...
"Fuck me on The Dance Floor, just be sneaky..."
AKA The Trials And Tribulations Of The Honorable Lena Petrovsky
...
It wasn't that Lena Petrovsky enjoyed stepping on Alexandra Cabot's toes, per se. It was just that the sharp, politically motivated attorney tended to find herself in unfortunate situations. By some bizarre coincidence, these unfortunate situations usually seemed to happen right in front of Petrovsky's nose.
Begging the pardon of Jack McCoy, who seemed to have made it his mission to dance with every female at the auspicious gathering of Manhattan's political elite, she headed for the bathroom for a temporary reprieve. In her position, a certain amount of schmoozing was required, but she didn't have to like it.
The last thing she expected to find in the bathroom was Alexandra Cabot lifted up beside one of the sinks, evening gown pushed high enough on her thighs to reveal expensive stockings and garters, in flagrante delicto and rubbing shamelessly against Detective Benson's hand like a horny tabby.
Her first thought upon entering the bathroom was: Of course. It would be Alexandra...
Her second thought was much cruder, and hardly something that any of her colleagues would have expected from her. Well, the drapes match the carpet.
Her third thought was: Good Lord, Branch is going to kill them.
Hoping that no one was behind her, she made a hasty retreat, closing the door as quickly and quietly as possible. Slumping bonelessly against the wall, she hoped that her exit had not been noticed.
Well. So much for that quiet moment.
Carefully removing the expression of surprise from her face, the Honorable Lena Petrovsky gazed out over the crowded dance floor, collecting her thoughts. The women swarmed together like a flock of birds in their colorful dresses, and the men looked rather like uncomfortable penguins. Fortunately, none of the ladies seemed to need the restroom at the moment.
None of them had a clue. Really, it was almost humorous.
Almost every male on that dance floor would pay good money to see what was going on in the ladies room right now. Actually, a good number of the women might, too... Lena Petrovsky was not one of those women, but picturing Branch's horrified and enthralled expression did result in a wry smile.
The judge had a theory about Alexandra. Cabot was no fool. She used her lofty, superior attitude to her advantage in her working relationships. But walking around with a stick up your ass had to be tiring. She supposed that Detective Benson had simply been trying to remove it.
"Liv." Thud. "Liv." Thud. "Oh, God..." Thud.
Petrovsky's head fell back against the wall with an answering thud. Good grief. She didn't want to wait around, but she could hardly walk away and subject someone else to an accidental view of their badly-timed coupling. Besides, although she would deny it in open court, she had a soft spot for the little blonde spitfire.
Any fond thoughts of Alexandra disappeared as Liz Donnelly approached, obviously needing to use the restroom. Lena sighed, shook her head, and prepared to head her off.