's dry wit and Andy's quick fire ability to drop one-liners gave them constant amusement. It also got them into trouble and almost made their love affair more apparent to others than if they had been caught French kissing in the Runway corridor.

Tonight, though, was simply about winding up the week with sweet, sweet love. Within Miranda's bedroom, behind a locked door, they slowly stripped off each other's clothes, feeling for gentle revelations, small encounters, one at a time.

Miranda unfastened Andy's buttons on her cotton shirt and replaced them with soft kisses down her breastbone. Andy took Miranda's head of silver hair and gently massaged it out of its hair-sprayed perfection until it was sufficiently pliable to push back from her face and allow her to dot kisses all over her forehead.

It took them almost twenty minutes of similarly delightful small acts of courtship just to achieve a level of naked arousal from the waist upwards. Their breasts mirrored each other's, hardened rosy nipples beckoning from flushed and slightly damp feminine mounds of enticing flesh.

Andy slowly tipped Miranda back onto the bed, and worked her magic on the bottom half of her lover's undressing. Miranda let her take the lead tonight. Sometimes she initiated sex so enthusiastically, Andy had to acquiesce completely and instantly in total surrender, but tonight she needed reassurance and to follow instead of lead. Her shoes had already fallen, her skirt, for she rarely wore pants, was tugged down and tossed unceremoniously across the room, and she lay there panting in just her underwear. The weather was still far too hot for stockings or, heaven forbid, tights.

Andy loomed over her, her own loose linen pants rubbing deliciously against Miranda's thighs. She then stood back and removed them, hanging them neatly over a chair. She was teasing the fastidious Miranda with this care and attention compared with the way she had stripped off Miranda's various garments, not one of which rested anywhere but the floor.

"Can I take off my make-up?"

"No."

"Please."

"Oh, very well, but I'll deal with it for you."

Andy went across to Miranda's capacious bathroom and ran the cold tap, she pulled out a facecloth and rinsed it under the cold water, grabbed a small towel and came back. She had ignored all of Miranda's normal panoply of expensive cleansers, creams and gentle makeup removal pads. Miranda's heart beat increased, and her naked chest began to rise and fall nervously.

"Come here darling, "whispered Andrea, fiercely. She cupped Miranda's head in her left hand and with her right, smothered her face with the dripping wet flannel, washing her like a naughty, grubby child who had been playing in the mud. She dispatched the eye makeup, blusher, eyebrow enhancer, foundation, primer, and goodness knows what else with a few vigorous wipes. Miranda spluttered and tried to protest, but submitted to the process with a chuckle.

"There. That's better." The face cloth was set aside. The naked face firmly but gently kissed.

"Can I clean my teeth?"

"No, I like to taste the scotch." They had shared a nightcap, and Miranda's normal favourite was two fingers of Glenlivet over ice.

"You're very bossy tonight."

"That's right. Turn over."

Miranda turned, so she lay on her stomach and her breasts felt every crease in her pure cotton sheets. Andy pulled her underwear down and away from her legs, kissing all the erogenous zones which made Miranda gasp and squeal, the crease of her buttock, behind her knees, her ankles and the soles of her feet, which were especially ticklish.

When she thought Miranda had been sufficiently tortured, Andrea lay naked across her lower body, supporting half her weight on one elbow, but using her other hand to draw gentle pictures up the back of Miranda's thighs. She then tiptoed further with her fingers, pushing her legs apart as she went so that she could reach her most intimate places, the little garden of delights where she love to feel Miranda's warm, wet folds. She brushed her labia with a feathery touch and very, very lightly started to caress the whole area. Miranda felt her arousal begin to flood the valley and was powerless to control it. She growled and almost bit the pillow under her mouth.

"Oh God, help me, Andy, deeper please, harder"

When Miranda was on the way to heaven, her normal drawled "Andrea" turned to a screamed "Andy!"

"Sshh, all in good time. I've got you Babe. I won't let you suffer."

Miranda bucked and quivered against Andy's fingers, she pulled them into her body by the sheer force of her need.

Andy entered her with two long slender fingers and then expanded the team to three. She could feel Miranda's clit, engorged and throbbing against the base of her thumb, and then as she began to build up a rhythm, sense it withdraw to allow her greater ease of access into the main event beyond. It was such a privilege to do this, to make love to her goddess. Andy's natural instinct was to want to make the build-up last through a very slow crescendo, but she owed it to Miranda to let her come sooner rather than later, and she knew she was holding back until Andy gave her permission to go for it.

"Can you turn back round to me while I'm inside you? I want to see your face as you come."

Miranda groaned but swivelled against Andy's hand and as she withdrew it for a moment, flipped in the bed so she now had her hands free, and could stare deep into her lover's eyes in the low light from the bedside lamp. Her look was as wild as a she-wolf caught in a trap, sharp and feral. She grabbed Andy's shoulders, and went for her neck, determined to leave an indelible bruise. Her hips were bucking up and down with a will of their own against Andy's hand.

Andrea knew she was ready, and the thrill of bringing Miranda up to the top of the ski-jump helped her share the lift-off. They climaxed together in a double whammy of orgasmic flight, and metaphorically skidded to a halt together as their breathing settled and the blood flow through their bodies became normal.

Andy just had sufficient energy left to reach to the side and flick off the lamp. The room was now pitch dark, so all Miranda's senses were channelled into touch and hearing, as Andy crooned sweet nothings into her ear, and lay still with her spell binding hand inside her. It was perfect. She knew Andy was right in what she had suggested. The last thing she thought before she fell asleep was that she would do as she asked and fire her beloved from the job which had brought them together. The practicalities could be sorted in the morning but it would definitely out them to the wider world, and what the next few weeks would involve, there was no telling.

.