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I've known what it's like to be sexually frustrated before. I've been a cop for close to 30 years, have been single most of my adult life and I know a thing or two about being riled up. But that was, is, nothing compared to how fucking frustrated I've been these last few weeks. Every time Elliot and I make plans, whether it be him to come over, us to meet for dinner, or lunch, every time I put on those sexy matching bra and panties, one of us has to cancel on account of our hectic ass jobs. And it's bullshit.

My hormones haven't been the same since menopause and I know as more time goes on, they keep getting worse but Elliot makes me wet, makes me slick with desire, makes me have to change my underwear before bed. Is it enough to have comfortable intercourse? I don't want to jinx myself but I actually think it might be. And even if it's not, there's always lube to help with that.

But the problem is only Elliot can make me slick with desire. Only Elliot physically being here can. My body is tense from finally kissing him and from my stressful fucking job and I know I need a release. Probably have for a while now, and I've tried, more than once, to slide my hand down my own pants at the end of the night with the thought of Elliot's lips on me but although, I can make myself start to feel good with some of my own saliva to try to assist with the dryness, I can't make myself orgasm and it's irritating the fuck out of me. I don't know what I need to get there myself and I've thought about digging through my closet for my toys but I just don't want to. There was I time I could rub an incredible orgasm out of me and I actually preferred it that way over a toy. I could always picture it was Elliot's hands touching me, instead of my own.

So here I am, lying in my bed alone, once again tense after a long work day and God, I just want Elliot next to me. I'm still committed on taking this slow because I'm still not ready to tell him about my skin but I'm not opposed to the man making me feel good. I'm not opposed to dry humping like a couple of horny teenagers. I just want to come; I just want him to make me come.

He's working late tonight, stuck in the office on account of paperwork that Bell is riding his ass about and the man was never good with his paperwork. I remember having to redo it plenty of times because I couldn't read his fucking handwriting and now we have computers, so you would think he would do a little bit better. Yeah, wishful thinking.

There's absolutely no way I can sleep right now and if I don't get some kind of release soon, I may just combust and fuck it, he's doing paperwork, but that doesn't mean I can't text him.

Hey. I see the three bubbles pop up instantly and smile. Well, at least I'll be able to talk to him for a little bit.

Hey, you.

How's your paperwork going?

It's going.

Well, maybe if you learned to do it right the first time.

Yeah, yeah. You texting me just to scold me on my lack of paperwork skills, Captain?

It's not the first time he's addressed me as Captain and I actually kind of find it hot. The whole rank thing can definitely be fun in the bedroom, if we ever fucking get there. No. Well maybe a little bit. I just want to see you.

I want to see you too, Liv.

I take a deep breath, bite my lip and Jesus, I am not about to initiate sexting with this man, I'm not. But even if I'm not, I can at least tell him that I'm frustrated. Maybe next time he'll do his fucking paperwork right. I have a problem… Jesus, I did not just send that.

What problem? Okay, yes I fucking did.

I'm frustrated. When I see read under the message but no bubbles, I figure he's not sure what I'm frustrated about and is not sure how to respond. God, I fucking hate texting. It's convenient but it takes away the actual human connection and it's stupid. I'm about to start texting to try to elaborate further but stop when my phone starts ringing, his name popping up on the screen and okay then. I hit the answer button because it's not like I can deny his phone call now. "Hi."

"Frustrated at me? I know but work keeps…"

"No, El. Not at you. I get the craziness of our jobs. It's not only you that cancels. I'm just…" Jesus, horny? Do I tell him that?

"You're just what?"

"I'm tense." I mean, it's a better word than horny. It's not like he can really do much anyways. He's stuck at his desk and although it's late, I'm not sure if he's alone.

"You're tense..." I hear him take a deep breath and when he says my name this time, its deep, carries that fucking tone that radiates sex because he knows exactly what I'm talking about. "Olivia..."

"And I've tried to um..." God. Isn't it a little bit embarrassing that I can't even get myself off anymore? It's not like the man knows how to do it either. He's only ever kissed me. I mean, it was the most amazing kiss, kisses, I've ever experienced but he hasn't even come close to making me come. I pinch the bridge of my nose because fuck, I've already started the sentence and it's not like I cannot finish it now. "My hormones aren't the same anymore and I can't get myself there. And I know that's what I need but my body only seems to react now with you." Jesus, I'm so glad we're having this conversation over the phone because I'm sure my face is beet red.

There's a small moment of silence before he says, "Do you want me to try to help?"

Help? How in the fuck is he going to help me right now when he's stuck at his desk in his a mountain of paperwork that he can't get done on time. "How are you going to help right now, El? You can't leave, Bell will have your ass."

"With my voice, Liv. Will my voice help?"

Fuck. Did he just offer to have phone sex with me? In his fucking unit? "Elliot! You're at work."

"There's no one else here."

"Oh, so you're the only one who lags on their paperwork."

He chuckles at that, "Yeah, I know. I'll get better."

"You better because if this is going to continue moving forward we have to see one another for it to move forward."

"I know." He pauses and I take a deep breath. We really do need to work on seeing one another more often, especially if we're doing this, if we're going to try to be more than just friends. "So… do you want to try?" He asks after what seems like too long of a silence. It makes my heart flutter because I don't know Elliot sexually, at all, but he's a good catholic and besides Flutura, I'm sure he's only slept with Kathy and I have a feeling phone sex wasn't a common thing in the Stabler household.

"I don't... I don't know." I really fucking don't because phone sex is not something I've really done before, either. And how is that going to help when it's still going to be my hands touching myself?

I hear him groan lowly and I'm not sure what type of groan it is but it's definitely not one of arousal. Frustration, maybe. "Okay, if I rush through this mountain on my desk, I can probably be done in two hours tops. Can I come over after?"

I glance at the clock, see the number 10, and God, that means he won't be here until midnight. Which means I probably won't get any sleep tonight because I have to work tomorrow. But really, with how fucking tense I am, I'm not going to get any sleep anyways. And Jesus, I need a fucking orgasm. Somehow I need one. "Tell me when you're here. I don't want you to wake Noah."

"Okay, I will. I will."

I smile because he's excited. I can hear it in his voice. An almost 60 year old man excited like a teenage boy that he may get to get to third base with me tonight and it gives me butterflies. God, I can't remember when the last time I had butterflies was. I'm about to hang up the phone when he says, "Liv?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't worry. I'll take care of you."

I catch the moan threatening to escape the back of my throat and manage a whispered, "Okay," because Jesus, I already know he will.