DISCLAIMER: Law & Order: Special Victims Unit and all characters are
property of NBC and Dick Wolf.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This piece of utter idiocy was inspired by reading Canna's 'Ten Laws of Femslash Physics' on the TWOP board, which were both funny and true. This is neither.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Practice Makes Perfect
By ralst
"Yes, baby, yes, yes, yes!" Alex cried, thrashing her head from side to side and seriously disturbing several dozen of her fellow customer in 'Beds R Us'.
"Oh, God, oh, God, oh, Goooodddddddddddd!" The Starlight, Starbright super deluxe divan skidded four inches to the left as its blonde occupant rode out what appeared to be a phenomenal climax.
Unperturbed by the sound of fleeing mothers and salivating fathers, Alex repositioned herself at the centre of the bed, her body appearing to straddle an unseen companion. "O, O, Oliviiiii." The scream stopped abruptly. Alex reached into the back pocket of her jeans and retrieved a much folded piece of paper. She nodded once before spreading the paper across the sheet in front of her and retaking her straddler's stance. "OooooooooLiviiiiiiaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
A dog barked, two women screamed and Father Postlethwaite ran for the nearest confessional.
"Alex?" Olivia's calm, if slightly bewildered, voice floated across a sea of drooling men before intruding itself into Alex's latest contortion of ecstasy.
"Olivia?"
The Vietnamese and Belgium judges gave the last rendition a 0.2 before being pushed aside by a vision in leather.
"Alex, what the hell are you doing!" The crowd grew steadily, as the mothers rejoined their husbands in the hopes of hearing something scandalous. "Are you ill?" Olivia finally asked, having been unable to arrive at any other conclusion.
"I'm perfectly find, Detective," Alex reassured, the use of Olivia's official title having its desired effect as the crowd took a step back. "I was just practising," she whispered.
"Practising what?" Olivia asked, her voice as subdued as her friend's.
"My fake orgasm."
"Your what?"
"Her fake orgasm," a man from two rows behind volunteered, "you know, like in When Harry Met Sally."
"Is that the one with Sandra Bullock?" A pimply faced teenager enquired.
"No," Olivia growled.
The crowd took another two steps back.
"Why the hell are you practising a fake orgasm?"
"For tonight." Alex retrieved her worn piece of paper and began outlining her research on the perfect orgasma-scream. "There are several variations, most pertaining to religious figures or your lover's name, but according to the latest study it's the tone and pitch of the release that is the most important. Especially if your lover's ears are covered at the moment of..."
"Alex!" The blonde tore her eyes away from the paper and its fascinating footnotes. "You won't need to fake an orgasm."
"But, Olivia, we both know we'll be having sex tonight, and I can hardly expect you to settle for a 'nice try'" Alex disagreed, "especially after all these months of lust filled glances and subtext laden fights."
"You won't need to fake an orgasm." Olivia reiterated.
Alex scowled. "Do you mean we're not going to have sex?"
"No, we're going to have sex, a marathon of sex in fact," Olivia reassured, "but no faking will be needed."
"Really?" Olivia nodded. "But it's my first time with a woman."
Olivia only smirked.
"How will you even know what I like?" Alex argued.
"Oh, she'll know," a voice from the back sighed.
"Will she ever," another woman agreed.
"Excuse me?" Alex reached for her purse and her glasses of truth and justice. "Did you say something?" The entire crowd became mute.
"Relax, Alex, I'll know what to do." Olivia gently removed the blonde's eyeglasses before they could take prisoners. "And yes, you'll know what to do as well."
"How do you know?" The woman at the back tittered, only to run screaming from the store as Alex raised her glasses. "How?"
"You'll know," Olivia promised, "trust me."
The crowd started mumbling and exchanging bets.
Olivia scowled at their audience. "Okay, Alex, tell me what you think I'll like."
"Now?" Alex nodded towards the crowd.
"In just one sec." Olivia passed forty dollars to the man on her right, who dutifully wrote down her bet in the back of his copy of King Lear. "Now."
Alex looked uncomfortable but determined. "Biting, nothing cannibalistic, but just enough to leave a bruise, especially around the neck."
"Score one for blondie," someone in the crowd shouted.
"Handcuffs, which you'll wear, and leather, which I'll be modelling," Alex's voice trailed off as her eyes closed and a dreamy expression consumed her face. "Nipple clamps!" She squeaked, before turning a beautiful shade of pink.
"Silver too," someone else mumbled.
"I told you you'd know." Olivia retrieved her winnings. "Now lets get out of here."
The crowd booed, but Alex ignored them. "How about we stop off at the market to pick up some Ben & Jerry's and then head back to my place." She took hold of Olivia's arm. "I already have the maple syrup."
Olivia only smiled.
The End