The following is a work of erotic fiction and includes scenes of sexual activity. It includes characters that are copyrighted by DC Comics. This story is intended for the non-commercial enjoyment of fans and should be considered a parody . No copyright infringement is intended and no profit will be made from the distribution of this story.
Barbara Gordon, newly appointed Head Librarian for the Gotham City Central Library, looked into her dressing mirror and sighed. Tonight was the retirement dinner honoring her predecessor, Angela Brown, for thirty years of service. During which, her own appointment would be made official. At first glance, it should've been an event that she could look forward to with some enthusiasm. Unfortunately, one aspect of the evening had cast a pall over the otherwise happy event.
It was only yesterday that she learned that her escort for the dinner was going to be Billionaire Bruce Wayne. There had to be, she told herself, at least a thousand women in this city that would've given almost anything to trade places with her tonight and given the chance, the short haired redhead would've gladly done so. Unfortunately, there was no way she could do it.
It was no secret that one of the reasons she'd gotten the coveted position was due to Wayne's position on the Library's Board of Directors. In this city, few people said no to Bruce Wayne. If it had been up to the other Directors, the appointment would've gone to some political hack, or at least someone with more experience. Wayne, however, was a friend of James Gordon, Gotham's Police Commissioner, and while he would never make the request himself, Bruce had been more than happy to intercede on behalf of his old friend's daughter without being asked. The bottom line was, Barbara reminded herself, that regardless how she got the promotion, she was more than qualified for it. Having graduated college two years ago with a Masters in Library Science, the twenty-two year old was the most qualified person on staff at any branch.
Barbara's main objection to being Wayne's escort was the worry of what Wayne might be looking for in return for his support. While it was possible that he might actually have done it solely as a favor for her father, Barbara was too much of a realist to take that at just face value. Too often men of Wayne's reputation expected a quid pro quo. While hardly a virgin, she nevertheless had no desire to become just another notch on the Playboy's bedpost.
In the years since she'd first met Bruce Wayne, the man had been somewhat of a contradiction to her. His companies employed thousands of people, jobs that carried some of the best benefit packages around. Additionally, the Wayne Foundation, named in honor of his parents, was one of the country's largest charitable organizations. Yet, Wayne himself seemed to be totally disinterested in any serious matter. You'd be more likely to find his name on the society pages than in the business section, usually in connection with some escapade with a model or actress. Sometimes more than one of them.
There had even been rumors over the years that Wayne led some kind of double life. That he might even be gay. More than a few eyebrows had been raised when he'd taken in a teenage boy as his ward a few years back. Political connections surely had something to do with letting a single man, who lived in a country mansion with only his butler for company, take in a minor. Still, there was definitely another side to the man, one that few people ever saw. One that she had only encountered in her other identity as Batgirl.
Five months ago, on the night Batgirl was born, Barbara had been on her way to the Policeman's Masquerade Ball. As a surprise for her father, she had made a 'Batgirl' costume, never intending it to be anything other than a 'joke'. Driving along a back road to where the Ball was being held, she'd come across a kidnap attempt on the billionaire. Not even thinking of her own safety, she'd rushed to his defense.
Years of training in various martial arts, as well as letters in more than a few college sports had left Barbara with a body as finely developed as her mind. She more than held her own against two of the hoods who'd tried to kidnap Wayne, then was surprised to discover that there was more to the man than the fluff people expected.
Wayne himself dispatched the remainder of his attackers, showing more steel than straw beneath his tuxedo. Afterwards, however, he insisted it had been just luck that had allowed him to defeat his attackers. For a while after that, Barbara had wondered if she, and a lot of other people, had misjudged Bruce Wayne. But then, having never noticed any aspect of the Wayne she'd seen that night re-emerge, she finally decided her original assumptions about him had been right after all.
Putting the history of Bruce Wayne to the back of her mind, Barbara Gordon turned her attention back to the here and now. She'd go to the dinner and despite her discomfort, have a good time. But if Mister Bruce Wayne had any thought that she was an easy lay, well he was going to be sorely disappointed.
A few miles outside of Gotham at Wayne Manor, Bruce Wayne grimaced as he looked at himself in the mirror wearing a new tuxedo. It didn't matter that every suit he owned was custom made to his exact measurements, he always felt uncomfortable in any of them. Give him his skin tight batsuit any night and he'd gladly trade the finest hotel ballroom for some dirty back alley.
Still, for Batman to function, Bruce Wayne needed a cover identity. One that no one would ever connect with the Caped Crusader. And that involved being seen as a man about town. It wasn't so much the function that he had to attend this evening that bothered him. The Gotham Library had been a great personal interest of both his father and later himself. It wasn't even the fact that he'd used some of his considerable political pull to get Jim Gordon's daughter the recently opened head librarian position. She was more than qualified, despite her age; otherwise no amount of friendship would've swayed him. No, it was the fact that he'd been roped into going to the retirement dinner for the outgoing librarian as Barbara's escort.
It was true of course that Barbara was both young and reasonably attractive. Her early graduation from college also attested to a remarkable intelligence. But along the way she had developed a reputation as a ice princess, the kind of woman more at home with books than the real world. Okay for some men, but not for him. Nevertheless, the two of them would be on the gossip sheets by morning, even if he were the height of propriety. At least in the case of some of those Hollywood bimbos or Society types that he linked Bruce Wayne with, he wound up bedding some of them for the night. He was, after all, a man underneath either tuxedo or cape and cowl, with a man's needs and desires.
Some might say he used women, but just as many might say they used him. The city was full of women who'd rather say they'd spent a night with Bruce Wayne and were then tossed aside, than count themselves among those who never got the chance. Besides, even being one of the rejected did wonders for one's career.
"Excuse me, Master Bruce," said Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce's butler, chauffeur and all around aide de camp, "but if we are to pick up Miss Gordon on the way to the dinner, we need to be going."
"Very well, Alfred," Bruce said with resignation, but not before glancing out of the large French windows in hope of seeing the Bat-Signal rising from the roof of Police Headquarters. "I guess I'm not going to be able to get around this one."
"There are times when one must make sacrifices," Alfred replied, hiding the smile that said he hardly considered spending the night with as lovely a young woman as Barbara Gordon a sacrifice.
"Where're the Joker or Riddler when you need them?" Bruce mused as he glanced one last time out the window.
Under Alfred's skillful driving, they arrived at Barbara Gordon's apartment right on schedule. Bruce went up to get her and was the perfect gentleman as he complimented her on the decor.
"Thank you, Bruce," Barbara said as she picked up her pocketbook and wrap. "I guess we'd better get going."
"I'm sure they won't start without us," he assured her.
"Oh I'm sure they won't start without you at least," Barbara shot back, not wanting to give him an inch.
"Well Alfred's waiting," Bruce calmly replied, thinking that he was right the first time when he said this was going to be a long, long night.
"So tell me Bruce," Victor Griffith asked from the other side of the table after dinner, when all the testimonials were done. "What do you make of this Batgirl the newspapers keep writing about?"
Barbara, who had been ignoring Bruce for most of the evening turned in his direction when she heard the question. The answer, she thought, should be very interesting.
"I only know what I read in the papers, Victor," Bruce said as he wished the subject hadn't come up.
"But didn't this mystery woman actually save you from a kidnapping a few months ago?" the head of Griffith Industries asked.
"That's right," Juliet Jakes said from Bruce's other side. "I remember reading about it in the Gazette."
"A frightful experience," the dark haired billionaire said, hoping to change the subject. "one that I'm sure you'll understand that I'd rather forget."
A mixed chorus of murmurs said that they did, and the table conversation turned to the stock market and everyone's favorite topic - money. Everyone's favorite except Bruce and Barbara's. Her opinion of him had dropped even lower, and his thoughts were far from the Dow Jones Average.
From the night she'd first appeared, Batgirl had been a sensitive subject with him. He'd never even mentioned it to his closest confidants, but ever since that night, he'd had sexual dreams about the female crimefighter. For a man who could have just about any woman he wanted, in or out of costume, she occupied a considerable amount of his interest. One he hadn't felt in anyone since the first time he'd encountered Selina Kyle, the Catwoman.
It seemed that at least one other person at the table preferred the prior topic of conversation as Sylvia Hawkins continued on the subject of Batgirl.
"I heard," she said, "that Batgirl is actually Batman's girlfriend."
Both Bruce and Barbara had to try hard not to react to that comment. As graphic as some of the fantasies Bruce had about Batgirl were, they were nothing compared to the sexual attraction that Barbara felt for Batman. An attraction that went back to her teenage years when she'd spy on meetings between the Darknight and her Police Commissioner father. Many were the nights she'd played with herself, the idea of taking Batman as a lover filling her thoughts. Thoughts that more than bordered on the pornographic.
"Speaking of Batman..." another guest interrupted as he directed everyone's attention to one of the large windows that lined the south wall.
There, reflecting off a low flying cloud, was the famous Bat-Signal. More a moral booster for the people of the city than anything else, it had long been surpassed by much more modern technology. Bruce's cell phone went off at that moment and an innocuous automated message told him he was needed by Gotham's Finest.
"I'm afraid I have an emergency at Wayne Enterprises, Barbara," Bruce said apologetically. "There's no need for you to leave of course. Alfred will stay around and drive you home when you're done here."
"Actually I think I'm getting a headache," Barbara replied, “and if it's all the same to you, I'll just get a cab home."
Bruce was willing to go along with anything at that moment. He was relieved that she hadn't complained, not imagining that she wanted to get out of there and respond to the signal as much as he did.
Exiting the Library's large exhibition hall where the dinner was being held, Bruce started to head for the main stairwell then paused. In a pinch, he could change clothes in the back seat of the limousine, but why use such cramped quarters when more spacious and just as private accommodations were available.
Heading up two levels on the side stairs, he entered the antiquities storage room on the top floor. Only a few people had the access code to open the security door, himself being one of them since he sat on the Board of Directors. It seemed tailor made for the task.
The small room was dark, the only light spilling through the skylight and window from a cloud obscured moon. To a creature of the night like Batman, it was hardly an inconvenience. He moved over to a spot near the large bay window, and there quickly shed his outer garments. The core of his skin-tight batsuit fit easily under his tuxedo, and his mask, cape and other accessories were carried in a small bag he was almost never without. It only took a minute to complete the transformation and all that was left to don was his cape and cowl.
The totally unexpected then happened. The door he had locked only a few minutes before opened and another figure stepped in. The unmasked Batman tried to blend into the shadows, but the heavens conspired against him as the moon chose that moment to reappear, flooding the room with light.
"Bruce?" a startled feminine voice cried out when she spotted him standing there.
"Barbara?" he automatically identified the voice.
"Oh my God!" Barbara Gordon cried out as she realized what her date was wearing. "Bruce, I can't believe it, you're Batman?"
"Barbara, I don't have the time to explain," Bruce said, knowing that there was no story he could fabricate that could explain away what she saw. "I'm just going to have to trust that you know how important it is that you don't tell anyone, and deal with this later."
"No, you don't have the time, do you?" she said, looking out the window where the bat-signal could still be seen. "Then again, neither do I?"
To Bruce's amazement, his reluctant date abruptly slipped out of her dress and, clad in only her bra and panties, pulled a large gym bag from one of the bottom storage shelves. A bag with a combination lock that she opened in seconds. The black and gray uniform that she pulled out of the bag resembled his own and she donned it with an ease that matched his. Gone was the quiet librarian, and in her place stood Gotham's newest defender - Batgirl.
"Shall we go?" Batgirl said as she stood silhouetted in the moonlight.
"I guess I don't exactly have a choice, do I?" Batman replied, somewhat stunned by the unexpected revelation.
"Not really," Batgirl grinned.
One after the other they exited the window, to rappel down silken bat-lines to the street where Batgirl was astonished to find the Batmobile waiting. One of several actually, it had been remotely driven from a hidden midtown garage to the library by Alfred using controls in the limousine.
"I guess you have to drive too," Batgirl grinned again as she moved around to the passenger side.
"Well it is my car," Batman smiled.
The Darknight Damsel returned the smile as she hopped over the door and into what was normally Robin's seat. By the time she strapped herself in, the Caped Crusader was already on the Batphone speaking to her father.
"It's the Gotham Diamond Exchange," Batman said as he put down the receiver and pulled out onto the city streets. "The special alarm around the Taylor Collection was tripped five minutes ago. When the patrol car in the area tried to investigate, some sort of electrified field stopped them. For now, they have the building sealed off."
"And here I thought this night was going to be oh so boring," Batgirl grinned as the Batmobile raced down the boulevard, covering the distance between the Library and the Exchange in under three minutes.
Gotham's Finest had established a block wide perimeter around the Exchange that quickly parted to let the Batmobile pass. The high-powered car came to a stop at the main entrance and the ranking officers were surprised to see Batgirl emerged from inside. If the Caped Crusader took note of their surprise, he declined to offer any explanation. Instead he asked for a quick update of the situation from the on-scene commander.
"We've been able to determine that the electrical field only extends up to the first two floors," Chief O'Hara said as he tried to ignore Batgirl's presence as she looked over his shoulder at the blueprint spread open over the hood of his car. Robin, he thought, was at least mindful of his junior status enough to wait a few steps back for Batman to decide on a course of action.
"Then we should be able to enter the building through the third floor windows," Batgirl offered as she looked up from the diagram and turned her head to the higher building only a small alley's distance away from that goal. "I don't see any problem getting to those ledges."
"Except that whoever's inside has to know that's the only way in and will be expecting us," Batman added, not looking up from the blueprint. He's already taken in the buildings around them when they'd arrived and didn't need a second look.
"Expecting you maybe," Batgirl countered, "but not both of us. I can easily come in from the other side of the building."
Batman nodded his head in agreement. His Robinless status had been public knowledge with the front page story this morning that showed the Boy Wonder in California with the Teen Titans. With a course of action decided, the two Gotham Guardians turned and headed for the building Batgirl had indicated.
It only took Batman a minute to reach his objective, and to her credit, Batgirl was less than another minute behind him. A small chirp of his communicator told him she was ready and, tossing a set of small flash-bang grenades in ahead of him, the Darknight crashed through the closest window.
The sound of crashing glass was instantly drowned out by that of gunfire. It had indeed been a trap but the split second’s hesitation caused by the flash-bangs was all Batman needed. The deadly bullets crashed against an empty wall. The spot where his would be executioners thought he would be, not where he actually was.
Well trained ears identified the sounds to his left as those of a Colt 45 automatic and a .38 caliber revolver, as well as the location of the men who had fired them. They would be the hired guns of course, whoever was behind this robbery would be too smart to be in the line of fire.
Before they could retarget their prey, Batman was on the closest of them. A solid right cross found a glass jaw and he dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Before the thug hit the ground, Batman had somersaulted across the room, delivering a double kick to the midsection of gunman number two.
Taking only a few moments to snap Bat-cuffs on the two of them, Batman raced down the corridor to the central hall where he knew the Taylor Collection to be displayed. There, he knew, he would find his real target.
His instincts proved true once again as no sooner did he clear the large archway, he spotted the brains of the operation busy stuffing the last of the diamonds into an already full carry bag.
“I’m afraid the souvenir shop is on the first floor by the elevators,” Batman said as he scanned his surroundings and realized to his surprise that the woman in front of him was all alone. “You’re going to have to put those trinkets back.”
“Batman!” the woman in a soft white dress said, more in simple acknowledgment of his presence than any real surprise. “I was so hoping that I’d get the chance to meet you while I was in Gotham.”
The self-confidence in her voice put Batman on guard. He hadn’t survived all these years by taking things at face value. He didn’t see any obvious weapons on her, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Or, there was always the possibility that she might be a meta-human.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” she said as she closed the bag and let it fall to the floor, freeing both of her hands. “My name is Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love.”
Standing five-nine with flowing blonde hair and a body as voluptuous as any of the Hollywood starlets Bruce Wayne had dated, the twenty-something woman certainly fit the physical description of the Greek goddess. Still, the man behind the mask thought it unlikely that a denizen of Olympus would need to steal diamonds.
“I can see that you don’t believe in me,” Aphrodite said, “but soon enough you will. And you shall serve me as all men shall serve me.”
“I’d be happy to have the police physiologist discuss that with you,” Batman said as he took a few steps closer, removing another set of Bat-cuffs from his utility belt, “after we take a little trip downtown.”
“I think not,” the beautiful young woman said, reaching into the folds of her gown and removing a small, crystal orb, a fragile thing reminiscent of a holiday ornament. “That you might understand, I give you my gift - the gift of love.”
As soon as the woman produced what might indeed be a weapon, Batman made ready to deflect it. The action was instinctive and he was sure he could handle any threat.
With a powerful toss that would be the envy of any minor league pitcher, Aphrodite hurled the orb at Batman at a range that made it almost impossible for her to miss. The Cape Crusader was ready, using his cape to catch the fragile projectile and sending it hurdling to the far end of the room where it shattered harmlessly.
But Aphrodite seemed to have anticipated that move and no sooner had she tossed the first orb, a second was also on its way. There was no time for Batman to react and deflect it as he had the first.
Suddenly, from out of the shadows, came another dark form, racing across the room to a point half-way between Batman and Aphrodite. Determined to stop the second projectile, Batgirl used the only obstacle she had time to employ, her body itself.
The fragile crystal exploded against her chest, releasing an expanding mist of sweet smelling gas. The sudden cloud caught Batgirl by surprise and while it dissipated almost immediately, she couldn’t help but breath in a large amount of it.
Batman raced forward to aid Batgirl, cursing himself for not anticipating the second attack. In the heartbeats it took to reach her, she had already lost consciousness and dropped to the floor. Her vitals were still good, giving hope that the orb had contained little more than a knock out gas. Effective but otherwise harmless.
“Oh what a shame, I do seem to have hit the wrong Bat,” Aphrodite giggled. “Still, this should prove interesting as well. It’s a pity I can’t stay around to watch.”
With that, Aphrodite was gone, vanished down the hall and out of sight. There was little chance, Batman knew, of the Gotham Police surrounding the building catching her. But that didn’t worry him, she would be back, they always were. There would be another chance to take her down. Meanwhile, he needed to get Batgirl out of here before the Chief’s men filled the building.
Disabling the electrical field around the lower floors, Batman directed the Batmobile by remote control to the side door in the alley. He radioed Chief O’Hara where he could find the goddess of love’s minions and then carried Batgirl off to the side entrance.
A hospital would raise too many questions so he headed instead to the Crime Alley clinic run by Dr. Leslie Tompkins. Better equipped than the emergency rooms of most hospitals, thanks to generous grants by the Wayne Foundation, the founder of the facility was a close personal friend of both Bruce Wayne and Batman. It was the friendship of the later that insured that all of the high priced equipment that filled the clinic, stayed there.
“I think your preliminary conclusion about the compound being some sort of highly concentrated knock out gas looks to be pretty much on the money,” Dr. Tompkins announced as she finished her examination of Batgirl. “Still, there are a few elements in it that I can’t yet identify and there’s no telling what their effects might be.”
“It there any chance that they might be fatal?” Batman asked.
“I don’t think so, but you can never tell with an x-factor,” Leslie continued. “While it might not be toxic in and of itself, it could have side effects on the body might prove hazardous.”
“So what would you recommend?”
“Well her vitals are quite strong and getting more so by the minute so there doesn’t appear to any danger in moving her,” the older woman said as she stripped off her rubber gloves and dropped them into a waste pail. “I would just keep her comfortable and she should wake up in a few hours.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Batman smiled, relieved that his error hadn’t had fatal results.
“If there is any change in her condition, well you know how to reach me,” Leslie said as she held up a small, powerful radio-transmitter from her bag. “I must remember to thank Mr. Wayne for this and the latest batch of medical supplies that he sent over. I don’t know why he does it, but I am forever grateful.”
“You never know why a man like Bruce Wayne does anything,” Batman replied, “but I’m sure he knows what good work you do here for people that have no where else to go.”
As he carried Batgirl back to the car, Batman wished he could tell Leslie Tompkins why Bruce Wayne had become the patron saint of her clinic. On the night Thomas and Martha Wayne had been murdered, on a block not too far from here, it had been a much younger Doctor Leslie Tompkins who had held an even younger Bruce Wayne and tried to make the pain go away. The pain never did, and had led to the birth of Batman. But he had never forgotten his debt to Leslie Tompkins for trying.
With the two of them still in costume, taking Batgirl back to her own apartment didn’t seem like a good idea. For the same reasons, Bruce Wayne’s apartment in the city was also out. There was an available solution fortunately.
Using third and sometimes fourth parties as cover, Batman, as Bruce Wayne, had begun buying up small properties in and around Gotham. The idea was to create a series of safe houses he, or his associates, could use when the need arose. The closest of which, he remembered, was only a quarter mile away.
Parking the Batmobile behind a false wall in the basement garage, Batman took the still unconscious Batgirl down to the basement apartment by a back staircase. It was only a small two room apartment with minimal furnishings, but it was all they needed. Laying Batgirl out on the single bed, he turned to the kitchenette to make some coffee.
Removing his cape, cowl and gauntlets to make himself more comfortable, Batman also removed the same from Batgirl, in addition to her boots and utility belt. According to the good doctor, she should regain consciousness shortly and when she did, the two of them had a lot to talk about.
Almost as if on schedule, a low moan spilled from Batgirl’s lips a few minutes later, signaling her return to consciousness. Sitting up on the bed, she brought her hand up to her head to stop the room from spinning.
“I can only hope whoever hit me feels even worse,” Batgirl said as she steadied herself.
“I’m afraid the person who hit you got away,” Batman replied, keeping his distance while she got her bearings, “but if it’s any consolation, what hit you was meant for me and you kept that from happening.”
“Now I remember, the Diamond Exchange and Aphrodite,” Batgirl said as the room finally came into focus.
“Here, have some coffee, it should help,” Batman said as he held out a cup.
Looking up at the Caped Crusader, Batgirl saw instead the face of her date from the library dinner. Then she realized that she too was unmasked.
“Bruce Wayne, now I remember,” Barbara said as her mind shifted into her real identity mode. “The face behind the mask.”
“Barbara Gordon,” Bruce replied, “and I might say the same about you.”
“Boy, I guess the laugh’s really on me,” Barbara said as she sipped at the coffee. “And here I thought Bruce Wayne’s big secret might’ve been that he was a little light on the loafers.”
“Not quite,” Bruce replied as he finished up his own cup.
“Might I ask where I am?” Barbara asked as she took in her surroundings.
Bruce quickly explained where she was and the results of the examination Doctor Tompkins have given her. Their best course of action, he suggested, was to wait out the night and make sure there weren’t any side effects from the gas.
“Sounds good to me, cause I don’t think I’m up to going anywhere right now,” Barbara agreed. “You wouldn’t happen to have any change of clothes here would you, I left my dress back at the library and this costume is getting a little warm.”
“That I can help you with,” Bruce smiled. “The other room is actually a walk in closet with a large selection of clothes, including female attire. I’m sure some if it is in your size.”
“You think of everything, don’t you?” Barbara said as she got up on her feet and after a moment’s hesitation, went off to the other room in search of a change of clothing.
Thankful that Barbara seemed perfectly normal, Bruce poured himself another cup of coffee. Gotham would have to do without Batman for the rest of the night.
Inside the walk in closet, Barbara was amazed at the wide selection of women’s clothes she found there. There were a number of outfits her size, ranging from simple sweats to an expensive dinner dress. There was even a collection of suitable undergarments.
“Some how I don’t think I’ll ever have a wardrobe like this,” she thought as she held the dinner dress up between her and the full length mirror on the far wall. “I bet this dress costs more than I make in a month.”
Putting the dress back in place, Barbara was about to try something simpler when she suddenly felt a lot warmer than before. No, not just warmer, she was actually hot enough that sweat had begun to run down her back inside the insulated batsuit. Frantically she worked her way out of it, stripping away even the sports bra and cotton panties that she wore beneath.
Not even that helped as she was still burning up. The room around Barbara began to spin and she had to grab hold of one of the clothing racks just to keep her balance. Realizing that something was very wrong, the unmasked Batgirl opened her mouth to call out for help.
Then, just as abruptly, her suddenly warmth faded and the room came back into focus. Nothing was wrong, she told herself as her brain brushed away the temporary cloudiness. No, for the first time in a very long time, something was very right.
“That’s right, Alfred, I’ll be staying at the Kane Street apartment tonight so cancel anything Bruce Wayne has scheduled for the early morning,” Batman said into the phone’s receiver, confident that the attached scrabbling device made it impossible for him to be overheard. “If anyone asks a reason why, just tell them that Mr. Wayne had a very late evening and let them use their imaginations from there.”
As he hung up the phone, Batman was sure their imagined reasons were certainly going to be a lot more interesting than the reality. Having Batgirl revealed as Barbara Gordon had certainly taken the sails out of his own fantasies as far as the Darknight Damsel had been concerned. A pity really, he thought, as his own imaginings about her had been entertaining to say the least.
Soft footsteps to his left alerted him to Barbara’s return and he instantly put such musings from his mind. Little realizing that said reflections paled next to those now filling his counterpart’s thoughts.
“Barbara, I ...” Batman started to say, only to have his words end in mid-breath. Few where the times in his life that Bruce Wayne had been struck speechless, but this was certainly one of them.
“Is that a batarang in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” Barbara asked as she stepped out into the center of the room.
The corny comment might’ve brought a load groan even from the pun-filled Boy Wonder, assuming of course that he too hadn’t been stuck dumb by the sudden appearance of the red haired crimefighter. After all, it wasn’t every day that Batgirl walked in on you wearing nothing other than that with which she’d come into this world.
It was fair to say that Bruce Wayne had seen more than his fair share of naked women in his life, a disproportionate amount of which would fall into the highest standards of beauty. Yet, few of them, he was readily willing to admit, came close to the vision now only a few feet in front of him. Part of the reason, he would later realize if he had the time, or inclination to analyze the situation, was because he’d never really seen the woman before. When he looked at Barbara Gordon, he’d always saw the Commissioner’s daughter or the dutiful Librarian - never just the woman.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Bruce had forever fixed the image of Barbara as that of the skinny teenage girl who had spied on him and her father when they held late night consultations in the privacy of the Commissioner’s apartment. An image that had been reinforced many times by the highly conservative wardrobe she normally wore on the job. He’d ignored his own theory which he applied in the case of Bruce Wayne that the right clothes sometimes hid much more than they displayed.
In the years since Barbara had been that teenager hiding in the wings, she had spent as much time in the gym as she had in the classroom. The end result being a body as finely toned as her mind. A lean, muscular athletic form that perfectly blended in with a pair of soft, firm breasts. Not exceedingly large, they were nevertheless perfectly symmetrical with the rest of her body and capped by thick, pert nipples that had already sprung to life. Down between her legs rested a carefully trimmed red mound, the cherished prize that so many admirers, who saw her with clear eyes, had long lusted after.
“Catwoman got your tongue?” Barbara asked as she closed the few feet between them and wrapped her arms around the startled Batman’s neck. “Well let’s just see if I can’t find it for you.” she added as she brought her mouth to his and kissed him passionately.
She did indeed find his tongue as her own wrapped around it, probing deep into his mouth, pressing her naked body against his. Bruce couldn’t help but respond to her kiss, even though he knew it was wrong to do so.
But right and wrong didn’t seem so absolute at the moment as Batman too experienced a reaction similar to that which had affected Batgirl in the other room. His own exposure to Aphrodite’s orb had been peripheral at best, but evidently it had been just enough to lower his own inhibitions.
Inhibitions that washed away with the tides of Barbara’s lust as she grabbed his cock through his costume and squeezed it tightly.
“I guess happy to see me wins out after all,” Barbara laughed as she undid the clasp of his utility belt, dropping it to the floor.
Trying one last time to fight the urges that threatened to overwhelm him, Batman didn’t have the strength to resist as Barbara removed the lower half of his costume. Her hands closed once more against the large bulge in his black briefs, rubbing her fingers against its hardness.
“What do we have here?” she grinned as her fingers took hold of the waistband and she pulled down his underwear. “The famous bat-cock no doubt.”
Whatever last vestiges of self-control Batman might’ve been trying to hold on to faded at that point. Literally blow away as Batgirl closed her mouth around his cock and took it deep inside of her.
“Mmmmm,” she groaned in appreciation as her tongue swirled around his thickness.
The bat-cock as she had named it was not exactly porn star material, but neither was it anything for Bruce to be ashamed of. It was exactly what you would’ve expected to find on a man of his build. A build that she had long time noted, bordered on perfection.
“Oh God, Barbara ...” Bruce moaned loudly as he totally gave in to his long held fantasies.
What was it had he compared the woman on her knees in front of him to, the Caped Crusader’s normally razor sharp brain tried to recall. Oh yes, an ice princess he finally remembered. How long ago that had seemed, and how wrong he had been.
With a skill that rivaled some of the most uninhibited starlets in Hollywood, many of whom at one time or another found themselves on Bruce Wayne’s arm or his bed, Barbara Gordon forever dispelled that hated sobriquet.
His resolve now totally gone, Batman felt his legs grow weak as Batgirl slid his cock in and out of her mouth, her tongue sliding back and forth along his length. At the same time, her fingers gently massaged his balls, adding to the pleasures rocking his body. Every once in a while, she would let his cock slip from her mouth and move down below to his balls , kissing them and taking one at a time into her mouth. Then she would work her way up again and swallow him once more.
Fueled by the potent mix of his long secret fantasies and Aphrodite’s drug, not to mention Barbara’s consummate skill at fellatio, Bruce quickly bordered on the edge of orgasm. A state Batgirl was quick to recognize. She took him even deeper into her mouth, increasing her ministrations as she did.
“Barbara ... I ...” the Darknight managed to gasp just before his cock exploded between her lips, filling her with his climax.
A climax she drained every last vestige of as Batgirl refused to relinquish her hold on him until he was totally spent and began to soften. Even then, she was disappointed to let him go.
Rising to her feet, Barbara kissed him again. A deep kiss that Bruce didn’t hesitate to return. Whatever the circumstances, that had been the best blow job of his life.
His pants still down around his ankles, the Caped Crusader held his naked counterpart in his arms for what seemed the longest time, but in reality had been a little more than a minute. Yet in that minute, a change had occurred in him that was impossible not to notice. He no longer felt the effects of the drug. Somehow, the intensity of his orgasm had burned it out of him.
The question then presented itself, would an orgasm have the same effect on Batgirl? After all, she had received a much more concentrated dose of Aphrodite’s love potion. Perhaps it might be better, he thought now that his head was clearing, to get her back to Doctor Tompkins so that they could run more biochemical tests on her. Logically, that would be the best course of action, but unfortunately, logic was the last on Batgirl’s mind.
“Barbara, we have to get you back to the doctor,” Bruce said in an intense voice as he tried to get through to her. “We need to work up an antidote to the drug in your system.”
“Don’t want an antidote,” Batgirl purred in a voice Batman found too similar to that of Catwoman not to be affected by it, “wanna fuck ... I wanna fuck you! I’ve wanted to fuck you since I was a teenager.”
As tempting as the offer was, even under the circumstances, Batman knew that it wasn’t one he could act on. No, he had to get Batgirl to medical help. The question remained, however, how was he going to do it?
There was no telling what affect any additional drugs might have on her system, so hitting her with the bat-spray was out of the question. As was physical force because as sure as he was that he could overpower her under normal circumstances, these were anything but normal.
The only solution, it finally seemed to him, was to do exactly what she wanted and hope for the best. What Bruce didn’t realize at the time was that even though he had bested the primary effect of the drug, enough of it was still in his system to influence his judgment.
Judgment that once more gave way to passion as he kissed Barbara again, this time his hands exploring her body with great enthusiasm. An exploration that brought gleeful sighs from the woman in his arms.
“Now it’s your turn to do me,” Batgirl insisted as she helped him out of the remainder of his costume, an action only slowed by the fact that she insisted on kissing each new section of exposed flesh as it appeared.
Turning her around in his arms, the now nude Batman brought his hands up to her breasts and massaged them gently, his fingers closing around her erect nipples. Tilting her head back, Batgirl’s lips again met his, their tongues interlocking as Bruce glided one hand down away from her twin mounds to the much smaller one between her legs.
On the long road that led to his becoming Batman, Bruce Wayne had many teachers along the way. Experts in their fields who taught him all they knew of the skills he would need to wage his war against crime. On a parallel road, he also learned the skills he would need as a man from equally skilled experts in those fields. Skills that he applied to the woman pressed tightly against him now.
Nimble fingers worked their way past the folds of Barbara’s sex. Quickly identifying her most sensitive spots, he worked the magic entrusted him long ago by the most talented of courtesans, stroking her inner walls and deftly caressing her already excited clit.
“Oh yes,” Barbara moaned loudly as his actions sent tiny ripples of delight racing through her body. Ripples that were soon to build in both frequency and intensity.
The dexterity of the hand still on her breasts matched that between Batgirl’s legs and it wasn’t long before the two-pronged advance had the desired result. Bordering on the edge of orgasm, it only took a little more pressure to bridge the gap. A pressure that was happily given and more than appreciatively received.
“Mother of God!” Barbara screamed, falling back on her religious school upbringing in a way the nuns never intended, as an intense orgasm racked her body.
Holding her tightly, Batman felt her body quake and tremble, as sweat poured down her skin. That little trick he had learned in a small inn outside of Kyoto and it had never failed. It could turn even the coldest of women into a raging inferno in an incredibly short amount of time. And once he looked past his erroneous misconceptions, he knew that Barbara had hardly been the former to start with.
Listening as her shallow breaths became longer and her body grew limp in his arms, Batman waited for some sign that Batgirl’s sexual release had the same effect as it had on him. Finally, she lifted her head and looked up at him, a smile on her face. Unfortunately, the words that came out of her mouth weren’t those at least part of him hoped to hear.
“More,” she smiled. “I want more.”
“This,” the Caped Crusader admitted to himself as he again recounted that Batgirl had taken the full impact of Aphrodite’s orb and the drug it contained, “is going to take some doing.”
Coming to grips with that conclusion, the Darknight Detective set out to do what had to be done.
Lifting Batgirl in his powerful arms, Batman carried her across the room to the small bed she had previously been resting in. This time, however, sleep wasn’t on the agenda.
Kissing her softly, Bruce blazed a trail down from her mouth, across her neck to the sweet fullness of her breasts. Again employing the skills taught to a much younger explorer, he caressed her nipples with his lips and tongue, while his fingers massaged the soft flesh surrounding them.
After a while, his journey continued downward, over the softness of her stomach to the patch of short red hair between her legs. The pleasing aroma of which drew him like a moth to the flame.
At first he was content to again gently probe it with his fingers, reaffirming his knowledge of her most sensitive places. Then he replaced his fingers with his mouth, relegating the former to keeping an open path to the now exposed treasure.
Many things had been said about Bruce Wayne by the women he dated over the years. That he had been fickle, that he was sometimes inattentive, that he had an incredible fear of commitment. But to a woman, every one who had shared his bed would all easily agree on one thing - the man did know how to make a woman feel good.
With a skill that matched, then exceeded that which Barbara had exhibited on him, Bruce brought the redhead beneath him to the joys of nirvana. Every thrust of his tongue against her inner walls was reflected and multiplied across her body, echoing the ripples he had produced before. Echoing, and then surpassing.
He would bring her to the pinnacle of pleasure, then back down just enough to start the ascent once more. And each time her body would cry for more, yet fear that the next journey might be the last.
Three more times they made the climb and on each he had let her teeter on the edge a longer time. Anticipation had almost become as desirable as culmination. Almost, but not quite.
In place of their fourth ascent, Bruce lifted himself from between her legs, just long enough to reposition his body. When she saw what he was doing, Barbara let out a resounding yes to encourage him on.
Lifting her legs high, Bruce positioned his still hard cock at the saturated entrance to her womanhood. It didn’t take much effort to glide it in past the barriers of her modesty. There was so little resistance in fact that he was content to penetrate her only an inch or so at a time, letting the both of them savor each delightful moment.
Filling her with his full length and girth, the man under the cowl reversed direction with the same slow, measured pace, nearly withdrawing before entering again. With each succeeding entry, his pace quickened until Barbara could hold out no longer.
“Oh God, Batman ... Bruce ... fuck me,” she cried out as she took hold of him and pulled him into her. “Fuck me as hard as you can, I need you inside of me so badly.”
Even if part of what she was saying was the result of the chemicals in her system, Bruce knew that part of it was also the consequence of long held fantasies. Desires that predated even those he’d had about her. A hunger that, regardless of its origin, was one they both shared.
Faster and harder Bruce fucked her, driving his cock as deep as it would go. His sweating body was like a well-oiled piston, each movement carefully choreographed for maximum effect. Motions energetically and loudly encouraged by Barbara as every barrier in her body shuddered beneath his efforts and she knew that she was on the threshold of the biggest orgasm of her life.
A threshold that Bruce could also sense, again through the result of meticulous training. He knew they both were ready, but as more than one teacher had taught him, it never hurt to give it that one little extra push.
Withdrawing from her so quickly that she didn’t have time to realize he’d done so, Bruce grabbed the sides of Barbara’s body and flipped her over. In a second quick motion, he grabbed her thighs and lifted her midsection up off the bed. Then, just as she was starting to react to his withdrawal. he pressed forward and reentered her from the new position.
“Oh yes, that’s even better than before,” Barbara cried out as she buried her face in the pillow and lifted her ass even higher, meeting Bruce’s forward thrust halfway.
A balancing act that quickly synchronized itself as they rocked back and forth on the bed with double the intensity of only a few minutes before. No longer did either of them have any control of what was happening, their actions reduced to a primal function.
This time, Barbara didn’t invoke the platitudes of her youth as she climaxed. The force of her orgasm was such that even simple things such as words were beyond her. The best she could manage was a simple sequence of grunts, just enough to show that she had been satisfied beyond her expectations.
Bruce too had been totally drained by his own orgasm, his final effort taking the last of his reserves to achieve. Letting out a loud sigh, he collapsed across Barbara’s back, his rapidly shrinking cock slipping out of her as he did. Lifting his head to look up at her, he was glad to see that she had given in to her own exhaustion and was now sound asleep. Closing his eyes with a smile, he decided the best course of action was to join her. It wasn’t like he had the strength to do anything else.
The night had given way to an early dawn before Bruce opened his eyes again. Barbara, on the other hand, showed no signs of waking anytime soon. After checking her vitals, he quickly made a phone call to Doctor Tompkins and after giving her a carefully edited version of last night’s events, asked her advice.
“I did some further tests after you left on the blood samples I took from Batgirl,” the doctor said over the phone. “It seems that the x-factor I mentioned last night was keyed to behavioral response. Under the right set of circumstances, it could lead to errors in judgment or even a total lowering of inhibitions. So it was a good thing you decided to call it a night when you did.”
“Were you able to develop an antidote to the drug then?” Batman asked.
“No need to,” Doctor Tompkins assured him, “the effective life of the chemical combination appears to be quite short-lived. In fact, just a hard workout would be enough to burn it out of your systems and that’s one thing I’m sure the two of you would have no trouble coming up with.”
“I guess you could say that,” Batman replied as he looked over at the still nude Batgirl sleeping on the bed.
“Well feel free to call me if there are any other problems,” the good doctor said as they drew the call to a close.
The problem now facing Batman was hardly one Leslie could help him with. Of course he could blame it all on the chemicals in their blood, but deep down he know that wasn’t true. Part of the blame for what happened was still his. He only wondered what Batgirl’s reaction would be when she woke up.
When that happened, he decided, maybe it was better if it was in more familiar surroundings. A quick call to Alfred brought one of Bruce Wayne’s limousines to the basement garage of the building, along with the clothes Batgirl had left behind at the library. After that, it was a quick trip to Barbara’s apartment where a sizable gratuity to the doorman ensured that no questions were asked when he explained that she had a little too much to drink celebrating her promotion the night before.
“Ah, she’s a fine lass, Miss Gordon is,” the white haired doorman said as he unlocked the door to her apartment for the billionaire. “It’s nice to see her enjoy herself for a night, she works so hard she does. And don’t you worry, no one will ever hear ill of her from my lips.”
Closing the door behind him, Bruce laid Barbara down on the couch and sat in a plush chair on the other side of the coffee table. All there was to do now was wait until she woke up and face the music.
An event that came to pass less than an hour later as Barbara began to stir. Taking a deep breath, Bruce offered the waking librarian a cup of the herbal tea he had found in the kitchen cabinets when he looked for something to drink.
“Here, you might need this,” Bruce said as he held out the cup.
“What the hell happened?” the redhead said as she slowly shook her head and then took some of the tea. “How did I get home? What time is it?”
“I brought you home,” Bruce offered, choosing his words carefully while she got her bearings, “and as for the time, it’s about a quarter past eight.”
“A quarter past ...” Barbara repeated, trying to make sure she had heard him correctly. “And you’ve been here the whole night with me?”
“Don’t you remember?” Bruce asked, seeing a glimmer of hope after all.
“I remember the dinner, at least I think I do,” Barbara went on as she tried to fit the pieces in place. “How much did I have to drink?”
“Not that much,” Bruce assured her, “I do remember you mentioning that you weren’t feeling well before we left.”
It was then that Barbara took notice of the state of her clothing. It wasn’t anything she could put her finger on, but they just seemed out of place somehow. She also felt like she needed a shower, as if she had been overexerting herself for some reason. It was then a horrible thought presented itself.
“You and I didn’t ....” She asked, the meaning of the unfinished question abundantly clear. “I mean I couldn’t have ...”
Bruce took what Barbara felt was a long time to answer. When he finally did, she got the impression that he was choosing his words very carefully. When he did answer, it was somewhat cryptic as he assured her that if any article of clothing had come off her last night, she had been the one to remove it.
“What does that mean?” Barbara silently asked herself. “Did I get sloshed and do a striptease on the banquet table?”
“As much as I’d love to spend the rest of the day chatting with you, I do have a business to run,” Bruce said somewhat abruptly as he glanced at his watch. “I do want to thank you again for a lovely evening.”
“Sure, anytime,” Barbara said in deference to Bruce’s friendship with her father, leaving out the second part of her thought, “but not anytime soon.”
She saw Bruce to the door and watched as he walked down the corridor to the elevator. For some reason, she got the distinct impression that he was greatly relieved about something. Closing the door and locking it after he got in the elevator, she tried again to remember just what happened last night.
“Oh well, I guess if any of it was important I’ll hear about it from someone else soon enough,” she thought as she picked up the rest of her tea and began to finish it.
Putting the now empty cup in the sink, she considered that she might’ve been wrong about Bruce Wayne after all. He might be a little wishy-washy about some things, but she never thought him a liar. If he said she had gotten sick, then that was what must’ve happened, even if he did seem to indulge in a bit of humor about her not being able to remember much of it. And it was pretty nice of him to wait and make sure she was all right before he left.
“Me and Bruce Wayne,” Barbara mused as she again considered what she had momentarily feared had happened between them last night as she lay down again on the couch and let her tired body relax. “Nah, never could’ve happened. Okay, I might’ve been wrong about him on some things, but he’s certainly no Batman.”
As she closed her eyes and she felt sleep once more taking hold, her thoughts again drifted to her favorite fantasy. One that involved a certain Darknight and a whole new meaning to the phrase “dynamic duo”.
(c) Ann Douglas 2005