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:
Margaritas
By Allie
"Come on, Cabot. Not even once?" The challenge was thrown down in a raspy voice that still carried a hint of Texas. Abbie Carmichael aimed a skeptical look over the salt-encrusted rim of her margarita glass.
She was at Rosa Mexicano on 18th Street with the woman who had taken over most of her cases when it had been decided that the Manhattan Special Victims Unit should have a dedicated Assistant District Attorney. Alexandra Cabot pursed her lips and took a sip of her own margarita – without salt and served on the rocks – but she didn't meet Abbie's teasing brown eyes. "I'm not saying that Detective Benson isn't… appealing."
"Appealing? The woman is so hot, she could blister paint. And I know you've been known to shop at the softer side of Sears, as Serena likes to put it, so you are not going to convince me that you have never even had a fleeting fantasy about what it would be like to have her in your bed."
The restaurant was busy, but the high ceilings and split level design gave the impression of wide open space. Alex was definitely feeling a buzz from the tequila and she dipped a warm tortilla into the guacamole that had been made to their specifications right next to the table, taking a few seconds to savor the smooth texture and mixture of flavors before attempting to answer Abbie. "Ok, she's hot. But she's also perceptive and intelligent and she can be so gentle… I'm not comfortable talking about her as though she's just a sex object."
"Olivia Benson, sex object. Mmm hmm," Abbie murmured, unrepentant. She tilted her head thoughtfully and thick dark hair fell over her shoulder.
"You're incorrigible."
"And you're a liar," Abbie accused with a grin that showed off deep dimples in her cheeks. They'd been drinking for almost an hour, because they couldn't make up their minds what they wanted to have as a main course. The waitress checked in regularly and kept the margaritas coming, but Abbie was a regular patron and a good tipper so there was no pressure on them to order.
"Ok," Alex allowed, cracking under the pressure of Abbie's knowing smile, "I have, on occasion, entertained certain images of a sexual nature that involved Detective Benson."
"Ah ha!" Abbie crowed, with no pretense at grace.
Alex fidgeted in her chair. Her pale, blond beauty a stark contrast to Abbie's dark coloring. They made a striking pair. Alex's blue eyes, slightly unfocused from alcohol and because her glasses were in their neat Armani case in her handbag, locked defiantly with the dark gaze of her companion. "That does not mean that when I see her walking towards me, I think about… what you said."
"Say it, Alex. I know you're not the prude you pretend to be, because I happen to have crossed paths with a certain member of your Yale class who had the privilege of being your fuck-buddy of choice through much of your final year."
"Rebecca told you…"
"Uh-uh, she didn't, not at first, but when I mentioned your name the woman blushed! Rebecca Standish, hard-nosed AUSA with a reputation as the biggest womanizer in the Republican party, all but moaned when she found out I knew you. And when I asked her if you'd dated, she said, 'not exactly.' Naturally, I probed and after several glasses of Port and a Cohiba – which I smoked purely to keep the conversation going, so if I get cancer it's your fault – she admitted that you had never been anywhere together except each other's bedrooms."
"I couldn't be seen in public with her. She was a Republican."
"She wants to change the party from the inside."
Alex waved a dismissive hand. "If she keeps on talking about her sex life, that particular snowball won't even make it to the gates of hell."
"So, what were you trying to do, suck her away from the dark side?"
Alex pursed her lips, knowing Abbie was trying to disconcert her, but finding the brunette's line of questioning funny, despite her determination not to be amused. "She helped me hone my debating skills and infuriated me to the point where I needed an outlet for my rage. Suffice it to say, we found a mutually agreeable outlet."
"So, now that you've admitted to actually liking to have nasty sex with someone you shouldn't really have been sleeping with, are you still going to pretend…?"
"I'm not pretending anything!"
"Then say it."
"Yes. Ok?"
"Yes, what, Alex?"
"Yes, I have thought about what Olivia Benson would look like wearing 'nothing but a strap on and a sneer', as you so delicately put it."
"I know." She looked down at the menu. "You should try the crab enchiladas."
The End