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Grandma Sachs played favorite amongst her grandchildren and it sucked for those who weren't Andy Sachs, because they did not get a six-story townhouse in the Upper East Side when the matriarch of the family passed away. She died peacefully in her sleep at the ripe age of 95, the same year her youngest granddaughter graduated college and made plans to move to the big city with her boyfriend and begin her journey to journalism stardom.
Andy loved her grandma, truly, but the grieving got a bit sidetracked. Everything Andy dreamed of was coming true.
And to make it all better, the view was amazing. Right in front of hers was another townhouse, like the other numerous townhouses in the street, but that one stand out; it had an ivory white front, snuggled between two red brick townhouses, and beautiful Rococo-style ornaments. The windows were perfectly aligned with hers, and Andy could take a peek inside easily when the lights were on. Which was not a nice thing to do at all. However…
The night she was finishing the move, while Nate was out to get them some food and drinks to celebrate the new chapter in their lives, she saw a woman walking up the windows to close the blinds. Her short, white hair was dripping wet, and Andy felt incredibly jealous of the water droplet sliding down her chest, hidden by a fluffy white bathrobe. Andy's last and only lesbian experience had happened in high school, so she didn't really think of herself as bisexual.
Still, when she had sex with Nate that night, she closed her eyes and pictured herself riding an elder lady's dick.
That was quite bisexual of her, right? So, that was it. Andy Sachs is into women, too, and that is not a problem. It's 2006, people are gay, she is happy with her relationship and her future is promising.
Rest in peace, Grandma Sachs!
The future was slightly less promising about two weeks in. She sent out countless resumes to major publications, and hadn't heard back from any of her dream jobs. She toned her ambitions down a notch and started sending out to minor newsrooms, too. Suddenly, her college achievements weren't that impressive anymore.
She got a call from Elias-Clark on a Sunday evening, and had everything prepared to crush that interview the next morning, no matter what magazine they sent her to. Andy googled all of them on a superficial level, just so she could know what to answer in case of more specific questions regarding their editor-in-chiefs. That did not involve looking up their personal addresses.
And that was Andy's downfall, because the woman she was sent to interview for the position of second assistant of was the very neighbor she touched herself thinking about. Miranda Priestly had given Andy her best orgasms since she moved to New York, so the idea of being her employee was a off-putting to say the least.
She ended up forgetting everything she rehearsed, barely remembered her own name — why did her eyes have to be so goddamn blue? Miranda stared her down like she took pleasure in tormenting young women. Being in her presence was making Andy have improper thoughts of being degraded. The more she talked, the less capacity she had to speak the English language properly — hard to, when Miranda's décolletage from Andy's angle was so deep, she couldn't help but look; and Miranda noticed, obviously, and her smile was deadly.
She either enjoyed the girl's attention, or she was just seductively biting the tip of her eyeglasses just to make Andy lose what's left of her composure and make more of a fool of herself in front of everybody. She saw then why they called her the Devil.
Part of her wanted to wipe Miranda Priestly's damned smirk right off her face with her words, be more assertive, show her she deserved to be here. Other part was picturing the same smirk as Miranda told her she had been a naughty girl.
She left the building humiliated, uncomfortably wet, and insanely horny.
"Remember miss Vance? From AP English? Now, that is an elderly citizen I'd hit."
Lily was incredibly unhelpful, as usual. They had been meeting at that restaurant every night since Nate started working there — thanks to Grandma Sachs, money wouldn't be a problem for Andy for a long time. After that interview, though, Andy went home and hoped for a meteor to end humanity. She locked herself in her bedroom and maculated the bed she shared with her boyfriend by violently fingering herself to thoughts of her devilish neighbor, who now knew all of her secrets and could easily broadcast it to the world, and every editor in the country would know that she is a pervert, and Miranda Priestly would successfully, completely destroy Andy's life, and- oh, fuck, why was that so fucking hot?
She knew it was unlikely, for Miranda was still at work, but she looked at her open windows and wished the woman had witnessed her pathetic attempt to masturbate the stress away.
Having a minor gay crush was fine, but whatever her brain was doing was not healthy — and definitely not something she could vent to her boyfriend about. And Lily, despite being Nate's friend, was her friend first.
"That's not funny, Lils. Really, it's like she- I don't know, possessed me. All I did was look at her, and suddenly I could not think straight. Literally. It was demonic!"
"Well, they do call her the Devil…"
"Not funny! I'm seriously losing my mind here!"
Andy gestured frantically. She would've spilled the contents of her bottle of beer had Lily not intervened.
"Hey, calm down! That's okay, you're not crazy. Everybody got a gay crush at some point. Even I did. Obviously, not on somebody's grandmother but, hey, I'm not here to psychoanalyze you."
"Shut up, she's not that old. She's like, 50, I think?"
"Somebody's mother, then. Anyway, weren't you and Nate planning on selling the townhouse anyway? She's not gonna be your neighbor forever. It'll pass, trust me."
It did not pass.
It got worse, like everything in Andy's life. Especially her relationship — and, surprisingly, Miranda was not the main problem there. No, it was Nate and his desire to sell her grandmother's house like he owned it, too.
He found a way to slide a comment on how stupidly big the place was for only two people all the fucking time, completely disregarding Andy's memories of being a child visiting her grandmother, or when the family would reunite for Thanksgiving in the city. A month passed and Andy was yet to land a job in her field, and she refused to seek employment anywhere else. Nate threw it in her face on every argument they had, and the arguments became regular. He'd say some shit about how he was working his ass off while Andy was just "bumming around town and in this fucking castle."
Andy is yet to remind him that the money her grandmother left her is more than enough to support her for years, and that his salary as a fry cook was fucking laughable in comparison. Instead, she'd excuse herself and hide in the en-suite bathroom and take a cold shower — because her infatuation with Miranda reached critical levels of insanity.
From her bedroom window, she could see when Miranda and her husband were fighting too. And those fights often coincided with her fights with Nate. Beyond sexual thoughts, Andy started picturing what a relationship between the two of them would look like. She acquired a hobby of looking up what people said about Miranda in the papers, and that was how she found out about her two divorces. Apparently, she was too cold and career-oriented — two things you will never hear being said about a man.
Besides fantasizing about her in bed, Andy started to hallucinate a world in which the two of them were cut from the same cloth. She'd rehearse encounters that would never happen, because Miranda was rarely home lately, and she had no reason to entertain a degenerate, loser neighbor with a crush on her.
That night, however, after the husband left the townhouse and slammed the door so loudly Andy heard from accross the street, she noticed that Miranda was looking right back at her.
Emotionally, she was cheating on Nate.
She did not love Miranda, obviously. She didn't even know her. But it had become very concerning how she thought about the woman across the street more than the man she had planned to spend her life with. Her conscience wouldn't let her get away with it for much longer.
Before she revealed anything compromising about her true feelings, she sat Nate down as explained rationally why she thought they should break up. For good measure, she added a small lie: she had gotten a job offer in California.
She hadn't yet, but she did apply for opportunities all over the country, and some overseas too. It had been a decision born of "what if" thoughts. Not only she daydreamed about Miranda, she daydreamed about being anywhere but here.
Nate moved in with Lily temporarily because he could not stand to spend one day more in that house, despite Andy's insistence that he could stay until he found somewhere else. Loneliness was crushing her insides, and she cried to sleep every other night.
The ones she didn't were the ones she looked through the window and Miranda was looking back at her.
The first time after Andy witnessed her fight with the man she learned was named Stephen, Miranda closed the blinds violently. Her expression was murderous, and it caused Andy to feel somewhat anxious that she did something wrong and didn't know what or how to fix.
With time, anger became curiosity, and Miranda would look at Andy like she was a rare specimen. Odd, but better than being hated.
Sometimes, Andy smiled and waved. The woman crossed her arms and ignored. One night, the lights in Miranda's bedroom were dimmed. Andy imagined she'd skip their unspoken routine, but still got comfortable enough to look inside her home and wonder what was the woman up to.
When Miranda appeared behind closed glass, no color enveloped her but her skin tone. It sent shivers down Andy's spine — it couldn't be. Could it?
Did the woman forget their ritual? Did she think Andy wouldn't be looking tonight?
Or did she intend for Andy to see her naked back, and wonder what did the front look like as she moved her hands over her body salaciously.
Andy's jaw fell to the floor. Miranda's back touched the window glass, her movement became frantic and careless. One hand was holding onto her chest as the other traveled south. She threw her head back, hitting the window, and Andy couldn't take it anymore.
She knew what she was doing. Miranda was risking someone else seeing her masturbate in the window just to provoke Andy — what did she want, for Andy to join her? Or to show that this was all she'd ever get from the woman who had been plaguing her mind from day one?
Andy's walls clenched on nothing, her sex throbbing with no direct stimulus because Miranda Priestly was just that powerful.
She wanted to climb through that window and kneel before the Devil and prove to her that Andy was better than any other Mr. Priestly in every aspect, starting by convincing the Snow Queen just how hot she truly found her.
She was out of her mind. This was getting ridiculous.
She had to do something about it once and for all.
Andy pressed the doorbell ten times. She would not be ignored by Miranda.
Miranda took her sweet time to answer the door — maybe she was just too into it to stop, and had to finish before doing anything else. Andy wished she'd just open the door the way she came to the world, and invited her in to feast on her body. Scarce lesbian experience aside, she was positive she'd leave no crumbs.
Miranda appeared at the door wearing a silk robe and not a hair out of place, way too composed for someone who had been putting an erotic show a mere minute ago.
"What can I help you with?" Miranda said, too cynical, and Andy's blood boiled.
"I think you know that."
"I'm sorry, you must be mistaken. I have no idea who you are, let alone what you want this late at night."
Andy had to hold back her desire to say lewd things in public. Miranda must've noticed, because she pulled her inside with surprising strength. She had no time to react before she was thrown against the front door and kissed senseless by the hot neighbor whose lips she had ever only dreamed of.
Maybe dreams do come true, after all.
"You ruined my marriage," Miranda confessed between kisses and bites. "I cannot stop thinking about you."
You ruined my life, Andy wanted to say.
Instead, she grabbed the back of Miranda's head and used her tongue with precision.
"This is ridiculous," Andy said, breaking the kiss. "You're old enough to be my mother."
"Oh, I can be your mommy," Miranda purred. "Is that what you want, baby?"
"Oh, my fucking-"
Heat pooled in Andy's underwear, and she knew she was doomed. The woman's hands slid down her stomach, sneaking underneath her pants with incredible ease. She firmly cupped her sex, and Andy knew then and there that she'd gladly die by Miranda's hands.
If it would be a one-time thing just to get the tension out of their systems, and go back to their respective lives without ever crossing paths again, Andy did not care. She needed Miranda's touch like she needed air.
Miranda fell to her knees, and Andy lost her mind.
She could always recover it tomorrow.