Batgirl’s Uptown Affairs, Part III
By T. Thatcher
Batgirl, Batman, Gotham City and all other characters were created by and are copyrighted by and are property of DC Comics, Parmount and MGM among others. This story has been written solely to occupy my free time. No compensation has been or will be received for this story. This story is purely for entertainment purposes and cannot be redistributed for the purposes of making money or profit.
Batgirl felt she had planned and prepared adequately. She was waiting for the afternoon to arrive when it would be her time to capture the Bookworm. With time to kill she decided to go uptown, beyond the wealthy enclaves, to see Shaft. She wasn’t sure how she should announce herself (Batgirl wasn’t used to buzzing someone’s apartment) so she decided to take the fun and daring route by scaling his building up to his balcony. Trying to remember where his apartment was in relation to the building confused her for a bit but then she recalled her reference points and was soon climbing over the rail to his balcony.
Peering through his glass door she saw him walking around his apartment completely naked. “Sometimes I love my timing,” Batgirl decided. She slid open the door and demurely called out, “Knock, knock.”
“Batgirl,” Shaft was startled, “what are you doing here?”
“I thought I would just stop by to see if my favorite protector of the streets was okay and from what I can see,” as she looked down at his dormant python, “things look all right to me.” She was about to reach down and grab his love baton when she heard his bathroom door open. A tall and striking black woman stepped out pinning on her nurse’s hat to complete her uniform. “Sugar, can you give me a lift to - .” She looked up and saw Batgirl standing next to her naked paramour. “What’s she doing here?”
Shaft remained silent but produced a shrug which indicated ‘hey, you know how it is baby, I gave you no commitments.’
Batgirl tried to fill the silence by saying, “I just came here to ask for Mr. Shaft’s assistance in a criminal matter I am working on.” It sounded as false as it was delivered.
The nurse just gave an exasperated sigh and glowered at Batgirl as if saying, ‘if I ever catch you with my man again, superhero or not, you and me are going to have a problem.’ The she left.
“Shaft, I am so sorry. It never even occurred to me, although I guess it should have, but I just wanted to talk to someone, well to you really, and I wanted to show you that I could be unconventional by scaling your building and…and…I’m rambling.”
“Don’t sweat it, Batgirl. Coffe’s all talk but she’ll be cool. So what did you want to talk about?”
Batgirl didn’t want to admit that all she really wanted to do was fuck him again so she started some discussion then told him about her plans to capture the Bookworm.
“It sounds like you have your superhero agenda all worked out. Good luck, Batgirl.”
Picking up on the ‘superhero’ inclusion Batgirl asked him, “have you ever considered becoming a superhero yourself? I mean after all you have the skills and the respect on the streets.”
“I don’t think I have the desire to be a superhero and besides, I don’t think the City is ready for a superhero of my shade.”
“No, Shaft, I disagree. I think a black superhero is what the City needs. Especially here, uptown, where the blight is so tangible. I think the kids could use a superhero to be a role model and something to which they can aspire.”
Shaft responded with a bit of annoyance in his voice, “The kids on these streets don’t need another impossible goal like becoming a superhero or a NBA star to survive in this neighborhood. The superheroes these kids need to recognize are Black doctors and lawyers or the Black garbage man who marries his woman and busts his butt everyday in order to put food on the table and see his kids grow up. You live in a fantasy world. Chasing the Bookworm because he stole an old book written by some White man. Where is the law’s response when something valuable to the Black community is stolen?”
“Like what?” Batgirl did not expect to be attacked for her suggestion.
“How about our dignity for starters? You’ve been around, tell me the schools in the Black neighborhoods are as nice as the White kids’ schools. The money is apportioned out equally at the beginning of every year. How come some schools have new science labs and others have history books ending when Kennedy was still President. What happened to that money? Somebody takes it every year but no one says nothing.”
“Shaft I don’t have an answer for you but don’t be such a hypocrite. You have the intelligence to be that doctor or lawyer. But, you don’t have the courage to be that garbage man. You choose a profession that kids look at as dangerous and exciting and you’ve probably slept around with more women than ten men combined. Do you ever wonder if one of the kids you’re busting is your own son that you never claimed or even knew about? Where was his or their role model when they needed it? That role model living large in his own fantasy life wasting his real chance to change the world.”
Both just stood there in silent judgement of each other. Finally, Batgirl said, “I have got to go.”
“Listen,” Shaft began but paused for several moments. He looked like he wanted to say something meaningful but all that came out was, “be careful tonight and if necessary be enforcement and justice - don’t take any prisoners.”
Batgirl took the elevator down and was headed for her customized ninja motorcycle when the PDA in her utility belt signaled an incoming message. Forwarded by the Batcave it was a message from the Commissioner asking her to stop by Lawrence Pierce’s residence. Apparently, he wished for Batgirl to protect some of his rare volumes as well. “I didn’t mean for this setup to make me a substitute for Brink’s,” thought Batgirl, “but this will give me a chance to finally see his library.”
Batgirl did not need to consult her GPS device on her bike to know how to navigate herself to his townhouse. Swerving through the traffic she reflected on how much the broad swath of uptown differed between Shaft’s neighborhood and Lawrence’s. “It’s amazing it’s all the same city,” she remarked, “I’m not sure if that is part of its eternal attraction or curse.”
She was greeted at the door by his ubiquitous butler. When she saw him her first reaction was embarrassment over her behavior a few nights earlier. She wondered if he watched as she frigged herself on his boss. She quickly realized that dressed as Batgirl he had no idea that she was Barbara Gordon but it was still difficult at times to separate her different public lives. Unemotionally, he requested she wait in the parlor before escorting her to the library.
Being at this house in a more formal situation gave her a different perspective on things like his choice of furnishings and design. Granted it was all still exquisite but it seemed to lack the warmth she associated with it before. The path to the library seemed to snake though many rooms of the house. Many of the rooms she had seen before but some were new. Entering the library brought on the emotional response of being overwhelmed by its dimly lit enormity but also the lucid realization that this space was, in fact, the next door house. Lawrence obviously owned both but had cleared out all the inner structure of the second house to make room for his collection.
“Batgirl, come in,” she heard Lawrence’s voice from behind some stacks, “I am so glad you could come on such short notice.”
“No problem, Mr. Pierce,” Batgirl responded as she peaked around the bookcases trying to match his voice with his location, “where are the books you wanted me to protect from the Bookworm?”
“Here they are, my darling,” as he emerged from a shadow. In his hands he was holding two books but his attire is what first seized her attention. He was wearing a peculiar green outfit that almost looked plastic. The outfit included a fedora that had a reading lamp built into it and plastic frames supporting coke bottle lenses that obscured his eyes. Normally, he was not a very stylish dresser but this get up was just bizarre. Cautiously taking the books from his hands she looked down to read the titles. She was astonished.
“Mr. Pierce, the Memoirs of the Agricultural Society of the Seine and the 1689 edition of The English Pilot? These books were part of Thomas Jefferson’s collection. How can you own these? They were destroyed in the fire at the Library of Congress in 1851.”
“My, my Batgirl, I am impressed. Not many librarians are as well informed as you. Certainly not my pseudo librarian girlfriend.”
Batgirl was offended but quick to compose herself. Her reaction almost compromised her identity. Did he just insult her though? “Mr. Pierce, I must ask you again, where did you obtain these books?”
“They were left to me by my father who received them from his father and so on. I guess we have a bit of a family tradition of checking out books that we desperately want. That fire you referenced was merely a ruse to divert attention from my great-great grandfather’s pilfering.”
The blatant admission of guilt and the hauteur of his outfit now confirmed to Batgirl what her personal involvement in his life failed to uncover. When she was passed out in his out the other night he must have taken her all access pass to gain entry to the library and make himself a library card. “Mr. Pierce, you are the Bookworm.”
“Oh yes, you are quite right,” he admitted with pride. Batgirl then felt a sharp thud glance off her head a land mostly on her shoulder. Behind her back the butler tried to knock her out with the Old English dictionary. It looked like the first part of the alphabet. She stepped back to prepare for a fight but neither was moving toward her. In fact, they both looked like they wanted to run away scared. Finally, Bookworm called out shrillily, “Pressman, Typesetter, Printers’ Devil come here immediately!” From the stacks emerged three henchmen of the usual overgrown proportions; only this trio all wore glasses.
Batgirl wanted to end this quickly so she wasted no time in being the aggressor. With one right cross and another sweeping kick she sent Typesetter and Pressman to their butts in bombastic fashion. Printers’ Devil was either a better fighter or more prepared because he avoided her first two strikes and caught Batgirl with his own glancing shot. Knocked off balance but not hurt Batgirl rushed the thug in an attempt to tackle him to the ground. Underestimating his mass her body was absorbed by his and he clamped his arms around her. Squirming and twisting Batgirl broke free just as the other two made it to their feet. Pressman missed wildly with a roundhouse punch and stumbled past her into the stacks. Batgirl grabbed a book off the shelf and prepared to clog\bber him with it but when she brought it up over her head she noticed by the title and binding the value of the edition and hesitated destroying it on a criminal hard head. The momentary waver cost her as Typesetter and Devils’ Pressman both connected with blows to the back of her head and her temple.
Wobbled, Batgirl tried to run away and hide within the dark crevices of the bookcases to regain her composure. Not showing any of the respect she showed for bibliography, they decided to end Batgirl’s concealment by pushing the first stack forward and making them collapse like dominoes until the last one was buttressed by the rear wall. Feeling the rhythm of the chain reaction closing in on her Batgirl tried to use her all of her super strength to hold up her shelf and stop the implosion. However, the weight was too great and Batgirl felt her feet slip out from under her as the shelves came crushing down on top of her.
Lying on the floor face down Batgirl realized to her delight that she was not squashed but definitely trapped. The weight would not allow her to breathe for long. With limited movement available she reached into her untility belt and produced a mini Bat-jack which she place next to her hip and started the hydraulic pumping to create first some breathing space and then enough room to start inching toward faint light. It was a struggle but when she neared the edge she was able to extend her arms and pull her torso out. She let out a sigh of relief and was energized by the prospect of being completely out. Unfortunately, sitting on a footstool waiting for her patiently was the Bookworm with several old books in his hands. Holding the books together he brought them to her face and blew of the dust covering the top edition directly into her mask. She immediately began to feel woozy.
“Batgirl, I am going to give you the chance to make literary history. The powder you just inhaled has highly hypnotic qualities. Through the power of scholarly suggestion I am going to transport you into the book of your choice. All you have to do is lift yourself up and choose from my vast episodic shelves.”
In her mind, so clouded, she tried to think of a title where a female character would be strong so that she might have an aid or advantage in this cruel game. As she was cataloging her knowledge of the Greek, Roman, and Norse goddesses Batgirl struggled to speak, “You’ll, you’ll, you’ll never control me, Bookworm.” Collapsing, her hand absently grabbed on of the books out of his hands and continued clutching it as it fell heavily to the floor.
“Oh I love this,” Bookworm squealed girlishly, “instead of Madame Bovary, Scarlett O’Hara, or even a biblical heroine she has chosen most interestingly. Jay, glancing over to his butler, “I think you are going to like her choice even more than me. Look what she has selected.” In her hand she held the Kama Sutra.
Bruce Wayne did not wait for the customary pampering and escorting that accompanied important executives flying in private jets. He had Alfred drive the limo onto the runway and waiting for him upon his arrival. Bruce himself pushed open the plane door and did not wait for the steps to be wheeled up. He jumped down hitting the tarmac in full stride. Dashing into the back seat he found his Batsuit laid out for speedy transformation. Less than a quarter mile out of the airport the limo pulled into an alley where the Batmobile was waiting. No words had been exchanged between the men during his delivery but as Batman burst out of the vehicle Alfred offered, “Good luck, sir.”
Gotham’s citizens had come to recognize the Batmobile as a legitimate emergency vehicle and dutifully made clearance for his speedy journey. In a time no cabbie could match he was at Lawrence Pierce’s street. He saw Batgirl’s motorcycle parked out front and hoped that he wasn’t too late. Wanting to maintain the element of surprise he drove around the block and decided to enter his mansionette from an upper window accessed from the adjoining house. Scaling the wall of the neighbor’s townhouse Batman realized it had been sometime since he engaged in any rooftop gymnastics but he had been doing this for so long that it was second nature.
Looking at the size of the window he had to crawl through Batman shook his head. The police joked that he liked to bust through window and doors for effect but the reality was with his well-developed frame crashing through passage ways was often more efficient than squirming. Nevertheless, this time he chose to thread the needle. With his body two thirds through he felt and heard an object crashing down on his head. Unfazed, he saw the pieces of a priceless vase now on the floor with him. With lightning speed he grabbed the ankle of the person that hit him with the artifact and before yanking the person to the ground he realized he was holding the base of a woman’s leg. Looking up, he saw Miss Limpet standing over him. Matter-of-factly he said, “Miss Limpet, I thought I would find you here.”
She responded with in a shocked tone that the Caped Crusader had heard before, “Batman, it’s you. I’m so sorry. I thought it was an intruder.”
Batman could not help but notice that she was only attired in lingerie but he tried not to let that distract him. “Save it, Miss Limpet, I am on to your scheme.”
No, Batman, it’s not what your think. He’s a terrible and evil man. I was afraid for my life. You have to believe me.”
Batman softened his stance slightly and accepted her hand as she offered to help him stand up. “I would like to believe you but I don’t have the time to take the chance. I must get to Batgirl.”
“But I know where he has her. I can take you there. Please, Batman, I am a good girl. I am just in a bad situation.” Standing there with dramatic cleavage neatly tucked in white lace and matching high cut bikini briefs that were framed by thigh high stockings and garter belts, Batman wanted to believe her.
“Okay, Miss Limpet, lead me to her.”
Noticing his eyes noticing her body she requested to put on a robe. “I will not run away. You can follow me into the closet if you like.”
“That will not be necessary. I will wait for you here.” He surveyed the room retracing his point of entry and the egresses to the hallway and bathroom as he peripherally kept an eye on her. She made no threatening moves or unexpected moves as she found her robe in the walk-in closet and worked her arms through the sleeves. Tying the sash she began to put her hair up and reached inside a pocket to put on her thick glasses re-effecting the transformation of the persona he had met originally. It really made her look very unassuming.
“Tell me Batman,” she asked quizzically, “I have been in the public eye for some time now but no one in the public has ever seen me without my glasses and hair down. How did you recognize me so instantly when all those reporters at the press conference did not?”
Batman opened his mouth as if to answer and then paused to choose his words carefully and not divulge any of his secrets. “You see Miss Limpet…” but he never finished his answer. Miss Limpet threw down some tiny starburst explosives at Batman’s feet knocking herself back a bit yet unharmed but rendering the Dark Knight unconscious.
Somehow Batgirl lost track of what was happening around her. How else could she explain the situation and surroundings she now discovered herself in. She was still wearing her mask and cowl but her costume had been replaced by what she could only guess was an Indian sari. The fabric was a luxurious silk wrapped securely but comfortably around her. It was even the same shade of purple as her bat-outfit and complete with a bat emblem across the chest. Around the waist of her sari she noticed that they neglected to remove her utility belt. She wondered if they left it on her intentionally as a possible booby trap. She stopped thinking about it when she saw Jay, Pierce’s butler dressed like an Indian raj with exotic jewelry and a turban. It made her scene even more disorienting. In her confusion she tried to remember if Jay was of Indian descent. She always thought Lawrence called him “J” for Jeeves or Jeffrey but maybe it was just a shortened version of Sanjay. The Bookworm interrupted her train of thought as he pushed the Kama Sutra into her face.
“Do you know what is the truly wonderful thing about books in general, Batgirl? It’s the way they can magically transplant you into a scene or the thick of the plot. It’s a suspension of reality and a grasp at the possibilities of a story. Tonight you will experience this phenomenon with the help of my trusty manservant. Are you two ready to enjoy the teachings of the great sage, Vatsyayana?” as he held the text up close to his own and began to read.
The Bookworm began to read from the book carefully taking time to read the background of the position and the beautiful prose describing the act and what each partner should be experiencing. As he spoke, Jay began the process of unravelling the material from Batgirl’s body. At first she slapped his hand away but soon she found herself not only allowing him but, almost hypnotically assisting him with the elaborate folds. Soon the silk was merely a decoration adorning her body as it draped upon her shoulders. Sanjay laid her down in the many pillows and removed his own billowy pants however, opting to keep his upper vestments on. Caught up in the atmosphere, Batgirl licentiously looked to his manhood and found him youthfully fit for his age and quite erect. Adding to her surprise, he had no pubic hair.
Sanjay took her legs and doubled them up into her chest. “Ah yes, the position of Indrani,” Bookworm commented as his butler moved into position. “Don’t forget to rub her yoni before engaging in congress, Jay. It should be softened and readied for the act. He complied although he did not act as if instructed. Batgirl’s thoughts of struggling had long since dissolved and she was amazed at how quickly her vagina moistened and yearned to be entered. Sensing her readiness Sanjay entered her with the tip of his cock and and moved around ensuring it touched all around her labia. This lubricated Batgirl more and pulled her legs tighter into her chest encouraging him to penetrate her deeper. Expertly, the butler tweaked at her nipples and the tips responded by expanding and snapping back to their firm position everytime he let go. She craved for him to explore further and he did not let her down. Slowly, he pulled her legs away from her chest and opened them, spreading them very wide - almost in a split position.
“I see the ‘students’ have moved onto the Vijhrimbitaka or for those of you not familiar with Hindi, The Yawning.” Now the Indian prince plunged deeper into her and she felt the fullness of his size, just right to hit all her love corners without tearing any vaginal tissue. He moved very methodically inside her giving the coupling a rhythm and the calmness of an eastern chant. Batgirl hated herself for giving into her pleasures so shamelessly but the sensations of his lovemaking - and it felt like lovemaking - was too much heer sensual needs. Eventually, Sanjay began to come even though his tempo never altered. Batgirl tried to tighten her grip on his prick and milk every cc of cum she could from him with the muscles in her vagina. Bookworm informed her that was called Vadavaka.
Batgirl blissfully rolled onto her stomache and buried her face into one of the pillows. She was too intoxicated to feel regret or anger at losing focus of her responsibilities. She planned to relax and enjoy the memory of the delight given to her by the butler. However, he relaxation did not last long. She felt Sanjay behind her and fully erect again poking past her buttocks to penetrate her again. She arched her back to protest but before she could turn her head he held her face under her chin and made her look up into him as he looked down upon her. The backwards bend of her body with him inside her made his cock rub directly on her clitoris ripening it with unearthly sensations. He removed his hands from her chin but kept her arched by cupping on breast with his hand and covering the other with his forearm. Batgirl came twice while in that position but Sanjay held his stiffness and leaned back on his knees as Batgirl slid to his right thigh and shifted sideways as reclining on the downward incline of his thigh. Instinctively. She lifted her left arm to keep her left leg spread high and wide and held it in place by holding her shin. Neither was too mobile in this position but it allowed them to concentrate on each stroke, as it required coordination and effort. It seemed to emphasize the symbionic intent of what lovemaking should be. A girl knew from his angle that he could look directly at her vagina and, without any hair to hide his sex, she could see him disappear and reappear with each stroke.
The session continued non-stop for what seemed like hours. Viewing the events from the eye-holes of her mask gave Batgirl a detached sense of surrealism that thwarted her from her purpose and kept her compliant for more. All her years of gymnastic training were being applied to sexual positions she never thought possible. They engaged in poses called the Conch, the Swing, the Curved Knot, and many more that had Batgirl making love with her legs up and behind her neck, twsted like a pretzel, and when she was too tired to move he lifted her lower body from the pillows and held her almost upside down as he entered from a seemingly impossible angle as he faced her. Manfred put an army of teenage boys to shame with his ability to conjure erections at minute intervals.
Batman’s years of crime fighting provided him with certain unique senses and capabilities that aided him in becoming a master strategist. He had an uncanny sense of awareness, even when unconscious, that provided him with options when he needed them. Now as the drone of engines roared in the background of his awakening, he assessed his situation. He was bound, quite well, with nylon rope that looped around his upper arms keeping them firmly behind his back and knots at his wrists that connected to the loops keeping his elbows bent. He prevented him from considering any attack using his upper body and left him fairly defenseless. The noise and change in altitude prepared him for the realization that he was in an airplane. What he did not understand yet was why.
“Welcome back, Batman.” It was Miss Limpet who was still wearing her glasses but now attired in a school girl’s uniform. The juxtaposition of her plainly disguised face and kick ass body displayed in a white cotton blouse and obscenely short plaid skirt made Batman wonder what was in store for him.
“I thought you said you were a good girl, Miss Limpet,” Batman commented wryly.
Oh I am, Caped Crusader, I am. That, however, is the crux of my conflict. All my life people have told me how “good” I am and I dutifully obeyed the image in which they wanted to mold me. I excelled in school. I performed public service work. I looked the part of an innocent girl. However, there was always one problem. That was not the person I was born to be. Adventure and double cross excite me. I have read so much in life that I am endowed with encyclopedic knowledge. For years I have lived the cliché of using it for good instead of evil. And, I have to admit it made me miserable. Then along came the Bookworm into my life and he let me explore the darker recesses of my personality. He has let me be who I want to be. Let me tell you, Batman, it feels pretty darn good.”
“Wouldn’t therapy have helped you address some of these issues without having to resort to crime, Miss Limpet?”
“I find a suggestion of therapy a pretty ironic comment from a man dressed up as a flying rodent, Batman. Would you like to hear how I am going to dispose of you?”
“I am sure you will tell me anyway.”
Miss Limpet looked up and laughed devilishly, “Yes I suppose you are right. You see, Batman,” as she hoisted him up from his position on his knees, “it always amazed me that villains concocted these creative and intricate plots to kill you but never stayed around to see the fruits of their labor. I will do the opposite. My plan is simple - I am going to push you out of this plane - and, if as I suspect you really are not a bat and cannot fly you will hit the ground and splatter all over Gotham City. However, I will see to it that your execution will be thorough as I will join you on the trip down.”
“I suppose that is why only one of us is wearing a parachute,” Batman provked her drolly. “Tell me, Miss Limpet, where did you learn to tie knots so well?”
“Do you like bondage, Batman? I have restrained you using hojo jitsu, a medievil samurai martial art dedicated to tying up their captured enemies. I read all about it in the original Japanese texts. It’s really quite beautiful and erotic.” She now had Batman standing with his back to the door. She swapped her glasses for a pair of goggles. She still maintained the sweet look of innocence that men knew was inherently dangerous but unavoidably attractive. She placed her hands lightly on his hips and yelled above the clamor of air and engines, “Don’t worry, Batman, I’ll make sure you enjoy your last journey.” Miss Limpet then pulled down his Bat briefs and tights to his ankles leaving him bound and exposed. Looking down at the sight of his armored torso and naked waist and legs Batman felt a shove to his chest that forced him to stumble out the open portal into the vaporous thin air.
Batgirl lay in a state of disbelief. She wanted to believe she just had an elaborate and realistic dream but the continuation of her orgasm and the physical tingling of her vaginal canals let her know that her experience was very real indeed. She looked through the eye holes of her mask and surveyed her body: her supine position left her breasts a bit flatter but broader across her chest; her nipples normally a soft pink were red and engorged as if still being tweaked; and her pubis, while out of view because of her Batbelt, glistened from the drenching cum of Sanjay and herself. In fact her whole body was glowing - not literally, but from pure pleasure rushing to escape out of each pore in her skin. Any feelings of violation that should have been dominating her thoughts were shuffled to the back for later. Now she just wanted to stay in this relaxed state with the purple silk of the sari still draped over parts of her skin and enjoy.
“Don’t allow yourself to become too comfortable, Batgirl, I am not finished with you,” Bookworm interrupted. He and Jay each grabbed an arm and led her into another chamber, this one even more dimly lit than the previous. Batgirl’s instincts and mind were screaming at her to fight these two worthless combatants but her body refused to listen to any instructions. She watched in blissful curiosity as she was strapped to an old - ancient - printing press. After she was securely spread over it Bookworm began, “Batgirl, I inherited and amassed quite a substantial fortune in my time. However, this may be my most prized possession. Normally, I do not even touch it myself out of respect for its history but today I feel like it should be employed to commemorate this great day. You see this is an original Gutenberg press, the beginning of my grandest love affair. Oh people thought it belonged in a museum but what does the general public know? They would probably want to publish comic books or wrestling magazines on it. You know that the first thing ever printed on this was the Bible, but did you know that the second thing ever printed was pornography? So, I think a fitting use for this genius invention would be to have the mighty Batgirl myself on it. What do you think?”
With the effects of the hypnotic trance fading Batgirl was beginning to feel more alert and more aware of the precarious situation she was in. “I think you are disturbed and revolting. Take me off this immediately before you commit a crime you will never live long enough to regret.”
“Those are fairly belligerent words for a woman whose legs are parted wider than the Red Sea.” Admit it, Batgirl, this is the bookmark for which you have been waiting.” With those words he pulled down his pants and faced Batgirl with his tiny erection. Looking at its diminutive size it became clear that any pleasure Barbara derived from her relationship with Lawrence was entirely emotional. Could he really be proud of that?
Looking directly at his little ‘stiffy’ Batgirl offered drolly, “I now know where the ‘worm’ part of your name comes from. Book-snake you aren’t”
“Cute, Batgirl, cute. However, have you ever considered that size of my enthusiasm may be related to the pleasure I am feeling? As I look at you now I, too am unimpressed. You certainly gave in easily to my butler for God’s sake. Now, what will excite me is knowing that I will be the last person to have you and my act will be the last thing you feel. Screwing you as you die will be my sexual cup of tea.” He plunged into her. The penetration barely registered but the recognition of what he was doing infuriated her. He pumped furiously never really looking at her but more closing his eyes and scrolling through his memory of the many of heroes in literature. He took a few seconds to imagine he was each one of these giants, characters and authors, executing the same deed. Batgirl hoped he would finish quickly and knowing his tendencies she was sure he would, but the reality was with his size, he was barely experiencing any friction to get him off. His distracted state gave her time to assess her situation and plan of escape.
Maybe they were confident that the effects of the drug could control her better or maybe they were uncharacteristically sloppy but Batgirl was able to easily free a hand from one of the straps that secured her onto the press. However, before she could put it to use, Sanjay started the mechanics of getting the machine to start. At first the pressure of the press coming down on her was light and a nuisance. However, as it gained momentum the press began to beat down on her harder and eventually it would be forceful enough to break her bones and kill her. The machine came down on one of the ribs injured earlier and now snapped. Batgirl screamed in antagonsized pain. Oddly, the more the machine began to injure her the more she felt the Bookworm inside her. Her pain and encounter with death was exciting him to a level she never experienced with him before. His sickness was greater than she ever imagined.
Sanjay had withdrawn from the room and Batgirl now used her free hand to try and loosen one of the bolts that connected with one of the machines legs. Her weakened state made each twist painfully difficult but she was making progress. Only would it be in enough time before the machine came down on her face or Bookwork realized what she was doing?
Batgirl sensed the gravity of her situation. The Bookworm started to contort his face in an orgasmic way. The press came down hard on her upper arm as she reached for a bolt and she thought it might have been broken. Summoning her resolve she twisted the bolt again and the machine teetered and then fell to the side as the leg gave way.
The collapse of the press freed her other arm and she was able to use that hand to free one of her ankles. Before she could free the other ankle she felt a sharp sting across her face. After the shock of his fall he realized she damaged his printing press and was in a frenzied fury. He slapped at her again and tried kicking her. With just one useful arm and leg however she was able to hold him off and even slap him around a bit but not enough to restrain him. She had not anticipated his reaching for her utility belt and unfastening it before she could react. With the speed in which he performed this act Batgirl realized that he must have taken it off her when he dressed her up and his replacing it was no accident. When he reached inside the explosive compartment her eyes wideded. She had low impact starburst but also much more powerful explosives in there as well. He grabbed what ever he got his hands on first and in a childish tantrum threw them on the ground. The ensuing explosion lifted Batgirl - still with one leg strapped to the table - towards the corner of the ceiling. Acutely aware that she may be crushed Batgirl was able to tilt the base just enough so the impact of the two ends of the table hit the ceiling and the adjoining wall at the same time. It shattered the part of the press attached to her and released her from it. She still bore the force of crashing into the plastered structure and then falling 15 feet to the floor. The two impacts jarred her severely but far from critically. Gaining her composure she surveyed the room. It mirrored a war zone complete with a casualty, the Bookworm. Batgirl walked a bit unsteadily to him and looked him over. The effects of the explosion treated him gruesomely. His silly hat was blown off but his glasses remained although shattered. His eyes were wide open but he was not responsive. A splinter the size of a knife has pierced his skull and remained imbedded. Batgirl reached over to close his eyes. Clinically, she felt for a pulse and to her surprise one remained albeit weak. “I must find my costume and call EMS,” she thought. Leaving the room she paused and took one last look back at him. She remembered how good she felt when she began her relationship with him. “I can’t believe Bruce twisted me so much that I fell for him. Was there really some good in that brilliantly demented mind or was I the classic rebounded chick? What a waste.”
After a series of stratospheric free fall flip-flops, Batman aligned his body horizontally to the earth, facing upward. The first sensation Batman registered from this position was the oddity of having air rush through up his ass and across his genitals. He twisted his head over his shoulder to glance at the ground and gauge his distance from it. From the scale of the objects on the ground and the thinness of the air he concluded he was at a fairly high altitude. Already wrestling with the knots he registered a mass approaching him at a great velocity. Just as he determined it was Miss Limpet she landed, face down, on his ankles and held on to align herself with him. Above the rush of air cutting past them she yelled, “Good afternoon, Batman, are you ready to have some fun before you die?”
Rather than flattering her with a response Batman decided to see just what she intended to do. Bound as he was, he did not have alot of options. With a care similar to a rock climber, Miss Limpet crawled up closer to Batman grabbing a portion of each leg one at a time and moving closer to his torso. When her face reached his cock and balls flailing in the wind she paused and reached with a hand to hold his member steady. Again, undaunted by his size, Lydia began to work in earnest to bring Batman to an excited state. The clock was ticking and his erection was growing.
The bombasticity of the situation really had Batman off guard. Given enough time he knew he could free himself from the hojo jitsu bondage but gravity was certainly not his ally right now. Coupled with that his concentration was being totally compromised by Miss Lympet as she ravenously massaged the head of his penis with a thick tongue and a accepting mouth. God, did it feel good. And the danger of the situation made it even more exciting. Certainly the same was true for Lydia as well. His fling with her on the balcony cemented his knowledge of her sexual fetishes. Watching her take him deeper and deeper in her mouth while on his back but with the comfort of weightlessness made him want to be more involved. “Lydia,” he yelled, “spin around and rotate your position to me.” Symbionically, she understood his command and without releasing his dick from her mouth she swung her legs around so that their bodies were still facing each other but in opposite directions.
The wind blew the back of Lydia’s schoolgirl skirt straight up and with her underpants (that Batman distinctly remembered seeing on the plane) now missing it offered Batman perfect positioning to bury his face in her love canal. He always found eating pussy to be one of the most erotic sexual acts one could do. He enjoyed it and was good at it. Without hands or fingers to aid him Batman had to rely solely on his tongue. It helped that he was working on familiar territory. It was another of his remarkable memory characteristics. Once he was with a woman he was capable of remembering precisely what turned her on and how to recreate it when the opportunity arose (and it often did).
His situation prevented him from doing any of the ususal teases and given her predeliction for adventurous lovemaking plunging right into it as they plunged toward earth made prefect sense. He lowered his chin to give his tongue plenty of coverage over her clitoris. Shielded by hair he tried to part it with his tongue as his worked his way toward his target. He knew he hit paydirt when he managed a long lick up and down the sexual sliver and she for the first time bit down on him. He continued to work the area and Lydia started using her hand to pump him as she sucked. She produced a lot of saliva that really lubricated him quite well. Feeling her clit swell he gently bit into it and tugged with his teeth causing Miss Limpet to take her mouth off him and scream in joyously. Batman pushed further driving the nose of his mask up her cunt and rotating his head back and forth giving her sensation inside and out. Screaming ‘yes’ and ‘don’t stop’ she furiously stroked Batman from top to bottom and settled her activity on the engorged head of his utility. Sensing his own excitement Batman let go and released his wad in three powerful spurts.
Lydia watched in bemusement as his cum momentarily held in suspended animation falling at the same rate as them. Eventually, it drifted away in its own weightlessness. She couldn’t believe how expertly Batman was eating her pussy and she tried to drive her hips more into his face. It was at that moment that she realized Batman was still vigorously gnawing at her juice box but he was holding her close to him by resting his arms on her buttocks. “He must have figured out the knots,” she realized, “time to end this pleasure cruise.” Indeed, their altitude was approaching dangerous levels even though she had a parachute. She turned her head back towards Batman and said, “Sorry lover, time for one of us to bail and I’m afraid it’s not going to be you.”
Miss Limpet then pulled her ripcord only to find that she was holding the ring but it wasn’t attached to anything. She spun around and saw Batman holding the contents of her pack in his arms and smiling. Immersed with dread she swam through the air towards him and said, “Surely, you are not going to let me die, Batman.”
“Miss Limpet, I am not the one who jumped out of that plane. I am not the one who neglected the altitude. I am not the one who let another remove her chute for a little sexual gratification. I’ll tell you what, though: I won’t use your parachute. You can have it back.” He then handed her the armful of silk and ropes back.
Touched by the gesture of going down to his death with her Miss Limpet said, “Thank you, Batman, I will never forget you.”
“Just one question, Miss Limpet,” Batman asked as he glanced down to earth and realized they had passed the skydivers safety point.
“Yes, of course.”
“Did you ever finish your crossword puzzle?”
“Why, yes I did but-but how did you know about it?”
He just nodded and parted with “Congratulations,” and with that he gently pushed away and opened a compartment from his Batbelt releasing a Bat parachute. His speed immediately braked giving the illusion of being pulled up. Miss Limpet continued her descent looking sad, betrayed, and alone. She kept her eyes on him as she faded from his view and plunged to her demise.
Chief O’Hara was walking with a noticeable swagger lately. His force was reacting with unprecedented enthusiasm to his edict to take the streets back with a vengence. Batman and Batgirl had not been hogging the headlines since they captured the Bookworm and besides that did not receive a lot of attention outside the circles of the elite and brainy. No, the common folks, his people, were going to be the benefactors of this crime sweep and he wasn’t going to let any superhero spoil it for him.
When he returned from his extended lunch break he was intrigued to find Gabriel “Gabe” Stream waiting for him in his office. Stream had long standing ambitions to become mayor of Gotham but each year that he actually managed to make it to the ballot he was resoundly defeated. He held himself out as the people’s candidate and vowed to keep fighting until he died.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of having you at Police Headquarters, Mr. Stream?” O’Hara began as he took off his hat and entered his office.
“O’Hara, I don’t have much time so let me get right to the point. I have noticed a difference in the past few weeks in Gotham’s finest and I like it. Further, I have liked your work for some time now. I plan on running for Mayor again in the upcoming election and I intend to make safe streets one of my main themes. I like your style and directness. Better than that, so do the people of Gotham, my people. I want you to be part of my team.”
Unaccustomed as he was for attention and praise O’Hara took a moment to consider his words and replied, “Well I appreciate the compliment, Mr. Stream, but as you know is not th epolicy of the Gotham Police to endorse any particular candidate.” There, that sounded polished he thought.
“Chief, let me be more blunt. I think that the changes needed in the City go all the way to the top. Jim Gordon has been at the desk too long. It’s time for some fresh thinking in the Commissioner’s office. You are the fresh thinking the City needs.”
Now O’Hara was getting excited. It had always been a dream of his but a dream suppressed. The possibilities that he could realize by being Commissioner were endless. He knew his first move though - get Batgirl off the streets. She was a rabble-rouser in his mind and had no business doing a man’s job. Still, he had been loyal to Gordon all those years…
“O’Hara, I know what you are thinking. I admire your loyalty but you need to be more loyal to the people of Gotham. They need safe streets and cops that matter. They need you.”
The Chief was starting to think it through, “Let me consider this for a bit, Mr. Stream. It does sound interesting and I like that you approve of my latest “get tough” initiative. How do you propose to deal with all the liberals who say we are targeting minorities with our street programs?”
“Let me worry about the so called community leaders, O’Hara. You just keep the streets clean.” Stream didn’t feel a need for pleasantries, “Let’s keep in dialogue, Commissioner.”
It had been a couple weeks since Batgirl had turned the Bookworm over to the authorities. Although her rib had mostly healed and she was physically capable she was slow to return to the job. Whether it was the potion Bookworm had given her or being screwed in ancient Hindu fashion, it had the lingering effect of keeping her incredibly horny. Every time she put on her costume her body reacted as if under the influence of an aphrodisiac. Her nipples would get so erect they looked as if they would poke out of her costume. Worse, just walking around in her skintight outfit made her so wet in the crotch that she soaked through panty liners. She was confident it wouldn’t last but was uncomfortable being out on the street and not being able to control her urges.
She had taken to fantasizing about Bookworm’s butler (afterall, he was good) and even found herself touching herself while conversing on the phone with Alfred, Bruce’s butler (maybe they were all good as part of a job requirement). She wanted to avoid Bruce or Batman because she knew that lust would overcome judgement and that would open up a whole new book of issues to deal with.
Barbara finally decided to call Shaft. One, she felt she owed him an apology and two, if she had to fuck someone to get over it, he had the goods to quench her. She dialed his number, “Hello, John, this is Barb - eh - Batgirl. I was wondering if you could meet me later today to discuss some issues - on what? - er leaving no prisoners. Meet me at the peers.”
The anticipation of the meeting was almost too much for Barbara to handle. She tried to keep distracted during the day but could not keep her attention focused on anything but burying his sleek rocket. During the course of her career Barbara had several costumes designed for her crime fighting life. One that she had ordered because it looked convenient with a crotch zipper never saw the stret because it looked too S&M-ish whan she put it on. Today it would make its debut. When it finally came time to meet up Batgirl dressed in record time. “I am trained in many mental disciplines, why can’t I suppress this passion?” she wondered.
She arrived first as she hoped she would. Shaft ambled up in no particular rush and stopped when he noticed her outfit. “Batgirl?” he asked although he knew it was her. “What’s with the attire?”
“Don’t you like it, Shaft? I’m wearing it just for you.”
He thought the tone of her voice sounded off. It had its ususal confidence but it was not backed by its ususal sense of justice. What did you want to talk about, Batgirl?”
“Danger and daring. It doesn’t only happen in fighting crime it happens between two lovers as well. Here, come sit on my bike.”
She was making no sense but her look and come hither voice were reminding him of the great sex they had and how he hoped they would be able to do it again. He straddled her bike. It felt good and was a bigger bike than most women would dare to ride. “Okay, Batgirl, now what?” he asked with amusement.
She didn’t answer with words. Honing in on his pants she unbuttoned the top and pulled down his zipper. Before he could react she had reached in a pulled out his cock and began to suck the tip of it. While holding it at the base with one hand and keeping her mouth over him she turned her torso toward him and took his hand with her free appendage and place it on one of her breasts. She continued to suck him from an angle that could only looked natural in porn movies. With her free hand she now moved it to her own crotch zipper and pulled it back exposing the bareness of her vagina. “Do you like it, Shaft? I trimmed it just for you.”
“Batgirl, this is getting whack. Are you sure you are okay?”
“What’s the matter, Shaft? Can’t handle a woman in charge?” Batgirl then mounted his throbbing and fully erect scud. She was barely looking at him, now cuping her own breasts as she threw her head back and just fucked him. “Don’t you like a little danger, Shaft?”
“You want thrills, you want danger, Batgirl? I’ll give it to you!” With that he pressed the electronic ignition and twisted the throttle of her two wheeled black dart. Even with the weight of both of them on the bike the front wheel raised slightly off the ground as they sped forward. The momentum drove Shaft deeper into Batgirl and she responded with a yelp that described the fullness of her sensation. They bolted along the rivers edge with Shaft driving the bike and Batgirl driving Shaft. Each grind of Batgirl’s hips into his pelvis brought them closer together and released affections of pleasure. As the detonation of orgasm welled in each of them all control was lost and they both screamed in delight and fear as the bike skidded along the tarmac. Somehow Shaft managed control the spill just enough to avoid serious injury to either of the two sexual warriors. Nevertheless, the two lay there next to the bike exhausted but fulfilled. Batgirl, desheveled but intact dragged herself closer to Shaft who was now sitting up. They both were about to start laughing when a police cruiser abruptly pulled up right next to them.
“Oh God, how am I going to explain this,” thought Batgirl.
“Hold it right there!” the cops yelled simultaneously as they burst from the car. Their guns were already drawn.
“It’s okay, officers, I can explain,” Batgirl began.
“That’s okay Batgirl, we have a good idea of what has happened,” the driver offered. “Get up scum.” Batgirl noticed that the guns were both aimed at Shaft. “Look his big Black dick is still out like a trophy. We’ll teach you to rape a crimefighter.” The cop punctuated his accusation with a kick to the ribs. Shaft recoiled from the blow.
“No, officers it wasn’t like that. He and I were…”
“Batgirl, stop!” Shaft interrupted. “Stay out of this.” He knew any hope she had of maintaining respectability among the men in blue was predicated on valor, screwing a black man in public would earn her no points.
“That’s right, Batgirl, you’ve been through enough,” the other cop entreated, let us take over from here. We’ll make sure justice is taken care of.” Highlighting his point he took out his nightstick and brought it down across Shaft’s face. He was able to block it with his arms.
Batgirl watched in horror as the two cops unleashed several more attacks. Batgirl knew that Shaft could have killed the two men with his bare hands but he just lay there absorbing the punishment. Everytime she moved to intervene he glared at her to back off. She was confused and pained by her impotence.
Finally, they decided to cuff him. One took advantage of his bonding by spitting at him. Luckily most missed. Shaft just said in a low voice as he passed Batgirl, “I know you want to do more but this is the way it’s got to be.” Batgirl wanted to cry but she had enough sense to note the badge and precinct numbers of the cops.
“They will get their’s,” she vowed.
The two cops were pumped. A good beating made them feel proud. “The job is so much better now that O’Hara lets us police the way we know is best.” As an afterthought after shoving Shaft into the cruiser the cop said, “Don’t worry about having to fill out a report, Batgirl, this one is on us.”
Alarmed, as they sped off, at the potential consequences of Shaft in custody, Batgirl picked up her bike and tried to start it. After a few cranks it came to life and she darted home. She had to save Shaft. She had no basis for making a plea to her father as Barbara. She needed Batman. She called him on her secured line. “Batman, I need you desparately. Meet me at Country Road in an hour.”
Batman was early and uncharateristically chatty when Batgirl arrived. He was usually so terse in his speech and rarely said things that did not have direct intentions but today he was running off at the mouth, with a trace of nervousnes in his voice. He had reason. He had never worked harder at winning a girl back. Actually, he had never tried before. Still, this had been an effort for him and an experience that he felt helped him to grow. To hear Batgirl, Barbara, say that she needed him desparately told him his efforts had paid off. She wanted him once again. He was not going to let the opportunity slip.
Batgirl motioned Batman to follow her to the middle of a meadow where they could be alone and out of view from the road. Batman followed like a smitten schoolboy. He was determined to speak first and tell her how he felt and how he wanted her back so it would not seem like a reaction to her words for him. He wished he had time to practice.
Motioning that a plot of land was suitable Batgirl stole his thunder and began, “Bruce, I’m glad you came.”
Batman twitched at the mention of his secret identity. “Batgirl, be careful. You never know who is around.” He made an exxagerated movement to check out the outling area.
“Take it easy. We are in the middle of nowhere. Besides, I need to talk to the sensitive side that lurks in Bruce Wayne but I need the body of Batman.” With a sweeping movement she took off her cowl but left the red wig on. She examined her mask. In her haste to change back into her traditional costume before meeting Batman she must have put the mask on a bit crooked because it did not feel right.
Batman took the gesture as a sign of her opening up her feelings, wanting him. ‘I am here for you, Barbara,” he responded and leaned over form her sitting position to kiss her. She was surprised at his aggressive move making and retreated.
“Batman, what are you doing?” she inquired and put her mask back over her head. “Why do you think I asked you here?
“You said you needed me desparately. Well, I need you, too.”
“Batman, no. I mean, you have totally misconstrued why I called you. I need you, yes, but for your connections with the police department, not for some tryst.” Batgirl then proceeded to come completely clean with all that had happened and what led to Shaft’s arrest. After she finished her story she paused waiting for some response from Batman.
His heart broke as she recalled detail after detail. After an extended silence he finally commented, “I guess it wasn’t enough for you get back at me and date someone who could get under my skin but now you throw yourself at a street fighter, a Black street fighter. Really Barbara.”
“Listen Bruce: race has never seemed to be an issue in your love life so don’t make it one in mine. Shaft is a good man and one that helps Gotham City in ways we can’t. Regardless, of what you think about him - and you don’t even know him to have any thoughts about him, he is in trouble because of me. I need your help in getting him released. Will you help me or not?”
Batman knew he had no choice. As cold-blooded as he could be he knew that if he refused Barbara Gordon would never forgive him. Helping release Shaft was merely a tactical step toward his goal. “I’ll do it but not because of any sense of justice. I’ll do it for you.” He tried to make it sound passionate and full of feeling for her.
Batgirl sensed his effort. “Batman, Bruce look I still have feelings for you, too, and - who - knows maybe someday we will be together again, but not now. Any hope for us lies in growing a little apart before we can grow together. You understand that, don’t you?”
He stood up and from her reclined position he looked positively towering with the last remnants of the day’s sun swathing him in dramatic shadows. In his deep and crime fighting voice he bellowed, “Batgirl, I shall procure his release.”
Chief O’Hara was pestering his uniformed driver to get him back to headquarters quicker. He hated returning to work after dinner but he had his headline: ‘Police Capture Batgirl’s Rapist’ and was anxious to reveal the whole story to the press. It would serve two purposes. It portrays his force as more dominant that a superhero crime fighter and it discredits Batgirl’s ability to handle herself in the streets. She would be immediately washed up. He would even force her to attend the press conference. Oh what a good night this was going to be.
Arriving at Police Plaza he did not wait for the rookie to open the door for him but raced out as fast as he was still able into the building. He found out the names of the officers that apprehended the criminal. He planned on promoting them on the spot. When they arrived they were still in good spirits and regaled in retelling the now embellished story. O’Hara congratulated them and asked if the perp had been through the system yet.
“Yeah, we gave him the business real good, Chief.”
“No, I mean finger printing, photographing, paperwork.”
“Oh, that. No Chief we didn’t do any of that. Besides he’s gone now.”
“Gone?”
“Yeah, we released him to Batman an hour ago. I think he wanted to give him a little Bat-justice on top of our own. I mean Batgirl is probably his girlfriend, don’t you think?”
“What I think is that you boys better start new careers because as long as I am Chief writing parking tickets will be the best you two can hope for. Get out of here!” In a flash his moment of glory had evaporated. Without a perp, without a victim, and without any records to show for it he had nothing to say to to the press.
Shaft felt uncomfortable sitting in the passenger seat of the Batmobile heading uptown. It had been a long time since he found himself escorted in a law enforcement vehicle and now in the span of hours he had two tours. He never trusted authority outside the armed forces and there it took a good deal of brain washing for him to get with the program. Make no mistake about it; he was an excellent soldier, the best, but it was discipline that made him special not respect for someone with a title more prominent than his own. Growing up he never had the authoritative figure in his life. Neither did most of his friends. He saw how it insidiously ate at their ability to control themselves. Eventually, their self-esteem was shot and the streets claimed them one by one. Funny thing was times were better then. Well, not better but the consequences of a wisecrack ususally resulted in a black eye not a slug in your ass or worse.
He was lucky. His mother didn’t know what to do to straighten him out. He was so much stronger thn she in body and personality. Fortunately, she was wiser. She didn’t like guns or fighting or the culture that surrounded the military but she reasoned the atmosphere would provide a controlled environment that just might keep him alive longer. What she never expected was how well a non-chaotic structure would set him on the good path. She called it a miracle. He thought of it as a logical reaction to something good for you. No different than vitamins. You take them and you are healthier. End of story.
For some reason Batman convinced the police to let him go. It was an appreciated move but Batman hadn’t said one word to him at all in the station or here now in the car. Was it an act or did Batman have plans for him? He knew Batman wanted to let him know that the Caped Crusader was the man. He kept on guard.
As they crossed 125th Street Batman non-chalently turned on the Bat GPS system.
“Figures,” Shaft chuckled.
“What figures?” inquired Batman breaking his silence.
“It figures that all you care about is protecting the rich.”
“Where on earth do you get that idea?” Batman asked annoyed that Shaft did not explain himself better.
“If you cared about this neighborhood as much as the rich ones you’d be here often enough that you wouldn’t need an electronic map to guide your way through the streets. Don’t worry, Batman, I know the way.”
“Listen Shaft I have been patrolling in Harlan since you were a little boy and still patrolled in Harlan when you moved for several years to the Village and when you are in your office in Times Square, guess who is here more often than you?”
“I guess you did your homework on me. Should I be impressed? Well we’re here at my building, you can let me off here.”
Batman unbuckled his belt and said, “I am coming in with you.”
“That’s okay Batman, I know my way.”
Batman just repeated, “I am coming in with you.”
Once in his flat Batman walked directly to his closet and took out his suitcases. He opened them and said, “Pack your things, you are leaving town.”
“I don’t have a reservation or a plane ticket, Batman.”
Reaching into his cape Batman dropped a first class ticket and a huge wad of cash on the coffee table. “Now you do.”
Shaft looked down at the bounty but did not pick it up. “Sorry, Caped Crusader, you can’t buy me or threaten me out of this town.” It was Shaft’s turn to posture. He stood face to face with Batman. They were remarkably similar specimens. Their eyes locked and they slowly circled each other separated by mere inches but so controlled that neither of their bodies would even glance the other. Each believed in their respective skills to the point of fanaticism. Each was also smart and cautious enough to know that when two predators face each other in in the jungle, one walks away and the other lies mortally wounded. Each knew fate, not skill would determine which role each would have.
Batman spoke knowing that words coming from his heart would not break his concentration. “Listen good, Shaft. I don’t know if you are dipping your stick because you like the idea of fucking Batgirl or you think you are sticking it to the man by fucking the Commissioners daughter. Understand me well: if you hurt her or infect her with some obnoxious disease transmitted from one of your stable mates, you’ll experience a wrath that will strike you like nothing else.”
“What do you mean the Commissioner’s daughter?” Shaft didn’t know if that was meant to confuse him.
“You expect me to believe that you are screwing around with Batgirl and you don’t know she is really Barbara Gordon?”
“My relationship is with Batgirl and Batgirl only. Barbara Gordon…really.”
Batman thought he was denying the obvious to distract him. “You know she can’t separate her lives. Barbara is a good soul, but she bares it too easily. Someone with your baggage isn’t right or her. Christ, she probably revealed to you that I am really Bruce Wayne.”
“Bruce Wayne?” Now Shaft’s focus was compromised and he backed away, slowly. “You are Bruce Wayne? Batgirl is Barbara Gordon? What is it some sort of rich person’s club to suppress the poor under the guise of fighting crime?”
“You know better than that, Shaft. We have made this City someplace that represents security and justice. What we have accomplished has made it possible for you to do the work you do, even if it is renegade work.”
Shaft was still dealing with the knock out punch that Batman delivered. “Listen Batgirl and I are history. It ended whether we liked it or not on the pier. Please leave.”
Batman’s words confounded himself as well. Was Shaft bluffing or did he not know? Why did he give up such closely guarded information so freely? Was it strategy or was it lustful recklessness? He worked his way to the door, backing up. “Shaft, with knowledge comes responsibility. Don’t make me have to come back here.”
Shaft turned to acknowledge his words but Batman was gone. He didn’t even hear him close the door.
Feeling back to normal Barbara Gordon decided to spend the day in the library, working the desk. Even though she was now Chair of the Library’s Board she still found it worthwhile and fun to be involved in the day-to-day activities. Of course, it was easier when she didn’t have to do it every day or worry about a paycheck. Scanning the barcodes of some returned books she looked up to see shaft standing in front of her. She wasn’t sure how to react. She was happy to see him but as far as she was concerned he didn’t know her. “Can I help you…sir?”
“Yeah…no. I guess I just wanted to see you one last time but it’s not really the same.”
His words sounded dangerously familiar. “Excuse me,” she offered.
“Hey, I know everything, everything.”
She hesitated but decided not to act this scene but to live it. “I don’t know what to say, Shaft. I owe you my life and my livelihood.” Looking up at his face she noticed how bruised it was. “Did Batman do that?”
“No, Batman and I have, have what you call an understanding. No, these tatoos are courtesy of your Daddy’s boys.”
“You have to believe my father would never allow that type of behavior on his force. I don’t know what chief O’Hara is up to but trust me I intend to speak to my father about it. I am so sorry.” A small cluster of tears welled in her eyes.
“Don’t sweat it. Batgirl and I are cool - you and I are cool.”
“I’m going to miss you, John Shaft.”
He turned to leave but spun around and handed her a small wrapped package. “Here, this is for you.” It was a book by James Baldwin, an author full of fire and compassion. She had read it already but was touched by the poignancy just the same. “You know,” he continued, “for a girl baptized downtown in politics of City Hall, you’re really best when you are away from that crowd. Stay yourself. There will always be a place for you and Batgirl where the ‘real’ uptown begins north of 125th.”