Pieces

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PIECES

Disclaimer:

This is an Uber-sorta alternative classified. The Lawless and ROC physical likenesses were used as models, as well as my boss. Heheh. There is a love/sexual relationship depicted although, not too explicitly b/n the main female characters. If under age 18, or you find this type of subject offensive, or this type of material is illegal in your state of residence, you may wish to pass on this story.

This is classified as a hurt/comfort story. If you are sensitive to this type of material you may wish to read something other than this story.

There is the use of profanity in this story. If you are sensitive to this type of thing or are under age 18 and or find this type of language offensive, you may wish pass on this story.

Alex grabbed up the clipboard and the attached papers she'd been snarling at for the last three and a half hours and stalked angrily away from her desk. With determined footfalls, past several surprised faces, she approached her employer's closed door and intrusively let herself in.

"We've got to talk about this budget now," she sighed frustrated. "There's no way we can make this work. Supplies, salaries, and miscellaneous alone are going to blow this thing," she waved the clipboard angrily in the air, "out of the water!" She waited a moment for the silent woman to speak. She took in the slumped shoulders and lowered head; and when there was nothing forthcoming, Alex tentatively approached the desk. "Miranda?" she questioned, concern softening her voice.

"I know the budget's fucked, Al." The woman spoke in hushed and weary tones. "I'll go over it with you; but I can't right now okay?" That said, the office manager immediately spun her chair away from the desk to face the wall behind her. Impatience and concern prompted Alex to speak.

"Uh no, not good enough." Miranda's shoulders tensed at her young assistant's impertinence. Alex walked arrogantly around the desk, placing herself between the woman's chair and the wall.

"I don't want to discuss the goddamned budget right now!" Miranda ground out hoarsely. Her head still lowered, dark chestnut tresses fell forward hiding her face from view.

"Fuck the budget!" Alex snapped. "You wanna tell me what's eating at you? You've been hiding in here all day." Actually for months. Alex kept that thought to herself.

"No."

Alex nodded, her emerald eyes hardening with determination. She walked over to the door and closed it securely. Miranda swore angrily under her breath when she heard the click of the lock. "Do you not like your job?" she threatened, angered now by Alex's lack of respect for her privacy.

"So fire me," Alex challenged annoyingly, then crossed the distance between them, once again coming to stand directly in front of her employer. Miranda was now glaring at her, cerulean blue eyes flashing with anger and indignance. Alex was well aware of the stress and strain her boss was under. The low production and sales. The high turnover in employees this last year. The constant repairs and emergencies that had required costly attention. It had been a hellish two years. Not to mention the accident that had nearly left the woman paralyzed and had required extensive and painful therapy for two years. Bottom line - Miranda had lost her edge and she was not going to get it back hiding here in this office as she had been for months now. "So are you giving up? Hanging up the towel?"

"Isn't that what everyone wants?" Miranda asked and then sank lower in the black low-back leather chair. Blue eyes lost their fire, and Alex felt an aching tug at her heart. "I know they all hate me." Alex paused for a moment. It wasn't quite true. Not everyone hated the boss. Most of the employers were tired, on edge and wary. Miranda's behavior as of late had become sporadic, at times bellowing in anger at minor mistakes, to sometimes cold and disparaging remarks about poor performance, and then there was her outright lackadaisical attitude.

"Nobody hates you, Miranda." Her voice softened. "Everyone's worried. You've changed so much."

"Yeah? Well tough shit." Miranda sat up stiffly in the chair, engaging the younger woman in a glaring contest. "I know everyone's either waiting for me to quit or to get fired." Her full lips twisted in a sardonic smile. "My absence certainly wouldn't hurt your career any, would it?"

Alex carefully hid the hurt caused by Miranda's words and their implications. None of the staff wanted Miranda gone; they just wanted their boss back to her old self. The old Miranda, had been a bitch - an alpha bitch. But she'd been productive. And she had been like a guard dog when it came to employee benefits, welfare and motivation.

That's what had endeared her to everyone ... Whenever someone said 'here comes the Queen Bitch', it was more a title of reverence. The old Miranda ran a tight ship, would do whatever it took to get the job done, and spared no pity for slacking. She had also been a compassionate woman, who had gotten her staff constant concessions, bonus packages, and profit sharing benefits - fought tooth and nail for those who were loyal to her. When Miranda went to battle for her staff in the monthly and yearly board meetings, Corporate had more than once gotten bitten by the bitch. This woman she was now, was barely a shadow of her former self.

There were problems at home also. Alex and most of the office staff were well aware of the many heated phone conversations between Miranda and her husband Rick. The anger and tension seemed to ooze right through the thick oak wood door into the outer office. And it was hard to ignore the voice raised in anger and the sound of heavy objects hitting against of the door.

Alex glanced at the neurotically neat desk. The large office calendar lay center the desk with neatly printed appointment and events scribbled dutifully in the date boxes. To the right of the calendar was a picture of Miranda's husband of 20 years and her two teenaged children; both girls with an unmistakable mixture of her husband's dashing good looks and Miranda's beauty. Just above the calendar, was a pen and pencil holder equipped with sharpener. Pens and pencils were neatly placed in their compartments. And beside the holder was a well organized "in and out" box.

The woman's office was the picture of structure and organization. Miranda was unaccustomed to untidiness and perhaps felt ill-equipped to deal with the disorganization that had hounded her for awhile now.

She cleaned up messes quickly and efficiently. But her life had become a mess that was refusing to restructure itself to her will. And the moment she wiped away one spill there seemed to be another, frustratingly rendering her efforts ineffectual.

Alex looked down at the bowed head and she knew, there too lay the problem. Miranda's thoughts were probably in a chaotic mess. It's hard to get your life in order when your mind was a jumble. She would not be able to go on this way. Alex held no fear for her job but Miranda's job was in jeopardy if she didn't pull through this ... it would only take a few more complaints from the employers and her continued ineffectiveness in running this office. Alex was next in line for the job and she was a shoe-in. She could do it. Of that, she had no doubts. Her methods were different from Miranda's and she would not be quite as innovative as her boss had been. But she knew how to run the place. She'd had to do so in Miranda's six month absence after that horrid accident.

Truth was she did not want the woman's job; not this way. She'd always imagined Miranda climbing the corporate ladder, and then herself slipping into the comfortable shoes left behind. She liked working closely with Miranda, they complimented each other.

Miranda ran cold and hot - not much in between. Just fire and ice; and Alex liked to think that she herself balanced that out with her even temperament, soothing tense situations - a bridge between the employees and an otherwise unreachable boss. In truth, the reason why the workers remained as loyal as they were now was due to Alex's intervention on Miranda's behalf. She eased fears and soothed ruffled feathers as best as she could. She worked as closely with the personnel as she did her boss. Alex was hands-on in everything, from assisting with repairs to filling in occasionally for a staff member who might need to be absent. She knew everyone by name and most of their family members.

She liked what she did. She loved her job and she loved the woman sitting just inches way from her. Now, she had to figure out a way to help her. "Were you planning on staring at me for the rest of the day?" Miranda's cold words broke through Alex's silent musings. "Or did you intend to get some work done any time soon?" Alex tossed the budget proposal onto the desk, shoved her hands in her pockets and then leaned her right shoulder casually against the wall.

"Well, I thought I'd just hang out in here," she teased stubbornly. Emerald eyes danced with amusement. Alex raised her right hand to play with a few errant strands of blonde hair.

"Jesus!" Miranda hissed, "what is it with you?" She finally glared up at Alex's smirk. "Can't you see I don't want you here? I just want to be left alone."

"Um, well no." Alex shrugged and crossed her arms defiantly across her chest. She was nervous, but hiding it well. There had been a connection between them once. She prayed that somehow it had survived. "I don't think you do want to be alone. I think you're scared shitless and lonely. And as for me doing my job ... I think you might try doing yours." she remarked caustically.

"Get out!" Miranda stood up towering above her by six inches. "You're fired."

"Don't think so."

"Look you little piss-ant, if you for one moment think I won't have your insubordinate ass tossed out of here you're..."

"You won't," Alex responded confidently, further angering her boss with her arrogance.

"And why is that?" the taller woman asked menacingly. "Give me one good reason why I won't," she asked snidely, determined now, to carry out her threat. She reached for the phone with every intention of calling security and having the woman escorted off company grounds - that is until a warm hand moved over her hand that was clasping the receiver. A small compact frame lightly touching her, but not quite pressed against her, evoked a small tremor down her spine. She couldn't explain the effect, only that she felt fire spark everywhere their bodies lightly touched.

"Because you need me," a soft voice whispered behind her. The hand over hers stroked lightly until Miranda released her hold on the receiver. "Now sit," the voice commanded gently. She submitted without a thought, sitting quietly in her chair. She felt her chair being turned so that she was facing her desk. The budget was placed in front of her. "Work." The command whispered softly in her right ear, sent a shiver from her inner ear to her neck and down her spine. Hands rested on her shoulders and fingers began to knead stiffened and achy muscles skillfully. She took in a sharp breath and released it slowly as she felt the knots of tension slowly unfurling, to be replaced by comfort and something else she wasn't quite ready to study closely.

Miranda allowed her eyelids to droop closed, but suddenly those insistent lips were at her ear again and whispering, "Do your job, Miranda." She took another deep breath, opening her unwilling eyes and forced them to focus on the fuck-up in front of her. She grabbed a pencil and a red marker and went to work. She threw her mind completely into her task, ever aware of the gentle kneading of her shoulders, and the fingers working the sore areas of her neck. Those fingers worked their way up, moving through her thick hair, massaging her scalp and then working their way to the temples that had been throbbing with almost blinding pain.

Well, certainly not protocol, Alex mused to herself, but this'll do in a pinch. The two women talked quietly, discussing the proposal as Alex approvingly studied their progress from over the boss's shoulders. They were making major headway, unaware of the passage of time and the curious stares from the outer office frequently cast at the closed door. But no one dared knock; and any messages for Miranda or Alex were being taken and inquirers simply told the women were in an important meeting.

The duo tossed strategies back and forth, Miranda penning down every idea and scratching out those they mutually agreed would not work. For the first time in a long time, she felt like someone was with her and not against her. It had been lonely and she was scared. Her life, her job, and marriage - all of it falling apart too quickly for her to put back together.

Rick had been bringing up the subject of separation for sometime now. They'd grown distant since that fateful night of the wreck. He'd had a few too many martinis, and on the drive home had lost control of their BMW, rolling the vehicle over onto an embankment. Thankfully, no other cars had been involved. Rick knew enough important people 'downtown' that he'd not been cited for the accident nor given a DUI. Miranda had received severe back and leg injuries; compressed fractures to the vertebra, nerve and muscle damage in her legs. And had been facing the possibility of never walking again. It was months before his feelings of guilt would allow him to even look her in the eyes. Though she'd never once blamed him, Miranda, knew she could have insisted that they take a cab home from the party or get a ride from one of her sister's guests, traveling in their direction. For a long time she would awaken in a cold sweat from nightmares about the squealing of tires, smell of burning rubber, the sounds of metal twisting and crunching all around them and her screams of pain and agony. Rick would awaken dutifully and hold her through the trembling, trying to soothe her back to sleep, but his embraces were always tense and reluctant, his words automatic - and held no real affection. Rick felt obligated.

Alex felt the sudden tension return to the muscles beneath her. She silently questioned it, but allowed the woman the privacy to battle whatever demons were taunting her. She continued her gentle ministrations, knowing her presence was some degree of comfort. She allowed the work to be cast aside so that the woman seated in front of her could ... what? Begin to heal? Confront her thoughts? Alex wasn't sure what was going on in the mind of her lovely boss but she was certain that it was important that these thoughts be uninterrupted.

Miranda was grateful for the silence, even more grateful that the strong woman behind her was still there, still touching her. It had been so long since anyone had touched her with any degree of real affection. Even the relationship between herself and her wonderful daughters had become strained. The girls spent less time at home and more and more nights at sleepovers with friends, desperate to escape the undercurrents of tension at home. Miranda didn't blame them. They'd been devastated by her injuries. The girls had always viewed their mother as an unstoppable force, strong willed and determined. And suddenly they'd come face to face, just as Miranda had, with her fragile mortality. She could have died! She could have been permanently impaired! And they had been terrified of the wheel chair that had confined her - and later the braces she had needed to assist her on the road to recovery. She wasn't their mother. The woman who spent five nights a week at the gym, alternating weight training and taking tai-chi classes. Gone was her tireless energy and in its wake was a woman who couldn't walk from the bedroom to the bathroom without succumbing to exhaustion and pain. They too had found it hard to look at her. Miranda looked back now and realized the error of not accepting the family counseling that had been offered. She had been so certain that her strong and close-knit family would come through this without some meddling do-gooder picking their brains and making them doubt their own strengths. She'd been proud, stubborn, and she'd been wrong.

The one place she thought she would find her salvation had been the first place of desolation - in the arms of her husband. She'd been so sure that once Rick understood that she did not hold him accountable for her injuries, he would be strong enough for the both of them. But he had withdrawn. Lying beside her night after night, staring up at the ceiling; lying so still to keep from touching her. And then there were the nights he would whisper, "I'm hot," and would slip from the beneath the covers to find his slumber on the couch, leaving her alone in a cold and unforgiving bed. She had needed him. Needed to know he still loved her. Needed to feel beautiful to him.

He recoiled from her touches even after she was well enough to resume physical intimacy with him. Rick had seemed abhorred by the thought. And the one night he had finally come to her, and she had sighed so thankfully to God that he wanted her again, but she found herself being made love to by a stranger. He whispered no words of endearment. His hands had mechanically fondled her breasts. He'd looked down into her face while entering her, but it was as if he were not seeing her at all. His eyes were wide, yet distant, as though he was in some distant dream. His thrusts were automatic, the instinctual movements of habit and nature. And when he'd finally erupted within her, he had uttered a mere whimper, falling to the side and rolling over away from her. Miranda had felt cold, used, and violated. She remembered feeling the desperate need to shower and wash away the memory of his touch. She had willed herself to remain still until she distinguished the even rise and fall of his breathing across the distance. Teary eyed, she'd slipped out into the hall bath and stripped away her clothing as her pride had been stripped away - and stepped into a scalding shower and wept bitterly, curled up in the corner in a tight ball. When Miranda had emerged from the scalding cleansing, she'd felt her soul had been washed down the drain along with his repulsive touch.

Alex watched as the long fingers clasped together on the desk tightened and knuckles whitened under the tension. The shoulders beneath her fingers began to shake from the woman's silent weeping. Miranda's head drooped forward in defeated. The woman's pain and sorrow squeezed Alex's heart as though it were a vise grip. There had been enough silence. She spun the chair around gently and pulled the woman forward slightly, Alex's arms wrapping around broad shoulders. The dark head leaned forward against Alex's breasts and strong needful arms encased the blonde's waist. Her heart was aching for Miranda, but she willed tears away and allowed strength instead to be this woman's comfort. "You're not alone," she spoke the words gently but in a strong voice. "You. Are. Not. Alone." It had been hell watching Miranda suffer and not being able to comfort her as Alex was now. But the prideful woman had pushed any attempts of help away, believing them to be acts of pity. She had withdrawn from Alex and their close working and friendly relationship, effectively shutting her out with more than just a closed door. They had barely spoken, except when necessary.

Alex had been stung by the abrupt changed. She'd understood it but had still been hurt deeply by her boss' sudden dismissal of her. She hadn't understood at first why it had hurt as deeply as it had - why she had cried herself to sleep at nights over a brush off or hostile word. The dawning had been slow. Alex had had to do her own self-searching to discover the dynamics of her own personal truths. Rethinking how she had felt during their past, working relationship. The sliver of excitement when Miranda briefly touched her arm or placed a hand against her back when they were in deep discussion over a task. A smile from Miranda, for no other reason than the woman was glad to see her. All those things would deeply warm her and had caused a leap of excitement in her being. Each day she had found herself looking forward to the next day of working beside the enigmatic manager. Sometimes they would stay after work, well after the others had gone, Miranda, sitting casually on the edge of Alex's desk as the two laughed and gossiped about everyday life or the events of the day - Miranda's laughter washing over her as a fine warm mist from an early spring rain.

Sometimes their conversation was light and casual, other times deep and personal.

"So why aren't you married?" Miranda had asked once, puzzled and concerned by Alex's voluntary seclusion.

"Never really thought about it," Alex had answered honestly. She had been unnerved by the way those blue eyes had moved over her - accessing her, taking her in, and seemed to try to peer into her.

"Lovers?"

"Occasionally," she had offered up, not bothering to lie. "But not for a while."

"But why not?" Miranda had frowned slightly, unconsciously moving closer to the woman who now held her rapt attention. "Jesus! You're fucking beautiful. There's not a head in this office you don't turn on a daily basis." She had appraised her assistant manager's appealing looks and shook her head in confusion. Alex had felt a shiver run up her spine at the compliment.

"I don't know," Alex had shrugged. "I've not really been searching, I suppose. I've been on my own technically since I was a kid. I suppose I just got used to it."

"Are you gay?" the curious question asked so casually almost had made Alex choke on her own breath. "If you are," Miranda had lifted Alex's chin with a gentle finger. "It doesn't matter ... but..." Miranda had deciding against finishing her statement. She had removed her hand and Alex had felt a subtle loss of warmth. Miranda had smiled fondly at her employee, and green eyes had brightened appealingly.

"Never really questioned it," Alex had told her frankly. "I've never had sex with a woman." She'd laughed then but remarked, "but I don't find the thought unappealing." Miranda herself had been caught off guard by the woman's frankness. It was disconcerting and refreshing and she had felt renewed warmth for her assistant manager. "Have you?" Alex had asked suddenly. "Have you ever been with a woman?" Blushing deeply, Miranda had hesitated but felt it would be unfair to answer the frank gaze with anything less than honesty.

"Yes, I have." She smiled and winked. "And it certainly does have its appeal." They had laughed at that and then carried the conversation on a different path. Both women had unconsciously sensed the danger of letting the topic go on much further, but neither had felt awkwardness in their candid interest in the other's life.

That had been so long ago. That comfortable friendship that had been developing between the two - the electricity that others had felt whenever in the presence of both women had suffered greatly due to Miranda's estrangement. But it was still there. Alex could feel it. Miranda felt it.

Alex moved her fingers through her employer's thick hair; they burrowed deeply into the dark strands to caress a graceful and slender neck - seeking to heal with touch. She whispered soft reassuring words of comfort. Alex had grown a lot in the years they'd worked together. She'd become more assertive in her endeavors and aggressive when occasion called for it. But now she was simply the woman who loved Miranda, and wanted nothing more than to ease her hurt, to make it go away, if only for a while. She glanced briefly at the clock and was surprised by the time but was internally grateful the outer office would now be empty. She was aware the office would be buzzing with curious gossip come the next morning. Frankly, she didn't care. She pulled Miranda to her feet and looked up into a wounded gaze. Those cerulean eyes searching her own � seeking and asking.

Miranda wasn't sure what was being offered to her by her gentle assistant. She only knew that whatever it was she was ready to clutch onto it for the lifeline that it was. She felt her soul reaching out to the smaller woman, asking for something; wanting, needing, opening up and she stood poised on the edge of the abyss, waiting to fall into nothingness or ready to fall into the tender net her assistant had woven to catch her with. She pulled the smaller woman against her instinctively, needing her nearness, needing to feel the warmth of her ... needing ... Alex. "God!" she groaned out softly at the contact. "Alex, I need you," she whispered down into silken hair. "I need you." She trembled.

"I'm right here," Alex spoke against a strong shoulder. She lifted her head to peer up at the older woman and their lips met automatically, tongues engaging in the sensual exploration of a foreign home. Slow ... the kiss was slow and hands moved from Alex's waist to gently cup her face - neither in hurry to end their oral embrace. Teeth nibbled on lips - one mouth suckling gently on a tongue. A soft moan, and then a whimper escaped from either throat as they sought to merge with that one kiss. But fire encompassed other parts of their bodies. Fingers and hands itched to explore other areas and tongues became hungry for the feel and taste of smooth silken flesh. Bodies became desperate for the attention each woman had to offer.

Alex broke away from the kiss first. Both women were breathing heavily, eyes darkened with desire. And disrobing was only the next natural step. Eyes hungrily drank in every piece of flesh bared, and starved to see more, and when clothes no longer proved a barrier, they stood in silent appraisal of each other. No awkwardness. No fear or bashfulness - each woman now certain of the cravings of the other. "I'm going to love you," Alex whispered softly. Her voice reaching out and sending shivers of expectation down the tall, lean form before her. "I want to touch all of you, and every time you close your eyes, every time you move, I want you to remember that there was no part of you that I did not kiss, that I did not explore."

Her subtle implication sparked a fire of ravenous lust in the taller woman. Miranda was being asked to give herself - to allow her own vulnerability and she felt a tremble of fear and with it the thrill of anticipation.

"Love me," Miranda whispered, allowing her tattered pride to shatter to the floor so that this strong woman before her could mend it and put it back in place. "Please, love me." They were desperate words communicating the want and the need to have the aching void filled. Miranda wanted to be broken down, dismantled, and put together again piece by piece. Alex remained still, drinking in the vision vulnerable beauty before her. "Sometimes..." Miranda swallowed hard, and then began again, feeling she needed to say this; she needed to strip her feelings as well as her body. "Sometimes I feel like there are pieces of me falling away ... just falling to the floor and nobody gives a damn, they just trample them underfoot." Her voice was raw with pain. Alex let that pain reach out to her and squeeze her heart.

"You'll want to use the phone," Alex told her softly. "Call home. Let your husband and kids know that you're okay. Tell him you working late tonight." It was an out - an escape for Miranda if she wanted, so subtly offered; a reminder of possible repercussions.

"I'm not even sure they know I exist any more. Sometimes I'm not sure I still exist."

"Call home, Love. Tell them you won't be home. And then I'll remind you." She caressed a cheek gently. "I'll remind you of just how very here and present you are." Miranda swayed slightly from the touch, mesmerized by gentle loving strength. Her eyes closed for a moment and she leaned into the soft caress.

"You know, you make me feel things again. You make me remember there are sensations other than pain." She opened her eyes to peer dazedly into an adoring emerald gaze. She smiled and nodded, for the first time in two years feeling solid ground beneath her. "I'll call home."

When Miranda hung up the phone from speaking with Rick, it was without regret or second thoughts. She turned into waiting arms and allowed them to shelter her.

"Time to move forward now," Alex murmured lovingly pushing the woman gently to a sitting position on the desk. "Time to heal." She kissed a sensitive earlobe and was thrilled by Miranda's shiver. "Time to start picking up the pieces."

To be continued in: Forward

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