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Miranda closed her laptop, took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. It was already 11pm again. The days are passing by so quickly, still she feels as if she’s stuck in time, reliving the same day on an eternal loop. Working at home sounds nice on paper, but it’s hell if you’re someone who won’t stop working - all of a sudden her workdays are 23 hours long.
It’s been like this for several months now. Being stuck at home with the twins has been... eventful. Miranda’s gotten to witness just how much they’ve grown, how they’re young women with opinions! And knowledge! And how they address her like her equals! She hadn’t gotten to realize what has happened for about two years now - the twins are growing up to be remarkable people. And even though they’re still 16 year olds with 16 year old problems, she still feels very lucky for being able to spend the most time she’s ever been with them for since they were born.
Between helping with their online classes and homework, answering e-mails, editing the Book and directing an entire magazine, lately she’s had little time to think about her needs. Truth is, she doesn’t know if that has to do with menopause hormones, or the fact that Andy is stuck in the Midwest at her parents’ house, but, for months now, Miranda has been absolutely crawling up the walls, so much so that she tries to ignore these urges most of the time. All day she aches, ruins pair after pair of underwear trying to dodge the filthy intrusive thoughts that wreck her mind, fucks herself until she’s in pain at night, and doesn’t breathe a word of it to Andy in their daily phone calls. She doesn’t want to make dealing with the distance between them harder than it is for her. Andy doesn’t need to know what Miranda gets up to after their conversations are over. They were taking it slow with their relationship. Miranda didn’t want to rush things with Andy, not after three failed marriages, not after dreaming about Andy for so long. And then they were trapped at home, hundreds of miles from each other, right when they were getting to know one another... more, um... more intimately.
But it was getting harder and harder keeping up the wholesome façade and not sharing in any way, shape or form the pent-up lust she had been nurturing since way before their first kiss in Paris. And, as usual, Miranda couldn’t keep anything from her.
Andy usually called at 8, when her mom and dad settle in the TV room after dinner to watch their soap operas.
Miranda’s hair was wet from her shower, in which she took the opportunity to tire herself out (twice), when Andy called.
“Hi,” Andy greeted her with a beautiful wide grin. Miranda noticed Andy was wearing little much than a flimsy silk lilac baby doll, which made Miranda reach a new low - envying fabrics, of all things.
“Hello, Andrea,” she replied. “You look... nice,” she choked out, still stepping on eggshells so long after the start of their relationship.
“You sure know how to make a girl feel special. Jeez, Miranda, we’ve been dating for months. You don’t have to be so formal about complimenting me! Look, I’ll try it: you look good enough to eat.”
Like an electric current just went through her spine, Miranda’s sex clenched hard enough to make her whimper at the comment so quickly she wasn’t quite able to catch it as it was leaving her mouth.
“I, uh... thank you,” she replied as her body burned, her eyes flickering from Andy’s lips to somewhere out of frame, Andy’s gaze so hot all of a sudden that she couldn’t hold it. “I just... It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other, and... I feel like it’s never going to be natural for me.”
“What’s not gonna be natural?”
“Being able to show my affection towards you. I don’t think I’ll ever take it for granted,” she said in a small voice, avoiding Andy’s eyes, even as the words she said were heavy with meaning.
Andy just looked at her and smiled her toothy, perfect smile, imbued with something darker, something intoxicating which made Miranda want to reach out to her through her phone screen.
“I can’t stop thinking about you, Miranda,” Andy’s voice turned breathy all of a sudden and all of a sudden Miranda feels the tips of her own fingers reach the waistband of her white cotton panties without her noticing. She doesn’t stop herself though.
“Yeah?” Miranda replied, feeling guilty for being so starved for pleasure that she’s not even in control of her own body’s responses anymore. She’s putty in Andy’s hands, has always been, and even from afar, her abilities to turn Miranda into a semi-coherent mess stand.
“Uh huh,” she purred as she rearranged her phone set up apparently against the headboard of her bed, facing her on her knees on the bed. “Do you want to see how much I miss you?” Miranda could see Andy’s nipples straining for attention underneath her top in this new position, and the switch in the tone their conversation so quick into their call made her sweat and twitch under her own free hand, which played very lightly with her lips, never daring to go near her clit, unless she wanted a really embarrassing and fast result.
“Please,” that word was fairly new to Miranda’s vocabulary, who was so used to demanding everything, never needing to so much as look at a subordinate in a pointed manner for them to understand and satisfy whichever momentary necessity she had. Near Andy, however, please tasted sweet on her lips, translated as the sound of her need, of their mutual implicit agreement never to let each other want for nothing, always figuring out one another’s wishes even before they came to mind. Unlike Miranda herself, Andy has had a lot of prior experience anticipating Miranda’s own wishes, so it took her no time at all to understand what she really needed in that moment.
“I miss you so terribly,” Andy said, sliding one spaghetti strap down her shoulder, and then the other, “that I’ve been dreaming about you.”
Miranda tried gulping down but her throat was dry as a desert. “You have?” The tips of her fingers glided effortlessly on the copious wetness Andy’s few words had coaxed from her and it was getting harder and harder to concentrate on breathing.
“I have... In my dreams everything’s normal again and you’re asleep next to me, but you’re whimpering and moaning and your skin is hot to the touch...” She then fully removed her top, her full breasts completely on display for Miranda, whose mouth waters as if the need to put them around her lips is as natural as salivating when her stomach’s empty.
“I realize then that, in my dream, you’re dreaming about me too,” she ran her hands over her chest, stopping at times to pinch and pull her nipples, “which means I have to take care of you,” her voice finally reaching the low drawl that strips Miranda of the rest of her modesty.
Her hands start moving almost by themselves, rubbing her clit in the rhythm she craved for since she picked up her phone. The little sounds coming from Miranda’s throat seemed to spur Andy on, taking off her top and shorts hurriedly, her expression losing its iciness and giving space for her own desperation to shine through. Her new position, trembling legs splayed open in front of her, made possible for Miranda to take a unobstructed look at exactly how much Andy could relate to what Miranda herself was feeling.
“Miranda... Miranda... I wish I was right beside you, I wish I was inside you-“, then her fingers slip into herself, forcing the most sinful sound to escape from her lips, and that scene filled Miranda with so much yearning she almost sobbed.
Miranda was mesmerized by the image on her phone screen. The most secret part of her lover, whose taste she spent months fantasizing about, fully open for her eyes only - her Andrea, so red and so swollen, glistening in the dimmed lights of her childhood bedroom, composing the most precious of melodies with her moans, putting on a show out of stroking every part of herself for Miranda, to make her ache, to make her green with envy, to tease her so mercilessly that Miranda becomes as wet as her.
“Please,” Miranda at last finds her voice, “Another one. Another finger,” she manages to gasp out, while she pleasures herself with as many fingers as she wishes Andy would. Andy, of course, obeys.
Miranda could see Andy’s chest heaving, her gloriously soft stomach erratically tensioning and relaxing, her thighs seeming to fall even wider. It was clear that Andy was no longer able to endure the teasing pace she started out with, now with both hands on herself, the right one roughly rubbing herself off while the left entered her with three slender fingers, reaching deep inside of herself, looking for something only Miranda had found before.
“Oh, Miranda! I’m so close... so close... baby, you’re so good- oh, you’re so... Oh, my God, oh, God, I love you!”
At those last words, Miranda clenched so hard around her fingers she couldn’t tell pain and pleasure apart, muffling her scream with her pillow. Andy, however, was definitely, definitely, heard by her parents, and Miranda loved her so much for it. Andy taught Miranda, after very little time since they started dating, even though they tried going slow and taking small steps at a time, what it meant to be debauched, to make a mess, to feel dirty and revel in it, and that’s what she looked like now, her usually pale skin flushed over and wet with sweat, her sex dripping on her thighs and on the sheets, the faint suckling sounds of her fingers inside her mouth.
Miranda closed her eyes at that sight. It was too much, the mere thought of that too overwhelming, if she kept looking she might come again, without a single touch. So she tried to gather her bearings a bit, breathing in and out, until they were once again face to face on the phone, each laying on their side, as if they were in the same room.
“How do you know exactly what I want, always?”, Miranda asked, looking dreamily up at Andy.
“Years of practice. I could tell you were keeping something from me. And I don’t like that. You have to understand this, Miranda. I’d never judge you for your feelings. I’d never want you to feel afraid to put me off, when all that time I felt exactly the same as you did.”
“Okay, here it goes then: I miss you so much it’s driving me crazy,” Miranda admitted, her heart thumping faster than it did 5 minutes before.
“And I miss you. My body misses yours, my heart misses yours.”
“You have to come back home. I can’t stand it any longer,” she said, her voice broken, on the verge of tears.
“I will, darling. I will. In fact, I even kinda bought the tickets,” Andy flashed her lover her brightest smile.
“You don’t- How? What do you mean?” Miranda couldn’t believe it.
“I spoke with some friends at The Mirror. They owed me a couple of favors. I got them to rent a jet for me.”
“Well! I- I could have done that for you! If I’d known that was allowed!”
“I know, honey. But journalists have a special license during these times, we can fly with less restrictions, if we prove we’re traveling for work reasons. And besides, it would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?”
“What surprise?”
“I’ll be there tomorrow, sweetheart. I love you. Sleep tight.”
Andy hung up before she could say it back, leaving a sated, head over heels in love, and very, very happy Miranda looking at her own reflection through the black screen.