DISCLAIMER: Most characters are not mine, but I'm using them for entertainment and not for profit. The story is my own.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The “Drinks” series of short pieces: limited to fewer than three full pages, written primarily as fragments of conversations, each featuring at least one drink. The stories are completely unrelated, unless otherwise stated and don’t fit in any particular timeline. They also may be unrelated to canon. I just try to keep the characterization true. I hope I’ve succeeded in that.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

Drinks Series:

By Allie


"Auntie Mae, you really should try not to bait Mother so much," Alexandra Cabot hid a smile as she looked across the table at Mavis Lyttleton, her father's aunt, who appeared to have devoted her later years to perfecting the art of eccentricity.

"The woman reveres form over function. It's silly. It's even sillier that no one challenges her on it." She glared at Alex through the thick lenses of her spectacles. "And speaking of silly, why can't you join us for dinner?"

"I already had plans with a colleague that couldn't be changed." An image of Olivia Benson with a sheen of perspiration on her smooth skin, floated into Alex's head and she hoped her great aunt thought the faint flush that crept up her neck was due to the warmth of the restaurant. They were at La Grenouille. Mavis always had dinner at La Grenouille when she was in Manhattan, because she knew they carried Pineau des Charentes and she refused to eat at a restaurant that did not serve her favorite aperitif. "Why didn't you tell me earlier that you'd be in town?"

"Because I don't subscribe to the idea that old people's lives should be planned like military maneuvers. Spontaneity and honesty are the keys to longevity and good mental health. You remember that, Alexandra."

Since Mavis was eighty-seven, Alex decided she probably had a point. "Who will be joining you for dinner?"

"Joan Rhys-Wellington. Her son will probably escort her in. He treats her as though she's an imbecile, even though she can do the Times crossword in less than an hour and he only made it into Yale as a legacy student whose parents donated a new swimming pool." She looked suspiciously at Alex. "What about you? You're wearing a skirt and high-heeled boots. What sort of work plans require that kind of outfit?"

This time Alex failed to stop a deep blush from staining her cheeks as she thought of Olivia, hands bound in leather restraints and tethered to a discreet hook, that no casual visitor ever noticed, in Alex's bedroom. She remembered how Olivia's bare breasts had looked as the detective's arms had been stretched above her head, lean muscles flexing against the restraints and against the teasing of Alex's lips, tongue and sharp teeth. "I… only put on the skirt because I was meeting you. I thought my original attire might be inappropriate for the restaurant." Yes, I'm reasonably sure that the leather bustier and the chaps that left my ass bare would have been considered just slightly too risqué for La Grenouille.

Mavis nodded, accepting Alex's explanation and Alex let out the breath she'd been holding. "In my day," Mavis commented, "women weren't allowed to wear trousers to court. I understand some judges still don't like it, which makes no sense since modern skirts are clearly more revealing. I mean, what was that television show with the skinny little blond lawyer?"

"Ally McBeal?"

"Yes, that's the one. Did you see how short that young woman's skirts were? She could hardly sneeze without risking complete immodesty."

Immodesty. Alex's mind drifted back to the black lace boy shorts that had been Olivia's only garment. Ostensibly meant to preserve the detective's modesty, they'd done anything but. The pattern of the lace was not tightly woven, so it had revealed a lot of creamy skin, as well as Olivia's closely trimmed pubic hair and the wetness of her swollen labia. Alex bit back a moan, blinked and forced herself to focus on her great aunt. "It's not really like that, Auntie Mae, we have to dress modestly for court, no matter what we choose to wear."

"I should hope so." She noticed Alex's empty glass. "Would you like another Pineau?"

"I really should be going."

"No, you should be staying until my dinner companion arrives. I know your mother taught you impeccable manners."

"You're right, of course," Alex said immediately. "And thank you, I will have another." A waiter appeared almost as if by magic and offered them another round of drinks. When he'd left, Alex said quietly, "It's not that I don't enjoy your company. You're probably my favorite relative." It's just that I left an extremely hot and completely naked NYPD detective in my bed and she owes me an orgasm.

"I don't doubt it. I'm certainly a lot more fun than your mother and your uncle Bill seems to have successfully cloned himself, if those dry lawyers he calls sons are anything to go by."

Unable to stop herself, Alex grinned. "Uncle Lloyd is nice, but he's disturbingly obsessed with his orchids."

"They say gardening is the pastime of the sexually repressed. He'd probably be having a lot more sex and care a great deal less for his greenhouse, if he'd just admit to the rest of the family that he's homosexual."

"Oh, I don't know, Auntie Mae, I can't imagine the Cabot clan actually helping anybody to find sexual partners…"

Mavis guffawed. She had the laugh of a woman less than half her age. She leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered, "You are my favorite relative, as well. But I absolutely forbid you to tell either of my children." At Alex's shocked look, she added. "Oh, don't give yourself a conniption fit. I do love them. It's just that they're, well… they're like your mother. It's hard to believe that she only married into the family, she's such a Cabot."

"But you married out of the family," Alex pointed out.

"Yes. He pretended to be adventurous and unconventional, but as soon as he got the ring on my finger, he expected us to turn into some perverted married version of ourselves who had no fun." She shook her head in disgust. "It would have been a complete scandal to divorce him, so I ignored him. Although it is rather unfortunate that the children are more like him than like me. I'm ashamed to say that a major consideration for me at the time was that being a divorcee in those days, severely limited one's opportunities to have sex – and I'm not cut out for gardening."

This time it was Alex, who laughed. She was still grinning when the waiter arrived with their drinks.

"Here's to honesty, spontaneity and longevity," Mavis said, raising her glass.

"And to spending time with people you like, even though you're related to them," Alex added.

"And to sex," Mavis said, her eyes twinkling behind her glasses.

"No argument from me," Alex said, touching her glass to Mavis's.

"Mae, there you are! I'm so sorry I'm late, but it took ages to ditch my son." The Cabot women looked up to see Joan making her way to the table, her voice slightly louder than was proper because she refused to wear a hearing aid. "Alexandra, you look as gorgeous as ever."

"Thanks, Auntie Joan, so do you."

Joan preened. "You've always been charming," she said, her face creasing in a broad smile.

"She's not staying for dinner," Mavis announced. "Has a hot date, but is pretending that it's work-related."

Alex's jaw dropped. "Auntie Mae…"

"Tell us about him, dear," Joan said immediately, sitting down and looking expectant.

Alex knew she was beaten.

"Go on, Alex," Mavis added.

"Tall, fit, dark hair, big brown eyes with long, long eyelashes…" Smooth skin, beautifully shaped hands with long, talented fingers. Soft, full lips and the most delicious tongue…

"Mae, you never told me Alexandra was a lesbian," Joan said accusingly.

"I was waiting for her to confirm it," Mavis replied. "It's hardly my fault that there's so far been no admission from her."

How the fuck did they know? Alex looked from one to the other and tried to think what she'd just said that had betrayed her sexual orientation. She couldn't remember a single afternoon, since she'd turned seventeen, when she'd blushed as much as she had since meeting her great aunt for drinks. "I… I'll leave you two to talk about me," she said, smiling despite her embarrassment. "Enjoy your dinner and thanks for the drinks."

"Bring her with you, next time," Mavis instructed.

"They'd probably rather stay home and have sex than have dinner with us," Joan argued.

"She has to meet the family, Alexandra. You know it's the proper thing to do and I know your mother taught you…"

"Impeccable manners. Yes, Auntie Mae."

Alex got up from the table and kissed both ladies on their cheeks. She was suddenly almost unbearably aware of the harness and dildo she still wore. Olivia had insisted that she continue to wear them under her skirt when she went to meet her great aunt and as wildly inappropriate as that had been, it had kept her in a state of arousal that seemed to run parallel to every ordinary, sexless thing she'd done that afternoon, from the cab ride to midtown, to her visit to the flower shop to get a bouquet of carnations for her great aunt.

But as she walked out of the restaurant, the undercurrent of arousal flared up into something so acute that it became almost painful. She remembered releasing Olivia's bound wrists from the hook and the flash of the nipple clamps as she'd directed the brunette to lie face down on the bed, with her knees bent and the black lace hiding nothing.

"Taxi!" There was no way to disguise the urgency in her voice.

The End

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