Fandom: Law and Order Special Victims Unit

Title: Substance

POV: Olivia Benson

A/N: The usual disclaimers apply. Trigger warning for descriptions of rape. I was inspired by Amanda's first episode, the bar scene. Dick Wolf/ NBC owns the characters of Law and Order SVU. Warning for explicit sexual descriptions. I apologize in advance for any spacing issues I've been through this document five times and it keeps acting crazy.

Lovato Nightclub

230 5th Ave

September 13th, 2013.

"So what are their stories, Fin? They must have had their hooks into someone to get transferred from Dallas."

My head jerks to our newest detectives, third-grade detective Amanda Rollins and second-grade detective Christina "Tiya" De Sanctis. Amanda's long honey blond hair sways as she shakes her upper body to the beat of this God-awful pop song. She sits a few feet away at the bar with Tiya, John Munch, our ADA's Casey Novak, and her boss, Alexandra Cabot. All of them are drinking beer.

"Atlanta, for the hundredth time, Olivia. They're from Atlanta, not Dallas. I don't know their stories, for Christ's sake; I didn't exactly go up and ask them, so who did you sleep with to get transferred to an elite unit like ours? Because you must have slept your way to the top."

"Well damn, Fin. I didn't mean it like that; all I meant was, have they said anything about why they transferred here? Few people want to move out of the south to visit NYC."

"Why don't you go ask them, Olivia?"

"Jesus, Fin, what crawled up your crack and died? Fine, maybe I will."

Getting up, grabbing my India pale ale bottle, I head over to the bar countertop, catching a hint of their conversation as I approach behind them. Amanda is the first to speak.

"Is anybody happy with life in the backseat? Cause Lord knows I never was. My mama used to say I was restless as a June bug in South July heat."

"She ain't wrong, Andy." "Ah, hush up, De Saint. If I recall correctly, it was your wild ass which got us three months' worth of weekends on missionary duties cause your butt couldn't stay still in the damn pew during church."

"Aw, shucks, when will you let that one go, Rollins? We were five! It ain't my fault Robbie Lee Royce poured itching powder into my britches."

"Ya, still claiming it was poor Robbie Lee Royce's fault? Lord child, the boy's been dead and gone for eleven years. He served our country; let his soul rest in peace."

"Dying ain't erase his sins; the lord knows I am telling the truth."

"Dying erases all sins. Jesus forgives all sinners before entrance into the eternal kingdom."

"Well, I ain't Jesus, and I ain't forgive him!

"So anyway, Munch, to answer your question. I love where I am from, but the south isn't where I want to build my life. There is so much out here, and I want to experience it all. We're all looking for substance in life. Some of us don't know we are searching. Our bodies and minds don't always connect, but it shall when destiny finds us."

"The south is still an old school in their way of progression and acceptance. It's a boys' club in the APD, and if you don't fit their stereotypical mode, you're a dog beaten and left for dead. I don't wanna end up in a casket, head full of maggots with a body full of jack shit."

"We're young, hungry, and scrappy, so we busted our asses to get to detectives. Put the grind in so we could get transferred. Tiya has family, so we figured NYC was a good place to try. It's full of life, culture, and opportunities. She's a beautiful singer and can act better than some of these Emmy winners."

"Amanda, don't exaggerate. Thank you for boosting my confidence; I'm not that good. I can use it. Tomorrow I'm auditioning for a musical. I'll need all the luck I can get."

"Good Luck!" everyone raises their beer bottles to click and toast to her luck. Tiya's checks blush as Amanda taps her elbow.

"I know we were both fucking exhausted from playing kiss ass to our deputy chief and his good ol' golden boys."

"Raise your glass to freedom! Whew!" Tiya raises her glass high, and Amanda clicks it. I can't stop staring at how Amanda's checks have grown a bright fuchsia color as she drinks multiple beers. The blush has spread across her cheeks and nose. "Beautiful, isn't she?" Alex whispers as she gets up, coming over to where I am frozen in my spot.

Crap! I've been caught staring. Of all people, my ex-lover, "Yeah, she's alright."

"Liar," Alex whispers. "You're so hot and bothered. Your wetness is showing."

"What!" I whispered fiercely, looking down, not even being discrete about it. Her laughter is thick and rich. "bitch" Alex grins, raising her beer. "Got ya, but I am still right."

"Liv, don't even try to argue with her. I do it for a living, and I lose every time." Casey pats my back as she passes me to order another beer.

Amanda's voice drops lower. I feel myself stretching to hear her words which sound hallow.

"I learned hard not to question or fight men in power. They always win; sometimes, I ask am I talking to myself?

Is anyone out there screaming at the walls? How do these men keep getting away with their abuse of power?"

"To men like them, sex is power. Whatever happens in the room stays in the room? It's a dance. They will never see it as rape. Consent isn't a word they care about; what they want, they take and damn all those who they want to resist or tell them they're wrong. To those men, women are just pretty little thangs they can play with whenever they want."

Every instinct inside of me tells me there's more to Amanda's thoughts, a sadness in her melody of words. Someone has hurt this woman, but who and how? "bartender another Guinness, please. Thank You."

Amanda signals to the bartender, who slides down another bottle. Damn, that's her fifth one tonight. She must have a rock-iron body to handle all of that alcohol. My head is spinning from the few beers I've had that aren't near Guinness's strength.

As a senior detective and another woman, an older woman, I should reach out to her. Check-in on her to ensure she is okay, but I am exhausted. Elliot has answered none of my calls or texts for weeks now. I can't fathom gathering the energy to reach out to a rookie with no place in my heart. A heart already so torn up, beaten, bruised by Elliott's departure. It has no room for opening itself up to more hurt.

"I'm going to head out. Guys, catch ya tomorrow."

"Hey Liv, mind if I walk with you? I'm heading out now as well. Catch ya'll later, Tiya ya coming?"

"No, I'll hang here for a little while. You cool getting home on your own, Rollins?"

"I'm cool, babe. Make sure you catch a ride; you were three sheets to the wind two hours ago." Amanda and Tiya exchange kisses on their checks. I walk ahead, a little pissed. Why did she feel the right to intrude on my walk home? I needed the time to clear my mind and shake off Alex's words.

Am I attracted to Amanda? She's twenty years younger than me from the south, so there's no way she's a lesbian or bisexual.

What is the point?

My mother was a professor at a top university, and I grew up on the upper west side

. I might not know Amanda's full story, but I have an eye for dissecting tidbits. I'm guessing Amanda grew up in a poor, dysfunctional family. Amanda and I are from different economic backgrounds. I am way out of her league, even if she is attracted to women.

I know love isn't supposed to discriminate between the sinners and the saints. I'm not perfect, and it sounds judgmental, but there's no way we could work, even if she liked me back. Wait, did I just admit to myself I liked her? Crap. I'm screwed. I can't do this again.

All my thoughts turn to Elliot Stabler. The man I was joined at the hip with for twelve years: partners, best friends, and secret lovers.

A memory of us hits me. We were walking through central park with our drinks a drizzle fell. Elliot pulled open an umbrella. I pulled up my hood and hunched my shoulders. Cuddling closer to him. "Liv." I knew that tone. It was dangerous, sexy. "Yes." I swallowed. "You know I have feelings for you. I've had for a long time."

The conversation started so innocently nine years ago. It ended with us meeting in hotel rooms, checking to make sure no one followed us, and lying to our family and friends for nine years. We drove miles away from the city to ensure no one saw us stealing clandestine kisses. I was always left on the sidelines when Elliot returned to Kathy, his wife, and their five kids by the time he left this year. After all those years of having each other's backs and stolen kisses, he leaves me broken, with no goodbye, no explanation.

He is just gone, and I am still lusting after a partner who never valued me in the same league as I respected him.

Only words, why should they matter? No matter what he said, it wouldn't ease the ache or bitterness inside my heart. Elliot has left me shattered. I swore when I was young that no man would ever use me and leave me.

Funny how whispered promises dancing off sexy lips can make me forget who I am or the promises I made to myself.

Weak, pathetic. Now I know why Rollins gets under my skin so damn much she reminded me of twenty years ago. Young, scrappy, hungry, romantic, stupid.

Crap, my thoughts are bordering on senseless. Pull yourself together, Olivia. Stop acting like a fool. "Hey, Liv! Wait up. I'm not sure which sub to take to get home. I'm still new to the city."

"It's Olivia or Benson. Only my friends call me Liv."

My tone stops Amanda dead in her tracks. It's harsh and unnecessary. I know it's also unprofessional, but ask me if I give a fuck right now. Nope. Not one fuck. Hurrying ahead, I don't stop to play chatty Kathy with Rollins.

As I head down to the subway, it's raining, so I pull my hoodie over my head.

The steps are slippery. The platform is slightly crowded at ten pm. Young adults club hopping, college students heading home, and entrepreneurs on cells look exhausted. A few homeless sit on benches or in the middle of the platforms, begging. The smell is horrid. Train fumes, body odors, dead animals, rotten garbage, you name it, the scent lives here.

A lone guitarist performs, but even he looks dead hopeless. I lean against the pole, waiting for the upcoming train, watching from a distance as Amanda looks at signs and her phone texting to figure out if she's in the right area.

It isn't polite of me not to help, but she moved here. Let her figure it out. Amanda's a big girl. My eyes search her body. She looks damn good in those tight royal blue jeans, the orange blouse with a few loose buttons, and that tight leather brown jacket. I feel my mouth water.

Fuck, she's gotten me so wet right now. Don't go there, Olivia; stop these thoughts. How long did you work to get to where you're currently at? How often did I say it would be nice to get some respect for something other than being that brave woman cop, the product of rape, now investigating sex crimes? If anyone knew I had been sleeping with Elliot for years, I'd be laughed off the force. No one would take my skill set seriously. If they knew I was into women, had been sleeping with our ADA for years, and was now lusting after a woman twenty years my junior. I'd be toast, kiss my future, or any rise to the ladder plans goodbye.

My entire body tingled when I tried to look away but ended up staring at Amanda, who stood scratching her head, looking down at her phone. Dumb bitch, doesn't she know that shit will get your ass mugged out here? Could she look any more like a tourist?

I'm unsure if my body is tingling because the thought of getting laid by younger blond women will bring back memories of Alex or because the idea of solving crimes daily with Amanda by my side would remind me of Elliot.

I am so bitter it hits me how much damage Elliot has done to me. How broken did he break me? My mom was raped while walking home alone one night in this same city. Why would I even think the idea of another woman being mugged is funny? I would never have thought that before, Elliot.

How can I heal the brokenness inside of me before it destroys me?

"Ah!" a woman's scream snaps my head up, clearing the cobwebs of my very webbed mind. It's not Amanda, but I see her drop her phone in shock, which someone else snatches in a heartbeat as Amanda races to the woman who screamed. A hooded figure ran up behind her, grabbed her purse, and kicked her, trying to escape.

"NYPD! Stop!" Amanda reaches the two as he turns to run away. Her hand grazes his elbow as she repeats the NYPD cry. I take off towards them, yelling the same as I flash my badge to get through the thicker crowd on the platform. Now it's getting closer to the train's arrival. People are pouring in through the turnstiles.

Before I can get there, the suspect elbows Amanda hard on her chin, charging her and throwing her back against the pole; his hand connects with her throat, trying to strangle her. One hand grabs her breast as he laughs, snickering. "I don't take no for an answer bitch, and I get what I want when I… ouch!"

He squeals like a little boy as her foot connects with his groin area hard, the smack echoes off the walls. He grabbed his package and collapsed to the ground, squeaking out incoherent slurs.I stop short in front of him, arching an eyebrow in her direction. Silently impressed. Thankfully, two patrol officers rush up; someone must have called. I flash them my badge and explain the situation. They read him his rights, cuff him and haul his ass off, grumbling about stupid petty thieves needing to get their lazy asses off mama's couches.

I reach out for Amanda's shoulder. "Hon, you okay? We should get you checked out." Amanda's color is paler than a ghost. She's shaking. One quick swipe at her wrist tells me her pulse is racing. My eyes widen. I recognize the signs of a panic attack anywhere.

"Amanda, try to breathe. It's going to be okay. I know this is scary."

"Shut Up." She hisses, shoving me off her violently, her eyes glaring in little slips. There's so much anger inside of them they almost look red. Looking up, she suddenly sways. The lights must seem too bright; she squints, moaning, throwing her hand over her forehead to block them. Everything pulsed slightly, and she swallowed as if feeling nauseated. Shoving me off her, she takes a step forward and ends up falling to her knees. Clutching her throat, gasps and tiny moans escape her throat.

"Amanda, you're going to get through this. Just pick your head up, take a deep breath, and be strong. You got this, Amanda."

Stubbornly Amanda places both palms on the dirty ass platform, pushes herself up, and lurches forward, her breathing slow long periods between breaths. Amanda takes another step and pushes forward while I rub her back. Amanda sneers, growling at me. "What the hell do you know, Olivia?"

"You don't know how I feel, and you've made it clear you don't want to know me, Olivia Benson."

"I've had panic attacks, Amanda; it feels like the world is rushing at me. Noises become very pronounced, and it makes my head swim. Sometimes I find it difficult to focus; sometimes, I feel disoriented. My heart rate soars, I sometimes have pins and needles in my hands or a sudden tension across my shoulders. Other times I feel an intense bolt of fear, which makes me want to move away but roots me in the spot. My attacks usually pass quickly, but arrive with no warning."

"Good for you, Olivia. Excuse me while I find my way home without my cell phone, which is probably smashed."

"Amanda, let me help you."

"I don't need or want your help. All my life, I've been strong. I sure ain't let some little boy reduce me to a withering mess. I don't tell people half the shit which has happened, and when I did, I got precious little help from those who probably should have known better. So don't lecture me on it's going to be okay bullshit."

"I'm reluctant to say this because I still feel the negative reaction. Or worse, the silence. I expected more out of you; Olivia fights for the victims, Benson. You're only nice to the victims when the cameras are snapping; behind the scenes, your demeanor is get the fuck-away from me, Benson."

"Amanda, I get I was a bitch back there." I hold my hands, following her as she rushes up the platform's steps. I can physically see her body shaking. She looks around for a taxi or a street sign to remind her where she is. I know she's in no shape to get home, but I'm afraid to startle her by touching her.

"A panic attack, in my experience, is the onslaught of a mixture of physical sensations and fear feelings. Your legs turn to jelly; you feel you might faint, and everything seems oppressive. Your energy wanes, and you get sweaty. You're afraid to move, afraid to get stuck, and highly embarrassed. You get one, once, outside, and you're afraid to go out again."

"I'm not afraid, just lost, so can you shut your tap and help me find my way home or kindly shut the fuck up?"

Amanda's attitude is wearing me down. She steps off the sidewalk as a taxi speeds around the corner, screaming. I pull her back, my arm wrapped around her throat, pushing her onto the sidewalk. I land roughly on top of her. Memory is unlike a video camera. It can't capture everything, but life's most impactful experiences — positive or negative — stay focused.

The reaction on Amanda's face as I land on top of her, pinning her to the ground, will be a memory that haunts me forever. Her eyes widen so deep I see little blood vessels breaking open, leaking blood. Her color fades from existence. No breath leaves or enters her chest, which doesn't rise or fall. Her expression reads fear. I can read her thoughts on her face. It looks as if her mind is replaying a past trauma, seeing the contextual layout for the first time and only now considering it a significant part of her life story. Her brain is screaming, oh, fuck, she may inadvertently kill me. I'm trapped; I can't get up.

"Get off me! I said No!"

Amanda's balled fists swing at me. I duck, roll off her body and jump to my feet, blocking my face as she jumps up, swinging. Holding my hands up, I stop her punches, thankful she's drunk and off balance. "calm down, Rollins, I am not fighting you. Excuse me for saving your miserable life."

Stomping off, I throw my hands up; drunk people are frustrating. Pulling my fallen hood over my head, I hail a cab. Now that it was raining too hard to walk, I knew I'd missed this train.

Seconds later, a cab pulls up, and I get in; at the last second, I turn and glance back at Amanda, who looks around, stumbling, her body drenched; blond strands fall all over her face, which reads broken. "Hold up, driver." "Time is money, miss. My meter is running." "Yeah, I'll slip you an extra $20, have a heart, and wait." Rushing over, I yank her arm hard and shove her into the cab, giving him my address.

Amanda slumps against the seat, closing her eyes and looking defeated. My breath catches in my throat, squeezing the airway shut. Damn, she looks like a little girl whose parents got run over and left her alone in a strange city. We stay silent in the cab ride and the elevator; her eyes search the lobby, going over the doorman, the expensive chandler, and arch glasses windows. "Not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy, are ya?"

"No, Toto, we aren't; I always imagined what it must be like to live a life of luxury when I was growing up. We were dirt poor; I shared a bedroom which was like 14 feet by 16 feet with my sister Kimberly and my five cousins. Four of us girls shared one bed. We didn't have a TV or a working radio; we lived on a farm, so sleeping in was never an option. Not that a gal could get much sleep with three other smelly bodies next to me."

"Most of my cousins thought nothing of living like this one bathroom sink, a toilet that hardly worked. Parents who fought, drank, and beat the shit out of each other. Kim and I always had big ol' dreams though we were going to take a plane one day see every city, we were going to go to college, get our degrees, make something out of ourselves."

"Kim's younger than I am; man, she is a spitfire, no fear in that tiny blonde pixie-tailed body. Wound tighter than a rattlesnake and strikes with venom worse than a inland taipan. Always had to be the leader when we played manhunt in the woods with one damn flashlight fuck when she tackled ya', she left bruises for weeks." Amanda laughs.

"Growing up, I always had to clean up her mess; she could never stay on her side of the fence, the girl always had to pick a fight with someone usually meaner and taller than her, so it left me to fight her battles, and Lord help me if I left her on her own, my dad would have skinned my ass. My mama would have disowned me and thrown me at the church's mercy for redemption. Protect and honor thy mother, thy father, and sister."

"Kim never got past Atlanta, but someday, man, watch out when she comes to NYC. One day she will leave that old cotton town and blaze her own path."

"You sound like you miss her now?"

"Yeah, I do. The only one who knows what it was like to grow up the way I did. We weren't always best of friends, but she's my sister, my blood. I Love Tiya, and she ain't had it easy, but she can't understand my family more than I can understand hers."

We enter my apartment. I lead Amanda to the bathroom, showing her where the towels are, and give her privacy as I go to my bedroom to change. When I come out, I heat some tea for both of us. She comes out a few minutes later, my clothes hanging off her thin body.

"Sorry about earlier. I don't know what came over me. I can usually handle my alcohol a lot better."

We head over to the couch and take seats. I pull out a comforter and spread it across our laps, curling my left knee under my chin. Do I voice my thoughts or let her work out her feelings?

I sip my tea, staying silent. I'm two for two and not trying for a third. The warmth feels terrific. Savoring the honey and sugar, I lean back. "I didn't grow up poor, but I had secrets. My mother was raped in college; she didn't have the option of abortion back in her days. So she was forced to give birth to her rapist's child. Ta-da, here I am. She never let me forget it; my mom loved me but hated me simultaneously."

"I bore her shame, took her blame. By every means, she could fish it out hateful words, slurred by alcohol, thunderous fists ragging against my tender skin, over-protection borderline obsession with my body when I dated."

"I never told anyone when I was a kid. I don't know why."

"Fear, shame. No one wants to be that kid who is different, the one everyone ducks when they see coming, whispers about behind their back, and falls dead silent when you enter the room. Until someone has walked in your shoes, they don't know how it feels. Your pain will never be real to them; it can't be felt because you allow it to be invisible; if it's invisible, it doesn't exist. Right?"

"What can't be seen can't be real. Except it is, and your mind knows it somewhere deep inside. Hence, you bury it by whatever means necessary, art, music, work, meaningless and rough sex, drugs, alcohol, cutting, or eating disorders, cause you can control your body. What goes in it, the numbness's it makes you the better."

"What's your kill method?"

She stirs her tea, stirring more sugar into it. Damn, southerners do like it sweet. "Drinking, gambling, sex. I refuse to use drugs; that's Kim's vise. She takes after our daddy to the core. I venture to my mom's method of completely shutting down."

"How is it working for you?"

"Most days grand."

"The not-so-grand days?"

"I survived. Always do."

"Yours?"

"Drinking, sex."

"Southerners are known for being generation after generation of a 'sweep things under the carpet' environment. Pick yourself up, smile, dust off the dust, and sweep it under the rug. Put one foot in front of the other, don't cry; southerners are tough. Even when your world burns, crashes, and all ya' got left is dust and ashes. Smile; Jesus will take care of ya. What have ya got to cry about when you're blessed by Jesus's hand?"

"Amanda, I'm sorry I've been a bitch today. Women should support each other, not judge one another. If you want to talk, I'm here."

"Ain't that what we're doing now?"

"Yes, but I feel there's more you want to say but are holding back. Does it have something to do with men in power getting away with taking advantage of someone with less power?"

"Ain't worth pursuing, Olivia."

"That's how they win."

"He's already won."

"Who?"

Amanda leans back, placing her tea on the nightstand. Chewing her lower lip, she looks at me, almost as if she's waiting to see if the pain of biting her lip will give her an answer. "My boss, ex-boss Deputy Chief Patton. He ugh raped me eleven months ago. Kim got in some trouble check fraud, and he told me he'd let her go if I slept with him; I knew it was wrong, but she's my sister, and she never learned how to stand on her feet, so I said yes cause if I didn't she could face real-time."

"I changed my mind when I got to the hotel room. Patton didn't care. He laughed, struck me across the face, and threw me on the bed. Patton struck me; I slammed my head against the headboard. He ripped my clothes, and he raped me. I tried to fight, but he was stronger and threatened to fire me and tell everyone I threw myself at him. Eventually, I gave up and let him rape me."

My heart hammers inside my chest as I hear Amanda recounts her horrible attack. "Amanda, you didn't give up; you didn't let him rape you. Honey, you went into survival mode. It's normal, and you are not to blame. There's always the stigma of being blamed or causing shame for the family. But I think this depends on the family you grew up in. Growing up with the mentality of sweeping it under the rug taught you early on that the woman takes the shoulder of the blame for the family. Being raped is a harrowing experience, as was dealing with the panic attacks that ensued in the aftermath. Did you tell anyone what happened?"

"Sure, Kim, and my mom. My mom blamed me and said I was always a whore, and I got what I deserved, thinking I was bigger than our town. It was the universe's way of showing me where I belonged. Kim felt bad, but it didn't stop her. She's an addict, and she'll do anything to support her fucking addiction. Course, I Told Tiya, and she handled it by shoving a gun in Patton's mouth. Got herself fired."

My mouth drops open Amanda blushes intensely, chewing harder on her lip. "No one here knows this, Olivia; please, she's a damn amazing detective. Her career shouldn't be destroyed because of what happened to me. She lives with me. She's seen the panic attacks at their worst. Tiya has been the one to hold me when the nightmares wake me up, pull my hair back when I'm vomiting, force me to eat, and get up every day. Because of Tiya, I found the strength to face the pregnancy."

"Pregnancy?" I ask, stunned. Amanda nodded. "The bastard got me pregnant. Abortion wasn't an option, and Tiya helped me see my child wasn't to blame for the sins of his daddy; he's innocent. Tiya taught me anger is an energy. It can be a nasty, inconsistent, and vicious energy but can also be harnessed to propel yourself out of the gloom. It is a powerful emotion if channeled and used in the right way to heal."

"Sheer willpower is also a factor. She helped me find both, and it cost her all her strength, which is why she snapped that night; Patton was taunting her, slapping her ass, threatening to take care of her, as he took care of me when I threw myself at him. He was going to fuck her straight; Tiya is gay; he kept reminding her down south that gay is a sin. The pig kept pitching her breasts, winking at her. Tiya has suffered with mental health issues, depression, anxiety, and anger management her entire life. She had enough and went after him. As soon as I pulled her away, she knew she had crossed a line."

"We knew we had to leave Atlanta. There was no coming back from these repercussions. We didn't want to go to Loganville. So she called her half-sister up here. She had connections to Cragen. We had to interview and go through every same channel all of you did. We didn't get this out of favors. If anyone learns about what she did to Patton."

"She'll be crucified and labeled."

"Yeah, she's in therapy and taking medication. Please, Olivia, don't tell the captain what I told you in trust tonight."

"Amanda, she's safe with me. I get it; Elliot and I have done some questionable things for each other. If someone had raped me and I told him bet your ass, the son of a bitch would be buried, and no one would ever find him."

"Yeah, I didn't immediately identify myself as a victim of sexual violence. I began processing my experience of sexual assault about six months later when I heard my son's heartbeat. Suddenly, he was real to me. The fog I had been living in lifted, and I realized I would be a mom. Tiya was with me. She held my hand, and we talked. "I was describing what happened to me, but I hadn't put a word to it yet. She looked at me and said, Amanda, you were raped."

"That's when I started processing it—when someone else called it out to me and made it more real. It was a big shift in how I had been processing my experience, and it became easier for me to talk about. I used to tone it down to say I was 'taken advantage of.' But it's been essential for me to call it what it was—to use the word rape."

"Did you feel you took back some reassemble of power?"

"Some days, and some days like today, it feels like it's happening all over again; when the kid put his hand against my throat, it transported me back to that night. Patton choked me as he raped me. He told me I don't take no for an answer, Rollins. The kid sneered the same thing towards me, different wording but the same meaning."

"I haven't been able to have sex since I was raped. My son River is two months old, and I'm exhausted all the time, drained mentally and emotionally, of course physically, but I still have desires. I worry all the time the bastard broke me."

"Amanda, you are not broken. I want you to repeat this to yourself when you feel like crap. I am resilient, beautiful, reliable, dedicated, and rational. Being a survivor has played a significant role in how I have grown. But it is just one of the many facets of what makes me, me. It's certainly a driver of my passion and commitment to advocacy, but it's just one part. There are other experiences and relationships that I've had that also empower me to make a change."

"I'll try, Liv; I've finally got to where I have more control over my responses and healing. Control of my narrative has been extremely therapeutic. Today was the first day I felt out of control in a while. River was up all night screaming no matter what I did; he wouldn't stop, so I got no sleep; half of my shit was lost and hadn't arrived from Atlanta yet; Tiya had a migraine, so she took medicine, which knocked her out last night. I'm at the end of my last nerve, and I started a new job in a new city today, but no pressure, right?"

"Amanda, let me ease your nerves. You are an amazing detective; you have no reason to worry about your job. We were very impressed with how you handled a high-profile case on your first day with such tenacity, quickness, and compassion; you helped get a few major breaks that sealed the case. Even if the verdict wasn't what we had hoped. We did our job, and you were a big part of it, so try to take that worry off your mind, Amanda."

Gently, I snake my body around so I can massage her tense shoulders. "When I was sixteen, I was engaged to an older guy. My mom was so mad she kept saying he was raping me. My mom made me feel damaged and confused. I was unsure how I should feel and didn't know where to turn. This was someone I knew. Was it still rape? I don't consider it rape, but legally, yes, it was, and my mom was right. Coming to terms with the idea that I was raped still haunts me. It's not the same as you, Amanda, and I'm not comparing them, but I know how awful it feels to think of yourself as damaged goods. I know my mom was reflecting her past on to me, and for the first time, I saw what her experience did to her through her eyes, and it killed me knowing I am a living reminder of her worst night."

"My guilt, my shame, kept me silent. I didn't seek help from anyone and carried the heavy burden of my mother's rape alone. What would people think if they knew? What had to happen to her attacker? My father."

"I could hear the judgment from my mom. She blamed me. I diminished my feelings and sacrificed my well-being out of fear. I blamed myself for what happened to her, even though I knew deep within my soul that I wasn't the one who had hurt her. We were both victims; I could never say no because she was my mother. There was nothing wrong with me. Her reaction to the trauma of being raped provoked her to abuse me and abuse alcohol. These past few years, going to therapy has truly helped me heal, working with victims, helping them find their voices."

"I could forgive not only myself but her as well. Forgiving my mom even after she died did not make me forget the pain she caused me, nor did it diminish how wrong she was for blaming me. But it cleared the way for me to release the past and heal completely. I didn't have to be held in the bondage of fear, shame, or regret. I was free."

"I can be a voice of encouragement. I am here for you, for whatever you need, a shoulder to cry on, although crying doesn't seem to be your style. A friend to go ax throwing with, as long as I am not the target. Someone to hold you or scream with you. They have amazing smash rooms. I hear it's great for anger. Hmm, that seems up Tiya's ally."

"Amanda, please tell yourself as many damn times as you need to hear this; your attack was not your fault. You did nothing wrong; your attacker did. While normal, feelings of guilt, shame, and fear aren't warranted. If you can't, I will tell you every damn day if need be."

"It will get better. One day, you will forgive yourself, and you will heal. It won't happen overnight, but it will happen. When it does, you will be free to live without the shadows of the past looming over you."

"Thank you, Olivia. Too bad you're straight. I could use help in the sex department."

"Who said I was straight?"

"No one, I just thought."

"Well, you thought wrong. May I kiss you and prove it to you? I am far from straight?"

"Please kiss me."

Amanda's blush spreads further up her face and scatters across her chest. Damn, she's adorable when she blushes, and her breasts are phenomenal. I can't stop myself from reaching over and swiping my finger across her nose. She giggles, bringing her face closer, only her face somehow. That beautiful full cleavage stays a few inches back as her nose bumps over mine. Amanda's blue eyes remind me of how the sea would look if it caught fire, blue eyes growing dark with desire.

She winked. Fuck, she caught me staring again; I blushed, my chest and neck feeling warm. Amanda kissed me deeply; I let her take the lead, so she could feel confident and comfortable, which I think she was by how she handled my mouth in hers, moving her tongue around exploratory. We break for a minute to get air; while we are broken, I stretch my arms over my head, removing my shirt and bra. "I want you to pinch my nipples, Amanda." She smiled, unbuttoned her blouse, slowly tossed the blouse aside, and unhooked her bra. Her breasts swell as soon as the cool air hits them. Damn, they are gorgeous, so ivy soft with perfectly hardened dark pink nipples.

Sitting up on our knees, we place our hands on each other's bodies. Amanda's right-hand cups my lower back, and her left-hand holds my neck steady as she presses her mouth against mine. My left-hand cups her glorious left breast while my right settles on her hip.

Mmm," I moaned into her mouth as she reached to pinch my nipples. Her eyes lit up with a sensual glow, and she grabbed me and spun me onto my back, climbing on top of me. I like her in control. It's sexy as hell. We were both topless, and the closeness of her warmth made me tingle all over. The silkiness of her breasts feels like velvet on mine. Our bodies move as our kiss heats, creating electrifying friction. She looked to be in a state of bliss like I felt. I attacked her soft wet lips like a wild animal, kissing her like Mr. Elton John makes love to his Ivy keys on stage.

I brush away some of her hair when we part again for air. "Amanda, I want you to know if you need to stop or feel uncomfortable. I will stop, no questions asked. Tonight is about respect and taking your power back. What's our safe word?"

"Squirrel Nuts."

"Jesus, fuck girl, you are country."

"Aw, thank you, Ms. Olivia. That's the sweetest complaint you ever gave."

"Okay, a few rules, don't call me Ms. It makes me feel like I'm your teacher. There's something about working this job long enough when certain jokes become unbearable, and student fucks teacher is one of them."

"Second, we've known each other for thirty-six hours, so give me a chance with the complaints. I'll get better, I swear."

"Okay, baby, remember Jesus is watching, and he is listening from your lips to God's ears. Broken promises are a sign of ugly, and Jesus doesn't like ugly."

"Well, that's disturbing. Jesus is about to get quite the show when he watches me ride you in every way possible. Amanda, I'll ask permission before doing anything, but you can do whatever you want whenever you want to do it with my body."

"Fuck." Amanda was already quivering; was she was nervous or excited? I didn't know which, but she didn't say stop, so I covered her left breast with my warm mouth, sucking, running my mouth up and down her tender flesh, taking her nipple between my lips. "Oh, Olivia, yes, please, baby." Amanda moans softly as I run my hand through her hair, pushing it off her face, which is becoming slick with sweat. "May I reach into your jeans and touch you?"

"Please touch me. I'm aching for your touch."

I quickly stuck my hand down her jeans, moved her panties to the side, and felt her wetness as I tugged her nipple. She moaned, and her breathing became heavy. I asked her if she wanted to stop and take a break so she would be more comfortable. She shook her head no, so I unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans and took her panties off so I could fully have her unrestricted. Amanda helped kick them off; her wetness leaked onto my bare stomach and soaked the couch. Crap, I'm going to need a new couch tomorrow. My eyes took in her beautiful, slender, physically fit form.

Heaven.

Beautiful heaven.

She was still leaning forward, so I reached and squeezed both nipples and whispered in her ear. "Reach behind the couch cushion. There's a surprise behind it; pull it out, baby." Amanda blindly reaches behind the cushion with one hand as my lips contain to take turns loving each of her breasts. Amanda reached up nervously; at first, she lifted my right breast, slowly pinched my nipples, and then leaned forward and teased them a bit before wrapping her mouth around them and sucking them intensely. "oh, yes, ahh, damn. Baby, Soo good. Soo good."

I moaned, as she was outstanding. I sighed and complained about how much my body tingled. "Oh, my God, Liv, you keep a fucking vibrating strap-on behind your cushion?"

"Doesn't every woman?"

"No!"

"Oh, well, I'm special. So would you like to wear it or have me wear it?"

Amanda takes her time thinking about it, her eyes gazing over the powerful seven-function bullet vibrator with pink and black hypoallergenic silicone with a suction cup base. "I want to ride you, but first, I want to taste you." "Taste away, baby. First, we need to get rid of these petty things." Amanda moves so I can get up and shed my jeans and panties. Standing in front of her, she kneels before me, taking in the view. Her eyes tell me she is enjoying what she is seeing.

She slowly started teasing my most private area, but it took no time for her to wrap her mouth around my clit and suck it like she was sucking juice through a straw. Her hands move to embrace my ass strongly. She cups and palms my checks, burying her face deeper inside my hidden treasure, licking, sucking, and flicking her tongue. Amanda had me almost orgasm when she told me to get down on the table. So I did what she said, swiping all the papers, magazines, my cat, who protested meowing at me, and my remote off the table.

Spreading my legs wide open for her, she crawled on top of me. Around us, electrons shift, the air heavy with desire, our ravenous passion for one another taking over, our connection essential nourishment for our souls. I gasp as Amanda slides her fingers down on me and sucks the breath from my mouth, and I feel wonderfully dizzy as she breathes the words back into me: "How are you so wet?" "All for you, baby, so please me, tease me, just be ready for your reward."

I desperately try not to touch myself but feel my wetness build until, when I shift my body slightly in arousal, my juices rub against the inside of her thighs so that even this slight movement is exquisite.

I finally give in and slide my fingers down on myself and rub my wetness up to my clit; my fingers graze against Amanda's as she slides two inside of me, perilously matching the stokes of my fingers, trying not to make a sound, stifling my hot shallow breaths as my juices drip down between my legs. My lower abdomen is aching with my irrepressible desire to release. I can feel it rubbing between my cheeks on my backside, all of me soaking wet—the sounds of my wetness squeak against the glass of my coffee table.

Amanda stops and collapses on top of me, pulling herself entirely on top of me. We push our breasts together slowly at first and slide against each other's thighs, naked, glistening in wetness. We pause, foreheads together, and I look down at Amanda's bare body, entranced by the smooth-shaven, luscious skin delineating a delicious pathway to her vagina. I stroke my fingers through this and down, sliding them back inside her, watching them disappear between her legs. Amanda closes her eyes and sighs, but then her hand is on my wrist, halting my movements, a curious smile against my lips.

"I'm ready. Help me get it on, Liv." Together, we attach the strap-on to Amanda - making sure that it fits so snuggly that it becomes a part of her - all I can think is how sexy she looks as she vivaciously grips the silicone toy. For a few seconds, it's funny... and then it's not as we kiss again with the potential of discovery, and she guides me back onto the table slick with my sweat and juices. God, there isn't enough Lysol to clean this mess up tomorrow. Guess I'm table shopping. So I take her, kiss her. She sits at the coffee table, ready for me.

I get lost in the beautiful pink softness of Amanda's mouth again, so much so that I take a moment to realize that Amanda is putting pressure on my shoulders, pulling me up to her lap and pushing me down on her. I'm used to this move from men, but it immediately makes little sense to Amanda. Then I understand: she wants me to go down on her.

I concentrate only on the aesthetics, ensuring that my every movement is in her eyesight - and I can see that it's turning Amanda on to watch me like this. We sit facing one another as I reach for the lubricant, squeezing a large circle onto my hands and then into hers, the smell of coconut and pineapple surrounding us. We watch each other warmly, the lube between our fingers before reaching eagerly for each other's breasts, and we massage, our nipples raw and tingling, our skin liquefied as we push and rub.

We glide with each other, and the strap-on pushes into our abdomens as we warm it between our bodies; it feels so good. All I feel is throbbing anticipation for Amanda. I can't wait much longer.

As if Amanda knows what I am thinking, she slides her fingers between my legs, forcing my lips open, stroking her lubed fingers over me. Something in this lubricant feels hot, and it tingles over my clitoris, sending me into an ecstasy of shudders and sighs.

I know she's getting me ready to rock my world and I'm so turned on that my chest is tightening, my breaths swallowing, and I stare in awe as Amanda reaches for the lube again and squeeze this into her hand before rubbing it over the length of the silicone.

Finally, at last, sweet, long last, Amanda slides the silicone partly in and out of my vagina, a little at a time, and I feel myself stretching with every thrust. She turns it on to the lowest setting. I imagine Amanda's view now: I know my inner labia are slightly bigger than most women's, and I picture the sight of them now clutching the circumference of the silicone.

"Hold me, Amanda, caress me all over."

One glance back at Amanda's face, lascivious, staring down between my legs, tells me that this is turning Amanda on almost as much as if she could feel herself inside me.

"Kiss my nipples, Olivia, as you ride me."

This slow build-up Amanda has created, easing in inch by painstaking inch, is almost too much, and inside I am screaming in pleasure; I try to stay quiet. It's late; these walls are paper ass thin, but I can't stop my sounds rising as, finally, Amanda plunges fully inside me, so deep; only a couple of men have ever touched me here.

"I want you to whisper my name when you cum for me, Olivia, whisper in my ears. Tell me how much you enjoy me deep inside of you."

Although she can't feel it, the muscles of my vagina are clenching and contracting around the toy, sending pulses of pleasure up into my abdomen and lower back.

"Say my name, baby. Oh, tell me how I make you feel."

"Don't stop, Amanda, oh, God, right there. Yes, baby, oh yes, oh my God. Fuck me! Fuck me, Amanda, oh, Amanda."

For what feels like a dream state, Amanda changes the vibration setting alternating between speeds, thrusting into me slowly with deliberate drawn-out movements - and then hard and fast, pounding into me, so my sticky breasts are bouncing as I roll my hips over the wonderful toy, matching the tempo of Amanda's body.

I felt her mouth kiss my breasts, and my whole body shook with the force of her thrusts until the sensual slap of our slippery skin and the creaking and banging of the table created an intensity of sensory overload. Fuck, please don't shatter glass. I don't need shards of glass up my ass. I'll never live that down in the squad room. Moans fill the room. Amanda grips my hips tightly, bringing her body to mine, so I get her breasts to my mouth, kissing her as she requested.

Every way she thrusts into me feels divine but tied up in the physical sensations is a psychological relaxing of my mind: knowing that I don't have to worry about moving or clutching too hard and making Amanda come, no race against time to orgasm after she's climaxed before a man's organ softens inside me; all the things which stop me enjoying sex with a man dissipate with Amanda. At this moment, there's only my indulgent pleasure.

Our bodies are sweaty with exertion; she pushes deeper inside me as far as it will go. Still, Amanda holds it here, her hand reaching and down into my body, massaging my clit with her lube-covered fingers.

"Olivia, you like that?"

Nails digging into my shoulders, dragging them down my stomach. One hand reaches between us, the other remaining to steady my shaking body. Our bodies move as one.

Sitting up, my hands found the sides of Amanda's face.

We kiss, eyes closing, tongues dancing together. I reran my fingers through Amanda's hair, lingering them down her back, holding her to me, our hardened nipples rubbing against each other as she moved up and down. My hands continue lower, cupping Amanda's cheeks. Amanda's eyes are still watching as the shaft disappears within my walls, again and again. Amanda's hips circle again; her thrusts become more intricate and profound. We are both moaning uncontrollably, hitting my inner walls. We kiss; it's hurried, wanting tongues are probing, and fingers are circling. The strap-on is going deeper.

Amanda cups my ass, squeezing tighter. Her hands are all over my body, but now she pulls me onto her, lying on her back. The intensity is too damn much. My orgasms move through my entire body. My nipples burn and are so painfully stiff that I wish they would be cut-off wave after wave flows through my opening.

We're only starting, though. Screams of ecstasy fill the room. Still gushing, I take the strap-on off Amanda and teach it to myself. "Are you ready?"

"Yes. Go slow, though, please."

The ecstasy on her face was unbelievably accurate. So was the fear, though, written in more delicate layers. It weaved throughout her look like a wooden piece of travesty. Gently, I kissed her, showing her she was in control.

Slowly, steadily, I inserted inches into her swollen center. Slower than a glacier inching its way down an alp, yes slower yet pleasantly warmer beyond delightful. Amanda's grateful reactions. Her eyes watered, slowly leaking out the tears. Instantly I stop, afraid I'm hurting her, and she's too paralyzed to remember her safe word. What was it again? Oh yeah, squirrel nuts.

"I'm okay, Liv. You're being so gentle. It's not tears of sadness or fear. It's gratefulness. No one has ever been this considerate in my life. Most people use me for sex and never care how I feel during it as long as they get their needs mopped up."

For a few moments, Amanda laid still and accepted everything that came her way. Slowly, though, she comes to life. She responded with hungry thrusts of her own as if she was riding a bucking bronco. She refused to get thrown, clutching my skin for dear life. We were suddenly pounding with each other, moaning and squirming. Nothing discrete about it; we were both at each other like squirrels fighting over nuts.

Her face was flushed red, and at this stage, she was moaning and groaning with abandon, and even though she was not touching me at all, I felt as if I was being driven crazy with an impending orgasm at the same time.

Stopping for a minute, I pull out, burying my face inside her treasure as she groans. I licked her fast while ensuring I did not put too much pressure on her clit, entering my fingers inside her wet folds and pushing her body against my fingers while grabbing her breast with my other hand.

As she said she was about to cum, I continued to devour her with my tongue, losing control of my hand as she was thrusting herself against it, moving her hips up and down, panting and grinding her teeth as she groaned and grunted, enjoying being devoured so deep and sensual.

I felt her walls clench on my fingers like a vise. I was shocked how tightly it could grip them, and a new gush of sensual juice squirted inside as she surrendered and came, panting and moaning, her nipples hard in my hand, thrusting hard and deep as she savored every wave of her orgasm, groaning "oh fuck, oh my god," repeatedly.

I give her a chance to recover, brushing my hands over the warmth of her checks. "Don't stop, Liv. I need more." I happily obligate, pushing the toy deep inside her and turning it on medium speed. Her insides lap up the pressure of my unapologetic thrusts. The suddenness made Amanda take a minute to register the depth of the pleasure of being finally felt and seen along with the depth of this magnificent toy; the $199.50 spent was well worth it.

I watch Amanda's face change as a wave finally hits her; she allows my thrusts to take her outside her body as she falls into a hypnotic trance of being profoundly and lovingly appreciated. Amanda's sudden scream in ecstasy alerts me to her rising climax, not wanting the moment to end but feeling her orgasm rise as her nails grip my skin so tight I think blood flows. Her ass hits the coffee table hard, leaving sweat marks as she climaxes. "Oh baby, I'm all yours; oh Liv, please, can we stay like this all day long, baby?" Amanda cried as her first wave of orgasm came and moved through her body, feeling like it was hit by lightning, her ass loosening and contracting, wanting to savor the last thrusts. I hold her tight, kissing her softly, sexily, her breasts dangling over mine, our nipples teasingly grazing.

I grabbed her ass cheeks with both hands and pulled her down on top of me, kissing her so profoundly that my tongue felt like it was trying to find her heart to graze it.

Picking her up, I carry her to my bedroom, where my cat is again in the way. "Sorry, Hersey, not tonight. Mama needs the bed. Her hiss tells me she won't forget this for a long ass time. Lying Amanda down on the bed, I crawl in next to her. I took off the strap-on and tossed it to the end of the bed. Pulling her close, we crawl under the covers. She buries herself against my body. We kiss ardently, moaning into each other's mouths as we roll onto our backs, taking turns rubbing our bodies together, the friction overtaking our last nerves still frazzled from the mind-blowing orgasms.

Within minutes, the urge to sleep was strong and exhausted. Amanda fell asleep first, wrapped up in my arms. As I close my eyes, I swear I can feel Hersey's eyes glaring daggers at me from the windowsill where she now sits, licking her paws and hissing lullabies of death and vengeance.

"Squirrel Nuts."

"I mumbled, pulling Amanda closer.

If you or someone you know has been a victim of sexual assault, contact the RAINN online hotline for help today.

Or call The National Sexual Assault Hotline at 800.656-HOPE (4673).

If you're in immediate danger, call 911.

Family members of someone who has been assaulted start here.

Additional resources for health professionals can be found by visiting the National Sexual Violence Resource Center online at .org or by calling 877-739-3895.