Repercussions

Alex, fresh from a quick shower, stood in front of her closet pondering. She pulled a clean pair of jeans from a neatly folded stack and tossed them on the bed. She took a royal blue dress shirt off a hanger and laid it across the jeans. A thin, black leather belt joined the pants and shirt.

After she dressed Alex dug deep in her closet. Olivia's message had beaten Alex home by 20 minutes. Her address and a firm, but friendly instruction to bring dessert but only if she really wanted to had brought Alex an involuntary smile. Something about the warm tone of Olivia's voice was both relaxing and arousing. "Where are they," she thought as she pushed aside a couple of suits to let some light into the small space. She spied the black leather ankle boots she'd been looking for nestled under the Raffaello satchel bag her mother had given her for Christmas the previous year. Alex pulled the bag out. She set it on the end of the bed, and sat to pull on the boots. You had better know what you're doing, Alexandra. Alex opened the satchel's flap and carried the bag over to her dresser.

******

The smell of marinara and the sound of Miles Davis filled Olivia's apartment. She'd blown through the market near her apartment in record time getting the last of the fresh ravioli. The lettuce had been thin, already showing winter wilt. What looked to be the last of the summer green beans done almondine would be substituting. While the sauce she'd defrosted simmered, Olivia showered and changed. A little bit of extra time between setting the pasta to cook and steaming the beans had left her standing in front of her CD collection wondering what would be appropriate. She'd rejected a handful of artists and albums before settling on a CD carousel full of jazz.

During her grocery shopping, a small sliver of doubt had lodged in Olivia's mind raising questions about her expectations for the evening. She liked and respected Alex Cabot. Olivia had been slightly surprised not only at the desire for that affection to be more but also at how quickly it had blossomed. The working relationship, by its very nature, couldn't change. There was no way, though, for that relationship to remain unaffected by what had already happened, and what might yet happen, between them. Olivia felt she was walking a fine line between screwing up a big part of her life and losing a chance at something deeper than just a one-night stand with a friend.

She lit a few of the candles sprinkled around the apartment, and placed a lit votive in a brass holder in the middle of the dining table. Linen napkins, silverware and plates from the special occasion sets, and wine glasses would complete the place settings once dinner was ready.

The intercom buzzed. Olivia hit the button and hearing Alex's hello quickly pushed to let her guest into the building. She hung her apron on a hook in the kitchen. When the knock came it took a good measure of her self control to keep Olivia from yanking open her apartment door. She took a deep breath and swung the door inward.

Despite her casual attire, Alex looked just as elegant to Olivia's admiring gaze as she would have in her best suit. Alex smiled and Olivia questioned her own motives again as she felt her pulse quicken.

"Hi, come in."

"Thanks," Alex said, stepping into the apartment. "I brought dessert."

Alex stepped into the apartment and ged aed around as Olivia shut the door after her. The complex smell of dinner, the low lighting, and the soft music created an inviting atmosphere in what was an already comfortable space. "But not necessarily romantic," Alex thought, feeling sheepish at the knowledge of the contents of the bag slung over her shoulder.

"Does this need to be refrigerated," Olivia asked, taking the pink, bakery box Alex offered.

"Yes, I think so."

"Coat rack is right there if you don't mind hanging it up yourself," Olivia said, crossing into the kitchen. "I don't want the beans to turn to mush, and I hope you like Italian."

"I love it, actually."

Alex put the satchel bag on the floor at the foot of the rack, shrugged out of her coat, and hung it up. She crossed the small space to the kitchen alcove and leaned against the counter to watch Olivia work. Her red, v-neck sweater and brown pants fit well showcasing the slender lines of her body. Alex luxuriated in the view of Olivia's easy movements as she drained the steamer and tossed the green beans with the slivered almonds and butter. Olivia opened a drawer and took out a cork screw. She turned to find Alex openly appraising her. It was Olivia who felt a blush rising to her cheeks.

"Make yourself useful and open the wine."

As Alex took the corkscrew she let her fingers stray over Olivia's. A shiver, not quite concealed, ran up Olivia's spine at the contact. How does she do that? Olivia turned to finish with the vegetables and drain the pasta as Alex, smiling slightly at Olivia's reaction, opened the wine. She poured them each a glass and set the bottle back on the counter. She took a sip of the wine. "She wasn't kidding about a good bottle," Alex thought as the crimson liquid slid down her throat. Alex wandered over to the window and a small table holding several framed photos, the largest was of a young woman sitting on the front stoop of a brownstone. She had a bit more wine as she looked at the photo. Not only were the woman's eyes the same shape as Olivia's, they held the same determined look.

"Is this your mother?"

Olivia looked up from the plates she was preparing. Alex's natural elegance made it seem as if this was her hundredth visit instead of her first.

"Yes. She's 22 in that picture." Not so long before I showed up.

Alex moved back to the dining table as Olivia exited the kitchen with the dinner plates. She took the seat opposite as Olivia sat down. Alex paused for a second, letting the aroma of the meal, the simmering warmth of the wine, and the relaxing atmosphere dissolve away much of the stress of her day. Alex glanced up to find Olivia, her expression impenetrable, watching her intently from across the small table.

"It smells wonderful. Thank you for the invitation."

"Thank you for doing something stupid and saying yes," Olivia smiled.

Alex grinned and turned her attention to the plate in front of her. Her appetite for the food surprised her but not as much as her growing appetite for the beautiful woman across the table. They passed most of dinner with Olivia gently, if obliquely, probing for an explanation of what had set Alex on edge and Alex deftly redirecting Olivia's inquiries. Both women avoided discussing Roger Markum, or the rest of their workloads, preferring to find out more about personal likes and dislikes. Alex was surprised by Olivia's appreciation of small, foreign films. Olivia was equally surprised at Alex's keen interest in photography. They'd moved on to a deep a discussion of musical styles before Alex realized both their plates and wine glasses had been empty for some time.

"Jazz has always seemed too open ended to me," Alex said, placing their wine glasses on the counter next to the sink where Olivia rinsed their dinner plates before placing them in the dishwasher.

"It can go anywhere, true, but there is an underlying structure."

Olivia leaned in and reached beyond Alex for the dishtowel to dry her hands. A small movement would have put them in a full body embrace in the tiny kitchen. Alex, flushed from the wine and good dinner, hoped the blush didn't show on her cheeks. Olivia's knowing glance told Alex she hoped in vain.

Alex moved to the couch and sat, one leg folded under her, arm laid out along the couch's back. Her head buzzed from the two glasses of wine. The rest of her buzzed on nothing but Olivia.

Olivia followed Alex to the couch having retrieved the dessert box from the refrigerator. She set the box, plates, and forks on the coffee table. She sat facing Alex, mirroring her position. Olivia could feel the warmth of Alex's skin where her hand rested lightly on Alex's forearm.

"I've always had a problem with the fact that in jazz there is no guide, nothing written down, or at least it seems that way. There's no way to tell if the players are playing with the music or improvising."

"But everything can't be written out in front of you," Olivia said, stroking the inside of Alex's arm through the soft fabric of the shirt, "corners all squared off and by-the-book."

The contact of Olivia's hand was enough to start a soft throbbing below Alex's waist. The motion of her thumb was electric. x smx smiled softly.

"True, but sometimes a road map is nice to have."

"So...what detour took you off the map today?"

Alex's throat clenched as the sinking feeling she picked up at lunch returned with a vengeance. Her gaze flicked away from Olivia's face and was caught by the framed photo on the table. Alex looked back to find Olivia regarding her patiently and with more than a small measure of tenderness.

Alex pulled her arm out from underneath Olivia's hand. She turned to face the coffee table, hair spilling forward over hhoulhoulders. She busied herself with the bakery box as her stomach did a slow flip. She felt Olivia turn and move closer to her. Now or never, Alex. It will never be right if she doesn't get to choose. Alex turned and looked at Olivia. The honesty in her expression shot right to the pit of Olivia's stomach.

"I don't know how to do this, Olivia. If you include the personal, much less the professional, there are almost innumerable ways we could both get hurt."

Olivia's eyes narrowed. The professional?

"I had lunch with my boss today," Alex continued. "During that lunch she indirectly hinted that she knew about our...knew about this. How she would know, I haven't figured out. That scares me. What scares me more is how big a part of me doesn't care."

Olivia skimmed her fingers through the fall of Alex's blonde hair. Almost as soft as her skin.

"The last time we talked about this you said didn't know what the rules are. Fine, we make them up as we go along."

Olivia's hand came to rest just above Alex's knee. Alex was surprised that the warmth of it didn't scorch the denim. She shook her head.

"It's not that simple."

"But it is that simple, Alex," Olivia said with a tilt of her head. "I figured out what was bothering me about Amy Stockwell."

Alex arched an eyebrow in question.

"She didn't fully understand what she was doing," Olivia continued. "She's going to have to live with the repercussions of her choice, to pay a price she didn't realize was attached before she made that choice."

Olivia's dark eyes searched Alex's face for some hint of her thoughts. There wasn't much to be found as a lifetime of habit had taken hold. Alex's face looked as calm as ever, just a trof tof troubling shadow clouding the blue of her eyes.

"This is one of those times when you might not realize how high the price truly is until after you've paid it," Alex said softly.

"It's a risk I'm willing to take."

The decision to trust was made in an instant. Alex bridged the rest of the short distance and kissed Olivia hard on the mouth. Her tongue was insistent between Olivia's willing lips, her fingers twined in the short hair on the back of Olivia's head. Olivia answered Alex with a relaxed softness, letting Alex's heat play itself out. When Alex pulled away her puzzlement was obvious on her face. Olivia smiled softly.

"Are you this impatient in court too?"

"Never."

"Good, because I don't want to rush."

"Could you define not rushing for me," Alex asked, trying to ignore Olivia's fingers stroking the top of her thigh.

Olivia's kiss was exploratory and open ended. When she finally did pull away, all it did was make Alex want more.

"Last time was sex, Alex. It was good sex, don't get me wrong," she said with a wry grin. "But it was just sex."

"And this time?"

Olivia raised a mocking eyebrow.

"Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you Counselor?"

Alex felt a short snap of anger. Her retort died on her lips as she noticed the smile Olivia barely suppressed. She matched her expression to Olivia's.

"Yes. 'Last time' implies a differentiation between then and now, a 'this time.' I don't like being teased, Olivia, and I will not be responsible for my actions if you don't stop doing that," Alex said, stilling Olivia's fingers on her thigh.

Olivia's laugh was lost as Alex's mouth covered hers. She wants patient, fine. Patient she gets. Alex put conscious effort into experiencing the full range of her senses, the light smell of the perfume Olivia had dabbed behind her ears, the slight after-taste of the food they'd shared at dinner on Olivia's breath, the soft humming noise in Olivia's throat, the velvet of Olivia's lips on hers. Alex felt Olivia's free hand slide up her back. As Olivia broke the kiss Alex was almost afraid to open her eyes. Olivia's strong fingers rubbed Alex's thigh lightly.

"I'm definitely not teasing you," Olivia said. "Not about this."

Alex nodded. Olivia fingered the placket of buttons running down the front of Alex's shirt. The soft throbbing betwAlexAlex's legs became an unrelenting pounding as the backs of Olivia's fingers brushed the curve of her breast.

"You picked this color deliberately didn't you?"

"Like I do most things, yes. Why?"

"You look amazing," she said with a smile. "When you showed up from court wearing this color you looked so good it was all I could do to keep from picturing you naked."

Alex laughed. The sound made a direct hit at Olivia's core.

"Rushing," Olivia said, trailing the backs of her fingers over Alex's nipple as her hand moved back to Alex's thigh, "would mean unbuttoning this now. Getting to skin, and heat right away, that's rushing. You know it will happen eventually, just not when."

She kissed Alex lightly, noting the flush in her cheeks.

"Not rushing is the difference between just good sex and making love."

Alex smiled.

"I am all for not rushing."

Olivia nodded.

"There is one thing I have to know though."

"Yes?"

"Do you *ever* wear a bra?"

"Be patient and maybe you'll find out," Alex replied.

******