Miranda, a chicken and Wendy…

Sunday September 13, 2009.
Los Angeles,

Dad has taken Jackie out. Miranda had told him that Wendy would be home that afternoon and he’d quietly said that he’d take care of Jackie for a few hours, ‘clearly’ understanding what she’d said.
Miranda had thanked him and is in the process of cooking.
Casually keeping a constant watch on the clock and having destroyed a rather nice bottle of wine, Miranda has switched the oven on and at this point, the chicken has developed a peculiar habit; It’s started talking.
Miranda opens another bottle of wine, now the chicken’s speech is starting to slur and it seems to giggle a lot.
“So what are we having?”
Miranda starts topping and tailing carrots, “We are having roast chicken, honey glazed mixed roast vegetables and egg noodles. Fresh of course.”
“I suppose it’s worked out well then that you just happen to have a chicken.”
Miranda smiles and picks up the glass of wine, “I must say, you talk awfully well.”
“Thanks, I’m from a chicken and turkey farm in Kentucky.”
“Yeah and I’m from LA.”
“I know. You’re a lawyer.”
“Yeah, how do you know that?”
“I’m dead, not deaf.”
Miranda gets the tray ready for the vegetables. Looking at the chicken, it feels like it’s watching her.
“Pretty good in the kitchen aren’t you?”
Miranda takes another drink of wine, “Yeah, I like to cook.”
“Are you supposed to be doing that?”
Miranda looks at the glass in her hand, “You’re not going to tell me I can’t have a drink?”
“No, but didn’t Wendy ask?”
Miranda put the glass down rather quickly, “Yeah, she did. So, let’s get on…” She picks up her knife and starts slicing potatoes. After these, she attacks the other arranged veggies and there’s quite possibly more here than four could handle. Another look up at the clock. Leaving the chicken to itself for a few minutes, Miranda went off and arranges the table for dinner. It took a little longer than what she thought, but if she hadn’t started playing musical chairs, it would have gone a lot quicker.
Remembering where she is and what she is supposed to be doing, a look at the table before going back to the kitchen. The chicken hasn’t moved.
Miranda opens the oven door and with a cloth over hand, pulls out a large tray.
“Is that for me?”
The tray is put next to the chicken, “Yeah, it’s all yours .”
“I could go diving in that. It looks very deep.”
Miranda giggles and drops the cloth next to the chicken, “You need seasoning. Anything you like in particular?”
“No, no. Whatever floats your boat.”
Miranda reaches for a bottle of olive oil, there is a pack of chicken seasoning in the rack and if this is ’floating your boat’ as the chicken so kindly put it, this will do.
Checking the clock once more, Miranda pours some of the oil into the tray, a few drops onto the chicken and tearing the seasoning open.
Miranda massages the oil and herbs into the chicken’s skin, “Oh yeah…that’s good…yeah, right there, go on…right there…no, not there… there… oh, lady, you are very good at this…”
“Do you feel better for that?” Miranda steps back slightly, giggling.
“Yeah, that was great. It’s just a shame that you’re going to cook me.”
Miranda shrugs, “Well, that was always the plan.”
“So, I guess this is it then?“
“Yep! I’m sorry, but this is it.”
Miranda picks up the chicken and places it in the tray, scooping up handfuls of vegetables and the chicken now looks kind of sad. The jar of honey from the cupboard and a good pour of that and it’s about done.
“Well, ma’am, it was nice knowing you.”
“Are you looking for a last minute reprieve?
“No, I know what’s going to happen, but it’s okay. It’s what I was destined for.”
Miranda opens the oven door again. Holding the cloth and then the tray, a slight pause as the tray is pushed into the oven.
“Well, goodbye, I hope you don’t get food poisoning.”
Miranda laughs and closes the door.
Washing her hands and looking up at the clock, Miranda sees that it’s almost two. The fresh egg noodles don’t take that long, so she can relax a little and sort herself out. When Wendy gets here, she’s going to be sorted as well…

The sound of a car. Then, the sound of the front door. Then the sound of Wendy calling out Miranda’s name.
Miranda has a quick look around the kitchen, everything appears in order and she turns just in time as Wendy almost runs into her arms.
Miranda is stumbling backward against the refrigerator as she and Wendy have those kisses where it’s a game as to who wants to breathe first.
Wendy presses against her, pulling at her clothes. Miranda’s T shirt is gone before she can get that breath and now they start moving and it’s not quite the way that Miranda had planned this, but shit! She ain’t letting go now!
Miranda fell on top of the lounger with Wendy on top of her, laughing and trying to kiss her all at the same time. Miranda is tugging at Wendy’s shirt and she sits up and pulls it over her head herself. Miranda is pushing at her jeans, trying to get them off and a helping hand from Wendy sees them sail across the room.
Slowing things down a bit, slow kissing, touching and Miranda has yet to say anything but Wendy won’t let her.
“Joanie…says….thanks….for…oh shit, you know…” If Wendy could stop kissing her, then maybe this wouldn‘t have come out like that.
Trying to get Miranda’s bra off and that isn’t going to be easy, Wendy’s suddenly on her back, how the hell did Miranda do that? It’s a very fast thought because Miranda’s attempting to get the button of her jeans undone and not getting very far. She obviously gives up as she’s now kissing her, down over her breasts and aiming for her belly button, using her tongue and really working it and Wendy shouts something and Miranda doesn’t stop and if any religious people can hear her, she didn’t mean it like that.


Lying on the lounger and both of them in need of a shower and so sweaty, they’re sticking together.
Unpeeling themselves, Miranda moves on top and smiles at her, “Welcome home baby.”
“It’s nice to know I was missed.”
Miranda kisses her, “You were.”
Her kisses don’t stop there, travelling down, Wendy’s throat, onto her chest and then each nipple in turn, slow, soft kisses and Miranda still moves, slowly down and Wendy’s reaction again as Miranda’s tongue begins to lick at her belly button and not stopping here, moving south, tasting Wendy’s skin, her scent and then moving her legs apart and Miranda lowers her head and kisses her, nuzzling between her legs and Wendy gently rests her hand on Miranda’s head as it slowly moves, Miranda suddenly stops, lifting her head and a kiss on Wendy’s right thigh, “You know, I should go and check on dinner.”
Wendy looks down at her, “Excuse me, but would you finish one thing before going off to something else?”
Miranda giggles, “Sorry.” And lowers her head again.
Then she stops again, “I wouldn’t want to ruin it.”
“Miranda! Would you please!”
She shrugs and kissing Wendy’s left knee, settles back to what she was doing before.
Miranda lifts her head from between Wendy’s legs, a sharp look over her shoulder.
Wendy should say something. This is really nice, really enjoying what Miranda is doing and it’s… it’s just frustrating!
Something from outside, maybe…
The sudden sound of voices and Miranda looks at Wendy, “Incoming!” She yells and although she moves, she doesn’t quite move fast enough. Wendy has already started to swing her leg over her, but Miranda didn’t duck in time and gets a whack on the side of her head.
Miranda kind of falls off the lounger, Wendy is up on her feet. Underwear and jeans and a stumble and behind her, Miranda trying to sort out her bra, from outside, those voices are a lot louder, here, Wendy has just done the button up on her jeans, there’s the sound of the front door, Miranda hasn’t quite got her bra on, Wendy picks up her shirt and starts sorting out the cover on the lounger, Dad and Jackie are talking just by the front door, Miranda stands up and tries pulling up her jeans, but either she’s grown or they’ve shrunk, but she staggers towards the kitchen, a sideways motion and her bra still isn’t on, her T shirt isn’t sure whether it should be on or off, Wendy has taken care of the cover, but Miranda might need some help.
The front door is closed and Dad and Jackie are back. Miranda is now in the kitchen, Wendy alongside her at the cooker, doing their best to look calm.
Henry looks at Miranda and smiles, he can see her bra sticking out the back pocket of her jeans.
Miranda cough’s and not too subtly, nudges Wendy, “Er, hi, you er, umm, yeah!”
Henry looks at her and she’s unsuccessful in her dressing as well. She hasn’t quite got the ’let’s get dressed in a hurry’ routine where it should be. This is noticed by Jackie as well who just smiles and quickly looks away.
Miranda leans back slightly from the cooker and smiles at them, “I cooked!”
Wendy looks at Miranda and smiles and a hope that she won’t have to say anything else.


When being quiet means exactly that…

Miranda has a bit of a problem. The problem could be defined by one or two things.
Wendy is one of them. In as much as when she gets going, she can be quite loud. The second, is that when she comes, she has a habit of screaming. Miranda had done her best, really tried to keep Wendy quiet but with Jackie in the next room, it proved damned nigh on impossible.
Making love with Wendy and trying to get her to shut up are a series of words that just don’t run together.
Miranda isn’t much better. Perhaps, in hindsight, she shouldn’t have started anything, knowing that Jackie is there. Maybe, she shouldn’t have but when that ’need’ arises it’s not like Miranda can say no. Wendy wouldn’t, there’s not much that would make her say no.
After, as they lie together and neither wants to say, scream or shout anything, they start to laugh and Jackie as sure as hell heard them.
“Fuck it, Miranda you bit me!”
“No I didn’t!”
“Yes you did! Look at this!” Wendy throws back the sheet, showing Miranda what she’s done.
Miranda looks and oh, she’s right! A good one, inner thigh, left leg, “Oh sorry!”
Miranda lies back, settling nicely.
“Did I bite you?”
Miranda turns her head and looks at her, “No. Do you want me to have a look?”
Wendy laughs, “No. Ow, my leg!”
“See, I said you have nice legs.”
“No reason to fucking try and eat me!”
Wendy should have been a little more careful with her choice of words. Miranda laughs and Wendy slips her arm around her and pulling close to her.
“You missed a hell of a party.”
Miranda kisses her cheek, “There’s another one next year.”
“Are we going to that one?”
“Oh yeah, me and you baby. Joanies eighteenth? I wouldn’t miss it.”
Miranda holds onto Wendy and kisses her. Her bed seems so much smaller again, after last night and that big, empty wide space and a distinct lack of hugs, cuddles, kisses and Wendy just being there. This is so much better. Miranda hadn’t slept all that well either, tossing and turning until some really ugly hour when she just simply fell out of bed and got up and took a walk in the garden.
Wendy pulls on the sheet, covering them up again, “I love you.” Her soft voice and her sigh, resting against Miranda.
Miranda kisses her again, “I love you Wendy.”
Then she reaches over and turns out the lights.
“I missed you.” Miranda’s whisper, she rests her head and softly settles with her.

In the playground with Charlie Devereaux…

Monday September 14, 2009.
Los Angeles,

Monday afternoon and Miranda is in fighting mode. The victim is Charlie Devereaux. He’s not going to like this and Miranda is ready to get her teeth and claws into him and he ain’t got a hope in hell.
At the door, Wendy almost wishes him well. She nearly has the urge to have the paramedics on standby, but that’s such a distant urge and Miranda smiles at her and she went back to her desk and a series of imaginary files.
Charlie is going to get fucked and he won’t like it. Charlie is just nudging sixty, thin and wiry but according to his own legendary status, pretty damned good in bed. All that Miranda has seen so far is a sorry looking motherfucker. Hey!, that’s quite apt, especially since…Oh fuck this, she just wants to kill him and have done with it.
Why waste time on this asshole? Miranda smiles at him and he has absolutely no idea what she’s going to do to him.
He smiles back and that’s pretty fucking stupid.
Miranda watches him as he places his rather nice briefcase on the oval table. His suit looks like he just put it on.
He steps towards the windows, a slow, steady walk like he’s out taking a stroll, “I’m sorry about your mother.”
His voice sounds as though it’s coming from a much younger man. That isn’t going to save him.
“You’re in a minority there then Charlie.”
He stops his slow walk and turns to face her, “Miranda, that was your mother.”
“An honorary title Charlie. And a poorly fitting one at that.”
“You want to have some respect!”
“Fuck you! Hang on, that’s not right. Give her enough drink and you’d have fucked her six ways from Sunday, so don’t come in here fucking mouthing off to me, what a pile of shit!”
Now, he begins to realise that he’s upset her and that is something that he should avoid at all costs. Unfortunately, by the look on her face, he’s too late already.
He sort of stumbles back to his briefcase. He keeps looking at Miranda as she stays near the table.
Miranda turns towards her chair, “Business!” She says, her voice sounding so sharp.
Charlie opens his briefcase and puts a file on the desk, “My client is exorcising his right to hold the pre nup.” Charlie’s voice just sounds a little shaky.
“Really? Well, good fucking luck to him.”
“Oh come on Miranda, Constance has already kissed her pre nup goodbye, there’s no grounds for any arguing here.” Now he sounds braver, a steady, confident sound.
He’s not out of this yet, Miranda hasn’t even got going.
Miranda now sits, she picks up her pen and begins tapping her pad with it, “Sit down Charlie, it’s going to be a long day.”
She waits for him to sit and…