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She hadn't even been in Milan for a full twenty-four hours, and Emily was already bored.

"Buy as many as you want," Benji repeated, giving Emily a fake look of modesty. As if he were trying to pretend it was no big deal, when he knew it was. Trying to draw more awe and fascination from Emily. A performance she could keep up with.

"Oh, Benji," she managed to say as he, terribly, scattered erratic kisses along her neck.

Only when the saleswoman looked away did Emily take the cue to turn her face in the opposite direction.

It was just in time for her to see two figures walking away from the store window. Two people she would recognize from miles away. She wondered how much they had seen, exactly.

It wasn't that she was rejecting Benji; he had already bought her more gifts than any of her ex-boyfriends. Even more than her ex-husband. He loved parading her on his arm as if she were his most precious thing, and people were starting to take a second look at her. But Benji also had this constant need for PDA and Emily... well... she wasn't naturally affectionate like that, especially around others.

In fact, she had always been the type to threaten to gag at overly clingy couples in public.

But Benji wasn't like any of her past flings; he was rich, a millionaire. Famous. And she wouldn't be the idiot to let this chance slip by, not when it could do wonders for her career. Not when Frank had made it clear to all their mutual friends that Emily was cold, arrogant, and was parading his new girlfriend and his happiness around like a victory.

That was what made her reciprocate Benji's clumsy flirting weeks ago and endure all this pawing without looking too much like she was getting fed up.

"Do you think," Benji smiled at her, the same way he had been doing for the last few days, head tilted in what was supposed to be a seductive move. The angle didn't flatter him in the slightest. "We could have a little celebration later? To celebrate."

She played dumb, while the clerk was glowing over the wonderful commission she was about to make. "Celebrate what?"

"Our first trip together as a couple," he said excitedly to her. "The first of many. Anywhere you want, ma chérie." The pronunciation was terrible, and he was confusing the fact that she spoke French with her actually being French for the third time.

She didn't correct him, though. Not when he had just bought excruciatingly expensive jewelry and she still wasn't giving in to what he so unsubtly wanted. "Benji, you know I have to wake up early tomorrow," she said with an apologetic pout. "Andy asked to meet in the morning." The lie slipped from her mouth easily, perhaps sparked by the image of the woman walking down the street with Nigel moments ago. "And part of the reason we're here is work."

"Can't it be another morning?" He ignored half of what she had just said. "You're in Milan all week for that." He opened his arms, gesturing to the Fashion Tour as "that" in a dismissive tone. She was a bit offended, honestly, but seized the opportunity.

"That is my job," Benji was already nodding repeatedly, his tone stiffer than usual.

"I know, I know, sorry baby." And even though she hated the nickname, she leaned her face forward to give him a brief kiss on the lips. Her mouth closed and lips stretched tight so as not to touch his face too much.

She had to be smart with Benji, tighten the leash a little without choking him. Keep him interested enough to chase her without letting him lose interest in the game.

"How about we have our little celebration after the event?" she suggested quietly, her fingers a little numb from stroking his shoulder. "That's on Friday, right?"

That would be in two days. That was enough time for her... to come to terms with it.

"Promise?" And she managed not to jump when she felt Benji's hand sliding down her back, tracing her spine - she should have worn a backless dress - and coming to rest at the base of her spine.

"I promise," she smiled at him.

The cold Milan air that greeted them outside made Benji let go of her to hug his own suit jacket. The sigh that escaped her had to be from the cold - and not from relief - at being free for the rest of the night.

His driver was waiting at the hotel entrance, ready to take him to the helicopter that would fly him to the rented mansion in Lake Como. "Are you sure you don't want to come?" he asked, looking at his phone as the car door was opened.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she replied, feeling his eyes on her as she walked toward the hotel entrance.

All the fashion companies booked rooms at the same hotel during this time of year; it was close to the main event, elegant, and sophisticated enough for magazine editors to accept staying there.

She greeted the bellboy and handed over her bags to be taken to her room. She didn't want to go up just yet. It was technically early, her kids would call in two hours to say goodnight, and she still felt that floating energy of someone who isn't the least bit tired.

The feeling only intensified when, passing through the foyer towards the grand lobby, she spotted Andy sitting alone at the in-house restaurant, tucked away from the rest of the guests who were already getting ready for dinner.

Andy was having an exhausting week. She liked it when her job required research, deadlines, and deliverables with specific demands. She was good at handling that. But luxurious outfit changes, long nights at events, and constant schmoozing were a whole other line of work she enjoyed far less.

Her job wasn't even going well, not when Runway seemed on the verge of imploding and she was drawing a blank on how to save it. To make matters worse, her personal life wasn't exactly smooth sailing either; Peter hadn't texted since their huge fight, and neither had she. She was ignoring her social apps and only replying to Lily's messages.

"What a surprise, we had the same idea after all." Andy lifted her head at the voice.

"A little wine to end the day?" she asked, resting her head on her hands, one elbow on the table, as she observed Emily.

"Precisely," Emily said. "I heard you guys are having trouble at Runway lately with Irv's son in charge." She sounded curious, a bit sarcastic, and Andy gave a thin smile.

"Rumors," she tried to shrug off. She didn't feel she owed it to anyone to share Runway's secrets. Not yet.

"Right."

"Do you want to sit?" she asked before Emily could press further, looking around and seeing no sign of Benji. "Unless you're busy."

Emily rested a hand on the chair and sat down slowly. "I'm never too busy for a drink."

"Oh, and how's Prince Charming? Lots of presents?" It was meant to come out playful, if anything. Emily and she never had much to talk about, and yet, Andy still liked her. Enough to feel that friendly pull.

If she needed to make small talk about the new boyfriend to build a bridge, so be it.

But her question caused the wrong reaction. Emily, sitting across the table and even with the Tiffany necklace highlighting her blue eyes, seemed to tremble slightly. In a way that made Andy lean forward, wanting to reach out to her.

She frowned in confusion. "Uh- if you want to talk..." she offered hesitantly. Emily wasn't the type to talk. Or open up.

Andy thought maybe it was just with her. Suddenly she wondered if it was with anyone at all.

The woman waved to a waiter, ordered something in refined Italian, and only spoke again when her glass was properly filled with bright red wine.

"Very cold outside," she vaguely justified. Andy joined her in drinking with a nod, wanting Emily to say whatever was clearly bothering her. "God, stop staring at me," she said suddenly, rolling her eyes and meeting Andy's gaze. "For a reporter, you're not subtle at all."

"Not when I think I have an interesting story to investigate," Andy agreed. She tried to keep her face sympathetic, while Emily seemed to evaluate her, surprised by her honesty.

"This dies here," Emily made her decision. She leaned closer. "Not a word about this to anyone. I speak, you listen, think, keep your opinion to yourself, and then it gets erased from your brain the moment we leave. Understood?"

Andy felt a tingling sensation, the way she did when she felt in her gut she was about to hear something life changing.

"Alright." She forced herself to bring the glass to her mouth to seem casual, and of course, that was the exact moment Emily decided to reveal her secret, making Andy nearly spit out her wine. "What?"

She had to wave the waiter away while coughing in a very inelegant manner, choking for a second.

Emily leaned back, resting against the chair. "What do you mean... what do you mean you and Benji still haven't-"

Emily closed her eyes. "Good God, keep your voice down."

"But he's-"

"I know."

"And-"

"I know." Emily's tone made her shut her mouth and stop thinking... stop thinking about how, despite being together for what? Two weeks. And all the obvious PDA, Emily and Benji still hadn't slept together.

"But why?"

Emily shook her head negatively. She brought a hand to the back of her neck. "I don't know, it's just..." She wanted to kill herself for having a moment of vulnerability. But she was also glad it was with Andy. "Since Frank and I split up two years ago, I haven't had a proper relationship. There's never time!" Emily justified, sounding like she was reciting an internal monologue. "And sex never worked for me as a way to get any relief, so what's the point?" Andy bit her tongue at the revelation. "But now he showed up and wants it and... well, I'm no saint or anything, but every time we get even slightly intimate, I find myself making up the most ridiculous excuses, it's like..." I go into high alert. But she didn't finish the sentence. It would be an unnecessary addition. "I just can't do it."

Andy watched Emily's shoulders slump. "Em... you're not... you're not to blame for this." She kept her voice low this time. "I mean, you were married for many years and sex is very..." Intimate. "Vulnerable."

Emily looked at her, her eyes much lighter now, like the shade of the sky. She looked sullen. "So, what? I can never do this with another human being again?" And she looked close to rolling her eyes once more.

"No," Andy laughed at the possibility. "You talk to them and you take baby steps. It'll feel more natural over time; you just need to get in sync with him," she said, and, knowing Emily was the type of person who loathed too much sentimentality, added jokingly: "Or you do it with someone of lesser significance to prove it's no big deal."

"Yeah. Right." She rolled her eyes. "I'll add you to the list."

"Please, I'd be a pleasure." Andy laughed at the joke, adding smartly: "Literally." She drank from her wine glass, feeling a little happier now that they had cleared the air. Emily lost some of that slump in her shoulders, which momentarily relaxed her.

Emily didn't tease her for ten whole seconds. "I didn't know you... were interested in women."

"College," Andy shrugged, genuinely not understanding the connection between her joke and Emily's question. Remembering her college years was nice, filled with an absurd sense of nostalgia.

It had been a peck, really, quite silly between her and a girl. The kind of meaningless little kiss. Not real.

Emily went quiet again. Andy decided to start a new topic to get her out of her head: "Are you excited about the Runway show the day after tomorrow?" She risked the topic of fashion, trying something Emily was passionate about.

She would love to ask more about her kids, or share details of her own life, but Emily had always been more reserved and... well, baby steps, right? Maybe someday.

When they finished their third glass and it was half past seven, both had good reasons to return to their rooms. Especially since they had to work tomorrow. They stepped into the elevator together in a comfortable silence.

Andy thought it was the perfect moment to try and lay another stone on that bridge: "Hey, if you ever want to... do this again," Andy said while watching the floor numbers go up on the elevator panel. "I'd like that." She said it honestly, unafraid of looking too attached to Emily Charlton. "Talk, or watch a movie, or just relax... I can even give you a massage," she joked. "Do something together, I think-"

"I think we should do it," Emily said, suddenly breathless.

The revelation that Andy had actually hooked up with women in college was stuck in her brain.

The thing was - she had come to an agreement with herself during their wine session - she wasn't being able to open up to Benji. And her few attempts at sex with other men after Frank had been fruitless.

She didn't have, even remotely, any doubts about being with women - of course not - but she thought it could be a sort of shock therapy. Her body would certainly be very dissatisfied with having bad sex after so long, and she would undoubtedly be terrible at it, being two years rusty.

The idea of having a proper, and... Jesus... honest conversation with Benji was worse than that. So she would go with the second piece of advice: do it with someone of lesser significance.

But it wouldn't work. Emily took a long time to... want intimacy with someone. She simply didn't see the appeal, and the times she had done it, it had always been much more for her partners than for her. Being in the corporate and fashion world, sex was sometimes treated as currency. And she had never gone there. She had never slept with a boss to get promoted, never let herself be touched without it being at least out of consideration to make her partner happy. She flirted, truth be told, but never crossed the line. And she didn't think she would do it with a stranger.

But Andy wouldn't be a complete stranger. She was... Andy Sachs. Someone from her past who was now working again with the woman Emily harbored a secret resentment toward. Someone easy to read. Someone simple. Someone of no significance.

Besides, she couldn't help but notice that her damn brain had been conjuring up images ever since Andy essentially came out to her.

"Yes," she confirmed to Andy. "I think you and I could... you know." She said it, remembering they had company in the elevator. "Tonight, if you're available."

She wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

Andy blinked and nodded. "Um... alright." She didn't expect her offer to be accepted so quickly. "I'll just go change and-" Andy's elevator stopped on her floor, and she stepped one foot out. "See you in twenty?"

Emily seemed to be blushing. Which was weird. "Forty." She shifted her weight from one leg to the other. "And bring wine." Andy managed to hear before the doors closed.

She had forty minutes to get ready and apparently enjoy a night with Emily. Surprisingly, she didn't feel awkward, even though it was abrupt. She wanted to - who knows - maybe become friends with Emily.

They would make quite a team.

_______________________________________

When it was exactly ten past eight, Andy was at Emily's door. She smiled a full-toothed smile when the door opened. "Hi."

When she was on the phone earlier, she had come to the conclusion that she would tell Emily about Runway. There was no reason not to, and she would share the crazy idea she had.

It was a perfect solution.

Emily, on the other hand: "I'm on the phone with the kids," she gestured for Andy to come in. "I'll be ready in a few minutes." She turned around, feeling ridiculously nervous, not looking Andy in the eye as the woman stepped over the threshold and Emily closed the door.

She was already ready, actually. Her evening attire usually involved face masks, massages, and lying down carefully so as not to crease her face. She had fast-tracked her routine, knowing Andy was coming. And she had, well, not prepared specifically, but put in a minimal amount of effort.

Being with Andy like this would be a test; it wasn't real. But even so, she had put on a white nightgown set with a tulle-embroidered satin robe. It was comfortable autumn loungewear that made her feel confident and sexy; the shade highlighted the blue of her eyes and the red of her hair perfectly.

The crazy thing was that Andy looked very much... normal. Dressed in a way Emily never could be.

Clothing was Emily's armor and passion. She didn't allow herself to look anything less than perfect in front of someone, to not look flawless. But Andy, like most people, dressed to feel good - and 'good', in this vocabulary, meant comfy.

With her hair down, minimal makeup, leggings, and a loose dark blue hoodie, Andy hadn't "dressed up," but she'd dressed in a way that Emily immediately knew was her go-to attire when she was alone. Casual.

She still looked good, nonetheless. Not that Emily would admit it.

"Frank, please, buy another cake for them, okay?" She sighed tiredly; as if things weren't hard enough, Frank was useless. "Mummy has to go, kids, sleep with the angels and take care of each other." They said their goodbyes with a unison 'bye' that warmed Emily's heart.

Andy looked at her, easy sympathy on her face. "Trouble?"

"Nothing that can't be fixed," she said, feeling a bit defensive about Andy seeing this side of her life. She felt her heart thundering at an accelerated pace. "You didn't bring the wine."

"Oh, sorry, it's just... I'm a lightweight, and we have to work tomorrow. Wine ends up being much more of a sleeping pill for me," she said with a smile, gesturing with her hand. "But we can order room service if you-"

"No. It's fine." She stopped herself from crossing her arms and held her cell phone tightly like a plank. "How do we-" she waved her hand vaguely at the space. Not knowing how one starts something like this.

Andy looked at her, trying to avoid admiring the exposed patches of skin and focusing on Emily's tense shoulders. "How about a massage? I suggested it first, and I think it would be good for you."

Emily accepted the suggestion, even though it was a slightly different kind of foreplay - is this foreplay in lesbian sex? - She nodded, and as she led Andy deeper into her hotel room, she scanned the place, finding no overly compromising pieces of clothing or personal items.

She went ahead, even feeling these strange echoes in her stomach. As she walked towards her bed - which looked much, much more suggestive now than it had minutes ago - she slid the silk robe off her shoulders, leaving her bare back exposed, and lay down in an easy, practiced motion.

Emily looked sexy, which was a very different thought to have. But Andy - while following Emily's instructions on where to find the oil in the bathroom - thought objectively: if she were a man, or even remotely attracted to women, she'd say Emily had aged extremely well.

"Found it," Andy's voice came out louder than usual, so she cleared her throat. She walked back, finding Emily exactly the same way, lying face down, wearing the white nightgown, soft silk cascading down, red hair splayed across the pillow while her face was turned to the side.

She had given massages to a few people before, Lily especially, whenever her friend begged her about terrible back pain. But never like this, on a bed. The best position would be straddling Emily, which was... she really should have brought the wine, at least to break the ice.

Emily wondered if Andy was also feeling this anticipatory electricity, too.

The bed dipped and she felt Andy move toward her, feeling a little shiver move through her. It was just like the feeling she got when she had to set up a new display window; ideas would pop into her mind, and during the process, there was doubt whether she could translate all the brand's nuances into a storefront, whether her vision of Dior would come together. She felt that same anxiety.

After a pause, she felt Andy swing her leg over her, so she was straddling Emily's butt - just a bit, as she stayed up on her knees - and she could hear Andy rubbing the massage oil into her hands to warm it, before she placed her hands on Emily's mid-lower back, her palms together at her spine, long fingers curling just around her waist.

"Hm- Think of relaxing things," Andy's voice dipped into a lower octave. "Like looking at your shoe collection and knowing you have a pair to match every outfit." She slid her hands up Emily's back in a fluid, firm motion.

She worked the tips of her fingers, using pressure, down either side of her spine, before pushing them back up, and out toward her shoulder blades, where she dug in her thumbs. The amount of pressure was exactly the kind Emily liked - and constantly had to remind her masseuse to apply - the warm and assertive touch hitting all her most tense spots.

"The most relaxing thing I can think of right now is the beauty of the new store," Emily said, making Andy laugh a little, dragging her fingers down, high-pressure, all the way to Emily's lower-back.

"Anything interesting you can tell me beforehand?"

"Not really, just- " Emily cut herself off as Andy slid her hands out from where they were, using a heavy - perfect - pressure, as she slid all the way down Emily's ribcage. She used her thumbs to rub in circles as her fingertips brushed over the sides of Emily's breasts, and a heat sparked through her, settling in her stomach.

Her head popped up from where she'd laid it, her heart starting to pound a little harder as she stared blindly at the headboard. Shocked, absolutely shocked.

"Here?" Andy repeated the motion, this time moving so her thumbs came all the way down to the sides of Emily's breasts, rubbing there, as her fingers slid just under Emily. They pressed against the bottom of her breasts, circling over her ribcage, gripping there with, again, perfect pressure.

"Yes. There," Emily breathed, swallowing thickly.

"Kind of a strange place for you to feel tension, but who am I to argue?" Andy murmured, using that same grip, her hands so warm and soft as she slid them all the way down to her lower hips. Heat built in her stomach, not dissipating as Andy moved her hands back up to Emily's back.

And even as she continued the massage as normal, it didn't feel anything close to normal. Emily suddenly felt awake. Aware of how Andy knew the exact perfect way to touch her. Aware of every sliding movement, as she pressed down, all the way down to just above Emily's ass.

She gasped at the sensation, at the way Andy's touch sent that spark right through her core.

Then she whimpered so softly, as Andy got to Emily's sides, she arched her hips up, wanting to feel Andy's touch. Lower. Wanting to know. Wondering if this was what she meant when she mentioned "College" and all the experience that came with it.

Her breath left her in a sharp exhale when her arched hips pushed her ass up enough to come into contact with Andy's center. Hot, even through her leggings, and knowing, feeling it, made the lust pulse through her veins, clouding her thoughts.

Andy coughed, pushing up higher on her knees to disconnect them as she slid her hands up Emily's back again.

"Why did you move?" She asked, breathlessly demanding.

She didn't want that. With the thick, hot truth of her desire for Andy settling, she wanted more than anything the knowledge of whether it was the same for Andy, too.

"I didn't..." Andy trailed off again.

"Don't," Emily told her, positive that the need building inside of her was clear in that single word.

She arched her hips up again, wordlessly giving Andy permission to press herself against her.

She waited, her blood thrumming in hungry anticipation for more, as Andy slowly settled down on her knees. Truly straddling Emily's ass, pushing herself into her. And through the surprisingly short nightgown she was wearing and Andy's leggings, she felt it again.

So much heat, and she could hear the low breath Andy hissed out, and it made Emily's heart race. She was starting to feel nearly delirious with it, and she arched herself up again, this time very much voluntarily.

She'd been worried about this. Stressed and anxious and worried that they would be in this position and that she wouldn't feel like this. That no matter how much she found Andy attractive, no matter how much she wanted to have sex, that it- it wouldn't work.

She did nothing to stop herself from holding back the groan that escaped the back of her throat as Andy rested her hands, palm-down, spanning the width of Emily's back, just pressing down for a long moment as she wiggled her hips in a small movement.

It was fucking hot, and Emily swore she felt it right in her clit. She was so wet - in a way she had never felt, not even when she tried hard to get there - and Andy hadn't even kissed her. The thought made her blink like crazy.

Andy continued to touch her again, her hands feeling less certain than they did before, as she seemed to struggle with how much to press herself into Emily.

But now, Emily was ready for that kiss. She wanted it. She wanted Andy's mouth on hers; she wanted to satisfy that curiosity now, too. She knew Andy's lips would be soft; her own lips were tingling from the want to feel them.

Emily managed to wiggle - earning a choked whimper from Andy, that shot through her like lightning - getting just enough leverage to flip herself onto her back, looking up at Andy. She braced herself on her elbows to prop herself up, biting her lip as she felt Andy now straddling her hips.

"What-" Andy cut herself off, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. She darted her eyes down to Emily's chest, where her nipples were already so hard, visible so clearly through the fabric. Emily wanted to be touched, everywhere. "What are-“

"I think it was better to start this way," she stated, feeling her heart pound harder as she looked into Andy's eyes, her pupils blown. "You were right."

"I was..." Andy still didn't finish the sentence, as she was staring at Emily, with unwavering wide eyes.

"You are definitely a lot more outgoing, usually," Emily whispered, and somehow, the dichotomy of that - that this was one of the only times she'd ever seen Andy so reticent 1 made this moment somewhat endearing.

"I-"

She arched up and pressed her lips against Andy's for the first time.

It had been a little awkward at the beginning of the night, as if they were taking steps for completely different dances. But suddenly, it didn't feel like that anymore.

Andy's lips were soft in a way that was slowly making this feeling of burning need grow in her belly. She ran a hand along the back of her neck, at the nape, just as she would with any of her boyfriends, but there was something different about feeling silky strands of hair slipping through her fingers. Something a bit intoxicating about it.

Emily was glad Andy had decided to lead with a massage first; her senses were all on high alert, awake in a maddening way. Suddenly, every single cell in her body seemed to approve of whatever Andy did to her. There was no way she couldn't enjoy it, not when a single kiss made her skin crawl with electricity.

Andy pulled away, far too soon, and Emily had the most involuntary reaction in the world - a frustrated moan slipped from her mouth - and she was about to chase those lips again, wanting, needing to feel them properly once more.

"Emily-" But Andy couldn't finish before being swept up again by Emily Charlton's demanding lips.

She did something different this time, running her tongue over Andy's lower lip, and while Andy's brain screamed a repetitive alarm of: What the fuck. She couldn't stop her lips from parting.

Thank God she was already sitting down, straddling the woman responsible for making her legs fail just by sucking on her lip.

Emily didn't think she could get any more turned on until she heard the small sounds Andy made into her mouth, caused by her actions. She liked it. She was two steps away from slipping her tongue into Andy's mouth when the woman - once again - broke the kiss, the separation of their mouths making a wet sound echo through the room. This time, Andy kept her hands on Emily's shoulders, preventing her from moving forward.

Andy swallowed hard, looking into Emily's huge, dilated blue pupils, feeling that hers must not look much different. Not after that kiss, not after feeling the surprising muscles under her hands, not after realizing she was getting slightly - very - involuntarily turned on by the whole thing. The sheer madness of it.

"Emily," she cleared her throat, trying to steady her tone of voice. "What are you..." She corrected herself. "What are we doing?"

She met confused eyes in return: "Kissing?" Emily had this slightly mocking tone, despite it all, which helped Andy relax in this surreal situation.

"Yes, but," she paused the small caress she had absentmindedly started on Emily's shoulder, such a good distraction. "Why?"

Emily tilted her head back, evaluating her. Her hand had, thank God, fallen from the back of Andy's neck - she had never felt a shiver from having nails scratch her nape before - and returned to herself, resting on the mattress.

"Shouldn't we?" she asked. "I've had sex before without kissing, but..." She thought about it. About how not kissing, actually, had almost been a blessing. Her previous bed partners - all men - didn't seem to mind not having to kiss her during those moments, considering kissing just a part of endless foreplay. But now that she knew the feeling, she didn't think she could have Andy fuck her without kissing her. "I didn't think you were the type."

Suddenly, she felt more curious. Andy seemed like the type who kissed whenever she wanted, maybe all the time. The type who would whisper clever, out-of-place things, smile, and kiss again before reaching the climax. She wanted to do all of that, very much so, now that the opportunity was literally in her hands. But she also wanted to know why the idea of kissing didn't seem so appealing to Andy.

"Am I a bad kisser?" she asked demandingly, in a tone that suggested Andy had better answer eloquently and directly.

"No-" Before Andy could finish, she fired another question:

"Do you not kiss during sex?"

"Yes, but-"

"Is this a Pretty Woman type of situation?"

"What-"

"So we are kissing," she determined. "I'm not going to have sex with you without us kissing." Suddenly, it felt important to emphasize that, for God knows what reason.

Andy blinked, twice, looking like a fish out of water. She also had this pout on her lips that was drawing Emily's attention. "Why..." And Andy removed her hands from her shoulders. "Why do you think we're... you want to have sex? With me?"

"That's what I told you in the lift," Emily answered her as if Andy were crazy.

Andy blinked, about to deny it when she remembered: I think we should do it.

Oh.

"I think there's been a..." she considered Emily's attitude over the past half hour, "...slight misunderstanding."

Emily was smart enough to fully understand - this time - what Andy was saying. Andy had to struggle not to laugh, knowing Emily would hate it, but still-

Holy shit.

"Get out."

Ah. Okay.

"Emily-"

"No-" Emily wouldn't look at her, looking everywhere but at her. "Don't speak, just leave and do not mention this, any of this, to anyone or I'll-"

"I kind of kissed you back, you see." Andy practically spat the words out without a filter.

It was just that Emily looked uncomfortable and awkward in a way that quickly lost its humor. And she wanted to save her from the embarrassment.

"Did you think I was offering what we talked about earlier, sex with a stranger?" Andy asked, just to confirm.

Emily, quiet and reluctantly, nodded. She looked at her, clear accusation in her tone: "You kissed me back!"

"Yeah, I did..." Andy was seized by a burst of courage - and a sense of madness that must have come from neediness and wine - and added: "I'm not saying no."

She couldn't deny that, ever since seeing Emily at Dior after twenty years, she felt a little fascinated to know more. Curious, yes, but there was also this thing churning in the pit of her stomach. The same feeling she got when she saw her at Irv's party, accompanied by Benji Simons. The same feeling when she saw her at the funeral-and truth be told, if Irv Ravitz came back to life, he'd drop dead again just laying eyes on her. And, more recently, the same feeling from seeing her through the store window.

She was self-aware enough to know this feeling was called attraction. Harmless, of course. She had crushes and attractions to people all the time. It was surprising that this time it was for a woman, for Emily of all people, but not totally unexpected.

And, alright, she had gotten into a fight with Peter and maybe shouldn't give in to these desires right now, but... would it be so terrible? People used sex to clear their heads all the time, something juvenile but effective. And they were in the perfect setting: far from home, it could just be a travel fling and nothing more.

Andy tried to voice her thoughts: "I think we should do it." She was direct and repeated Emily's own words. "I've never had sex with a woman, and I figure you haven't either." The negative nod confirming her statement relaxed Andy. "And I think we could explore, you know, with each other." She continued before she lost her nerve: "Besides, if this is going to help you be intimate with Benji, great, I... I'll be happy to help." She stopped herself from grimacing at that. "And I'm sort of single at the moment, for now, I mean, I think, so-" She shrugged. It wasn't a lie. Peter hadn't reached out since she traveled after their fight, and well... they were basically broken up, right?

This kind of dilemma would make for a great moral debate on some teen drama, certainly.

Well, she wasn't a teenager and she wanted to - she came to this realization very quickly - have sex with Emily. And Emily wanted to have sex with her. Simple as that.

"So..."

That was all Emily managed to say before Andy launched herself forward to crash their lips together again. The sound was deep, guttural, and almost helpless-it was the best way Emily could describe it, and it matched the sheer intensity of Andy's kiss.

Emily was left literally breathless as the momentum Andy used to propel herself forward knocked her flat on her back on the bed.

Andy brushed her lips against Emily's as if tasting her, savoring her, exactly twice, before parting Emily's mouth and diving in to truly taste her. Emily met her exploring tongue with her own, letting out a gasp as her lips tingled and her entire body reacted, right down to her toes.

The way Andy loomed over her, shifting and moving closer, letting out another one of those small moans into Emily's mouth, flexing her thighs around Emily's hips.

After the past half hour, it didn't surprise Emily that kissing Andy made the desire pulse even more intensely inside her, and she pressed her hips even harder against Andy's, needing more.

This feeling was quick to disarm her. It made the shame and panic of the recent revelation - which she was ignoring to avoid dying of embarrassment - begin to fade away.

She felt herself relaxing, focusing on returning Andy's breathtaking kiss. Full of tongues, saliva, and that incredibly good feeling of a genuinely hot kiss. She couldn't remember if she had ever had a kiss she would classify like this before.

Andy's weight on top of her didn't feel like a danger warning, as she sometimes felt with men, but rather something magnetic. As if her cells were alive and alert and responsive in a thoroughly good way.

Since the robe had already been cast aside before the massage, there was no real barrier on her body other than the thin, soft silk of the white nightgown. Emily felt Andy's warm hands - still slightly slick from the massage oil - abandon the mattress to begin a slow, deliberate path up her ribs.

Andy slid her palms upward, riding up the fluid fabric, causing the silk to bunch up against the skin of Emily's waist. The touch was firm, without the rushed or performative neediness of the men Emily dated. Different. Exploratory. She felt like putty beneath those hands.

When Andy's hands moved up a bit further, dragging the fabric of the white nightgown up to her chest and exposing the curve of her breasts to the cool air of the room, Emily let out a shaky sigh against her mouth.

The parting of their mouths was slow, a trail of heat that left Emily panting, her slightly clouded blue eyes locked onto Andy's. Andy was now staring down at her, pupils completely blown in sheer admiration of the sight of the woman beneath her. Andy bit her own lower lip, fascinated by the contrast of pale skin against the crumpled nightgown, and trailed her long fingers down toward Emily's bust.

She never thought she would find it, but the moment she saw, from mere inches away, such beautiful breasts begging to be touched, she felt weak in the knees.

She didn't attack them right away - though that mental image formed at light speed - she slid her mouth along Emily's jawline, trailing down her neck, feeling the heat and taking in the delicious scent there. Emily smelled of some classic perfume, a white floral and metallic aroma; not sweet, but almost citrusy. Good. Refreshing.

She had a strange thought as she remembered seeing Benji kiss that exact spot, and she licked it, the same way she would a melting ice cream cone. She wanted to feel the pulse of it in her mouth, of course, but knew her suction would likely leave marks. Emily trembled against her, dragging her nails once again down the back of Andy's neck, sending a shiver straight down Andy's spine.

She continued moving down a little, her exploring hands trying to locate the buttons of the nightgown, wanting to take it off properly before touching more. She found them, but her slightly trembling fingers made her clumsy.

"Trouble?" Emily asked; she had this very egocentric and ironic tone.

She didn't expect to be good at unbuttoning women's clothing other than her own, but here was Emily laughing at her. Andy figured she could wipe that smile off her face in a matter of seconds.

The nightgown opened, and Andy paused for a few seconds as she slid it off Emily’s body.

She had already seen women wearing very little, almost nothing, while working at Runway. Famous models changing clothes backstage in Paris and New York, flawless silhouettes preparing for the catwalk. But Andy had never felt anything beyond professional curiosity or that inevitable hint of self-comparison.

Here, however, the effect was overwhelming. Seeing Emily Charlton entirely exposed beneath her, wearing nothing but sheer white silk panties, Andy’s brain simply shut down for a whole second.

Emily’s skin seemed to emit its own heat-the curves, the hips she had felt against her own center minutes ago, and the stark contrast of that immaculate whiteness against the bright red of her hair scattered across the pillow. It was an almost artistic vision; if she were a poet and not a journalist, she would know better how to describe how perfect that body looked.

Andy felt her own mouth go dry, a wave of possessiveness and urgency she had never experienced before rushing straight up her spine, obliterating any doubt that remained about what they were doing there.

She swallowed hard, her hungry eyes traveling down the contour of Emily’s bust, watching how her rapid breathing made her chest rise and fall, her nipples already rigidly pointing toward the ceiling.

And then finally, she slid her hands with ease, from bottom to top, over her thighs, moving up her legs-leaving the panties untouched for now-past her belly button, her ribs, and then she massaged Emily’s breasts, squeezing them lightly between her hands. She watched as Emily’s face tightened and those constant sighs began to escape her mouth.

She focused on one of the nipples, toying with it between her fingers, marveled by how responsive they were. Emily visibly trembled. Andy looked at her, puzzled, and did it again, this time with the other breast, generating the exact same reaction.

“This is very interesting,” Andy repeated, running her hands over Emily’s breasts, pinching her nipples between her fingers as she rubbed them firmly. Emily closed her eyes, her torso arching.

“Stop-” Emily said through her teeth, trying to look upset while feeling her center contract against nothing.

“I don’t have sensitive breasts,” Andy explained her clear fascination. “I didn’t even believe it was a real thing.” She laughed then, deeply intrigued by how that touch made Emily melt in her hands. She felt aroused by it, yes, but she bit her lip at the wonderful sense of power and satisfaction it brought. “You’re so sensitive.”

“Oh, shut up, Captain Obvious,” Emily managed to say, her British accent thick. Andy smiled, an idea forming - the same image she had thought of minutes ago - and leaned forward.

“All right,” she proclaimed, giving in to what Emily said.

She touched one of Emily’s breasts with her tongue, circling one of the nipples, and then closed her mouth over it, sucking, pulling it into her mouth with her teeth lightly grazing them.

Emily’s body arched, her legs spread open, and Andy, taking advantage of being on top, pinned her waist down, keeping her trapped between the mattress and her body. One of Andy’s legs was between Emily’s, her thigh barely pressing against the panties. But before she could execute her plan to suck her off again and rub her thigh rhythmically against her, matching the rocking of her hips, Emily let out a specific, longer moan, completely losing control.

She looked so lost, beautiful like that, but flying high. Seeing her come so clearly with so little made Andy's lips part, her mouth dry, wanting to do it again. Wanting to feel it this time.

She didn't even have the strength to tease Emily with it, feeling her panties sticking and her own center clenching against nothing. But her own need was nothing compared to this hunger growing inside her.

She held Emily's trembling body for a few seconds, letting her chest stop visibly heaving as her lungs seemed to desperately need air. And then, when Emily seemed mostly stabilized, she continued her path, trailing down all that exposed skin.

Sex was very exploratory for her, being in tune with what her partner wanted, but it was impossible for her not to compare in this moment: Emily was hard in places her partners were soft, and soft in places they were hard. She felt almost drunk and desperate to know more.

She ran her tongue and lips all over her skin until she stopped at her panties.

She liked giving blowjobs to her partners, she enjoyed giving oral much more than receiving it, a fact that all of them seemed very amazed to discover. Emily wasn't much different in that regard.

She grabbed the elastic of the panties and pulled them down; Emily helped by lifting her torso momentarily, and then the poor silk panties, so soaked, slid off. Andy took them off completely, lifting momentarily to help her step out of them, and then returned to the bed, back to the same spot.

She wasn't going to do it the way she liked to receive it. When the focus was her own body, she knew what she liked: she needed direct stimulation, a constant and firm pressure on the clit, a hungry suction while fingers filled her inside. Emily couldn't be like that - not when she trembled just from fingers on her nipples - so - Andy pushed the hair out of her face, tying it up in a messy bun - she was going to take a different approach.

She spread Emily's legs and looking up, saw the absolute shock, wide eyes - the expression making her look younger - and mesmerized by what was about to happen.

Andy already knew she hadn't received this properly - not with her earlier revelation that sex didn't give her any relief - and although she had never done this to a woman, she knew enough about anatomy not to be intimidated by the challenge.

The first touch of her tongue was purposely on the outer labia. She smiled, immediately, when Emily's legs clamped around her head in a reflex. Without saying a word, she managed to grab them with her hands, pushing each of them to the side, keeping them spread and pinned to the mattress, and then, when the imminent risk of being suffocated to death - what a way to go - passed, she did it again on the other labia, deliberately sucking them into her mouth.

Emily arched at the touch, uncontrollable. Completely unable to fight the wave of pleasure that seemed to want to split her in half. Her action caused Andy's nose to brush against her clit, and she immediately dipped down; the sharp, electric shock that coursed through her made her gasp out loud.

"Hold onto the headboard," Andy commanded. Her tone very knowing. Emily's headboard had ornate round openings, capable of holding hands in them. Emily surprisingly obeyed, startled by how much her hands were shaking. "Keep them there, whenever you want to lift your torso, squeeze it."

She gritted her teeth. "It's not like I have any control."

Andy had the audacity to smile at her. "I know, just don't suffocate me."

She released one of her legs and moved her hand up to her waist, the pressure of her fingers pushing her down against the mattress only making her feel a fresh wave of arousal.

Andy went back to her actions. Emily braced herself, expecting to feel the hot, divine heat of Andy's mouth on that spot again, but the woman shifted targets. She almost stuttered when she felt Andy push her leg a bit further apart with her hand, and then, she screamed.

The inner folds of Emily's cunt were so good. With the taste of her slick sex, Andy sucked and felt like a woman possessed by the flavor. She took it into her mouth, trapping it between her lips, away from her teeth, and on her tongue. She was careful to stay in sync with Emily's moans, attentive not to miss if one of them lost its tone of pleasure.

"God-" Andy felt Emily's leg tense up and knew she was curling her toes. So lost and so beautiful.

She was also a little lost in all the sensations, wanting to hear, see, taste, touch, and feel Emily in every way. Her actions conflicted with each other, wanting everything at once.

She settled for what she got. For now.

When Emily seemed a bit more accustomed to the sensation of being sucked right there, Andy - finally - to her and Emily's relief, slid her tongue up to the pulsing center, pressing it fully against the opening of her pussy. Emily came about ten seconds after that.

Andy couldn't control herself then. She did it again, focusing on that spot as if she were giving an elaborate French kiss, thrusting her tongue inside, drinking from the wishing well like she was in a desert and had just found water.

Emily couldn't help but arch her body a bit, even though her knuckles were white from gripping the headboard, even though Andrea's hands held her firmly down, she was trapped between the mattress and Andy's mouth. Her eyes closed as she felt it was going to happen again, this wonderful, human, and incredibly mounting electricity, coursing through her entire body and splitting out from that piece of her being claimed. She loved it and hated it. It had never been like this. Never, not even alone, not even in her horny teenage years.

"Andy-" She tried before rolling her eyes back and throwing herself down, not knowing if she was trying to pull away from the touch or simply wanting it to never end.

Through the third orgasm, Andy still didn't stop. She heard her pleas, her own name spoken breathlessly in a murmur of supplication, and decided to be merciful. She helped Emily through it, pulling her tongue out but keeping her lips there, caressing the pulsing place. She gave a final little kiss that made Emily jump.

Then she waited for Emily to come back down to Earth, her eyes closed and her breasts rising and falling in sync with her entire body. Trembling and very, very satisfied. She opened her eyes slowly, looking down at Andy, groggy.

"I-"

"I think you can handle being fucked now." Andy looked like an angel and Emily was already shaking her head, a crazy mix of denying and nodding. Bloody hell, her blood pressure was certainly dropping.

Andy began crawling up her body; she lay on top of her, face to face, and before Emily could say anything, Andy was kissing her again. Exactly how she thought Andy liked it.

Her lips were good, and the fact that she was tasting herself on them, on Andy - proof that she had left a mark - drove her crazy. And impossibly turned on again. Need growing in her core… there had to be a limit, right? A moment when her body would break if she had too many orgasms.

Andy shifted so that one of Emily's legs was resting right between her center, and suddenly Emily realized just how fully dressed Andy still was.

"I want-" She swallowed, her throat dry, as if she had been screaming at a concert all night. "I want to see-" and she was incoherent, but managed to grab the hem of Andy's hoodie.

The dark-haired woman understood, and even though this was supposed to be about Emily and not about her, she sat up - grinding her center against Emily's leg, unable to keep her hips still against that toned thigh, feeling that she desperately needed some relief right now and would get it once she fulfilled her final duty - and pulled the blue hoodie off, taking the undershirt with it, revealing a simple black bra, unpadded and with no specific brand.

Emily had never felt so alive looking at a body in front of her. Andy was the personification of hot. She hadn't noticed before and felt like a fool for it.

She wanted to contribute, but she felt her hands trembling as she brought them experimentally to the clasp of the bra, feeling that the tables had turned. Hadn't she laughed when Andy was the one trembling trying to unfasten buttons?

But Andy held her arms, breathed right into her face, and lay back down. "Maybe next time," she told Emily.

Which implied they would be doing this again, and Emily already felt anxious and hot.

She thought she saw that need mirrored in Andy when she, seeming to use herculean strength, lifted her hips to stop grinding against Emily and shoved her leggings and panties down all at once. She seemed annoyed with the leggings but managed to kick them off in record time. From their position, Emily couldn't see her, but then Andy was spreading her legs and settling back into the same spot, and Emily felt the slick heat of her pussy against her thigh.

She could come again just from that. Then Andy focused on a single spot and ground down rhythmically, moving up and down, in circles, in zig-zags with no clear order, doing it all at once as she moaned right into her ear, and fuck. Emily felt her clit throb.

"Move this leg aside," Andy asked, indicating the other leg - the one she wasn't straddling - and Emily obeyed. And then, as if it couldn't get any better, Andy slid two fingers inside her at once.

Emily squeezed her eyes shut tightly at being fucked like this. In the back of her mind, she had doubted she would ever feel pleasure from, well, fingers. But she felt like she was in heaven with the way Andy angled them, the palm of her hand momentarily covering her clit. So, so good. Then Andy moved her fingers out and in, out and in, out and in, without stopping, and Emily was pulling her flush against her, choosing to hold onto the woman on top of her rather than the headboard.

She was going to come. And she was certain she couldn't take any more than this. Not tonight. Not when she felt like she was losing her mind. And she wanted Andy to come with her, right now. At least once. Wanting to know what it felt like. What she sounded like. Needing to know.

Even trembling, she wasn't subtle about it, bringing her hands straight to Andy's ass, helping her ride her leg.

Andy moaned brokenly in her ears, their breasts bouncing together. The lace of Andy's bra was perfect for preventing their nipples from clashing - skin-on-skin contact would be too much for Emily - generating instead an indirect pleasure through the friction against the fabric and the peaks of Andy's breasts, all at once. Then Andy sped up her hand, fucked her from that bad but perfect angle, sliding her fingers so they hit something that sent Emily from almost there to-

"Oh," she said, breathless. "Right there." And Andy did it again with the ease of a witch. So many times that Emily lost count.

She didn't even realize she was doing it - starting to bounce Andy on her thigh to the same rhythm Andy was fucking her - until Andy whispered a broken "Fuck, Emily" into her ear.

And then they were doing it. Together.

Emily, unfortunately, couldn't focus on Andy's moans. Not when she was having the best orgasm of the night, of the year, of her life. But she caught the remnants of it, holding Andy against her, feeling her body relax against the glorious scent of coffee, vanilla, and wine emanating from Andy. Smells so sweet. She loved it. She could drown in it. Andy's head tucked perfectly into her neck and they breathed together, coming back down to Earth.

The atmosphere was a bit heavy after that. Full of something, this heavy, good energy. God, Emily felt like it could happen again and she didn't even have the strength to move.

Andy took a deep breath, still buried in her neck, and then, being the more composed of the two, pulled away from her comfortable position. "Water?"

She asked, and Emily - not wanting to show that she missed the warmth - vaguely pointed to the corner table. Andy would have to get off her to fetch it. She repressed the urge to hold onto her a little longer, took her hands off Andy's body, and left the choice up to her.

Andy hesitated, for five whole Mississippi seconds, before getting up. She was quick, poured two glasses of water, and was back sitting on the bed in what must have been less than ten seconds. She offered one to Emily, who sat up and took it.

It was enough to pop that bubble.

Andy drank her water, tasting the mix of flavors in her mouth, every sip washing her palate of a taste she didn't want to forget but was being rinsed away.

"I..." she started to say, and Emily stared at her. Blue eyes impossible to read. How was it possible that she had deciphered a body so perfectly but couldn't understand the feelings on Emily's face? "I'd like to ask for your help with something." She continued. It wasn't the right timing, but she thought every second of silence would make everything worse. And anyway, what better way to bring them together than a common cause?

Emily tilted her head. Her water untouched. "What?" Her throat sounded raspy in a way that made Andy want to kiss her. She didn't.

"It has to do with Runway."