Title: A New Leaf

Author: Cheyne

Email: WhenPiggsFly55@aol.com

DISCLAIMER: Olivia Benson belongs to Dick Wolf, NBC and Universal, damn it.

ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

Part I - Out With The Old

Stopping at the red light in her mother's cousin's car, the radio blaring "West End Girls" by the Pet Shop Boys, Olivia Benson made a right hand turn off Old Loudon Road onto Spring Street of Siena College. She then drove to the north end of the campus to Building #6, which housed the security office. Parking the car, the contagious drumbeat of "Sledgehammer" by Peter Gabriel began just as Olivia shut off the ignition.

Olivia was in a very good mood today. She had aced a very hard Psych 101 exam earlier that morning, she was finally getting over Carl, she was getting paid today and she and two friends from her Women's and Multicultural Studies committee were going to go see 'Top Gun' again later that afternoon. Her only regret was that she'd had to drop off the basketball team because she needed the paycheck more than she needed to play the sport and one was interfering with the other. She had been an excellent guard for the Lady Saints and did very well in ball handling and point scoring against Holy Cross, UMass, Duquesne, University of Maryland and their local rival, SUNY Albany. Her coach understood Olivia's dilemma but hated to see her go. For many more reasons than Olivia could have guessed. Even at eighteen years old, Olivia Benson was magnetic and had an untapped beauty she was oblivious to. She wasn't masculine, she wasn't feminine, she was just Olivia. She was open and honest and real and natural and although she appeared innocent, she had a wisdom in her eyes that far surpassed her chronological age.

Practically trotting to the security window, she gave her name to the dayshift dispatcher, who handed her an envelope containing her weekly paycheck of $108.92. She didn't know how she had managed to get the weekend off but she wasn't going to complain. It was her first since she had started the job in campus security.

"Benson!" a voice called out to her from the hallway. Her heart went up to her throat and began pounding out a beat that could have sustained a group of drunks on a dance floor. She turned to face her supervisor, Rorie Cochran. "Trying to escape without seeing me about next week's schedule change?"

"No, Sergeant Cochran, I honestly didn't think you were on duty this early," Olivia swallowed hard. Why did this woman so fluster and intimidate her? Could it be because she had been an actual police officer, something Olivia admired and wanted to be more than anything in the world? Or was it because she strongly resembled the hooker from "China Beach," a television show Olivia was riveted to whenever she could watch it?

Shaking that thought out of her head, Olivia knew it couldn't be anything about Rorie physically. After all, Olivia was straight. She had lost her virginity at sixteen to Carl, her upstairs neighbor, and she'd just had pretty raw sex two nights ago with Phil Buher, a very cute freshman from the track team. For the third time in two weeks. Not that it really meant anything, it was just sex, after all. And Phil was 'officially' dating someone else. Someone who wouldn't put out. It wasn't that Olivia was morally challenged, to Olivia, sex was just another release, a physical outlet that made her feel good. Like competitive sports. At least, that's what she had convinced herself. Her practiced and pretended nonchalance regarding the sexual act was easier than thinking about why guys thought she was good enough to take to bed but not out in public. Olivia did not understand the power she held over men, even then. She was a great lay but she was too in control for these college boys. The word 'relationship' to them meant ownership, not partnership and until Olivia found someone who was willing to jump 'ship,' she was never going to maintain anything other than physical with men. A pattern that would haunt her for years to come.

Although she liked boys and sex, she did not have a healthy respect for the male species. Who could blame her? She had been a child of rape - unexpected, unwanted, unstoppable because her mother did not believe in abortion. She grew up being loved and equally resented by a mother who had turned to alcohol as an equalizer to the constant reminder and the emotional pain. She had to be dependable and responsible before most kids got their first allowance. It became a little easier once Olivia entered high school because her mother held down a full time job and backed off on the binges. However, the constant raging and tirades about her father were difficult to take and she grew up thinking all men were bad and boys only wanted one thing.

Then she met Carl Prinzo, the artist that lived on the top floor of her apartment building on West End Avenue in Manhattan. Tall, dark, handsome and charming, Carl began to harmlessly flirt with the young Olivia when he would see her in the hallway. She would be coming home from school or from the market and he would be picking up his mail or bringing home art supplies. One day, Olivia helped him up to his apartment, carrying bags of brushes and cleaners, while he carried canvases and a new easel. She was becoming very smitten with the thirty-year-old Italian stallion and his flirting with this under-aged teenager had gone from harmless to shameless.

She did not have the experience to know (or care) what it was at the time, all she knew was that this very handsome man, not boy, was treating her like she was the most beautiful, sexy woman, not girl, in the world. She began to visit him every day after school. Her mother was working, she always did her homework during her last period study hall, she cleaned up the apartment and prepared dinner before she went to school, no one was the wiser. As long as she was downstairs and back in her own apartment by nine o'clock when her mother got home and dinner was ready, no harm, no foul.

Until he seduced her one afternoon through champagne and lies. Olivia knew she shouldn't drink, she saw what it did to her mother. But when she knocked on Carl's door and he had his table set up with two lit candles, two full glasses of champagne and the song playing was "Careless Whisper" by Wham, he was too hard to resist. He had told her he had sold a painting and wanted to celebrate. He told her a glass or two of champagne wouldn't hurt her. His made up enthusiasm was overwhelming her in a way she had never felt before. Two and a half glasses of cheap champagne later, a naked sixteen-year-old Olivia Benson had been quickly deflowered. He was well endowed. She was dry and intact. He initiated no foreplay. It hurt. She bled. She cried. He comforted her and told her it would get better. He was selfish. He stopped and pulled out the minute he came down from his orgasm, leaving her messy and bewildered. Probably best not to tell her Mom, he advised…like she was stupid enough to do that, anyway.

Avoiding him for a couple of days, Olivia was surprised when he called her and asked her to come up. She had felt mortified when she left his place earlier that week. She was sure Carl would want nothing more to do with an inexperienced sixteen-year-old who cried and ruined his sheets.

He, on the other hand, had found himself a little gold mine. Olivia Benson was a very pretty, slender but fully developed young woman who was like forbidden fruit to him. He had to have her. He took her virginity and he knew she thought she was in love with him. He could mold her any way he wanted and have his own little sex toy at his beck and call.

He apologized to her profusely when she arrived, telling her that he should have been more considerate of her needs. And then he began kissing her. Before she knew it, she was back in his bed, doing things at his instruction that she was pretty sure "good" girls didn't do. He did manage to work her up to a mild wetness before he entered her this time. But it still hurt and she still did not get the same satisfaction as he did from the session. In fact, 'satisfied' wasn't really a word that entered into her vocabulary when they had sex until about a month after the affair had started. She had yet to experience one orgasm with this man and wondered what the big deal was. Being too young to know how to fake it to at least make him think he was a capable lover started to grate on his nerves, so he began to concern himself with getting her off at some point during their romps in bed. Her first time receiving oral sex was a nice surprise and because he could not seem to satisfy her any other way, it became her preferred method of sex with him. Even though he would make crude remarks, such as, if he were going to have to do this all the time, he wished he were a whale so that he could breathe through the top of his head, it was still the only way he could get her to a point where he could penetrate her without pain.

One evening, when Olivia was running out of Carl's apartment, needing to get downstairs before her mother got home, one of the artist's neighbors stepped out into the hallway and caught Olivia by the arm. Mrs. Mordecai was widowed and in her mid-thirties. She was not unattractive but she was overly made up and had a hairstyle that could have gotten easily caught in someone's ceiling fan.

"Don't think I don't know what's going on in there, Olivia Benson!" she spit out in an earsplitting, fishwife voice. "It's wrong what you are doing in there with that man and I know you are only sixteen!"

"Seventeen, Mrs. Mordecai. Seventeen last month," an embarrassed Olivia mumbled, suddenly feeling as dirty as the tile floor under her feet.

"You are still underage and shouldn't be doing that with a man his age! Now, you either stay away from his apartment or I will tell your mother and call the police and knowing your mother, I don't know which punishment would be worse! For either of you!!"

Olivia knew that Carl must have heard everything because he had been just standing at the door, kissing her goodbye when she walked out. Why didn't he come out and put this go-go era loving bitch in her place? This wasn't any of her business. After all, she and Carl were in love. At least that's what she initially thought. Worked up and humiliated by Mrs. Mordecai's accusations and Carl's cowardice, Olivia ran downstairs, into her apartment and threw up. Repeatedly. Serena Benson, arrived home from a long, exhausting day, and made herself a stiff drink to the sounds of her daughter regurgitating in the bathroom. She assumed Olivia had probably caught that nasty flu bug that had been making the rounds.

A week went by and Olivia was too scared to go back up to Carl's floor. But neither had he called nor come down to talk to her. Finally, giving in and calling him, he told her that he could not see her anymore. She was not allowed to come to his apartment. It was over between them. It never should have begun in the first place. He was sorry but he could be arrested if Mrs. Mordecai followed through on her threat. He further told Olivia that she was a "cute kid," but not worth going to jail for.

Devastated, Olivia thought her life was over. Nothing had ever made her feel this horrible, cheap and used. She couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't concentrate but she sure as hell could cry. She missed a week of school, staying in bed, looking and feeling like a zombie. Every song that played on the radio reminded her of him - 'If Ever You're In My Arms Again,' 'Drive,' 'Missing You,' 'Time After Time,' etc. Her mother was right. All men were bastards, only out for one thing and they all had different ways of getting it.

Stepping into Rorie Cochran's tiny office, Olivia nervously sat down in a chair opposite her supervisor. She watched Rorie carefully, as the older woman looked over the paperwork in her hand.

"I hear Carnegie Hall reopened after a fifty million dollar facelift," Rorie stated, making small talk. "Isn't that in your neck of the woods?"

"It's a few blocks away, but yeah. And I think that was a couple of months ago"

"You into hockey? Gretsky scored his fifteen hundredth NHL point last night."

"I heard."

Rorie looked up to see Olivia nervously playing with her very long, dark brown hair. "Everything okay?" Her blue eyes held Olivia's gaze momentarily.

Olivia swallowed hard again. "Uh huh. I mean, yes, ma'am."

Rorie smiled and returned her attention to her desk. "I heard you had to quit the team. I wish you had come to me, we could have worked something out."

"That's okay, really. I need the money."

"Well, your coach came in here and took a piece of my butt back to the locker room with her. I couldn't convince her that I had no clue that you had made that decision. Next time, forewarn me, at least." Rorie looked up and winked at Olivia, who blushed and whose eyes immediately averted to the floor.

"Sorry."

"Olivia…I'm kidding," Rorie said, gently. "You've got to do what you've got to do, I understand." She put the schedule flat on her desk. "By the way, nice job on the Plassman Residence Hall incident last week. Very diplomatically done. I wish all of the staff had your instincts."

"Thanks," Olivia said, smiling, but still unable to make direct eye contact with her supervisor.

"Okay…per your request two weeks ago, I am changing you with Ericco for Monday night. You work for him and he will cover your shift on Thursday. Other than that, everything stays the same."

"Okay. Cool, Sgt. Cochran, thanks." Olivia stood up. "Is that it?"

"All I can think of. Got any big plans for your weekend off?"

Olivia shrugged. "Late matinee of 'Top Gun' again with some friends, maybe wander around the Latham Circle Shopping Center before or after the movie. Nothing special for the weekend. Probably just hang out."

"I thought you might try to get home."

"I was thinking about it but my Mom has to work all weekend and has some other things going on. Trust me, she had her fill of me when I went home on Christmas break."

"Oh, that's another thing. You are going to stay for the Little Wing concert that weekend before Spring break and then head out, right?"

"Right. You said backstage security?"

"Correct," Rorie nodded. "The lead singer has quite a faithful local following and being that the concert is the last event before break, I am expecting some of the more rowdy students to get…well, persistent, if you know what I mean."

"I can handle that."

"I know you can, Olivia. If I didn't, I would not have recommended you be assigned there," Rorie said, matter-of-factly.

"Are you going to be supervising that night?"

"I will be there." Rorie stood up. "Go enjoy your weekend. 'Top Gun', huh?"

"Yeah," Olivia smiled, shyly. "This'll be the fourth time I've seen it."

"Hmm…can't get enough of that Tom Cruise, huh?"

"Tom Cruise is nice but I like the guy who plays Goose."

Rorie nodded her head, "And that new girl, who plays his wife…Meg…Meg Ryan. She's good, too."

And very cute, Olivia thought and then wondered why.

The movie had ended and Olivia's two friends agreed to meet their boyfriends afterward, which left Olivia on her own. She had been invited to accompany everyone back to the Rathskellar and knew she probably could have picked up somebody to dance, drink and maybe have sex with but something made her decline. She could have gone back to her mom's cousin's house but she had company for the weekend, another distant cousin and two spoiled brats running amok, so Olivia opted to hang out in Latham by herself. It was still early. Maybe she'd see another movie. She ran into Phil Buher, without his girlfriend, who had asked her if she wanted to go to Schenectady with him to see an X-rated mystery movie. An X-rated mystery movie, she repeated. Yeah, he told her, a Whodunnit. It's an X-rated movie, you moron, Everybodydunnit, she wanted to scream at him. She declined that offer, too. And made a mental note to drop Phil Buher from her occasional dating pool.

After rummaging through a bookstore, then a record store, she wished she had gone back to campus with her friends. She suddenly felt like drinking a beer or two and dancing and being close to someone, anyone. Off campus, she was too young to get into a real bar. Well...she had fooled doormen and bouncers in the past but her school ID and New York State driver's license said 18, if she was asked to produce proof of age. Which was happening more and more. She looked at her watch, decided to head back to Siena and was walking back to her aunt's VW when she saw someone in the distance who made her stop dead in her tracks.

Rorie Cochran had exited a Grand Union supermarket, juggling bags to her car. She must have just punched out, Olivia thought, as she was still in her security slacks, wearing a denim shirt over her uniform jersey. Her long, strawberry-blonde hair was loose around her ivory, chiseled face. She had the prettiest blue eyes, Olivia thought, and...and what? What was going on? One semi-erotic dream that she had no control over and she nearly broke into flop sweat every time she was within twenty feet of this woman. Just as Olivia was about to ignore her work supervisor, pretending she never saw her, she heard a slight crashing sound.

"God Damn it!" Rorie swore looking down at the bag she dropped. She set her other two full bags down on the pavement and attempted to salvage what she could out of the third grocery sack. She heard footsteps and sensed someone kneeling beside her.

"Careful, looks like the olive jar broke. Don't cut yourself," Olivia said, helping to pick things up.

"Hi, Olivia," Rorie said, surprised and very pleased. "Where'd you come from?"

"Um, I was around...you know, the movies..."

"Right, right. Top Gun." Rorie smiled at her. "How was it...again?"

"No surprises."

Cleaning up the shattered glass and spilled groceries and throwing everything into the nearest trash receptacle, Olivia then picked up one of the two bags off the pavement and began strolling along side Rorie to her car. "It's Friday evening, Olivia, you have the night off. What are you doing wandering around here by yourself? You should be out on a date," Rorie told her.

"That would be great if someone had asked me out, " Olivia smiled, shyly.

"No one has latched onto you yet? My God, these boys must be blind." Reaching Rorie's car and placing the remaining two bags in the trunk, the redhead leaned against her driver's side door and crossed her arms, looking at her young subordinate.

"Was it a busy afternoon?" Olivia wondered, trying to keep a conversation going.

"Not really. Average Friday. Except O'Flaherty and Van Dyne both called off and I thought I was going to have to stay over and work the shift, which would have just left me and Sergeant Zahn to cover all 155 acres by ourselves. But then, we got Pace to come in and it worked out."

"You could have called me, I would have worked."

"Olivia, my God. Enjoy the gift of your weekend off. If you really intend to pursue law enforcement or law enforcement-related jobs, take the weekends when you can get them. Trust me, it won't happen very often, if at all."

"Did you like being a cop, I mean, a police officer?" Olivia questioned sincerely.

"Oh, God, it was the most rewarding and the most frustrating thing I have ever done in my life. If I hadn't been shot, I'd probably still be doing it."

Olivia's eyes widened. "You got shot?"

"You haven't heard that story? I thought that was an urban legend on campus."

"I try not to listen to gossip," Olivia stated honestly. However, she had heard all kinds of rumors floating around about why Rorie was no longer an Albany cop. "What happened?"

"My partner and I answered a domestic call on Ontario Street that turned into a foot pursuit that spilled over into Washington Park. The husband was armed and my partner froze when the guy drew down on him. I momentarily lost my focus - stupid mistake - and got shot before I could get my weapon out. But I did manage to shoot him before he could kill my partner."

"Did you kill him?"

"No. He just wished I had."

"How did you feel, you know, shooting someone?"

"It was my job, Olivia. The ability to shoot someone or not needs to be decided long before you get out on the street. If you waiver at all on that issue, you have no business carrying a gun or working in a profession that requires you to."

"Where'd you get shot?"

"In the leg. Thankfully, it went right through and didn't hit anything vital. But it messed up my morning jogs for a while," Rorie smiled. "Hey, I would love to stand here and chat all night but, in case you haven't noticed, it's only about thirty degrees out here…"

Actually, Olivia hadn't noticed, she was so fascinated and preoccupied with her supervisor. "I'm sorry, I should let you go…" Olivia said, apologetically, taking a step backward.

"No, no, that's not what I meant," Rorie tried to clarify. "Why don't we go somewhere, grab a cup of coffee and we can talk - inside - where it's warmer."

"Um…I really don't want to hold you up, I'm sure you have plans for the evening," Olivia stated, almost sounding rejected, even though she didn't mean to.

"Honestly? No, I don't. I was going to go home, order a pizza and try to find a good movie on TV."

Olivia nodded, "I was going to go back to campus and go out." She looked down at an ice patch on the pavement. "I can drink beer there."

"Sounds like you really don't want to do that," Rorie observed.

"I am just enjoying so much talking to you. You give me incentive to continue aspiring toward a career in criminal justice." She looked back up at the extremely attractive redhead.

Locking eyes with Olivia, Rorie suddenly felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature. There had been something about young Olivia Benson that had captured her attention long before this moment. Denying it and dismissing it any longer was useless. Looking around, then back at Olivia, Rorie said, "Where are you parked?"

Olivia pointed to a lone Volkswagon Beetle in a space about five lanes away.

"Why don't you follow me home? I'll order pizza, like I planned, we can have a few beers and talk all night if you want." This time it was Rorie who couldn't look at Olivia, already feeling guilty for what was in the back of her mind.

"Can I do that? I mean, you won't get in trouble for that?"

"Well, I am sure it would be frowned upon but I'm not faculty." Rorie smiled. "And I won't tell about the beer if you don't." Before the last word left her mouth, her conscience was screaming, 'this is so wrong!' All that flew out of her head, when Olivia enthusiastically agreed to go.

Driving behind Rorie's Mustang, Olivia could not collect her thoughts. What was she doing? Why was she feeling like this? Her insides were shaking in anticipation of spending time alone with this woman, just the two of them. She had heard rumors that Sergeant Cochran might have been a lesbian but…lesbians didn't look like that, did they? The only gay women Olivia was aware of were masculine in appearance. The last thing Rorie had was masculine tendencies. She was so pretty. She had long hair. She wore make up. Even in her security uniform, she looked very feminine. So why was Olivia secretly hoping the rumors were true? And what if they were? Olivia was adamant that she, herself, wasn't gay, that she'd never had any desire to be with a woman. She was very sexually active with boys. But if she was so attracted to guys, not girls, why the hell was she so wet at the thoughts of being alone with Rorie Cochran?

Rorie's thoughts weren't so different than Olivia's. Why was she doing this? This was not a wise decision, no matter how sexy and beautiful this girl was. Hey, it didn't have to turn into anything, after all, Rorie was nine years older than Olivia, she had control of this situation. Or did she? She knew Olivia was genuinely curious about Rorie's life as a cop and what if that's where her curiosity ended? But what if it didn't? She was pretty sure Olivia had never been with a woman and Rorie had never been anyone's 'first' before. That thought was very exciting. Especially when the 'virgin' had a face, body and fire like Olivia Benson. Pulling into her driveway, Rorie shut off her car as she saw headlights slow in her rear view mirror and then park. She could stop this right now and remove all temptation - well, at least this time. She knew she needed to get out of that car and send Olivia on her way. Exiting the vehicle, she walked back to her trunk and popped it open. Olivia silently helped her inside with her groceries.

Part II - In With The New

Olivia had busied herself admiring the photographs, plaques and commendations around the living room wall, while Rorie put away her groceries, ordered a large pizza and brought in two long neck bottles of MGD. She handed one to her young guest and pushed the power button on her stereo, which was automatically tuned to WTRY. She lowered the volume so that they wouldn't have to shout over the music.

"Nice place," Olivia commented.

"It's cozy. I like it. Private. My neighbors go to Florida for the winter, so it's like living by myself most of the time." She gestured for Olivia to sit, as she seated herself in an overstuffed chair that matched her couch.

"No, I'm good, thanks," Olivia told her and took another long swallow of beer. The apartment was warm but Olivia's hands were like ice. She honestly couldn't remember ever feeling like this. Sitting on the sofa, Olivia nodded her head toward the stereo, "this is a good song," she commented, while 'Never' by Heart came on.

"I love Heart. I've always loved them and really like the way they have recently re-invented themselves." More awkward silence.

'This was such a mistake,' they both thought, simultaneously sipping their beverages.

"Do you regret resigning from the force?" Olivia asked, finally.

"It's very complicated. I loved being a cop. I loved what I was doing for the community. I hated the disrespect the badge got from a lot of the public, though. That badge became a bright, shiny, moving target and I wasn't about to buy it to become some kid's gang initiation. I had high ideals. Getting shot made me rethink my priorities. Do I regret being a cop? No. Do I regret resigning? Sometimes. But, mostly, no."

"Did you feel your training adequately prepared you when you had to shoot that guy?"

"Obviously not," Rorie laughed. "I got shot, didn't I?" Taking another long swallow of beer, she said, "No academy or classroom training reflects the challenges of a real situation. There are no rules in an actual gunfight. As a police officer, you are at an extreme disadvantage, rolling up to a scene because the perp knows who you are…you are in a marked car, you are in a uniform…you are highly visible while the person committing the crime is usually difficult, if not impossible to immediately identify. So you automatically go into a situation against the odds."

"But don't you automatically revert to how you've been trained under stressful circumstances?"

"Absolutely. But it is imperative to remember that paper and pop up targets don't shoot back. They don't move around like a suspect usually does. And suspects not only fire back, they usually fire first, not to mention their weapons are generally ballistically superior."

"Good point. I hadn't thought of that."

"You can be at the top of your class in the academy, the best in everything but once you get on the street and are out there for real? Forget everything because it's like school all over again. Criminals are not intimidated by the fact that you are a police officer. There are a lot of people out there who would rather die than be incarcerated, which leaves them with nothing to lose and actually a hero in some circles if they take a cop with them."

"You're not making it sound too appealing."

"It's a noble profession, Olivia, and I have nothing but respect for the people who do it. But if you are going to pursue it, you need to know that it's not like TV. No assignment can be considered safe. Police officers are killed anytime, anywhere, daylight or darkness, in all kinds of weather, in any situation. Also remember that by the time it takes you to get into position on a shooting range, most gunfights are over." Rorie finished her first beer. "I miss it and I think it will always be in my blood but there is a big part of me that is glad I am not in it anymore. I'm too disillusioned. Sorry if I seem like I'm trying to discourage you, I'm not."

"You're not discouraging me, you're just making me think."

"Having watched and evaluated you, I do believe you have the natural aptitude for it. Why are you so hot on being a cop, anyway?"

"My mom was a victim of rape." Olivia drained her beer bottle, too.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Rorie stood up, took Olivia's empty bottle and walked to the kitchen, grabbing two more beers out of the refrigerator. She returned to her chair, handing Olivia another bottle on her way back. "Did they ever catch the bastard?"

"No."

"So you'd like to be the one to track him down?" Rorie inquired. "How long ago was it?"

"About nineteen years ago." Olivia had become somewhat distant.

"So it happened before you were even born," Rorie calculated and then stopped mid-sip. Olivia never spoke of a father, only a mother. "Olivia? Is your father your mother's rapist?"

Taking a very long swallow of beer, Olivia nodded. "Yeah," she admitted, quietly.

"Okay, now I understand your motivation," Rorie said, comprehensively, just as quietly. She sat on the edge of her chair, reached over and placed her hand over Olivia's in a very non-sexual, comforting way. "That's a lot to carry."

Olivia looked at Rorie's hand over hers, then up into Rorie's eyes. It felt as though it could have been a defining moment when the doorbell rang and made them both jump.

"Pizza's here," Rorie announced, gratefully, and responded to the door.

A few unfinished crusts in an empty box and two six-packs later, the two co-workers sat on the floor, side by side, backs against the couch.

"Oh, yeah, I did everything wrong," Olivia continued, regarding a story about her first date when she got to Siena, "I held the cue stick wrong, I broke at the wrong angle, I didn't use correct english and I won more games than he did." She was much more relaxed now, feeling more confident having made the decision to follow Rorie back tonight.

"I never understood that male ego thing about pool. I mean, it's not like a game of physical strength or force. So what if a female is a better pool player? Like shooting a gun…it's about concentration and accuracy, not a test of upper body strength. I guess it's just a male thing, period. Which I never got, either." Rorie looked over at Olivia, sitting next to her. She very much wanted to kiss her. Among other things.

Turning to look at the older woman, Olivia was suddenly very taken by the expression on Rorie's face. "What?" she asked, innocently, not able to break the gaze.

Almost leaning into her, Rorie stopped herself. "Olivia, maybe you should go," she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

Stunned, Olivia's eyes widened. "Why? Did I do something?"

"No…but if you stay, I might…do something…I'll regret," Rorie admitted, honestly.

Olivia was sure Rorie could see her heart beating through her shirt. "Like what?" Her tone wasn't quite as innocent now.

Having an almost unstoppable urge to show her 'what,' she drew a deep breath. "I really, really want to kiss you." Rorie closed her eyes, preparing to stand up.

"Then why aren't you?" Olivia asked, swallowing hard.

Shocked, studying every inch of the brunette's beautiful face, Rorie said, "You don't know what you're saying."

"Yeah…I think I do…" It was a soft but convincing argument, as Olivia moved closer to her supervisor.

"Olivia…" Rorie started, wanting to resist but not moving away.

"What?" Olivia's luscious lips were now tantalizingly close to Rorie's and her tone of voice matched Rorie's huskiness.

"I..can't…shouldn't…be…" Too late. Olivia was kissing her, a move that surprised but pleased and titillated both of them. It was very gentle at first, almost timid, but the softness and warmth of Olivia's lips on hers was almost too much to bear. She put her arms around the younger woman, kissing her very deeply and passionately.

Oh…my…God, Olivia screamed to herself. Nothing had ever felt like this before. She wanted to disintegrate into this woman. No man had ever kissed her like this, leaving her with the sensations she was presently feeling. 'I'm not gay,' Olivia kept thinking, 'I like guys, I…is that her tongue? Fuck me to tears, I think I might come right here and now.' There was an urgency to this kiss but unlike her previous experience kissing a male, it was thoughtful, provocative and meaningful, instead of sixty second foreplay.

Breathlessly braking the contact, Rorie said, "we've got to stop, Olivia, I could lose my job." The look in Rorie's eyes contradicted that she wanted things not to continue.

The gravitational pull toward this woman was unlike anything Olivia had ever encountered before. The urge was like a speeding, runaway locomotive. "I won't tell anyone," Olivia whispered, crawling onto Rorie's lap, straddling her thighs. She kissed the redhead again, who responded more aggressively. Olivia's heart was pumping so hard and fast, she thought it might thump right out of her chest. Sure, Olivia could have been happy just kissing Rorie all night but the young Ms. Benson was too much a sexual being by nature to be satisfied with that. And Rorie got the hint, the more insistent the contact became, not to mention the heat she was feeling on her lap.

"Have you ever been with a woman before?" Rorie asked, in between kissing and nuzzling Olivia's neck.

"No," Olivia was almost gasping for air. "Have you?"

"Oh, yeah," Rorie laughed, throatily, "women are definitely my preference."

"Show me?" Olivia requested, softly, her intense brown eyes now wide with arousal.

Every survival instinct she had was now pounding at Rorie's conscience. But how could she resist this gift? The way this girl looked at her was undeniably sultry and wanton. She was fighting with herself every step of the way. "You've had a lot to drink…" Her hands found their way under Olivia's shirt.

"It's not the beer," Olivia mildly debated. "All that's done is relax me."

"That's part of my concern," Rorie admitted as she unhooked Olivia's bra. Her hands moved to Olivia's breasts, treasuring the fullness in her hands.

"I want to…" Olivia's breath caught when Rorie's thumbs lightly grazed her erect nipples, "I…want to…do this. With you." The older woman's touch was gentle but effective, not rough and demanding, like she was used to.

Looking directly into Olivia's eyes, Rorie's voice was very clear when she said, "Then let's do it right."

If Olivia was scared or apprehensive, she was covering it well. She initiated the first contact when they got to Rorie's bedroom, after all the lights were turned off. She could not wait to kiss the redhead again, wanting to recapture that total stimulation. Taking control, Rorie slowed the pace. She wanted to enjoy every second of this and she wanted Olivia to do the same.

Rorie directed Olivia onto the bed and took her shirt off, pulling Olivia's loose bra with it. Anything on Rorie's body that had the ability to and wasn't already, hardened immediately at the sight. She gently positioned herself on top of the younger woman, concentrating on kissing her again. One hand cradled the back of Olivia's neck, the other kneaded Olivia's breast, while Rorie's thigh parted Olivia's knees, pressing up against her. She explored every inch of Olivia's mouth with her tongue and every inch of Olivia's breast with her hand, as Olivia involuntarily began to rock against Rorie's thigh. Breaking away and sitting up, Rorie practically tore off her own blouse and bra. They both removed the rest of any clothing, which ended up in a heap on the floor.

"I have the strangest feeling between my toes," Olivia whispered, her voice a little shaky now.

"Me, too. My big toes," Rorie smiled and returned to her previous position, slowly rubbing her now naked nipples against Olivia's. She teased her briefly with that before she moved her head lower and took one breast into her mouth, then giving equal time to the other breast.

Olivia's nipples were extremely sensitive and the attention they were now getting from someone who understood what this was supposed to feel like, caused her to reach the brink. Rorie sensed this in Olivia's breathing pattern and did not want Olivia to come just yet. Moving south, Rorie felt, massaged and kiss every inch of the younger woman's flat and toned stomach before reaching the destination she knew would send Olivia over the edge.

Diving in, with no hesitancy, Rorie found the spot almost immediately and concentrated on that. Olivia could not believe the difference in what this felt like, receiving oral sex from a woman. The action was not abrasive or selfishly hurried or amateurish. Again, the motion was being accomplished by someone who knew what they wanted when they experienced this and knew exactly how to get the maximum results. Olivia coming multiple times in a matter of minutes brought Rorie close to climaxing, herself. When Olivia woke up that morning, she never in a million years thought she would be screaming out her supervisor's name many times in the throes of passion later that night. It never crossed Rorie's mind, either. Well…not that morning, at least.

Being far from finished, Rorie waited for Olivia to recover and inserted two fingers into the well lubricated area. She curled them upward and began to thrust. When she saw and felt Olivia's body responding, she began stroking her with her tongue at the same time. If Olivia thought she was ready to explode before, it could not compare to this time. She had never reached this point of ecstasy before, not to mention, it was her first vaginal orgasm. She was so overcome, she almost began to cry. Alerting on this, Rorie moved back up to Olivia's face.

"Are you okay? Please tell me I didn't hurt you," Rorie told her, concerned.

"No," Olivia breathed, blinking back tears and smiling gratefully. "I just, well, that was so wonderful but it was my first, you know…"

"You're first what? Not sexual experience ever…?" Rorie's voice sounded a little panicky.

"No, no, it's the first time I ever…came…that way…" She sounded embarrassed.

"You've never…? I mean, no guy has…?"

"No. You're the first."

Rorie smiled, hugged and kissed her. "Damn. I'm pretty good."

This made Olivia laugh, as her hands started to roam over Rorie's body. "So that's what I taste like, huh?"

"Mmm, you taste great. You're getting it second hand, so, trust me, it doesn't have the same effect."

"Can I taste you?"

"Are you ready for that? Because you don't have to, this being your first time and all and never having been to…Australia…"

"Huh?" Then Olivia got it. She laughed and buried her head into Rorie's shoulder. "I really do want to," came the muffled statement.

"Fine. But I'm not done with you yet," Rorie whispered in her ear. She began kissing Olivia passionately again as her hand moved down her body and began stroking her at the same time. Olivia reached orgasm quickly, panting Rorie's name as their lips were less than an inch from each other, Rorie never taking her eyes off Olivia's face.

Olivia fell back on the pillow, exhausted, filled up in a way that she never had been before. She still didn't feel she was gay but neither did she feel like she ever wanted to have sex with anyone else. NOW she knew what the big deal was.

She was anxious to give back to Rorie at least some of the pleasure the redhead had just given her. Olivia's instincts were phenomenal for a first timer, Rorie thought, after Olivia regained her strength and enthusiastically kissed, sucked, licked and stroked all the right places. Not only was she good at it, she really seemed to enjoy it, too. Olivia suggested she try take Rorie there again, as practice made perfect, but Rorie confessed that she could barely keep her eyes open.

Olivia had never fallen asleep in someone's arms before. She'd never had anyone hold her or have some part of them touching some part of her all night long. She had never awakened in someone else's bed, much less their arms before. She had never showered with anyone before nor had she ever spent an entire weekend just consuming another person. She could, and did, get used to this very quickly.

Part III - Learning Curve

It was her relationship with Rorie that taught Olivia to be discreet but not ashamed. They worked professionally together three nights a week and at least one weekend day and slept together at Rorie's every Friday and Saturday night, after work. More if they could manage it.

Olivia's mother's cousin was excited at the thought of Olivia having a "boyfriend," but was curious as to why she never met him. Olivia is very private, Serena Benson told her cousin one day on the phone. When Olivia is ready to introduce him, the world will meet him, she reasoned. Plus, they both figured it was probably Olivia's first real romantic relationship, since she spent at least two nights away from home, so she might even be a little afraid to bring him around for fear of too much scrutiny. They both agreed on that and Serena promised she would talk to Olivia again on using birth control. Little did they know that was the last thing they needed to be concerned about.

Three months after the relationship became hot and heavy, summer sessions started at Siena. Olivia signed up for two classes and agreed to work full time in security for the following six weeks until the Fall term began. At that point, Olivia practically moved in with Rorie, making it harder for them to conceal their affair. Although they never gave a hint of the exceptional closeness they shared while on the clock, the Chief of Security did think he saw them together off-campus once, behaving quite unprofessionally toward each other. Not being sure but not wanting a scandal, he lacked the courage to confront Sergeant Cochran directly. Instead he purposely changed her shift and her hours so that they opposed Olivia's.

Rorie and Olivia tolerated it for a while but the strain of not being able to spend any time together became too much. They began to argue over little things and then, consequently, everything. They were both still wildly and sexually drawn to each other but it turned out not to be enough to sustain a relationship. Before Christmas break, Rorie took a much higher paying position with more authority at the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis, which sealed the fate of their dwindling affair.

Before Rorie left Siena, she invited Olivia over for a long talk. She advised the younger woman that they were both better off with her being somewhere else. Knowing Rorie was right, it didn't hurt Olivia's feelings any less. Rorie begged her not to judge all her future relationships, especially with women, by this one. She knew Olivia was still ambivalent about her orientation and now that she had learned some pretty usable skills that would satisfy herself as well as others, it would not surprise her to see Olivia bounce back and forth between genders for a while before the brunette came to terms with her lesbianism. Olivia Benson was a catch by anyone's standards and Rorie envied the woman who would eventually reign her in and capture her heart. She wished it could be her but Rorie realized she had already served her purpose in Olivia Benson's life. She could only hope when Olivia remembered her, she did it with fondness.

The End