Batgirl and Gotham City were created by and are copyrighted by and are property of DC Comics. Other characters appearing in this story are owned and copyrighted by other entities as well. This story has been written solely to occupy my free time. This story is purely for adult entertainment purposes and cannot be redistributed for the purposes of making money or profit.
This story takes place after “Batgirl Arrives” and “Batgirl’s Uptown Affairs”
(*Wizard's Note - This was sent to me in 4 different and seperate parts. To save time and make things a bit easier for me I went ahead and put them all together on one file. My apologies to Mr Thatcher for that. However, it does not detract from the story itself in any way. Enjoy)
by T. Thatcher
Dinner with her father was always a special event for Barbara Gordon. She must have been out with him hundreds of times in her life but the excitement and nervous anticipation of each date never seemed to wane. It did not matter where they went – formal banquets or greasy diners – or how old she was – from her first formal meal with him at 10 years old or tonight’s date at 26 – Barbara was smitten with the man who raised her and loved her unquestionably. Her devotion even warped her normal pragmatic sense of events: his celebrity and importance usually meant several interruptions during their meals to either accept praise from well-wishers or make decisions on life or death matters but she always remembered their nights as times when all his love, pride, and attention was focused on her.
“Barbara, you really should be out on a real date and with someone much younger than me on a Saturday night,” Jim Gordon opined over appetizers and cocktails.
“Oh Daddy, this is better than any other date I could have had and besides, why wouldn’t any girl want to go out and be seen with the most handsome man in Gotham City?”
“Well thank you, darling, but I gave up hope of being handsome years ago. I try to work on ‘distinguished’ now. Really, I would not have minded if you had other plans.”
“Stop it! I’ll have you know that I am a very good evaluator of the men in this City who try and flaunt themselves off as ‘all that’, Daddy, and I am telling you, ‘you are still a catch’ and I would not want to be anywhere else this evening. Besides, at least I date – okay, occasionally – but I have put myself out there a few times. Why aren’t you out on a real date with someone older – eh, more mature than I?”
“I can never win an argument with you,” Gordon retreated, “just like your mother.” Barbara loved it when he compared her to his long-time departed wife. She felt levels of validation she never felt from any of the other ventures in her life. Her mom remained one of the most significant people in her life both in presence and absence. Somehow, over time, her reflections on her Mom had transformed from fading memories to an ideal. Both sat there in brief, parallel stupors, the father reminiscing and the daughter basking.
A waiter cut short their indulgences to boast about some of the evening’s specialties.
The meal was delightful. Barbara noticed that her father was especially animated this night out and wondered if maybe her father had in fact hooked up with someone new. When she realized he wasn’t going to reveal anything without prompting, she decided to ask him directly.
“Daddy, what is into you this evening? I haven’t seen you this happy since – well – ever. Is there someone I should know about? Will I be calling someone else ‘Mom’ soon?”
“What? Of course not. No, I guess if I am anxious it’s because the damning testimony in the Soprano Mob trial starts this week and this time I feel we’re really going to nail that son of a, eh, gun.”
“Doesn’t Commissioner Gordon always get his man?” Barbara asked coyly. “I mean are not the Joker, the Riddler, and the Penguin all in jail?”
“Yes, but the Caped Crusaders brought all those to justice. This is one big fish the GCPD caught all on its own without their help.”
Barbara understood. For all the good that Batman, Robin, and she(!) did for Gotham City, their success diminished the achievements of her father and his Force. It was almost as if public opinion silently blamed his men and women for not being up to the task to fight the most evil villains, so mysterious superhero crime fighters with all their weaponry needed to be brought in. This perverse logic never once dampened her father’s support for his caped deputies but at some level he needed victories like this. Dealing with the Mob was also his forte. His success in bringing down the big players was what raised him through the ranks and brought him the Commissionership. Its continued existence was also the prodding reminder to his seething loneliness.
“For as excited as I am, I am also cautiously nervous. I know Tony Soprano will not go down without a fight. The fact that we got his son to turn on him and be the key witness for the prosecution must have him in fits. All we need to do is to keep his son alive during the trial. After that, he goes into the Witness Protection Program. The problem is Tony’s influence is deep. I know he has infiltrated my Force. I have a few men that I trust as much as I trust O’Hara, men who have invested their lives in bringing this Family down. The problem is I am still short. I need one more body. Tomorrow, I am going to ask Batgirl for help.”
Barbara almost choked on her water. Was her father was finally willing to acknowledge that Batgirl was in the same league as her fellow crime fighters? Was her resume of putting perpetrators in jail finally being recognized as matching the levels of her masked colleagues? Her father always was her best supporter but this was better because here he was saying how fantastic she was without knowing it was she he was praising. She almost exploded with pride. “Batgirl?” Barbara gushed, “why not ask Batman and Robin?”
“Oh, those boys are out of town on assignment.”
The morning began when Batgirl received the call she expected, however much earlier than anticipated, from the Commissioner. Her voice betrayed the shock of the early summoning.
“Batgirl, I’m sorry if I woke you but I need you in my office right away. Can you come?”
Of course, Commissioner, I’ll be there in 20 minutes,” she struggled to say with clarity and confidence.
The brief but intense shower cleared her head from the wine she consumed with her father the night before. She quickly dressed and by her clock was on her bike and speeding to Police Headquarters a mere 10 minutes from the call. She parked her bike at her usual front allotment of street and bounded up the stairs. She was surprised to see her father’s secretary at her desk and working on a Saturday but she did not stop for idle chat. She announced her intention to see the Commissioner as she walked past and opened his highly varnished oak doors precisely 20 minutes from when she hung up her phone.
She allowed the Commissioner to re-tell the background of his need. He explained the top-secret nature. Her mission is to protect Joey Soprano, the son of the Gotham’s most powerful Godfather. In exchange for a free pass and a new identity he had agreed to testify against his father in the organized crime trial of the century.
Barbara Gordon is still thrilled to be helping out her father but as Batgirl she is irked at being considered the second team. She forces the issue. “Why ask me? If you want to ensure his protection why not ask Batman or Robin?”
“Well, Batgirl, last night someone asked me that same question but I thought about it and decided your skills are better suited for this task. I thought you were best for the job.”
Batgirl posture deflated a bit. It hurt her that her father was lying. “Sure, and it has nothing to do with them being out of town.”
Gordon was tuned into her tone and came clean. “You know what, Batgirl? It’s true, I originally decided on you after I found out Batman and the Boy Wonder were away. But last night after talking to my daughter and thinking about it, I decided even if they were here I would still ask you.
“Batman, for all his skills, is too obvious. Sure he gets the job done but his presence creates too much commotion and this case requires stealth. We need to keep Joey Soprano’s presence a secret.”
“But Commissioner, your Force has made this case. Why not use your own men to protect him?”
“Batgirl, unfortunately, there is a breach and I don’t know where it is. Only myself, O’Hara, the DA, a very few select men, and now yourself will know where he is. He’s being transported to the hotel now. I’d like you to take the first shift.”
After discussing a few more logistics of the scope of protection and scheduling. Batgirl prepared to leave. “Don’t worry Commissioner, Tony Soprano will never step a foot outside of a prison again.”
Batgirl pulled her bike into a parking garage adjacent to the hotel. The ride over left her cheeks stinging from the cold November air that suggested autumn had passed. Nevertheless, she spent the journey delighting in the validation her father gave her. It was brief but sincere. Following the Commissioner’s instructions she located the secret passageway that connected the garage to the hotel’s service elevators so she would not be seen entering the building. Striding through the connecting corridor she felt strange twinges of nervousness. “Calm yourself, girl,” she coached herself, “this is just a baby-sitting assignment.”
In no time she was standing in front of the hotel room door, several minutes ahead of the scheduled witness transfer. She used the time to review a downloaded floor plan of the hotel and conjured up a few plausible excuses if anyone passed her in the hallway and wanted to know why she was there. Exactly as scheduled three male figures appeared from around the corner and walked casually but attentively toward her. From a distance she marked the two in street clothes as the officers and the one in the middle clad in an athletic warm-up suit as the witness. A few more strides confirmed her assumptions as she recognized the detectives’ faces. As she zoomed in on the third face she was surprised with the familiarity she felt. Of course, she had seen his photos occasionally in the papers and in her briefing with the Commissioner but this was a recognition that was personal. “I know him,” she thought as she racked her brain. Before she had her answer the three had reached their destination.
Batgirl took the initiative to address them formally, “Detectives, Mr. Soprano.”
Despite her above average stature, all three men were considerably taller than her. Finally, Detective Guzman offered his greeting, “Hey Batgirl, what’s up?” Batgirl had met Guzman several times before in both her worlds and knew how much faith her father had in him. She liked that when he talked about his family his face lit up and that the cadence of his voice seemed to break towards a chuckle near the end of his sentences. It signified a sense of genuine ease.
The other Detective, Sprague, matched the Caped Crusader in decorum as he handed her a clipboard, “Batgirl, please sign here acknowledging your receipt of the witness.” Batgirl scanned the form and hesitated before signing. It did not happen often but she always felt awkward when she had to sign something – even autographs – as Batgirl. The signature seemed too short and she was always afraid the years of repetition and conditioning would unconsciously compel her to sign her true name. She knew that when signing her name there were no do-overs.
As if suddenly switched on to what was happening Joey Soprano blurted out, “Hey wait a minute, do you mean my only protection is going to be Batchick?”
Guzman immediately slapped the back of his head and said, “First off, knucklehead, her name is Batgirl. Second, she can cover you better than anyone else.”
“Well, I don’t mind her covering me, if you know what I mean. That’s prime smacking ass, you know.”
Guzman slapped his head harder whipping his neck forward. “Listen, fuckface, this Deputy is going to protect you better than you will ever deserve. Respect her because she is going to keep you alive today.” The charm had left his voice.
Sprague used his key to open the door to the room. Guzman entered first, followed by Soprano, and Batgirl. Sprague looked up and down the hallway in both directions before entering the room and letting the door close behind him. Guzman and Batgirl checked each room of the suite. “All clear,” Batgirl announced.
Guzman nodded in agreement, “Me, too. Alright, we’re out of here. We’ll see you again, mañana. Don’t let this asshole bore you to death, Batgirl.” Batgirl turned and walked toward one of the back rooms as the detectives made their way out the door. She heard Guzman talking about going home to his potty training puppy. The laughter was back in his voice.
Joey Soprano stood alone in the living room of their suite. He didn’t really understand what was going on. The cops seemed to have all these procedures for protecting people but it was something they did all the time and he was only experiencing it for the first time. He did not like being out of the loop. He felt alone.
Batgirl re-emerged after a few minutes, grabbed him by the elbow, and said, “Come on, we’re switching rooms.” This just confused Joey more but it was part of Gordon’s plan. Even though he trusted the Detectives more than others in his force, he was not taking chances. Batgirl led him down the hall to the stairs, looked both ways, and disappeared with him into the stairwell. They reappeared in a similar looking hallway two floors higher.
Joey had to speak, “Hey, I was digging that suite. Please don’t tell me it was a tease and that we are really low rent.” Batgirl didn’t respond but after passing three doors in the hallway she produced another key from her utility belt and guided him into a room identical to the previous one. “Okay. Sweet. I’m cool,” Joey said approvingly.
Batgirl performed the same routine as in the previous accommodation and emerged back into the main room stating, “All is clear. Why don’t you sit down and relax?”
“I could really relax if you come and sit down next to me,” the mobster offered. The line was so lame that Batgirl was stuck momentarily as to how to rebuke his proposal but she also noted that he was so unashamed in its delivery as if it had actually worked before.
“It will be best if we stick to the business at hand, Mr. Soprano,” Batgirl replied firmly.
“Hey, I like the words ‘stick’ and ‘hand’ in that sentence, Batsy. Why don’t you come over here and find out why they call me Joey Sausage?”
Batgirl needed to be more direct. “Mr. Soprano, just to be clear, I am not here for you. I am here for the Commissioner because he feels that what you will do next week is important. Instead of worrying about how you can ‘score’ with me because – just to be clear again – you won’t, why don’t you focus on the testimony you need to deliver. That is the only reason you and I are in the same room right now or in the immediate future.”
“Ah forget about it,” Joey began as he bent over to reach for the TV remote on the coffee table and switched it on, “fucking lesbian cunt.” Before he could fully straighten himself Batgirl was in his face, seething.
“I am not sure which part of your ignorant demeanor I find more revolting, Mr. Soprano, but rest assured, my job is to keep you alive. No one cares if you testify in a cast.”
“Oh, and who’s gonna fuck me up? You?” With surprising speed he grabbed both of her wrists and pulled her arms outward as he rose to his full height. Batgirl immediately surmised that if they were fighting, he would hold his own. As he forcefully expressed himself, she calculated his approximate strength and weight. He continued his outward twisting of her arms and it began to hurt. With even quicker speed than he displayed and infinite more agility Batgirl’s leg swept under the support that his legs were giving him, causing him to release his hold and land on his butt into the cushion of the sofa.
“Yeah, it will be me, just me,” Batgirl said coolly into his face. “And trust that if you cross me, the last nickname you will ever be given is Handsome Joey.”
Batgirl performed an about-face to create distance between them. Joey’s eyes scanned the TV but his mind was still on Batgirl. He glanced over at her and half-smiled. To her, it looked like he was saying ‘you got lucky’ but what it really meant was he was smitten.
At Police Headquarters Commissioner Gordon was giving an update on the Witness to Chief O’Hara. “Are ya sure you be wantin’ to trust this entire case with that lass, Commissioner. I know you think better of her than I do but if it were up to me I’d be callin’ in a special favor to the Dynamic Duo to have them return.”
“No, O’Hara, this case is ours, ours – not the masked vigilantes – to win or lose. If you can find me another one of your men to trust, I’ll take Batgirl off assignment.”
“Well, I hope Batman has trained Batgirl well enough. That Joey Soprano is a crafty one, I tell ya. There is more to him than meets the eye. I’ll only fully trust him when his old man is locked away and he is shipped off to wherever they decide to lose him in our great country.”
For a supposed sly and cunning mobster, Batgirl was at her wits’ end with the steady stream of salvos Joey Soprano was trying to pass off as insightful or seductive. ‘He really is an idiot,’ she thought. Look at him in his white warm-ups and gold jewelry. ‘What kind of girl is impressed with him?’ The only semi-redeeming quality she noticed about him was that he preferred fruit to junk food as he wasted the day screaming at the TV or her. Half the time she wasn’t sure whether he really wanted a response or just needed to hear his thoughts expressed out loud. If the research she read was accurate and men do indeed think about sex about every seven minutes, this guy was hyperman. He was good for a comment about every 60 seconds.
“Yo, Batgirl, what’s it like to do it with a mask on?”
“That costume is so tight. You know if you’re raped, it’s your own fault, right.”
“Dat booty, dat booty, dat booty.”
“Who’s the better fuck, Batman or Robin…or the Joker?”
“Hey Batbabelicious, you look tense. How about I give you a nice relaxing massage?”
“You are much hotter than these Victoria Secret models on TV.”
“Please tell me that at least once you and Catwoman have kissed.”
It was non-stop. Several times she invented the need to conduct surveillance rounds throughout the suite just to get away from him. Yet, it did not seem to faze him. She could be on the complete opposite end of the suite and he was still shouting out inane sexual commentary.
Finally, after enduring the daylight hours with him, relief in the form of Detective Guzman arrived. “How was it?” he asked with a smile that knew the answer.
“He’s a piece of work, Detective. I didn’t hear a thing all day that will help at the trial though.”
“Trust me, he knows plenty, Batgirl. He really could bring the whole thing down. That’s why we have to go to these lengths. We have to keep this guy alive.”
“Why is he doing it? Why is he willing to give up his father?” It was a real question that Batgirl pondered as she blanked out his outbursts.
“You know what; I don’t think anyone really knows. I mean he gave some reasons but I think there is something deeper there. All boys want to beat their fathers. Maybe he just didn’t have the guts to kill him like others have done. I don’t know.”
“Thanks, Detective. I’ll see you soon, I am sure.” Batgirl and Guzman ended their briefing at the door and the Dynamic Damsel vanished into the hallway.
Guzman turned to Soprano to say hello but before he could speak a word, Joey blurted, “What the fuck kind of torture is that letting me look at that ass all day and then hold it away just out of reach.”
“Shut the hell up Soprano,” Guzman pleaded.
“And those tits…”
Standing next to her bike and alone in the parking garage, Batgirl tried to expel her frustration and disgust with a primal scream. It simply was not enough to provide relief from the aggravation Joey Soprano managed to burrow under her skin. Batgirl needed an outlet to unwind. The streets never seemed disappointed her. There she knew she would have fresh air and a chance to kick some butt. There some poor slob was going to pay for the Joey’s of the world.
The tires on Batgirl’s motorcycle shrieked in complicit irritation as they sought a grip against the slick concrete floor. The bike found its hold and quickly escorted her to the garage’s exit where Batgirl was left to decide which direction offered her the best chance for release. The percentages guided her handlebars uptown with an ambitious polarity. The autumnal darkness already beckoned as she slalomed up the Avenue avoiding the yellow gates of taxis.
Commissioner Gordon was catching up on some administrative paperwork when he suddenly felt he needed to call his daughter. He really enjoyed their dinner the other night and thought Barbara would appreciate his acknowledgement. He checked his watch to see if she would likely be around and the position of the hands of time alerted him that Batgirl would be ending her shift. He trusted her to handle the assignment. He worried more about justifying his decision to use her if something went wrong than her culpability in preventing it. Thinking about Batgirl he never made the call to Barbara.
The funny thing about crime fighting is that sometimes the crooks take the night off. Batgirl reckoned she had been hunting for action in the most notorious DMZ’s nearly three hours without any sign of trouble. Her only civic engagement was literally helping an old lady cross the street. She chuckled at her bad luck against such favorable odds and concluded that with her needing to be back at the hotel room in the morning she would retire for the evening with her feeling of scorn and hope that the next day would be better. She re-mounted her bike and headed downtown.
As the Batcycle sped down the avenue toward her apartment the Caped Crusader approached a popular strip club located a few blocks from her building. She didn’t like that the establishment was so close to her home but in her bohemian part of downtown zoning rules allowed for a wide variety of businesses. A fortuitous glimpse at the club entrance revealed two men, one tucking a sawed off shotgun into his overcoat, about to enter. As Batgirl zoomed past she clutched and hit her brakes nearly sliding her bike as she tried to defy the laws of momentum. Maintaining her composure and balance she executed a neat spin and was soon heading back towards emporium of lust.
Although she wasted no time in returning to the scene of the anticipated crime, Batgirl decided to enter the building through a discreet side door that the girls used for their exit since she wasn’t sure how far the crime has progressed. Striding through the dimly lit hallway she could not believe her good fortune: a chance to finally bust a few heads of delinquent goons after all. The constant beat of the sound system bass seemed to sync with her pulse as she neared two doors. Through one she could hear the raucous chatter of women’s voices. She turned the knob and crossed the threshold into the room of most men’s dreams.
“Batgirl,” she heard in almost unison as both an exclamation and a question. Before speaking, she performed her customary scan assessing her surroundings and formulating a plan of action. She was a bit surprised at the number of girls in the room (how many should she have expected?) and noted costuming ranging from slutty to clever to none at all. Most of the women were stunningly attractive. A flurry of questions which she did not process continued.
“Please excuse me ladies,” Batgirl began, “there might be some trouble brewing out front that I would like to look into if you don’t mind.” Although she personally did not approve of the establishment, she avoided any condescending tone with the girls as she realized that these women were people drawn here for dozens of reasons and at the end of the day they were just trying to earn a living. “Can anyone please tell me what is the best way to make my way out front, discreetly?”
The girl positioned next to her suppressed a laugh and replied for the group, “There’s only but one way to go to the front and that’s by way of the stage. You go girl!”
Although not her ideal access Batgirl understood it was her only route to get out there quickly. She left the dressing room which flowed rather quickly into the stage. She tried to peek through the curtain to see where the men were but the lights blinded any visual acuity. Fortunately, she could see that no girl was currently on stage. At least that would be one less person’s safety to worry about. “I’m going to have to just burst out there,” Batgirl thought, “and hope that the element of surprise will allow me to reach them before they notice me. The bar is probably located against the back wall, that’s where I’ll head.”
Batgirl took a deep breath and sliced through the curtain opening just as the DJ was announcing over the microphone, “Gentlemen, next up for your enjoyment is the bodacious Babs!”
Hearing her true name called out – the one used only by people who knew her well – caused her to stop in her tracks and left her standing alone on stage in front of a very full and very anticipatory crowd. The DJ continued his incitement, “it looks like bodacious Babs is dressed up as Batgirl tonight, gentlemen, what do you think? A forceful roar emitted from the audience and suddenly Barbara understood the power and adulation rock stars feel when performing. Before she could even complete the silent question “how do they know who I am,” Batgirl reasoned that this was just a remarkable coincidence. She had work to do and her adjusted eyes could now see the potential perpetrators back by the bar shifting nervously but they had not yet commenced with their felony.
The music kicked in and Batgirl could see the thugs talking and pointing at her, asking each other if that was the real Batgirl. She surmised they would wait it out until they were sure. Still standing there awkwardly, Batgirl resigned to the reality she had to carry out her own ruse in order to have them commit to their plan. She listened for the beat and reservedly began to rock her weight back and forth at the hips. The seemingly inconsequential movement drew an enthusiastic response from her crowd of admirers but the robbers hadn’t budged. Batgirl applied a bit more swivel in her hips and let her shoulders join the party. In no time she and the music were one as she strutted in full dance on stage. Eying the languid guys and then the pole on stage, Batgirl sprinted to it, leapt, and swung vigorously around it. She remembered using a pole back in her days as a gymnast as part of the muscle development exercises and balancing tools. Now as an adult, a pole class was offered in her gym but she repeatedly declined. It was mostly subscribed to by her married social friends who saw it as either as a tool to spice up their dreary husbands or a quick escape into forbidden fantasy. She did not need either. Nevertheless, now holding on and suspended upside down, she was actually having fun.
With her feet replanted on the floor, Batgirl continued to keep an eye at the back of the bar as she danced but alas, there was no action. She needed to step up her ploy. Hearing calls to remove her costume she realized that until she offered something, the men would hold their ground. Rationalizing which part of her costume was most disposable, Batgirl raised her hands to her shoulders and unfastened the clasps of her cape. She slid it back and forth on each shoulder as if drying her back after a long, hot shower. Finally, with a coy and mimicked ‘whoops’ she let it slip from her fingers to the floor. The rifle was still concealed in the trench coat but at least they were shifting around again giving her confidence that with a bit more entertaining encouragement they would begin and she would end it.
The problem Batgirl now faced was what to give up next. Her utility belt was her offset to their weapon, her boots she used for fighting, and her gloves were as important as her cowl for concealing her true identity. Batgirl often had to strategize as she fought but she never before had to develop a game plan while dancing in front of one hundred horny men. The men wanted flesh and the criminals probably needed to see some skin for them to believe she wasn’t who she really was.
It dawned on Batgirl that the costumer she had selected that day was a two piece. The suit’s deft tailoring made it nearly impossible to tell but Batgirl was attired in form fitting pants and a separate but body-hugging top. Trying to move with the music Batgirl brought her hands which were swinging above her head, down across her chest, touching each bosom, and sliding down her belly to her waist. Fumbling slightly for a grip on the slick and clinging fabric, Batgirl leisurely pulled up her shirt to just below her generous breasts and treated her spectators to her awesome abs.
Barbara Gordon was no different than any other woman when it came to wishing various parts of her body looked better than they did, even if most women would take her whole package, no questions asked. Her butt bubbled out too much for her liking and her breasts often got in the way plus she worried about later years when they would invariably sag. But she had no problem with her taut stomach muscles. At times, she cosseted narcissistic moments in front of the mirror admiring the definition of her washboards and the flatness they held at all angles. Now instead of her singular approval from a reflection, she was receiving a hysterical mass appreciation of the full dimensional view.
Her performance transitioned to a measured belly dance with a few grinding thrusts that had the audience howling as they emptied their pockets and covered her stage with green.
Batgirl was surprised at the level of affirmation she felt. Intellectually, she knew it was wrong but the exaltation and control she felt was seductive. She leaned her torso backwards, continuing until her hands met the stage floor and her body was a resplendent arch. Pulling herself back up, she ever so briefly flirted with the idea of flashing one of her boobs and then convincing herself that it was an accident. Her rational modesty promptly straightened her and fortunately, her vista now zeroed back on the men who realized that every eye in the bar was focused on stage thereby invigorating them with the courage to re-commit to their crime. The gun was revealed and the bartender was feverishly emptying the register.
Lawrence Louis Glick was sitting upstairs in his office watching the matrix of monitors that canvassed all the activity in his club. It was making out to be a good night. The club was reasonably crowded, people were buying high margin drinks, and so far, none of his girls had stormed into his office to complain about any of the hundreds of things they always seemed to find loathsome about their job. He liked the sense of control he felt from the video surveillance. He had almost every corner of the club covered even though his employees only knew about the six or so cameras he positioned in obvious places. It was an unfortunate by product of his situation, he concluded, that no one could be trusted.
Despite views to everything he didn’t always have the sharpest clarity from all angles so when he heard the volume level on the floor appreciate significantly he elected to go out and investigate. Success in his business, he would boast to whoever would listen, was measured in profits, not benefits to employees, and Glick therefore was supremely triumphant. He ran a tight operation that included a strict schedule of who was performing and who was entertaining guests on the floor. Even though turnover was high, he knew the girls that worked for him. He had to: when he wasn’t trying to weasel some of their tips out of them, he was trying to weasel his way into their pants. Unfortunately for him, very few actually provided him access. His focus now was what he saw looking down on the floor. It confused him.
Based on his program Lucinda whose stage name was Babs should have been dancing. Not only was Lucinda AWOL, Batgirl was filling in for her. He had seen Batgirl in person a few times before on the streets and after the experience he could tell the real from the pretender. He could see Batgirl’s cape on the floor close to her and that she had rolled up the top half of her costume to expose her midriff. What was going on? His confusion bred suspicion as he scanned across the whole club and his heart skipped when he saw the bartender giving two armed men his money, not only money from the register but also from the short term-safe box holding the gate from the door. “What is that coward doing?” he thought with the sensation of wanting to pee in his pants.
“Why is Batgirl dancing on stage? There is a crime being committed!” were the dominating impulses in Glick’s brain. However, before the thoughts were fully contemplated he saw Batgirl reach into her utility belt and shoot some sort of cable from the stage to the back wall of the bar. In practically the same motion her body was jetting above the audience along the cable at a fantastic speed. The thieves did even have time to react to the noise of the anchor of the cable piercing the wall before Batgirl came hurling at them feet first. Her boots struck the hands of the armed bandit and the shotgun flew out of his grasp and hit the wall with enough force to discharge the gun into the ceiling. Fortunately, the noise of the blast was stifled by the loud music or pandemonium could have ensued. Instead, the pack of wolves in the club had their frenzy encased in watching Batgirl demonstrate her ass kicking technique.
The force of the collision propelled the armed robber over the bar. To Batgirl it provided a brake so she could let go of the zip and deliver a series of shots and a body flip that left the second thief soaking up the spilled beer with the back of his coat. Batgirl spun around anticipating the recovery of the first criminal and she was right – he hurled himself over the bar in an attempt to tackle her. She stepped to the side to avoid the brunt of his weight but he was still able to upset her balance. It allowed the supine bandit to grab her ankles first with his hands and then wrap his arms around them. Batgirl was about to deliver a shot to tendons in his elbow which felt like they snapped when the second, who was the larger of the two, lowered his shoulder and drove into Batgirl’s bare midsection. His momentum and the clutch of her body caused the man on the floor to surrender his grip as the brute carried Batgirl back towards the stage, plowing through spectators along the way. He somehow was diverted to the right of the stage and reached an interruption in the form of the railing surrounding the mud wrestling pit. His bear hug was tight but Batgirl had freed herself from these embraces before with devastating blows to the temples. Before she could administer his pain, the smaller of the two offenders came running across with his own diving attempt at tackling but unlike the lunge of his mate, his effort was a bulls-eye and the three collapsed uniformly over the rail and into the mud.
Batgirl was not prepared for the sensation that wrapped itself on her exposed skin. This mud had some sort of consistency that seemed pasty as it attached itself to her skin yet slippery on the surface. It was difficult to describe in any other way than gross. The collision of their three bodies with the floor of the mud pit created a separation that each used to try and prop themselves back up into fighting position. Both guys fell twice trying to get up while Batgirl maintained an unsteady balance. Remembering her fight training on ice she took tight measured steps to keep up a good fighting angle. Take them down one at a time, one at a time, she coached herself. For the most part they made her job easier because they did not coordinate their attack thus allowing her to work on one while the other watched. Even though she scored a lot of points on contact her lack of sure footing denied her any knockout punch. Batgirl was beginning to feel a bit more comfortable fighting in the muck but the effort was tiring. She decided to try and eliminate the next one who chose to be the aggressor. As the smaller of the two charged at her she introduced her foot to his chin with a deft kick sending him sprawling back. The contact however, imposed its own will and Batgirl’s sole leg lost traction and she fell into the mud. The larger goon wasted no time diving on top of her and pushing her face into the boggy mess.
Batgirl quickly assessed she was a very dire situation. Having her face buried in the mud was not as familiar as fighting under water. She had to keep her mouth shut very tightly and she was unable to open her eyes or the mud would have made it impossible to see once free. Her efforts to tightly secure her eyes shut was made more difficult with the grinding clutch on the back of her neck. With each drive down mud seeped up her mask and filled up her eye holes. Worse, she could no longer hold her breath and felt her consciousness flitting away. She tried to push up with her arms but to no avail. His weight on her back was too great. She started squirming and felt herself almost breaking free when the oxygen depletion caught up and her efforts collapsed.
Sensing victory and enjoying the excitement of the crowd cheering for him the larger assailant turned Batgirl over and lorded over his prey. Breathing very heavily he inserted his large hand under her raised tunic and dragged her to the back rail. He could feel the cushion of her breasts on either side of his hand and in a cry of complicity the audience cheered for him to “Show us more! Show us more!”
Immediately understanding the pleas of his fellow xy-ers he sat down behind Batgirl, straddled her limp body with his legs and place both hands under her top and began to pull the material up to expose her magnificent tata’s to his new army of friends. The shirt was terribly tight and the Kevlar woven into the fabric actually made it difficult to raise but slowly he was making progress. He had managed to expose the sexy underside of each bosom and surmised, “as soon as I clear the nipples, the whole top comes off. Then I’ll work on the pants. That’ll teach this meddling busybody to mess with us.”
With a deep gasp of oxygen Batgirl burst into consciousness. She felt his legs around her ribs and his hands pulling up on her top and immediately she understood the enormity of the humiliation she was about to face. If she slid down she could be free but it would also ensure he was successful in putting her breasts on display to a packed bar of men. Time was on his side though and he gave a two fisted yank that pulled the Batsuit up to her armpits. For many years after, the patrons at ringside would describe and embellish how much they saw but in reality Batgirl minimized the revelation of her flesh by spinning face down in the same motion that her top went up and burying her tits in the mud. While on her stomach Batgirl realized her face was in his crotch. She contemplated biting him but instead grabbed his nuts and twisted. As he screamed at the unexpected agony invading his groin, Batgirl sprung up and head-butted him out cold. Slowly, she stood up and again the crowd was treated to a vision of her tits although this time they were obscured in mud. She pulled her tunic back down and shook her head disapprovingly at the animals. As the crowd now cheered her, she dragged the other perp next to his partner and cuffed them both to the rail.
Seeing Batgirl in a mud wrestling match was an opportunity of a lifetime. For the patrons, it was a chance to placate their otherwise pathetic romantic lives. For Larry Glick the dollar signs were flashing. The bar already entitled him to heaps of unreported cash that furnished his apartment in the neighborhood as well as a condo in Florida and a unit in a retirement community for his mother. Tonight was going to be the record of all records. He ran down to his DJ and asked, “What is the maximum amount the ATM in the club dispenses at a time?”
“I think $400, why?”
Glick was already pushing his way through the crowd to his enormous bouncer who was standing at ringside wondering if he should enter the fray and help Batgirl. “Hey, Boss, should I go in and help?”
“Of course not, Aristotle, what kind of thinking man are you? Batgirl can take care of herself. No, here’s the deal, spread the word around the ring: for 400 bucks – cash – these yuppie suckers can spend four minutes in the pit trying to take down Batgirl. If someone actually beats her you can give them a bottle of champagne, but not the good stuff. You got it? 4 minutes, 400 bucks and Aristotle, only go in and stop it if some loser takes his dick out and tries to rape her. I don’t want to lose my liquor license.”
Aristotle shook his head. He was always surprised by the new levels of sliminess and greed he saw in his boss. “Okay chief, whatever you say.”
Rarely had Batgirl been so exhausted after a fight. She still felt a bit woozy after securing the criminals. The added element of the mud really seemed to take its toll. She was relieved to see a man in a suit with his tie off and sleeves rolled up coming into the ring. With his broad smile she was sure his intention was to escort her out. With her guard down, she was totally unprepared when she found herself airborne again as he buried his shoulder into her ribcage. Despite disorientation and fatigue she managed to regain her standing position rather quickly but she was soon headed for the mud again as the young businessman cross-blocked her at the knees. “What are you doing, you fool?” Batgirl demanded.
“For the next four minutes, you’re mine,” and he lunged at her again. She managed to side step this attempt but he was quick on the rebound and this time wrapped his arms around her waist and dragged her down. He swung his leg around her to position himself on top and implored, “c’mon give me your best.”
“What are you talking about?” Batgirl was beginning to think this whole weird night might be a bad hallucination. Regardless, with her legs, she thrust her hips upward and pushed him off her. She sprang back to her feet quicker this time and when he regained his stance she seized his arm, spun him around, and let go causing the Assistant Vice President from the First Commercial Bank to fly over the rail and into the crowd. A cheer erupted.
By habit, but finding it difficult to believe her instinct, Batgirl spun around and sure enough another pared down “suit” was on the attack. Not waiting for an explanation, Batgirl used a few moves to flip him several times over her shoulder and crashing him on his back. After the third time, he laughed and said “okay, I give – uncle.” Immediately, a third yuppie was on pressed on her and was trying to grab the material of her Batsuit but it was too tight and too slick. He was finally able to bring her down by accident as he lost his footing and reached for her shoulder for support. The odd angle of his clutch caused her to lose equilibrium. Once on the ground with him he was a bit tougher as he actually knew some wrestling maneuvers. Not playing by any particular rules Batgirl elbowed him in the diaphragm and dragged him to the edge of the ring before pushing him out. The next to approach was not wearing a suit. He was true blue collar and Batgirl decided not to take any chances with the man who would never know a manicure. The moment he was close enough to her she released a right cross that hit him flush in the chin and sent him down. Another suit ran haphazardly at her to fill in and she disabled him as well with a single blow from her martial arts repertoire. She didn’t want to hurt these guys but she felt she had no choice.
Next, as if to increase the degree of difficulty, two young bucks entered together with the determination to attack her together from two different angles. Concerned with her limited mobility, Batgirl moved closer to one of the aggressors to try in order to take one at a time. Their running momentum was too great and they hit her high and low like two linebackers targeting an unprotected quarterback. She almost completed a flip and hit the ground hard despite the buffer of mud. The two had a bit of a sadistic streak and with Batgirl on her back each grabbed a leg and pulled in different directions. Her flexibility allowed for an almost total Russian split and the crowd cheered the sight of Batgirl in a spread eagle position. Their teamwork was remarkable because without even talking to each other they formed the idea to start spinning her around the ring with each holding an ankle. Batgirl did not like the lack of control she had over these two so she tried to kick violently until one of the men lost his hold on her ankle and she went sliding across the mud into the two handcuffed robbers. As the tag team was whispering to each other their next attack in the four minute allotment, the now risen Batgirl smashed their heads together forcing a synchronized collapse into the mud.
Not wanting to experience another round, Batgirl glared at Aristotle and held his return look. Her eyes were saying, “What gives? Please stop this nonsense,” and his return had sympathy but said, “It’s out of my control, I’m not calling the shots.” A few more desperate men came her way and she dispatched them all, some easily, some with extra effort. The last two were able to get in serious groping action before Batgirl was able to subdue them. Her fatigue was forcing her to desperately gasp for oxygen and she was near her breaking point. Larry Glick sensed that, too, and decided he would be the final combatant. In her weakened state, surely he could be victorious over Batgirl. Just as he was about to enter the ring his stable of beauties pushed by him and went over to Batgirl and surrounded her, protecting her from facing any more wrestling hopefuls. Their motivation was a mixture of female camaraderie and jealousy that Batgirl’s presence was taking away from their tip pool. Either way, they escorted her backstage.
Once in the dressing room Batgirl needed to sit down. Most of the girls still surrounded the Caped Crusader asking her questions. Glick charged in frustrated at his missed chance but still committed to his revenue. “What going on back here? Everyone, out front – all hands on deck, sell drinks, there’s money to be made.” Then walking over to Batgirl he said to her with a bravado more imagined than real, “Batgirl, thank you for your assistance tonight, you saved my business and made many a man very happy. You are welcome back here in any capacity, anytime.”
His broad, self righteous smile gave Batgirl the energy she needed to stand up. “Listen you pencil dick. This is what you are going to do. Two times every dollar you made tonight from your little stunt with me is going to be donated to the Gotham City Woman’s Shelter in a very public display that I will be expecting to see on TV.” She was seething, “if I don’t see this donation, I will be back, Glick, but you will not like it.”
“You know my name?” He felt self important again.
“Yes, I know you, twerp, and I will break you if you don’t comply.” Surprisingly slow on the uptake Glick realized eventually the seriousness of Batgirl’s threat. She continued with a menacing, “are we clear?”
Suddenly, he didn’t think wrestling her was a good idea anymore. “Yes, Batgirl, but –”
“Now get the hell out of here!” Glick left meekly, his initial bluster having failed him.
Batgirl slowly sank into one of the chairs lined up in front of the long mirror. She was sore and caked in mud. Despite Glick’s order, one of the dancers stayed behind to tend to the Maiden of the Night. “Do you want to take a shower? We have one back here that we use after we wrestle in the mud.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Batgirl declined.
“Are you sure?” Lucinda persisted, “there’s something in that gunk that when it dries your skin really tightens and your nipples become super erect. I think that’s why Larry uses that type of mud.”
“Thanks for the info, but I think I’ll still pass.”
“Well, let me clear some of this mud off your face,” as she wet a couple of washcloths. “My name is Lucinda, or Babs when I’m on stage.” She started wiping Batgirl’s neck with deliberate sensitivity.
“Oh, you’re Babs,” Batgirl said softly as Lucinda’s washcloth now carefully slid just under the collar of her tunic, “here, this is yours,” as she removed two fistfuls of 10s, 20, and 50s from her Utility Belt and placed them on the table. “I’m sorry I interrupted your slot.”
Lucinda was going to tell her to keep it but realized a woman like Batgirl probably would be insulted earning money that way. “Thanks,” as she continued gently washing away the mud on the Dark Night’s cheeks. “Hey, are you okay? Are you hurt? I’m really sorry about that asshole, Larry. He’s good to us and all but when he gets an idea about money his thinking sometimes goes out the window.”
“I’m okay, I’ve been through worse,” Batgirl offered. Lucinda’s soft cleansing touch was the first comfort she felt all day. She was a pretty girl; guessitmated to be in her early 20’s who was probably prettier without being all made up. Through the sheer nightie she was wearing there were no doubts that her body was certainly curvaceous in all the right places. Her tender touch made Batgirl feel so immediately relaxed that she didn’t flinch when Lucinda slightly parted the front of her mask from her skin to run the washcloth underneath it by her eyes.
Lucinda liked caring for people and attending to the famous Batgirl was something she never would have dreamed of six months ago before she came to Gotham. “Do you mind if I take of your mask to finish cleaning you properly?”
Batgirl hesitated for a moment. She was tired and dirty and having someone pamper her would make the past day slightly less horrible. Lucinda was just a kid, it probably wouldn’t matter. Then she answered, “No, I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“Oh, are you famous? I wouldn’t tell anyone, I promise.”
Batgirl smiled softly, “No, I don’t think of myself as famous and I do trust you. However, I don’t trust your boss and he probably has hidden video cameras recording everything in this dressing room.”
Lucinda was going to defend Glick but then thought about the type of person he was and concluded he probably did have them under surveillance. She felt a bit sad. It would have been nice to share a secret with Batgirl. “I understand,” she said, “well, let me at least straighten your mask for you.” She performed a slight tug of the cowl in one direction and then another and held Batgirl’s face in her hands. “You really have beautiful eyes. Do you want a massage?”
Batgirl was touched by the girl’s genuine kindheartedness. And the massage sounded lovely. “Thanks, sweetie, but not tonight. Don’t worry; I’ll come back again to chat with you.” She then propped herself up out of the chair and feeling refreshed enough to make it home; she left via the way she entered. Lucinda’s eyes tracked her out hoping Batgirl meant her words.
The story continues in Part 2…
How do you like the story so far? I welcome your feedback at tthatcher55@hotmail.com
Batgirl and Gotham City were created by and are copyrighted by and are property of DC Comics. Other characters appearing in this story are owned and copyrighted by other entities as well. This story has been written solely to occupy my free time. This story is purely for adult entertainment purposes and cannot be redistributed for the purposes of making money or profit.
Witness Protection
Part 2: Sunday and Monday
By T. Thatcher
Sunday
All cops regardless of rank have some deviation, some profane side that they hold as a counterbalance to the demands of their job. Good cops try to keep these secrets from their adoring families and admiring colleagues. Bad cops do not care. For most of his career one of the best cops, Jim Gordon, was different. No damaging kink haunted him. While he was tough and demanding, he was sincere. And one trait that would be expressed by anyone describing him was what you saw was what you got, even if he was transparent to a fault, even as his job became more political as he moved up the blue ladder. They were characteristics he would choose to describe himself as well and he felt that at the end of the day, they made him stronger.
Lately though he had developed a habit that he would not express nor confide to anyone. It wasn’t a terrible secret - one that would affect the lives of others - but it was one he would rather keep to himself.
After the rape and murder of his wife by the Mob he was singularly focused on bringing as many members of organized crime to justice as he could. Whatever little energy was spared in that pursuit he saved for his daughter Barbara, his only remaining memory of his wife. After his crusade weakened the Mob to such a degree that he had more time and more energy, his career filled the gap.
He and his wife had always had a healthy sex life and despite it only resulting in the birth of Barbara the romance remained strong. After her death, the element of sexual desire in him seemed to depart with her. He thought his cravings simply disappeared.
However, his encounters with Catwoman and the Siren unleashed the sexual feelings he had been suppressing for so long. Not one for probing self-analysis, he could have dismissed the sex with the Siren as almost drug induced. Her song held such power over men that simply could not be resisted. He had no knowledge of any relations but assumed even someone as conditioned as Batman would have succumbed to her song.
Catwoman was another story. In that situation he was not attracted to the villainess or any of the elements of evil but her ploy, disguising herself as Batgirl, proved too much for his manhood to contain. He willingly gave into the fantasy and if given the opportunity to be with the real Batgirl, he would probably break his celibacy again.
The alarm clock in Barbara Gordon’s bedroom was shocked at how long its piercing timbre needed to wail before a hand finally fumbled around the night stand to silence it. The tightness in her shoulders and thighs told Barbara that the previous night’s escapades were not an elaborate nightmare. I can’t believe what a bastard that Glick was, is there anybody worse? Then her day’s agenda flashed in her mind. Oh, there is: Joey Soprano! Immediate revulsion swept through her body as the thought of spending another day with the creepy misogynist started to sweep in. Daddy, can you please give me a pass on this one? The idea of subjecting her bone-sore body to hard labor was more appealing but protecting Gotham City didn’t always offer choices and her determination to win her father’s approval was stronger than any negative emotion she may have been feeling.
As she lumbered out of the bed Barbara’s nakedness provided a sketchy reminder of her actions after leaving the club. She recalled peeling off her costume and weakly throwing it into a corner of her hidden closet. Heavy footed, she labored to the shower where she didn’t even wait for the water to warm before she stepped in and let the spray rinse her body of the oil and dirt mixture. Lucinda was right; the caked-on mud was tight on her skin. Her fabulously erect nipples might have at another time been arousing but now, with her drained batteries, it was mildly uncomfortable. Putting on pajamas last night seemed like too much effort so she slinked into bed naked and succumbed to the exhaustion. When she had the sense to set her alarm was a mystery to her.
Her second shower in eight hours was much more effective in rejuvenating Barbara’s body and mind. She was more deliberate in cleaning herself this time after discovering that the mud was as pervasive as water. She dislodged dried remains from her ears and butt even though they were shielded from direct contact by the cover of her costume.
Fortunately, Barbara had more time this morning before she needed to get ready for her shift. She decided that she might be able to tolerate Soprano more if she knew was better informed about him but the file her father had given her was surprisingly thin. In fact, there were really no details about him just notes, photos, and summary evidence about his father. She decided to refer to the internet but when she could not connect she remembered the notice she had received about a disruption in service over the weekend to upgrade the network. She briefly tortured herself with irrational thoughts that her intuitive familiarity, when she first met him, should be giving her better insight.
Jim Gordon’s ‘cleaning his rifle’ started innocently enough on a routine business trip. As Commissioner of the most famous city he often visited other urban sites to discuss tactics. For a constant innovator it was a chance to preach and learn. After one formal dinner honoring the retirement of one of his peers Gordon found himself in his hotel room after more drinks than he normally allowed himself and with a stack of photos of Batgirl that he promised to have signed and sent back. Browsing through the stills he began to think about the Daring Damsel and what it would be like to be with her. Before he knew it he was in the hotel bathroom, naked, looking at himself in the mirror. His body was not what it used to be, but he reasoned he was still in pretty good shape. His skin sagged a bit and his pubic hair was generously salted but for his age he liked what he saw. I’m sure Batgirl could choose whomever she wanted. What about it Batgirl? How does the Commissioner look now? Almost unconsciously he started pulling on his dangling member. The first few jerks produced nothing. Suddenly he inverted his hand and crowned the head of his penis, rubbing it back and forth. Stirring commenced and he felt the first signs of hardness surging. He alternated looking at himself and his cock as it grew. Suddenly, he was pulling on a full erection, not standing as upright as it used to but certainly proudly perpendicular. For some reason looking at his face in the mirror made him a bit ashamed but not too ashamed to quit. He stayed in the bathroom and turned away from his reflection and towards the bathroom tub. With his free hand he grabbed one of the little bottles of crème rinse and opened it, emptying the contents over his engorged rod. His hand now glided over his Johnson and he began to stroke faster and faster. He forgot how commanding it felt to be in erect glory. His mind focused on thoughts of Batgirl sucking him off and he tried to imitate how her mouth would feel on his meat. With his arm churning and his mind imagining, the first pitch before ejaculation invaded his wood. Still faster, he stroked more until wham! His cum gushed out, years of retrenchment finally over. His legs almost failed him and he had to reach back to the sink to steady himself. It hurt to continue stroking but he felt the need to deplete himself of any remaining semen.
After determining he was finished he matter-of-factly turned on the shower and rinsed away the evidence. His body felt a release even though his mind harbored traces of guilt. The guilt did not last and the following night, in a different hotel, in a different city he was in the bathroom again.
Batgirl arrived at the hotel around noon. On the trip uptown she mentally went over questions to ask him, non-threatening questions that were deceptively probing. She was determined to end the day knowing more about him and that result should lead her to answer why she kept having notion that she knew him from somewhere.
Guzman was alone with Soprano and he explained that Sprague, who she met yesterday, would relieve her. She signed the transfer form and again checked out each room for any changes or points of infiltration. Obtaining clear signals all around, Batgirl did a double take at the coffee table. Three books stood out, all three hardbacks, representing a discerning literary palate. “It appears Detective Guzman left his books here,” Batgirl stated knowing Soprano would have no interest.
“What makes you think they are Guzman’s?” Joey reacted.
“Because they hardly look like the type of reading material I imagine you enjoying. Let me guess you are a Daily News man?”
“Batgirl, the books are mine.”
“Oh, are you trying to impress me?” she asked with sarcasm.
“No, they are just good reads,” Joey replied with sincerity and calm, “if I wanted to impress you why would I choose books?”
His earnestness momentarily put Batgirl on an apologetic defensive.
“I always read three books at a time: one is a re-read of a classic, another is non-fiction, and the third is a current novel. And yes, I do read the Daily News but I also read the Economist, and the Times. What do you read?”
Again his naturalness was disarming. Batgirl, in fact, always read three books at a time, too, one classic, one current novel, and one non-fiction. She stuttered admitting to Joey she shared the same pattern.
“Cool,” was his response. For someone determined to break the Soprano code, her pre-arranged strategy was not working to well. Nevertheless, her goals were being met as she learned that just listening to him provided a wealth of information. Right before high school he was sent away to a boarding school in Switzerland close to the Italian border. He hated it a first. He hated the feeling of being torn from his family. He blamed Jim Gordon for the war he raged on his family and his father sending him away, making him feel like he was a coward. Later, he learned that it had been his father’s plan all along. His father was successful not because of his juice in the Family but because of his vision. He knew the business was changing and its future leaders needed a worldly view that the close-knit neighborhoods of Gotham couldn’t offer. Now Joey admitted he looks back on the schooling as a great cultural boost but he still cannot overcome the disconnect it left between him and his family, a detachment that lead to his blowing the whistle.
Batgirl sat in utter amazement. This person was not the same one she could not escape from early enough yesterday. It was evident now that his schooling had imbued him with knowledge and an appreciation for cultural heights even if his language still slipped into occasional crudity. “So, Mr. Soprano, I guess your Swiss schooling has made you into the reader you are today.”
“Naw, not really,” he began. “Well maybe it provided me with a tour de force reading list but the love of reading actually started when I was at P.S. 14.”
Alarm bells shrieked in Batgirl’s mind. P.S. 14 that was my school! “I’m sorry, what did you say your full name was again?”
“Are you serious? Well my friends call me Joey Sausage but I was christened Anthony Joseph Soprano, why?”
Oh my God, how could I have missed this? Anthony Joseph – A.J. – no wonder he looked familiar. I went to school with him! As Barbara Gordon she had such a crush on him but he was so cool and that he barely knew who she was. Suddenly, somewhere around the time her mother died, he disappeared and no one really spoke about him again. He was so smart in school, brilliant really. She only moved into the top academic spot in her class when he left.
With her agenda blown but fully receiving the briefing she desired, Batgirl engaged Joey to tell her more. Not surprisingly, he had opinions about everything. She tried to focus him on books and pushed him to see if he shared any of the insights she gleaned from certain books. In some cases he had developed deeper perspectives than she.
The shift was on hyper-drive. She wanted it to last but knew Sprague would be relieving her soon. She decided to push on one area that she felt was unaddressed. “Why are you so unhappy?”
“What makes you think I’m unhappy?”
“Well yesterday you seemed so agitated and even though today there were no raised voices there seemed to be a rage always close by.” Batgirl knew she wasn’t accurately describing her feeling but without thinking it through that’s how it came out.
“Did you ever consider the pressure I am under? I mean, c’mon, I’m fucking turning on my family, don’t you think that would have an impact?”
“Yes, but it’s something else,” she persisted. As she questioned him further his demeanor changed and the combative Joey faded and another man emerged: one who was charming, thoughtful, and suddenly very attractive. His attraction for her moved from lust to intrigue as she emerged in his eyes as an intellectual equal and a person of uncommon insight to his psyche. It was if she was probing his soul.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” as Batgirl introduced her thought, “but how could you be such an ignoramus at times when clearly you are a generational man beyond the Renaissance?
“Often I am conflicted. You see I have to live a dual life, you wouldn’t understand –
“Hellooo, check out the woman with the mask at your 12 o’clock.”
“ Yeah, okay, but around my boys I need to act like a goodfella even though sometimes, a lot of times, I would rather be at the Museum of Modern Art. Sometimes the job requires that you do things that your ethical studies tell you are wrong. Sometimes having the power and putting a hurt on someone feels good. Sometimes I don’t know which Soprano I really am, Anthony Joseph or Joey Sausage?”
How to be adjusted while living two lives was an answer Batgirl was still trying to figure out for herself. “All I can tell you is how I have coped with my duality. You have to know what your core is. You have to decide what you are willing to accept and what you reject as wrong and you need to remind yourself each day of this right and wrong. In our own ways each of us is a public figure. Know that the public is going to see you a certain way no matter what you do. So do what you want, make yourself happy first then worry about others.”
“That’s it, that’s your advice?”
Batgirl wasn’t sure if Joey was kidding or not, “That’s all I got so far.”
Joey broke out a wide grin. “Thanks, it’s a good place to start.”
Sprague broke up the conversation with a loud knock on the door. Alarmed at the force of his salutation Batgirl sprang to the door. She asked the person on the other side of the door to identify himself. She recognized Sprague’s voice but followed up with the security safe phrase as a precaution. Sprague answered correctly so she opened the door. He passed through the doorway and looked at her as if to say ‘what’s the problem?’ She looked back at him hoping her opened mouth expression conveyed the sentiment of did you have to knock so loudly? Whatever misunderstanding they might have had evaporated immediately.
Sprague asked if everything was okay and Batgirl assured him of an uneventful day. Before leaving, Batgirl turned her head back over her shoulder and said, “Bye, Joey.”
The officer smiled mockingly at him and repeated the ‘Bye Joey’.
Soprano hissed, “Shut the fuck up.”
Batgirl exited the hotel from the lobby and not through the passage. She wanted a breath of fresh air to match the exhilaration she was feeling. Reconnecting with an old flame, okay that was an exaggeration, but finding out that someone you knew turned out so well…maybe that wasn’t the best way to describe it either. Nevertheless, Batgirl felt giddy and she couldn’t hide her smile from the jostling crowd roaring by her.
Her good mood was enhanced by an unseasonably warm November day. The sun was shining and the usual drab city ceiling was blue. Not wanting to be too Mary Richards, she decided to celebrate by taking the night off. As she turned to head to the garage where her bike was parked, her trained eyes caught a purse snatcher in action across the avenue. Taking a quick note of the location and victim for identification later Batgirl bolted into the street, craftily dodging the oncoming cars, pursuing the perp at an angle to cut him off by the next street corner. What Batgirl did not anticipate was the speed that the boy had in his kicks. Ten yards from the interception point the youth found another gear and Batgirl realized she would have to chase him down. At his motoring pace she anticipated he would tire within five city blocks so she focused on keeping him in sight until he slowed. His velocity was impressive and Batgirl knew in a footrace there was no way she could compete, so she had to wear him. Fast legs usually tightened sooner and her supreme conditioning would prevail but she had to pace herself faster than she would have liked because at his rate she would lose him in the crowd. As it was, his darting moved him in and out of her sights.
At the ninth block he still appeared strong and Batgirl realized she had a race on her hands. At the 20th block – the one mile mark – she still had not gained on the thief. He was within a barely trackable distance and his stamina was defying normal chase standards. The unseasonably warm temperature combined with the construct of her costume was now beginning to affect Batgirl. She tasted the salt around her mouth and after every few strides she had to wipe the sweat out of her eyes. She was not winded but neither was he. By the 28th block of the chase Batgirl had halved the gap between them but his determination kept her from gaining any more range. Oxygen replenishment was difficult but Batgirl kept pushing on knowing he had to break down at some point. At the 35th block he stumbled and Batgirl fought through the burning in her legs to close in on him. She thought she had him at block 36 but again he pulled ahead just enough to stay out of her grasp. The prolonged chase afforded Batgirl time to consider many options once she caught him and at block 38 – just two shy of two miles – she had him. It was easy to take him down; at last he had no more fight in him. As she stood over him and applied her Bat-cuffs, she panted with abandon trying to reclaim normal breathing. Fortunately, the long pursuit drew the attention of cops on foot patrol and they soon caught up with her and completed the arrest.
The men in blue drove her back to her bike. The quick trip back mocked the effort of the pursuit. As they arrived she was grateful for the leather seats in the car because her drenched body would have saturated regular car upholstery. The quickness also did not give her time to cool down and she continued to perspire through her outfit.
The bike ride home caked the sweat to her body and when she made it back to her apartment she stripped the foul smelling Batsuit off her body where it joined the previous nights’ mud outfit in the closet corner.
After a refreshing long shower, Barbara wrapped herself in a plush robe and wrapped a towel around her head as she headed for her computer. She was able to connect and immediately visited her favorite search engines to find out more about AJ Soprano. The searches did not provide any additional insight so she decided hack her father’s home computer for information not available publicly. Her father was really an easy mark, straightforward to infiltrate and unimaginative in hiding files. She had even done it in the past while he was using his computer. She was sure he had some records on his hard drive that would give her the information on Joey Soprano she needed.
Unfortunately, she encountered the only flaw to her plan – his computer needed to be on! She normally flicked it on every time she was at his house just for situations like this but he must have turned it off at some point. Undaunted, it just meant getting dressed and heading over.
A quick cab ride from her apartment building dropped her at the stoop to his brownstone, the house she grew up in. Using her key, Barbara announced herself and hearing no response made her way to his study. Several times, she had offered to give him his key back for privacy but he wouldn’t hear of it. In turn she had given him one of her keys as well. Given her secret lifestyle it could have been a dangerous move but she knew her father and that he would never use it for fear of interrupting something he would rather not see his grown daughter do.
His old computer took an eternity to boot up and when it finally did she had no problem locating the files she needed. He also had two hardcopy files on his desk, one reasonably thick one about Joey and another double sized with her mother’s name written on it. She touched it to open it but decided against it. The information she needed to know tonight was in the first one.
Out of the blue Barbara heard a noise coming from her father’s bedroom. She immediately shifted her posture into a stealth position to investigate – he had been broken into before despite being Commissioner – and, if necessary, apprehend. This time they will not get away. With the folder still in her grasp Barbara moved with a soundless gait to the source of the disturbance. Slowly and quietly, she nudged the door. Thankfully, the door did not betray her with a creak and as the room was revealed the first image she saw was her father standing by the edge of his bed, in his boxer shorts, and looking away from her. She began to relax when suddenly she noticed he was holding a large, framed picture of Batgirl in one of his hands. The full scene registered when she realized the front of his shorts was pulled down and he was throttling his firm manhood to Batgirl’s image, her image!
Barbara screamed, “Oh my God!” but she was she not sure if she said it out loud or to herself. She didn’t know if he saw her but in any case she was headed for the front door and would not turn back for anything. Just as she reached her escape she heard him grunt in ecstasy, rendering her embarrassed, disgusted, and confused. She doesn’t want to think about it because she now knew that at the end of it all, this, and not the Joker or some other super villain, would force her to abandon her career.
Monday
”Sometimes I am just such an ordinary girl,” Barbara Gordon complained to her pet parrot, Charlie, who was one of the few holders of a secret that proved her anything but ordinary. “I haven’t a thing to wear.”
Barbara awoke with the added vigor of recharged batteries. The night off succeeded in replenishing her energy levels. After a good hour of replaying and analysis once she arrived home, her awful intrusion to her father’s privacy was pushed to the recesses of her consciousness, a trait surely inherited from her father to keep her functioning and moving forward.
She surveyed her secret closet and the rack of mostly empty hangers. She briefly paused to assess some of the variations to her Bat uniform that she showcased over the years. Some brought back memories of excitement and achievement. Some she kept to remind her of the need to keep learning. For a variety of reasons she had decided to keep the relics but one thing they were not made for was the type of fighting she now engaged in. Unfortunately, those relics were all that remained in her closet. After a week and a half of intense battles her current outfits were either impaired or offensively odored. What remained was a very limited choice.
Batgirl actually had a scheduled day off from her vigilance of AJ. However, she was in need of an outfit because she was scheduled to receive an award from the Gotham City Fire Department for Bravery and Civic Duty. It was a nice gesture by them and she did not want to cancel as it might upset the harmony between the Best and the Bravest.
She pulled a purple lycra Batsuit off the hanger and held it up to her body. Of course it still fit. Barbara smiled even though it offered no protection, it would have to do. This is only a ceremonial function and besides, there are some very cute firemen, it wouldn’t be a crime to give them a treat. She remembered how form fitting it was. “Charlie, let’s give the men and woman firefighters a Batgirl to remember, they deserve it.”
The ride to Fire Headquarters was enlivening. A rare daytime cruise through Gotham’s streets always brought out her supporters from their stores and out into the street to cheer the Caped Damsel. She acknowledged as many well wishers as she could. She also lucked out with the weather. The Indian summer that began yesterday continued in earnest this day as well and if not for the lycra outfit she would have been one hot cruising Batchick. She arrived at her destination, on time, and proceeded to the reception area where the Department’s handlers briefed her on the details and agenda of the ceremony. The format was fairly standard. All she really needed to do was think about her remarks.
Normally, her father would be at a ceremony like this. It was part of the mutual admiration the City needed to see from their Police and Fire Departments and, after last night, she now knew other reasons why her father made appearances at these events when she was included. Scanning the audience, she noticed his absence. She was sure it was on account of the first day of Joey’s testimony. He would want to ensure everything went smoothly.
When it came time to receive her award, the battalion of firemen roared. Walking up the steps she could see all the men’s eyes follow each stride. When she reached the podium their anticipation was so palpable she wasn’t sure if they wanted to hear her or see her shake her booty. She thought back to Saturday and the power women like Lucinda must feel each night.
Batgirl was a gifted speaker. Even though her speech followed a template she was blessed with an ability to make each presentation of it sound as if crafted for the very first time. She knew where she could go off script and she knew how to return once she had. She liked the forum of public speaking and the audience obviously welcomed her as their voice. During her acceptance speech she felt the vibrating of the Commissioner’s hotline. She did not let it affect her talk but she was conscious not to ramble too long.
After the applause and during the meet and greet of many of the City’s fire fighters, Batgirl felt the vibrating alarm of the Commissioner’s beckoning again. She politely excused herself from three very attractive and well conditioned heroes who happened to represent the summer months of the Firefighter’s calendar. One good thing about this audience, they understood that an emergency summoning meant something.
Batgirl dialed the Commissioner’s number. “Commissioner, it’s me, Batgirl. How can I help you?”
“Batgirl, a situation has arisen and I need to see you immediately.”
“This is a secure line, Commissioner. Can’t you just tell me here?” The events of last night were being pulled back into her immediate consciousness.
“I’m afraid not, how quickly can you make it to my office?”
Not wanting to make her reluctance obvious Batgirl agreed to meet him. After hanging up the phone and with all the memories still fresh she regretted wearing the costume she had on. Unfortunately, there was no time to change before seeing him. She would just have to keep the meeting as brief as possible.
Jim Gordon liked the layout of his office. As a cop rising through the ranks he was never too enamored with ego rooms. He just needed enough space to do his work, no more. Now as Commissioner the demands were different. Often he needed to size up a person before a word was spoken. The walk from his oak doors to his desk offered enough space for an assessment. In those extra seconds, he could change tactics and come up with the right questions and the right statements to push the right buttons.
That leverage changed when he saw Batgirl walk through the door this late autumn afternoon. Instead of organizing his words, her approach totally made him lose his thought control. Her body pierced the professionalism he used to shield himself from lust. Each lively stride was a picture he wanted to behold. She simply looked amazing. In his mind he was stripping away her clinging purple body suit piece by piece when Batgirl disrupted his fantasy, “Yes, Commissioner, you wanted to see me?”
“Er, yes, Batgirl, please sit down or remain standing. Yes, standing is good, unless, of course you need to rest. Do as you wish.” He knew he was spouting gibberish.
“I’ll stand of that’s okay.” Her voice had a trace of bewilderment. He needed to get his act together. He wisely decided to remain seated behind his desk to hide any potentially embarrassing tenting in his trousers. Focus. Why did you call her in?
“Batgirl, thank you for coming in today on such short notice and on your day off, to boot. Soprano’s testimony went very well today, as good as we could have hoped. We feel he provided some very damaging remarks that really sunk in with the jury. If he can keep this up we are in excellent shape.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Commissioner, but surely that can’t be the reason you called me in today.”
“No, of course not, Batgirl. The problem is when the DA took Soprano back to the hotel safe house, Guzman never showed up. Not only did he not show up but we have been unable to reach him at all. I spoke to his wife and she said that he left awhile ago, certainly enough time to be where he should be. I am concerned for his well-being.”
“Guzman is a fine man. What would you like for me to do, Commissioner?”
“He’s a fine family man and a damn good cop. I will be praying tonight. Anyway, I need for you to take his shift until I can find a replacement in the morning. Will you do that for me, Batgirl?”
“Of course, Commissioner, let me go change and I’ll be at the hotel and ready to do my job.” Batgirl was thinking to herself which of the filthy costumes she would have to don for this impromptu assignment. She would choose the mud over the funk, no need to assault Joey’s senses. While contemplating her choices she noticed the Commissioner’s eyes tracing her outline and contemplating her. Oh Daddy!
“Unfortunately, Batgirl, I need you right away. The DA is with him now and he needs to leave for very important proceedings related to tomorrow’s testimony. O’Hara and I are concerned we are being followed so we cannot replace him now. I need your services immediately.”
“Alright then, I won’t let you down, sir.” Despite the dirty feeling she held right now being ogled by her own father; she also did not want to let him down. Plus, the opportunity to see AJ again kind of excited her. The Commissioner went on further to detail the new hiding place they had secured – a mansion apartment in a very well-heeled City neighborhood. It had been reclaimed for back taxes and now the City needed it. The location was discreet and no one would suspect the City would have a holding place in that high of a rent district. The DA would deliver Soprano to her.
As Batgirl left, he was treated to another long view of the Mistress of the Night and the mistress of his fantasies. Her cape was just above her butt and he marveled at each cheek - poured perfectly into her outfit – flexed with each step. It was his perfection. Batgirl sensed his eyes were glued to her backside and did not turn back to say goodbye. She could not get out of there fast enough. When she closed the solid doors and finally was out of the room, Gordon took a deep breath and savored the memory of her purple hued body. He glanced at the other door in his office that led to his private bathroom. He pressed his secretary’s intercom button and said, “Peggy, please hold my calls and don’t interrupt me for the next fifteen minutes.”
On the motorcycle ride to the new safe-house Batgirl mentally retraced the contents revealed to her in the file she found in her father’s home office. The boy she knew as AJ was indeed the Joey Soprano she was now assigned to protect. While the documents did not make clear why he chose to turn on his family there were enough facts in his file to put aspects of his life in perspective. He was a top student in her school – the top, in fact – besting Barbara’s academic excellence by a few decimals points. That was not surprising to her. As a kid, she was never obsessed with grades. She only tried to do the best she could to make her parents proud. She recognized early on that Joey’s grades were right up there with hers only he always seemed to achieve his scores with less effort. On top of that everyone liked him. He was the king among boys and the heartthrob for the girls, including Barbara. She never enjoyed popularity as a kid. Taunts started early when an eye condition forced her to wear corrective glasses and she inherited the nickname “Four Eyes”. Even after she did not need the glasses anymore, other kids seemed to delight in still calling her that. While the teasing never progressed to taunts she withdrew and the other kids moved on without her.
AJ was never mean to her but he also did not seek her out either. He was always polite (and never used her dreaded nickname) but his interest was mostly collegial. Nevertheless, each time he did speak to her it made her day and she would spend the night fantasizing about being his girlfriend. At other times she would create fantastic scenarios where she was in danger and he would step in and protect her.
Barbara read about Soprano’s father and where he fit into the mob hierarchy and how the depletion of the ranks by Gordon’s crusade provided the scenario for his ascendancy to become a powerful leader. The police work that was crushing the mob created a vacuum that sparked behaviors that were dangerous to the survival of their system. All family members were targets and that threat compelled Tony Sr. to abruptly take his son out of school and ship him to Switzerland. His motivations were protectionist and visionary. He saw how the money making system was changing and how it was shifting from muscle to intelligence. A strong boy was useful but a smartly educated boy would dominate. His drive would make Tony Sr. a boss but his son would create a dynasty. Tony Sr. kept his plan within a tight circle of confidents and justified the moving of his son to others by telling them that sharing a class with Gordon’s daughter was too risky.
As Batgirl approached the apartment building where she would spend the night with Joey, she noticed a change in barometric pressure signaling that cold weather would quickly sweep out the rare November warmth.
She parked her bike a bit away from the building to avoid telegraphing their location. Upon entering the building she took the private elevator up to the penthouse. The doors opened to an opulence rarely experienced by average Gothamites in their lifetime. Even stripped down of much of its furniture, the magnificence of the structure and the fixtures told a story of incredible wealth. The thought of living here was more daunting than envious. It was simply too impressive for her tastes.
That being said, its size presented many challenges to prevent breaches in security. Batgirl proceeded to inspect each room and determine where the best place to camp out for the night was. More than once Batgirl had to shake her head in disbelief that people actually lived in a place this grand. Even more odd was that the City actually owned the residence due to tax levies. They were looking for opportunities to sell it but buyers for this type of luxury did not materialize every day. One of the more spectacular features was the pool on the top floor of the duplex. In addition to its size – suitable for a serious lapper – it had a majestic glass ceiling that illuminated the room from the light of the moon or even the glow of the City’s lights. This was a special property.
Despite the allure of spending a night in such extravagance Batgirl determined that the servants’ quarters would be the safest location in the apartment. She could rig traps in the bedrooms and other access points that would allow them to prepare in the case of attack. Plus it had separate egresses, one to the hall and another to the pool room upstairs. Not knowing what to expect from this night, this section of the house offered the most security and privacy.
Joey arrived with his usual bravado posture and athletic warm-ups. His chin immediately lifted to a higher angle to take in the specter of the apartment. He nodded approvingly. “Finally, some first class accommodations,” he tried to joke. The DA was very nervous and cold as if he could not wait to be away from the contagion that was Joey Soprano. Batgirl assured him that she had already secured the premises and that he could leave to prepare the next days’ work. She didn’t have to say goodbye twice.
“Well, Joey, soak up as much of the entrance as you can now because it will be the last time you see it tonight,” Batgirl instructed. Soprano looked confused but followed her, mimicking the tricky stepping around traps, into the servants’ section. The quarters were actually a larger studio apartment than many could afford in Gotham City. It was also the most furnished of rooms in the whole mansion. They had a kitchenette, bathroom, convertible sofa, and a chair. On the coffee table Batgirl had placed a few books she picked up on her way to the safe house. They were books she greatly admired and wanted to share with Joey either as an introduction to the literature or as a discussion topic for later.
Alone, Batgirl and Joey Soprano immediately returned to discussions about books and art. Batgirl uncharacteristically offered personal details about her life that explained why she felt certain ways about certain things and Joey presented insights into himself that she was sure he never shared with others. More than once, he commented that she got him and although not expressed he was sure she felt some level of identification in him, too. The afternoon light had long since faded when they realized they were speaking to each other in the dark. Batgirl rose to turn on the floor lamps that they had for light. After bringing light to their space, Batgirl paced around a bit to stretch her limbs. She realized more than a few hours had passed. In the light, Joey noticed how ridiculously hot she looked in her Batgirl costume. The predator words of a player almost slipped out of his mouth but he was able to catch himself and say with a bit of forced non-chalance, “That’s not your usual costume, is it?”
With her arms stretching to the ceiling and her breasts perfectly perpendicular Batgirl replied, “This? No, this is not my usual coat of arms. Let’s just say due to some technical difficulties, I broke this one out of retirement. Why do you think it makes me look bad?”
Joey was caught off guard. Was Batgirl asking him like a girlfriend or a male admirer? He gambled on the former, “No, not bad just different. It doesn’t look as reinforced as your other costume from the other days.”
“Well, you are right, it isn’t. It’s more of a show Batsuit – and not a costume – I don’t wear this to parties. Hopefully, tonight will be like the other days and it won’t be put to the test.”
“Batsuit, of course, no offense intended. Hey I’m hungry is there anything to eat?” Joey stood up and headed for the kitchenette.
Just before he reached the refrigerator Batgirl was flooded with a sense of imminent danger. “Joey, quick, hide in here,” she commanded as she opened up the cabinet door of a long, antique table-high cabinet that used to be used to store dinner service sets.
“What? What’s going on?” and seeing the opening she was offering, “I can’t fit on there,” he complained but with Batgirl forcing his head and shoulders through the aperture he was soon concealed.
Batgirl spun around to investigate the ominous premonition when suddenly a ninja clad body burst through one of the windows and three more warriors stormed down the staircase from the floor above.
Switching from conscious thought, her eastern training and street combat experience guided her to battle mode. She targeted the window crasher first as he was isolated from the group. She needed to attack rather than defend but his skills were good and it took her several glancing hits before she found an opening to connect with the force to take him down. By that point the others were on top of her and she performed two back handsprings to create some space for her to operate. The ninjas rushed her and she fought them off valiantly but she was only able slow them, not disable them. Their skills varied but combined it presented a difficult opponent. Several times she needed gymnastic escapes to compensate for the limited space to fight multiple persons. She used the sparse furniture for separation and as shields from multiple attackers. Her confidence never waned and that determination allowed her to slowly assert herself as she kicked, punched, and wrestled her way towards control. Finally, her momentum had resulted in four bodies on the ground, three in one corner and one apart. She turned to scan for rope to tie them up when she heard the unmistakable click of a gun being cocked. She turned and saw the lone ninja who was the best fighter standing with a gun pointed directly at her.
The fragility of her lycra outfit was now devastatingly evident to her and after a quick assessment of the distance from the shooter and the confinement of escape options she thought with stern seriousness, “This is it. I’m dead.” Her only thought was will I feel pain or die right away?
Behind his mask Batgirl could detect a smile as he said in a voice that was not Asian like his attire, “Goodbye, Batgirl.”
She saw the explosive flash emanate from the gun. Expecting also to see the actual bullet erupt from the revolver she was surprised when her vision was suddenly obscured by the flying body of Joey Soprano in front of her. His body landed on the floor with a thud and she rushed to him. “Why did he do that?” she screamed to herself.
“Joey, Joey!” Batgirl shouted to him as she tried to turn him over onto his back. She could hear the ninja patrol filing up the staircase to escape. Finally succeeding in flipping him she looked to his face. His eyes were open and he was smiling. Puzzled, she looked down his body to the place where his body absorbed the shot. However, in place of a wound Batgirl saw him holding a bullet-dented, silver serving tray over his chest.
“Amazing the things you find while hiding,” he commented wryly.
“You idiot,” was all she could manage as a comeback after now understanding the sequence of events fully. Her mind immediately switched back to the intruders. She released her grip of his shoulders and darted up the stairs in pursuit.
Upon entering the pool palace her senses immediately picked up on the bright illumination of the room from the moonlight as well as the deafening noise from above. A cable was secured from the floor to the ceiling of the skylight and the ninjas were quickly boarding a black unmarked helicopter. Without any consideration for the danger Batgirl reached into her utility belt and shot her own line to the top of the roof and zipped up in time to grab the leg of the last ninja to embark.
He first tried to shake her off. When that failed he planted a direct kick to her temple that was so forceful it twisted her cowl so it partially covered her eyes. Woozy, Batgirl somehow managed to retain her grip on his leg but the second strike of his foot to her head sent her free falling on a twenty-five foot semi-conscious descent.
Joey reached the top of the stairs to see Batgirl collect the brutal blows. He watched helplessly as her body plunged from the spectacular glass roof. She fell quickly and he lost sight of her as her costumed form hit the pool with a loud splash. He rushed to the pool’s edge to inspect. All he could see on the surface of the water was her cowl and red hair, no body. Confused, his thoughts produced, “Oh my God, Batgirl’s been decapitated!” His train of reasoning was further confounded when a woman with short brown hair pierced the surface, quickly grabbed the floating accessories, and plunged back down out of view. Joey stared at the water, unable to see anything underneath, and tried to process what had actually happened. Eventually, the reality of what he witnessed started to come together. She was too quick for him to grab any discernable image of her face. Then it dawned on him that several minutes had passed and Batgirl had not resurfaced from the depths of the pool. He dove in determined to save her life again.
A fairly good swimmer, Joey eased is way to the bottom of the pool. Even though the moonlight lit up the room it was not strong enough to make the pool transparent. Joey used his limited vision and probing hands to try and find Batgirl’s body. Every moment counted and he systematically covered quite a bit of the bottom but without success. With his lungs burning for oxygen he reluctantly moved toward the surface to refuel.
Cresting the water plane he gasped for breath. Before he could descend again his eyes spotted Batgirl standing on the edge of the pool, fully attired, looking down at him, “What are you doing in the water?”
“I thought…” he began but before another word could form, his brain froze at the sight lording above him. The moonlight flooding into the penthouse directed its entire beam on figure on the perimeter. In the spotlight he had eagle like clarity of Batgirl majestically standing in her drenched lycra costume. From his vantage point the costume could have been mistaken for body paint. Each breast was his to behold. So detailed was his view that he could easily see the formation of her areolas and the pertness of her nipples jutting out in response to the cold air that now invaded the pool room. He continued his scan down to her pussy where the darkness of her costume could not hide the Bat-camel toe. There was no mistaking it, what he was seeing was as good as Batgirl naked.
“Are you okay?” she interrupted, “do you need help out of the water?”
“No,” he replied with his eyes still fixed on her, “I’m all good.”
“Why on earth did you jump in the water?” she inquired.
“I didn’t see you come up. I thought I was saving you,” (and his bravery was now being rewarded).
“Why would you think I need saving?” Batgirl shook her head as if he acted foolishly. He didn’t care. He wanted to stay in the frigid water forever. Batgirl had other ideas, “Come on,” as she held out her hand, “let’s return downstairs where it is warmer.”
Batgirl had Joey wait in the servants’ quarters as she re-inspected the mansion. Walking through the dining area and kitchen she tried to call the Commissioner to inform him of the attempt and to see if a different hideout was available. Unfortunately, the plunge in the pool rendered her communication device inoperable. In the bedrooms she noticed the light switches were now inoperable so the assailants had cut the electricity. Any abandonment of the site meant trekking down many flights of exposed staircases. The library, the one room she really envied in this mansion despite being barren of books, was a suitable size but with only one egress, it was a trap. Assessing her options she still felt that staying in the quarters until relief came in the morning was still the safest place for them.
Re-entering the service section she felt an intense chill jetting in through the broken window. The November cold was re-asserting itself after the brief reminder of summer warmth. Both of them would freeze, wet and exposed as they were. As it was Batgirl could feel her nipples straining to poke through the lycra. Batgirl remembered she saw at least one bathrobe in the washroom of their quarters. Noticing that Joey was standing and dripping by the sofa she suggested, “Put yourself to good use and build a fire.” This place was so posh that even the staff had a fireplace in their room.
Batgirl figured she would let Joey have the robe since his health was more critical than hers during the trial. However, when she went in the bathroom she noticed that it had two robes. Closing the door she stepped out of her boots and peeled off the lycra body suit, keeping on her cowl. She re-slung her utility belt around her bare hips and wrapped herself in the thick white robe, tightly tying the sash to cover as much or her body as possible. It immediately felt more comfortable.
As she walked out of the bathroom she saw the hearth blazing and saw Joey do a double take when he saw her. Cutting him off before he could comment, she threw him the other robe and instructed him to change in the bathroom and hang his wet clothes by the fire.
The lack of electricity limited their options for food and drink. Joey opened a bottle of wine but Batgirl declined to join him. She opted for water. They cheered their discovery of a tin of Jiffy-Pop popcorn and inserted it into the fire to watch the foil expand with kernels of fun. Sitting on the sofa together with a reasonable separation between them they each forced a bit of conversation starters but the memory of the invasion and their irregular costuming stilted most dialogs.
The popcorn wasn’t filling but at least it addressed some relief for their empty stomachs. At one point, Batgirl accidentally dropped a kernel down her robe. Temporarily forgetting the decorum of her role she reached in slightly parting the top of her robe. Joey lecherously eyed at an angle as she exposed a very small and lightly freckled bit of her cleavage. It was innocent and she quickly re-covered herself but it was enough for Joey’s brain to almost short circuit. Soon afterwards Batgirl noticed that the voice and mentality of the “other” Joey Soprano re-emerging. Not realizing that she was responsible for sending a flood of testosterone through his body and mistaking it for the effects of the wine, Batgirl got up to excuse herself and let him calm down. As she passed him in the tight space between the sofa and coffee table she brushed by his leg. The plush material of the two robes adhered and as Batgirl pulled forward she accidentally opened the bottom of Joey’s robe.
The action revealed the “Joey” he was most proud of. Batgirl couldn’t help but notice that in addition to a very admirable size his penis had an extreme curve. It almost was a right angle. “Oh my God, Joey, did you get hurt during the fight?”
“What are you talking about, Bat-sister?” Joey made no move to cover himself up.
“Your, your,” and she lowered her voice for the word, “’penis’ is all bent like it is broken.”
“Why do you think they call me Joey Sausage?”
Batgirl felt naïve and stupid, “I thought it was because you liked meat products in a casing.”
Laughing, Joey said staring down at himself, “Nope, this is fine piece of animal protein is the rage that girls across Gotham crave.”
“Well, it looks like it would hurt you.” Batgirl couldn’t believe she was having this conversation.
“Trust me, the last this thing does is hurt. It brings pleasure. Extreme pleasure. Maybe you’d like to try it?”
Sensing that she wouldn’t be able to bring the Joey she liked back if she continued with this discourse, Batgirl said, “Well I think it has aired out enough. Let’s put it back where it belongs.” As she grabbed the edge of his robe to place it back over him she accidentally brushed her hand against it knocking the curve to the other side. When she tried to close the other half of the robe she grazed it again but successfully covered him up.
For about three seconds.
Before she could walk away she heard Joey say, “Oh boy, now you’ve done it. You’ve gotten Joey Sausage all agitated.”
Turning, she saw Joey now largely erect with his dick splitting the closure of his robe. Panicking, she said, “Maybe you should go into the bathroom and do something about that.”
With increasing confidence Joey replied, “Me? I’m not the one who started this. I think it would do you good to come and pay me some attention.”
“Are you crazy? I am here to protect you, not service you. Go back to your neighborhood if you are too lazy to whack yourself off.” Batgirl’s voice held anger but for some reason she wasn’t walking away.
“Batgirl, all I’m saying is we are in an unusual situation – high stress – we both were almost wiped out tonight, I saved you, we should celebrate. C’mon no one has to be the wiser.”
“Joey, it wouldn’t be right.” Batgirl couldn’t believe she was letting herself be on the defense.
“It’s just us, Batgirl. C’mon, I like you and I think you like me a bit, too. We’re not too far apart. We like a lot of the same authors. I bet we’re the same age. Are we, Batgirl?”
“Yes, but...” Batgirl couldn’t believe she just released a piece of personal information to him. “Joey, really.”
“Just touch it, just once, that’s all.” In his pleading, his charm was in full swing.
“Joey…” then Batgirl looked around as to see if someone was watching and then to their mutual amazement, her gloved hand reached out to his bowed appendage.
At first touch his gland jumped but she secured it with a firmer grip and gave him a short stroke. Joey responded with a moan and Batgirl continued to hold him for a moment, not doing anything, and then she stroked him again much longer – all the way down his shaft – and continued caressing his tool.
It was odd not to move her arm straight up and down. She had seen curved penises before but he was certainly extreme. The curiosity alone was what brought her to this point. She wondered if his shape would be difficult to take in her mouth.
Joey could not believe Batgirl was giving him a rubdown. For someone who routinely broke boundaries with his friends this was something even he could never was have imagined. With each stroke Batgirl seemed to get more into it. It was good for a bit but Joey realized that she actually held him too tightly and sometimes pulled instead of glided. Hey Batgirl’s not too good at this…but it’s Batgirl! She also tended to bend his dick towards his legs which actually hurt. Did she not know or was she trying to exert control over him. It was pain and pleasure.
She was at angle to him and he could not really see her face or her hand on his cock. He decided to up the ante. He tried to remember which part of her robe overlaid the other and he reached around her back and cupped the underside of one of her breasts. As he searched for her nipple, she paused her stroking for a moment, glided her hand up and down him two more times, and then removed his hand. He thought he blew it but a few seconds later she began to stroke him again at a faster pace.
Eventually, the pain of her hand job was dominating the gratification. He wasn’t sure he could come so Joey took another chance, this one bolder than the last, “Batgirl, take me in your mouth. It’ll feel so good.”
Without protest or even a word of comment Batgirl adjusted her position and placed the tip of his penis in her mouth. He was surprised. He knew that his shape created a lot of inquisitiveness in women but this was Batgirl. Her hand moved to his balls as the up and down was now smoothed by her supple tongue and mouth. It felt unbelievable. Really unbelievable.
What made the blowjob even better was that he could see her face now, her lips over his dick, the hollow of her cheeks as she slid down him. He knew he had confidence and that gave him license to many things but this was new territory for him. The way that Batgirl was working his dick made him think she was really into it. He hoped she was because he was really into her. Yeah she looked great but the giddiness he felt after talking to her and exchanging ideas made him feel fresh and a better man. She was special. Unlike the hundreds of girls he bagged before, he wanted to know her.
Joey then began what he thought was the next natural step in their intimacy. He placed his hands on the side of her head and guided her up and down on his shaft. He then began to gently pull up on her mask to lift it off.
With lightening quickness Batgirl straightened up and said, “Whoa, the mask is not included.”
“C’mon,” Joey reasoned, “I already know you are not a redhead.”
“I have already released too much information and broken enough boundaries for tonight. If you want me to finish, the cowl stays on.”
Joey thought for a second as if Batgirl was giving him a choice between a blowjob and unmasking. Batgirl ensured he knew there was no option when she went back down and began holding his balls in one hand, stroking him with the other has she kept her mouth on his tip. His nuts constricted a bit as the combination was bringing him to an unavoidable explosion. Batgirl’s hand moved faster up and down as her tongue licked around his head. He wanted to come in her mouth but after an initial squirt she moved her head at the last second and his gism deposited itself on different parts of his chest. The release was too intense and continuous for him to be grossed out about coming on himself. Uninterrupted Batgirl still skated her hand up and down and gently squeezed his jewels. Normally, he did not let girls do that. After he came it was over. However, with Batgirl anything to prolong the sensation was permitted. The rush of danger and a blowjob from Batgirl: this was the best night of his life.
A few minutes after Joey came, a new stream of consciousness enveloped Batgirl. The romantic fire light, the natural affection for her savior, and her rebellious response to her father’s depravity all evaporated as reasons for her behavior. She excused herself, stood up, grabbed the Batsuit propped by the fireplace, and headed for the bathroom. As she re-assembled her still damp outfit she refused to look at herself in the mirror. She had a job to do. She came out of the bathroom sat on the sofa at a safe distance and said “This never happened.” She wasn’t sure if she was directing her command to him or herself.
The story continues in Part 3…
Are you enjoying the story up to this point? I welcome your feedback at tthatcher55@hotmail.com
Batgirl and Gotham City were created by and are copyrighted by and are property of DC Comics. Other characters appearing in this story are owned and copyrighted by other entities as well. This story has been written solely to occupy my free time. No compensation has been received for this story. This story is purely for adult entertainment purposes and cannot be redistributed for the purposes of making money or profit.
Witness Protection
Part 3: Tuesday and Wednesday
By T. Thatcher
Tuesday
Dawn approached with embers in the hearth and Joey asleep on the sofa, still clad in his white robe. Batgirl remained on guard the whole evening, attentive to another attack and encumbered by her conscience for the lapse in judgment. At 7:00AM the Commissioner and a new strapping cop entered the mansion. Gordon introduced him but Batgirl did not fully catch his name. All she heard was her father saying that he was trustworthy and that Guzman still had not surfaced. Batgirl relayed the details of the attack, the number of assailants and apologized for not being able to apprehend any. She suggested they move again to a new location immediately. Her remarks noted, she then sought to leave quickly, eschewing her normal social graces, for she wanted to be out of the mansion before they woke up Joey.
Back at her apartment Barbara Gordon wrestled with another dilemma. Who could have tipped off the attackers? As far as she knew the DA, her father, and herself were the only ones who knew of this hideout. It wasn’t even listed in the police files as a potential site (she hacked the GCPD mainframe to confirm). She knew she was not the mole. She was as equally convinced that her father was beyond reproach. That only left the DA. She would check his office and cell phones for all outgoing and incoming communications.
Her next priority was to clean her Bat outfits. The lycra costume was fun for the afternoon but inspecting her bruises in the mirror reminded her why she abandoned it in the first place: her job was too violent for a non-armored crime fighting kit. She gathered up her various Batgirl uniforms and crossed over to the next door apartment which appeared to any outside observer as occupied but was secretly kept vacant to provide an extra measure of privacy that her moonlighting demanded. For Barbara Gordon it was one of the unpublicized benefits of being a Powerball lottery winner and owning the entire building.
Cleaning Batsuits was as drab a chore as any day committed to laundry. Due to the nature of the materials they needed special industrial grade machines and although she had access to resources at WayneTech for repairs, she often completed them herself. She was a team with Batman and to a lesser extent, Robin, but her natural inclination was to do things by herself. It was an accountability she liked but on days like today, it was a curse.
Normally, days like today left her ample time to read, surf the web, or devote time to the many charities she supported. However, her concentration levels were not up to any of those enjoyments. She kept replaying in non-sequential order the events of the previous night: spitting out the little bit of pre-come that he snuck into her mouth, inspecting the mansion, fighting unconventionally, the risk of trying to climb onto a hovering helicopter, book discussions, taking Joey’s big curved dick in her mouth, going to work in that old outfit. In general, making herself vulnerable.
Worse, the more she thought about the blowjob, the less she felt guilty about it. In fact, a few times she caught herself fantasizing about having his “sausage” in her. It must feel divine. And I do know him, sort of. Who hasn’t had a date later in life with an old crush?
But it was wrong, wasn’t it? She was sure Batman did not have conflicts between the rational and emotional minds.
Barbara was struggling in this new conflicting territory. She needed an ear to share her thoughts but the list was woefully short. Batman was out of town and even if he was available it really would be a non-approachable topic. He was too judgmental and did not have any semblance of girlfriend skills. Her girlfriends? “Friends” would be an arbitrary word with the bunch of women with whom she socialized. Even if she could weave a story explaining her conflict without admitting she was Batgirl, she really did not trust or respect their opinions too much.
By the late afternoon, the answer came to her: Lucinda from the strip club. Maybe she had stepped over the line with a client or known girls who did. How did she handle it? Lucinda was younger than Barbara but she reasoned good advice was worth taking regardless of age. Besides, she did seem sweet and trustworthy with sensitive information.
At 1AM, Barbara begins her transformation into Batgirl. With no plans for crime fighting on her night off - just conversation - she chooses one of her Kevlar outfits. With a twist of superstition she deliberately avoided the one she wore to the club previously. Knowing it will be a night of girl talk she almost felt compelled to put on a bit of makeup and briefly wondered why women sometimes dress up more for each other than for men.
Given how close the club was to her building Batgirl debated if it would be better to scale the rooftops to the club instead of firing up her bike. She deliberated the issue longer than she usually did on mundane topics. Was she stalling? Eventually, she decided the bike would be the best option because she determined there was a better chance of running into a criminal on some rooftop than whizzing by on her ninja bike. After all, she really only wanted to speak to Lucinda and not become wrapped up in some petty street crime.
Blasting through the dropping fake wall she sped around the corner of the alley into another alley only to find the entrance blocked by a car transporter truck. She flitted to where it was parked and concluded the driver was gone for a while so she backed up and assessed the difficulty factor. The transporter trailer was in the lowered position so she knew she had a ramp over the obstacle. Her only concern was how far the bike would travel in the air once she reached the end. She decided to take it slow and inspect the view from the top. The street width with sidewalks was maybe 40 feet. She needed speed to position the bike properly for a landing but too much speed would send her crashing into the storefront across the street. Fortunately, there was no foot traffic on the street and this would be great practice if the situation ever arose in a chase.
Batgirl calculated she would need to reach about 35 mph. Again going back to the depth of the alley, she throttled the bike and began her approach. At the end of the trailer she pulled slightly up on the handle bars with the idea to hit the street and control the landing while turning the bike on the sidewalk. She was airborne and her stunt was executing perfectly when she suddenly noticed a homeless man on the opposite sidewalk. She would need to make the turn immediately and sharply. The landing jolted the bike and the rear wheel positioned itself in the oppositely to the direction she planned to turn. The man was frozen seemingly ready to accept his fate. Batgirl kept hold of the bike and coached herself to make the turn, make the turn. Her bike was perpendicular to the man and aimed perfectly. The velocity was too great to stop the bike and jumping off would only save her and definitely crush him. Without thinking she throttled the ninja hoping the wheels would clutch the surface and spring her in a forward direction. The wheels spun. Impact was in decimals of seconds. And then slipping became a gripping friction and the bike shot forward with the wheels providing a rubber shine to his worn old boots.
At first wanting to speed away, Batgirl turned the bike around and went to see if the man was alright. Trembling, he assured her he was okay.
“Is there anything I can get you, sir,” Batgirl beseeched with guilt ridden urgency.
“No, no I’m fine,” he replied, “go and get those criminals, Batgirl.”
This made her feel guiltier because she knew she was just horsing around.
“Do you have a place to sleep tonight, sir?” What could she do to make this up to him?
“I’ll be okay. I got me a place where I sleep and no one bothers me.”
A bit desperate Batgirl withdrew cash from her utility belt and gave it to the man hoping he would indulge himself with a decent room. It was false charity but he was satisfied. Her next stop would be the club and she vowed to get there without incident.
Adjusting her weight on one of the barstools Lucinda added up the night’s receipts once again. She was proud that Larry had trusted her with the responsibility to close the bar once again. Over the past couple of months his mother had been ill and after making sure club operations were running smoothly and depositing the first wave of cash in his safe he took off to be with her. He genuinely cared about his mother and Lucinda sometimes thought she was the only one who saw that side of him. Of course, using her to close was cheaper than hiring an accountant but he did not choose her arbitrarily – she was good with numbers and she took time to do things thoroughly. She knew that Larry believed he was the only one who truly cared about his business and that left on their own, his employees would all rob him blind. By selecting her, he was telling her that he had confidence in her principles.
This faith was important to Lucinda and made the City more tolerable. It was easy to dismiss everyone in Gotham City as self-absorbed loners but his trust and the community he tried to build among the dancers, reminded her of the small town lifestyle that she grew up in. She worked hard and made an honest living and for that she could hold her head high. Her family back home knew what she did for a living. They would have preferred she had other options but they understood she made her own choices.
Lucinda had worked the pole before in a town close to where she grew up. Industry long since abandoned her community and it did not leave a girl with many career opportunities. So she danced and did well. It did not bother her that boys she grew up with saw her dance but given the economic conditions she was saddened that the money wasn’t going back into their families. Finally, she decided to head to Gotham where the men and money were anonymous and where she could earn her keep and help her folks out as well.
She liked how the club had a different personality after hours. It seemed bigger without the crowds and the space was refreshing. The first few times she was a bit apprehensive to be in the club alone and kept the sound system on for company. Tonight, however, she decided to enjoy the solitude of the quiet.
The silence was disturbed by a noise, a voice, coming from the dressing room. Immediately, she cursed herself for not checking to see that the last girl had shut the door properly. She put the receipts in the strong box with the last shift’s cash and hid them behind the bar. She then reached under the bar for the baseball bat. Years of town softball gave her a poised grip on the weapon. She noiselessly made her way to the stage and stood at the entrance waiting for the poor sap that tried to invade her space. She tried to time her swing with the emergence of the body when she heard “Lucinda?” but it was too late and she connected cleanly for an extra base hit across the intruder’s chest. She saw Batgirl’s body fly backwards and land hard, butt to head, on the floor.
“Oh my God, what have I done?” as she darted to the Caped Crusader’s aid, “Are you alright, Batgirl?” At first, the Crimefighting Mistress remained inert and said nothing. As Lucinda kneeled over her wondering what to do, Batgirl’s gloved hand clutched her neck with astounding speed and fury. As Batgirl realized who she was choking she released her grip and apologized.
“No, Batgirl, it should be me apologizing to you. I heard a noise and instead of checking it out first, I grabbed the bat and swung at the first thing I saw. You must be so mad at me.” She thought she had blown her chance at friendship with the City’s famous superheroine. After the previous night she had called her family to tell them that she had met Batgirl in person and told them how excited and nervous she was. She didn’t give them all the details that led up to the encounter but she assured them that Batgirl was so nice and so beautiful and that she had promised to return. Now, how was she going to tell them that she had clobbered the poor woman?
“I just came in to see you and chat and I thought it strange that the club was quiet and empty but the back door was still open. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Batgirl added with a smile, “I guess I don’t have to worry about that again.”
Lucinda explained how it was a slow night and Larry had given her permission to close early before leaving. Batgirl listened as all the circumstances were justified. Lucinda wondered if she was rambling as she went through every detail and praised Larry but Batgirl paid attention to every detail and maintained firm eye contact with every word.
As she continued to talk, she noticed Batgirl seemed a bit quieter than the other night. Not that Batgirl said a lot of words in the dressing room after her ordeal but the air of confidence that was so over powering, even in her fatigue, was missing this night.
“Batgirl, are you okay?”
“Yes, Lucinda, I’m fine.”
“No, I don’t mean physically. You seem a bit, well, off tonight.”
“Do I?” Batgirl seemed surprised. Lucinda wasn’t sure if it was at her perceptiveness or directness. Batgirl started forming a ‘no’ but stopped and started over, “Actually, I feel like I have been making some bad decisions lately and…but you’re busy, you need to close, I can come back.”
“Nonsense, Batgirl. I finished just as you arrived. The rest of the night is yours. Would you like a glass of wine?” Lucinda couldn’t believe that Batgirl was going to confide in her. She noticed a hesitation in her response. “Don’t worry, I already went up to Larry’s office and turned off all the video cameras, even the ones he thinks I don’t know about. Nobody will know that you’ve been here but me.”
Batgirl made a declarative statement that she never drank on the job but since she technically wasn’t working, a glass of wine – red – would be nice. I can’t believe Batgirl came out tonight just to see me, Lucinda exclaimed to herself.
Since it took her so long to figure out who to talk to Batgirl never really planned how she would bring up the subject with Lucinda. She didn’t want to imply that her potential confident was loose but she needed an ear and an opinion. The bottom of the first glass still had not given her the courage to open up. The second one was much more liberating. “Lucinda, I don’t know how to ask this, and I do not want to offend you in any way, but what’s your policy on dating your clients?”
“Dating? What do you mean by dating, Batgirl?”
“Well, have you ever met someone while working and decided, ‘hey I like his look or his style’ and gone home with him?”
“Do you mean have I ever slept with someone I danced for at the club?” Batgirl wasn’t sure if her tone was clarifying or insulted. There was a slight pause. “Yes, yes I have. Why do you ask?”
“Oh please, I am not being judgmental. It’s just that...” and Batgirl proceeded to tell Lucinda how she crossed her line. She wished she had prepared better because she wanted to be as forthright as she could with Lucinda but she did not want to divulge Joey Soprano’s name. After the trial Lucinda could probably figure it out but at least he would be in Witness Protection by then.
“Well, if you don’t mind me asking, how far did you actually go with him?”
“I, I gave him a blowjob.” It felt weird admitting it out loud.
“Tell me honestly, Batgirl, if you weren’t who you were would you still want to be with him?”
“Kind of, yes, you see I knew a long time ago before I was Batgirl.” She was on perilous ground for releasing too much personal information. “Is that what you meant by our question?”
“No, what I mean is, are you willing to give up being Batgirl in order to be with him?”
Batgirl hadn’t thought about that. “Maybe if circumstances were different,” she really did not want the life he was going to, “but they are not, so no.” Batgirl took the last sip of her third glass.
“I have been with two guys I met in the clubs, one from back home and one here in Gotham City. After a couple of dates both wanted me to quit what I was doing. They said they would take care of me. Well, I wasn’t asking to be rescued. It’s like they were attracted to me for what I do but then once we were intimate they felt they had a possession over me and wanted to change me into some other person. Will he let you remain as Batgirl?”
His remote relocation had no room for Batgirl. It would be a part of herself she would have to forsake. Even if he wasn’t going into hiding, for as much as she liked him, she knew Joey had to be the strong alpha in a relationship. “No, no he wouldn’t.”
Lucinda poured them both a shot of tequila. “So there’s your answer then.” They clinked glasses and downed the fiery spirit.
A few minutes of contemplation passed. There was no discomfort in the silence. Finally, Batgirl felt comfortable to speak again. “You know, it really was a rush to dance on the stage the other night. I mean, I didn’t plan on dancing; it just seemed the right thing to do in that situation. I was surprised at how seductive it was to perform on stage. I kind of wished I could have done more but with those rabid men, my career would have ended right there.”
“Why don’t you dance now?” Lucinda offered.
“Really? I shouldn’t.” Batgirl protested without much force.
“Why not? We’re alone. You’ll get to live your fantasy with a friendly audience of one. What music would you like me to cue up for you?”
“Whatever, Lucinda, you’re the expert, you choose.”
“No problem. Go backstage and when you hear the music start, come out. Here, first drink this.” Batgirl downed her second shot.
Batgirl stood behind the curtain with a nervousness that she had before gymnastic competitions. She was anxious to express herself but she also wanted to do well and impress Lucinda. She waited for the music. She heard Lucinda’s voice speaking into the microphone trying to sound deep. “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we are proud to have as a special guest, Babs the Batgirl.”
The Caped Crusader hesitated for a moment and then remembered that was the name she told Lucinda to call her the night before. She came out to a thumping beat and a rhythm designed to excite. Batgirl smiled broadly and heard Lucinda scream out a loud and enthusiastic, “Woooooo.” The music was perfect Batgirl quickly found the moves she wanted and coordinated them to the sound. Like her first time she really wanted to use the pole but decided to wait until after she had shed a few articles. Tonight, confident in her surroundings, she released the lock on her utility belt. She spun it around her head a few times but with its weight she still had enough sense not to throw it. Next she took off her gloves, one at a time, exposing each finger as if it was its own striptease.
The music continued to keep her dancing and wanting to do more. Lucinda heartily encouraged her and started throwing bills on stage. Thrusting her hips toward the audience of one Batgirl realized the tequila had kicked in. She couldn’t think clearly to take off her cape or top next. She decided on the top but the cape was in the way to reach the back zipper. So, a bit awkwardly she released the cape to the floor and slid the zipper down from her neck to waist. She began to remove the top pulling one sleeve forward and then the other. Batgirl was now a cowled crime fighter prancing around the stage in just her boots, pants, and bra. Now was her time to play on the pole. First she started humping it with long, slow upward slides on the gold surface. She jumped up and hung upside down. Her grip was strong and she defied gravity by climbing up a bit more in the inverted position while also managing to shake the top half of her body to the beat of the song. Although she felt she could continue to hang on the pole in that position longer, she could feel her breasts slipping out from the cover of her bra. Executing a half flip off the pole (and impressing Lucinda with her athleticism) she landed on her feet and as subtlety as her drunkenness would allow, and pushed her nipples back under the bra. Smiling again at Lucinda she bent down and picked up her cape, holding it in front of her torso with one hand. With the other hand, she reached behind her back and unclasped the bra. Still shielding the view of her tits with the cape, she turned her back to the audience to reveal that she was indeed topless. She danced behind the cape and tried her best to make it look sexy. Slowly she lowered the cape to uncover the tops of her shoulders, the music persuaded her to let the cape fall lower to the point of baring her cleavage but just barely covering her nipples. Lucinda was cheering mightily now and Batgirl moved closer to swing her cape just in front of her private audience for the grand finale. Lucinda screamed “Show it, Batgirl, show your stuff!”
Batgirl rotated her hips a few more times when Lucinda grabbed the bottom of the cape and pulled down. She wanted to see Batgirl’s orbs in their full glory. She thought her tug would be the push Batgirl needed to flaunt her stuff and be the release she needed. Instinctively, Batgirl reacted by holding the cape tighter. However, in her alcohol compromised state, Lucinda did not succeed in pulling off her cape but rather pulled Batgirl off stage crashing on top of her.
Both ladies lay on the floor in hysterical delight; Batgirl’s now exposed breasts vigorously juggled with each convulsion of laughter and Lucinda still was clutching the cape. They turned toward each other and froze for a moment; each liked the look the other was giving them. Batgirl leaned in so their faces were close enough to feel each other’s breath. Batgirl was thinking If she doesn’t make a move I will when Lucinda proclaimed, “You know what’s even better than dancing on stage?”
Batgirl shook her head.
Lap dancing, and you know what, Babs?”
Batgirl shook her head again.
“I am the best. Guys are easy but my best night is actually on Sundays, Ladies’ Night, when guys come here with their dates. I know, can you believe it, here on a date? They pay me big bucks to see me get their girlfriends off. Would you like to see a sample of what I can do?”
“Oh really? Well I’m no loser’s date.”
“Doesn’t matter, I’m still numero uno.”
“Are you trying to say you can get me, Batgirl – foe of arch criminals, defender of freedom - off?”
“If you don’t have two orgasms,” Lucinda boasted, “I’ll give you your money back.”
“It’s a deal.” Batgirl stood up shakily, grabbed her bra off the stage, and plopped into a chair. “Okay, bitch, show me what you’ve got.”
“Give me five minutes then cue up the music again and sit your ass back down in that chair.”
Batgirl waited for what she thought might be four minutes and walked over to the DJ station. The tequila bottle was there and she indulged in another swig. It dawned on her that she was still holding her bra in her hand. Even though most of her movements were now clumsy, years of repetition allowed her to put her bra back on without issue. Waiting another 10 seconds, she hit the play button. The beat kicked in and she ran to her chair anxious to see how would Lucinda seduce her audience, her!
Patiently waiting, a white fog crept out of the entrance door as an introduction. Out of the vapor Lucinda materialized in a new outfit that must have been chosen specifically to entice Batgirl. Lucinda was dressed as Wonder Woman. Batgirl laughed at the surprise but was quite thrilled with what she saw. Lucinda filled out the bustier quite amply and she had the taste to actually use a good replica outfit complete with bracelets, a tiara, and a golden lasso.
Lucinda crossed the stage and approached Batgirl with a determined gait combining the perfect blend of purpose and sashaying. Batgirl felt excitement welling and Lucinda hadn’t even started dancing yet.
When she was backstage, Lucinda was energized on so many levels. She was having a girl’s night with one of the ultimate females to be friends with. She was cheerfully surprised Batgirl was not judgmental about what she did for a living. So many people kept asking why she danced when she was smart enough to do other things but not Batgirl. Finally, even though she was not a great dancer Batgirl had one of the best bodies she had ever seen and it made for a fantastic show. Lucinda knew that in the club guys always raved about her own tits, but Batgirl’s were to die for: perfect size, firm, and fun. It raised the stakes but Lucinda had a competitive streak and she wanted to show the Caped Damsel that she was in fact really good at what she does.
Standing at the edge of the stage she looked down at Batgirl looking up and smiling with childlike enthusiasm. Lucinda could tell her choice of costume really hit the mark with her masked spectator. Normally, in the Amazon boots she would be careful to walk to the floor by the steps but since it was Batgirl and she was clad as Wonder Woman she jumped landing two feet in front of the unflinching Crusader. Turning her toes slightly out and arching her back, Lucinda began drawing a circle with her hips bringing her delights closer to her anxious observer but pulling them back, too. She continued this motion even as she bent her knees and grinded down. Never staying at one level too long she continued these erotic moves back up again.
Seeing a transfixed look, Lucinda ever so gradually started to turn while keeping her eyes focused directly at Batgirl’s. She only broke the visual lock when her butt was now squarely in front of Batgirl’s face. She widened her circles a bit for greater teasing effect when she felt the Mistress of the Night place her hands half on the blue satin briefs and half on the skin of her ass. Lucinda slowly and gently removed Batgirl’s hands and admonished her with a cute shake of her finger. She knew part of the enticement was controlling what the viewer could or could not touch.
Batgirl gave a sweet look of pleading but brought her hands back to her side. Lucinda turned her back to Batgirl again but this time straightened her legs and bent slightly forward before looking back to see how her special client responded. She then stroked her hand over the blue satin, outlining a few of the stars with her finger, before lightly spanking her own bottom. Seeing Batgirl smile she noticed how perfect and white her teeth were. She coquettishly smiled back. Keeping her legs straight she bent down all the way to her ankles firmly putting her rump in Batgirl’s face. Lucinda was going to work her way back up with increasing seductive swaying and gesturing when she felt a sharp slap on her tush. Again gazing into Batgirl’s eyes, she turned around and struck both index fingers together in a “naughty, naughty” scolding. Unclasping the golden lasso from her belt, she wrapped it around Batgirl’s arms near the elbows careful to not bind the Caped Crusader’s chest. “Now with this magic rope you must obey me,” Lucinda commanded huskily.
“Oh, I will,” was the animated reply.
Wonder Woman then spread Batgirl’s knees in her chair and stood as the base to the triangle that was formed. She turned her back to her prey and bent her knees, keeping her back straight and began to lower herself this time placing her hands on Batgirl’s thighs for support but rubbing her derriere into Batgirl’s crotch. She looked back and saw that Batgirl liked it plenty and pulled a bit on the ropes. Even though she knew that the Superheroine could break the restraint with ease she nevertheless appeared to go along with its purpose. Batgirl did coo, “Nice.”
Rubbing her ass into a woman’s crotch was a different sensation than the usual hard-on encountered with men. Finding the right spot was more difficult and delicate. However, Batgirl, like other women before her, made it easier by voluntarily pushing their hips out to absorb the whetting better.
Normally, the Butt Grind was good for one of her client’s first orgasms but Lucinda decided to make this a further tease for later. So she made one more deliberate gyration and slid her butt up from Batgirl’s crotch to her abdomen. There she turned around and paused to look intensely into Batgirl’s eyes. They were a bit glassy but also completely captivated. Knees locked, she leaned forward and dramatically placed each hand on either side of the chair out of Batgirl’s view. The dancing Wonder Woman then pressed her breasts toward Batgirl’s face until the mask of her cowl was nestled in her cleavage. Gently she shook her torso and Batgirl’s head moved in sync with each direction. Batgirl was burrowed in as Lucinda could feel tiny kisses on her sternum.
Lucinda found the sensation of the smooth cowl against each boob quite nice and began to realize that she may be enjoying this as much as her new friend. She decided to up the ante. She pulled slightly back and tugged Batgirl’s bra straps off her shoulders so the rested down by her upper arms. The Crimefighter’s own formidable cleavage kept the cups of her bra filled but Wonder Woman went to work to free the Bat-boobies again. She placed her thumbs inside the red with gold trim top just above the support wires and flipped the bustier over to reveal her mammeries and swung them faintly back and forth until they rested on top of Batgirl’s tits. She then started bouncing them up and down against them, with each collision causing Batgirl’s bra to inch down further and further. Once the pink Bat nipples were exposed, the Wonder tits pressed into them - nipples connecting with nipples - and Lucinda rotated in both directions causing each woman to moan in harmony.
Wanting to give her more Lucinda held her left breast in her hand and positioned her brown nipple at Batgirl’s lips. Batgirl received it without hesitation first giving it a combination kiss and suck and eventually securing it with her teeth and tugging it. Although she did not consider herself into women, Lucinda was beginning to understand how it was an alluring concept. She allowed Batgirl a lot of play and then took the breast in her hand again and dragged the engorged nipple across Batgirl’s chin, all along the bottom of her mask where it met her cheeks, and into the eye holes probing territory exclusive to the masked Damsel.
After hundreds, may a thousand lap dances, receiving as much pleasure as giving it was a new experience for Lucinda. It was an arrangement she made with herself years ago when she first started. She would offer patrons her body but never what was inside it. Even though she stared into each client’s eyes to tell them they were the only one, in reality she would be working out a shopping list, thinking about her sister, or recalling some event of the day. Now she felt Batgirl was beginning to control her. She noticed the damp sensation in her blue satin bottoms and realized it was because she was waxing her twat on Batgirl’s thigh.
She decided it was time to bring them both home. Wonder Woman slid all the way up Batgirl’s thigh until their crotches were seamed together. She began a few gyrations which Batgirl had spontaneously initiated, too. Although the tease brought on a pleasing feeling, both were greedy for an explosion and started to thrust their hips furiously crashing their love boxes and angling for a collision of clitorises. Moans were now screams. Lucinda caught their reflection in one of the ubiquitous mirrored walls and pointed for Batgirl to see how it looked when two Superheroines were in the throes of passion. Their eyes went back to each other and they bucked and slammed, soaking through their costumes and leaving love juice on each others’ nether regions. Batgirl yelped first, caving to her orgasm. “Oh my God, oh my God,” she cried as she destroyed the bind of the golden lasso to raise her arms and guide Wonder Woman’s body against hers. Lucinda quickly followed shrieking and shaking her head violently. As they collapsed to the floor together their orgasms continued in waves.
The silence – no music, no heavy breathing – finally brought Batgirl to some relative sense of cognition. She was drained and still very drunk. She had enough awareness to know they needed to leave before any early morning cleanup crew or Glick discovered them. She looked over at Lucinda and thought I can’t believe I was just fucked by Wonder Woman. She roused her new friend and lumbering they cleaned up any evidence of their private party. Batgirl put on her tunic, gloves, cape, and utility belt and Lucinda returned from the dressing room in her casual wear. As much as she missed seeing her as Wonder Woman (and she vowed to make sure she saw her again that way) she knew it would not be prudent to be dressed that way on Gotham City’s streets.
Woozy, Batgirl wanted to get home but did not want Lucinda to travel home at a dangerous hour alone. “Where do you live, Lucinda?”
“Unfortunately, a bit out of the way in Brookline, it was impossible to find anything affordable here in Gotham City.”
“Well I know a safe house close by that we can use.” Batgirl figured they could use one of the apartments in her building, not Barbara Gordon’s, but one of the many she kept furnished but empty for her privacy. They were not on Batman’s approved list but neither was her private life either.
Out in the alley Batgirl debated whether to hop on her bike or walk the five minutes to her building. A short walk like that was exponentially longer when smashed. “Lucinda, I think I am too drunk to ride us safely.”
“No problem,” she replied, “where I come from in the middle of nowhere we learned to drive as teenagers while drunk. In fact we probably drove more times drunk than sober. Let me take her.”
Batgirl protested mildly but minutes later she was a passenger on her own bike with her hands around Lucinda’s waist. She caught herself from directing her to the secret entrance and instead had her park the bike at the building next door. Fortunately, the streets were empty and they were able to enter the building without notice. Unfortunately, Barbara Gordon still had not repaired the building’s elevator so they were forced to hike it up two floors. Batgirl remembered she did not have a key to the apartment in her utility belt and realized it would be suspicious to go to Barbara’s apartment to retrieve one. With a great stroke of luck Lucinda just turned the knob and the door opened. So much for security.
Lucinda walked around inspecting everything and commenting that this was much nicer than the dump where she lived. Batgirl hadn’t been in here in a while either and looked around to make sure there were no identifying pictures or magazines. It was a simple studio apartment but everything worked and it was furnished adequately although not too stylishly. Satisfied Batgirl excused herself to go to the bathroom.
I can’t believe this night, Lucinda thought over and over again. I am in one of Batman and Batgirl’s ‘safe houses’. This is so radical but who can I tell? What could I tell them? Yeah, I’m not a lesbian but I’m fucking around with Batgirl, yeah that Batgirl. She sat down in the small couch and returned to assessing the digs. There was only one bed. Would they share it? Either way, Lucinda convinced herself it would be cool. Suddenly, she heard a noise in the bathroom. It sounded like Batgirl was coughing and then there was a heavy thud. She sprang up and ran to the bathroom door. She called into it, “Batgirl, are you okay?” There was no reply. “Batgirl?”
She turned the doorknob and opened the door. She expected to apologize for bursting in but instead she discovered Batgirl passed out on the floor with puke all over the front of her outfit. She enjoyed a small laugh because she thought it was cute but then set about to make her friend comfortable. First, she scanned the medicine cabinet and found a toothbrush and toothpaste. She managed, with difficulty, to graze each of the Crimefighter’s teeth and her tongue. Then she began the laborious process of dragging her from the bathroom to the bed. Even though Batgirl had already removed her cape and utility belt she was still a solid package to try and move.
Succeeding in placing the top half of her body, face-up, on the bed, Lucinda undid her boots and shimmied each one off. She paused to check out Batgirl’s feet. She knew that some people found feet very sexy and even though she did not consider them one way or the other, she did admit that if she did, these were nicely formed appendages.
Thankfully, she paid attention when Batgirl stripped her top back at the club or she never would have suspected the zipper in the back of her tunic. It appeared seamless. She slowly pushed the zipper down to her waist and started to pull the top off her front. Clearing the torso, she had to then take off the gloves before she could remove the top completely. It reeked of puke and she threw it into the bathtub and turned the water on over it.
Returning to the scene of the stumbled Damsel, she grabbed the waistband of her leggings and began to pull down. They were tight. How does she get these things on? She decided to clear her butt first which should then make the rest easier. As the material evaporated from her waist and abdomen Lucinda saw Batgirl’s pussy emerge. Neatly trimmed but not hairless it complemented her perfect body. When the pants finally cleared the feet she noticed a thong inside the leggings. She had accidentally removed her Batgirl’s panties as well. They were tight what was to be expected?
At that point Lucinda also noticed the darkness of Batgirl’s public hair. It was dark brown almost black – a far mismatch from the spectacular red hair under the mask. Should she take off the mask? She wanted to; she wanted to see the beautiful person she thought Batgirl was. Would Batgirl be upset? After all, they were quite intimate tonight and if pressed she could deny doing it. She reached up to it and places her thumbs under the mask, just below her ears. On three, one, two…She stopped. She wanted to see Batgirl again even if it was just as friends. Batgirl needed to know that she can trust her. Lucinda released her grip. Instead she kissed Batgirl on the lips, slightly parted the bra from her breast and kissed her nipple, and then at the point where her dark landing strip ended and the crease of her vagina began. “Goodnight, Batgirl. Thanks for sharing another one of your secrets with me.” Lucinda then strips off her own clothes, moves Batgirl into a sleeping position and climbs in next to her, spooning the Superhero’s body. Lucinda slept with a smile.
Wednesday
Rarely is waking up after a night of heavy drinking a welcoming affair. In addition to the known pain is the fear of the damage inflicted without memory. Batgirl opened her eyes and immediately braced herself for the harsh torment of the tequila shots she consumed. She closed her eyes again in a pathetic attempt to ward off any of the expected throbbing. To her surprise, it worked. The she opened her eyes again and still the pain was nowhere to be found. She took a deep breath just to make sure. Yep, all clear. She then began the recital of the previous night’s events. Lucinda’s club, check; dancing, check; shots, check, receiving an amazing lap dance, check, riding drunk on her bike to her apartment building, check again; naked, except for her cowl and bra, in bed, can’t check that but somehow she wasn’t too worried about it either. In fact, Batgirl had almost complete recall of the previous night’s affairs and her first reaction was a satisfied smile indicating zero regrets.
After the review of her activities, her senses kicked in and she smelled the delightful enjoinder of freshly made coffee. Lucinda must have risen first. Batgirl wasn’t sure what food was actually in the apartment but she was thankful for her friend’s initiative and resourcefulness. She pulled herself out of bed wrapping the sheet around her body. There was a trace of surprise in Batgirl’s face when she walked into the alcove that served as a kitchen and saw Lucinda completely naked in front of her. She looked a little worse for wear but if that was her worst appearance this girl had a lot going for her. If anything, the bright daylight made her look younger and it gave Batgirl a view of the dancer’s tone and sculpture that she had not noticed in the club. Her skin had a rich complexion and was flawless. Her tits were large and had many good years ahead of her before gravity would become her mortal enemy. No tattoos either which was unusual for most girls at the club. Of course all her pubic hair was shaven off. Batgirl wasn’t sure whether she should kiss her friend or not and, if she kissed her, should she do it on the cheek or lips. She settled for, “Good morning, Sweetie.”
“Oh good morning, Babs,” Lucinda replied as she took a sip from the Swedish mug. The familiarity of hearing that name for her still shocked Batgirl but she absorbed it calmly. Lucinda liked having a name for her friend that nobody else used. “I made you some coffee. Are you ready for it yet?”
“Coffee would be great, thanks.” She welcomed the hot porcelain beaker and took a sip and she thought what to say next. Conversation would be more tricky than awkward but she felt it was her responsibility to take the lead. “I had fun last night,” she copped.
“Me, too, I haven’t drunk like that in a while.” Lucinda seemed more comfortable than she but she knew a sense of ease would come.
“Tell me about it,” she sarcastically intoned taking another sip, “crime-fighting doesn’t have many off nights like that. Um, thanks for putting me to bed. I guess you could say I ran into a bit of trouble in the bathroom.”
Lucinda was relieved. She didn’t know how Batgirl felt about her decision to undress her. Just for confirmation she explained, “I left your dirty costume in the tub. I didn’t know where or how to wash it. And, I wasn’t sure about how you would feel about your mask so I left it on you. I hope you don’t mind.”
Now Batgirl was the one who was relieved. “No, not at all, Lucinda. The mask - God, part of me wants to take it off right now and show you who I am and that I trust you – it’s just that being friends with me can be dangerous and too much knowledge about who I am well, that could make you a target. And if something happened to you, that’s something I could never forgive myself for. I want to be friends with you but we have to be careful. For now, our friendship should be our secret.”
“I understand.” Lucinda wasn’t sure if she was being blown off.
For assurance, Batgirl moved closer and held her hand. “Really, even though I have only known you for a few nights there is something good and decent that I want to know better and, as we figure out what is safe, there are things I want you to know and will let you know about me, too.”
“For real?”
“Of course, for real,” Batgirl said with a slight squeeze to her hand. To move the conversation in a different direction Batgirl asked, “How old are you anyway?”
Lucinda hesitated a second, “20.”
“Uggh, I was hoping for 21.”
“Is that a problem? I’ll be 21 in a couple of weeks.”
“I guess the problem is I allowed a minor to consume alcohol. It’s not the best thing a deputy of the Gotham City Police could do.”
“Well, geez, the state where I am from the drinking age is enforced like, never.”
“Yes,” Batgirl began taking a practical tone, “but it doesn’t mean it’s not against the law.”
“Batgirl, I swear to you that one of the people who used to buy us beer in high school was a cop. Of course, he was trying to get in me and my friends pants but in bars, too, we were never carded, even in the bar owned by our next door neighbor and he had a daughter in my class.”
“I guess you’ve experienced a bit more than most with your years, I suppose,” Batgirl concluded.
After a few more threads of chat they began to think about the logistics of starting their days and tending to their commitments. Batgirl offered Lucinda the use of her shower but her friend decided that showering and then putting on dirty clothes was somehow grosser than suiting up and sprinting home. Lucinda re-attired herself quickly as speedy costume changes were second nature.
She kissed Batgirl on the cheek, a bit deliberately. Batgirl kissed back but was only puckering the air next to her. After the door closed Batgirl thought about the lap dance and her orgasm. Did she misread last night? Did she and Lucinda share something intimate or was she just working hard to win the bet?
Since Guzman’s disappearance and Monday night’s attack the DA decided to use a different holding location each night to throw off any scent the mob may have had for Soprano. The Commissioner informed Batgirl that he would not be available but that she should stop by the DA’s office to receive the location for tonight’s protection assignment. Batgirl was actually glad to hear that because she wanted to derive a better sense if she and her father could trust the DA or not.
Like her father’s workplace, the DA’s office had the space and stately furnishings that conveyed the power and prestige of the position. As the Commissioner’s guest she had been to it several times before her crime fighting career began to welcome new men elected to lead the prosecutorial teams that finished the police department’s work. As such, she was not awed by the surroundings. The DA was an abrupt man without much capacity for social pleasantries. He told her the name and room number of the hotel and stood there annoyed that she wasn’t moving on.
Batgirl needed this private court session. “Do you think it’s odd that the attackers on Monday knew where we would be? After all, as I understood it, you, the Commissioner, and I were the only ones who knew where Soprano was being held that night.”
“Why yes, Batgirl, I do think it is curious. Why do you ask?”
“Well I know I am not the leak. The Commissioner is not either…”
“Just what are you implying, young lady?” The resonance in the DA’s voice became more severe.
“I am just wondering if it wasn’t me, and it wasn’t the Commissioner…”
“How dare you? How do I know it wasn’t you? You weren’t killed were you? How do you know it wasn’t the Commissioner? What gives you the inside track on his thinking?”
“I just know he has committed his life to bringing down the mob. Why would he blow the case by knocking off his key witness?”
“You miserable bitch, what do I have to gain by letting this case slip away? You think the Commissioner is all innocent? Ask him about the dirty cops he has covered for over the years. Ask him why he shut the feds out of this trial and protection detail? Ask him why he thinks the attack didn’t happen when one of his men in blue could get hurt? Get out of my office and do your job, Batgirl. This conversation is over.”
Batgirl spun her wheels across town en route to the new hotel that the DA informed her about. She was over almost two hours early but wanted time to think. She had an unsettled feeling; she was upset the DA totally controlled her confrontation. She also had not even dreamed that someone would not consider her father above reproach. Her pre-occupation dimmed her alertness as her bike pulled into the parking garage near the hotel. She deliberately parked her motorcycle two floors down to make it more difficult for anyone to know she was in the neighborhood. While the depth provided more privacy it also left her fewer options if trouble arose.
The Girl Wonder was attuned to possible gangsters out to get Joey but her inner dialog distracted her from realizing that she almost ran two men over as she swung into the garage entrance. Normal citizens of Gotham City would gladly excuse a rare oversight by a celebrated member of the Trio of Trustworthiness but when the two near-victims are criminal associates of one of Gotham’s notorious arch villains, the Penguin, they were compelled to seek some degree of payback.
Shark and Swordfish were on their way to pick up Octopus when the Batcycle cut in front of them and interrupted their stride. “Did you see that?” Shark asked.
“It was perilously close,” Swordfish replied.
“Did you see who was riding that bike?” Shark continued.
“I did. It was that masked meddler, Batgirl.”
“Do you think see did it on purpose to intimidate us,” Shark probed his friend further.
“I do and I think we should teach that Bungling Buttinski a lesson.” Swordfish was feeling righteous and brave.
“Maybe we should get Octopus first,” Shark suggested, “he always knows what to do.”
“No we must act now before she gets away. Our honor is at stake, my friend. Let’s go.” He started running down the garage ramp. Shark followed but at a more cautious pace.
At the first lower level he caught up with his mutually wronged partner and they exchanged a plan as they lumbered down one more flight.
They arrived and saw Batgirl alone, locking her ninja. Together, they walked towards her as menacing as they could imagine. Batgirl looked up, returned to locking her motorcycle, and looked up again when they reached her.
“Mr. Shark and Mr. Swordfish, Arkham must be filled to capacity again if you two are out and about. I trust it won’t take you long to find your way back.”
“Very funny, Batgirl, but we’re not laughing,” Swordfish said aggressively. He turned to his friend to continue the verbal barrage.
“Yeah,” was the total of Shark’s output.
Swordfish paused, waiting for more support, when he realized to his disgust how stupid his friend was. He continued, “We don’t like the way you disrespected us,” and pushed Batgirl in the shoulder. The Caped Crimefighter barely flinched.
“Listen, gentlemen, I don’t know what you are talking about but I have somewhere I need to be.” Batgirl took a step to the side to split the two challenged contributors to society. She would have kept walking but she felt tension on her scalp which could have only meant that one of them had grabbed her by the wig. She stopped immediately and spun around. I will finish these bozos off in 30 seconds, she thought.
“Which one of you grabbed my hair?” she demanded.
“Pish, posh for a few locks, what difference does it make, Batgirl?” Swordfish was reveling in his boldness.
“Because it will help me determine which one I knockout first and which one I pummel longer and harder.” She liked the sternness of her threat.
“Oh,” Swordfish said matter-of-factly, “it was him,” pointing to Shark.
Shark could not contain his surprise at being turned on by his friend but channeled his reaction by lunging at Batgirl with an over head right. She stepped to the side causing him to miss awkwardly which she used to kick his butt to the ground. Swordfish wasted no time switching to attack mode and caught Batgirl across the chin sending her wobbling back. He continued with his charge landing a good hook to her ribs which more served to knock the wind out of her rather than break bones. This shifted her sideways and she instinctively put up her fists to protect her face, anticipating the next shot. However, Swordfish was slow on the follow-up so she responded with a jab that connected lightly, barely affecting him, but allowed her to gain some distance from him. Batgirl moved forward and when she was close enough executed a spinning kick that caught Swordfish on the ear. She saw him falling to the ground but as she landed Shark, from his bottom feeding position, used the handle of his umbrella to snag the ankle of Batgirl and yank her to the ground. Before she could prop herself up again Swordfish rushed her with his umbrella pointing at her and released a gas that made the Dynamic Damsel immediately disoriented and she laid her head to the ground asleep.
Batgirl was roused by the two henchmen only to find herself bound, crucifix style, to rails separating the parking levels. Her costume was thankfully intact save her boots which were curiously removed. She noted that they neglected to remove her utility belt. That she concluded would be their undoing. “Wakey, wakey, Batgirl,” Swordfish entreated, “time for some fun.”
“The only fun you two will be having his being bunkmates back in Arkham,” She threatened firmly. The intimidation rarely worked on the arch villains but the henchmen were often more sane and more easily frightened. Unfortunately, in her compromised position her warning did not carry much weight.
“Oh we know we will be back in Arkham someday, Batty-girl…”
“Yeah, we’re gonna be back in Arkham,” Shark added with hearty enthusiasm that dismayed his companion.
“…but the day will not be today. So let’s just enjoy today with a jolly laugh.” Swordfish then reached out to Batgirl’s armpit, exposed with her arms tied perpendicular to her torso, and flicked his fingers back and forth.
Batgirl squirmed as the underarms of her costume were not protected by the Kevlar in order for the outfit to breathe. His touch caused her body to shift in avoidance but she did not find his initial wiggling to make her laugh.
Swordfish continued to tickle the area adjusting his touch and rhythm trying to find the most effective tempo. He saw Batgirl begin to break down, coughing at first, screaming ‘stop it’, and finally caving into laughter. He continued his assault. “Come, Shark, start on her feet.”
To Batgirl’s astonishment her feet were hyper sensitive to Shark’s touch. He barely had to flicker his finger when the urge to emit a hilarious bawl overcame her. The two lackeys had done an excellent job securing her feet and legs and she was unable to avoid the effects of his touch. Any hope that the stimulation would wear off evaporated when she realized the urge to laugh was becoming greater. It took all will power just to breathe and feebly interject, “Stop, please stop.”
With Shark continuing his excellent work on her feet, Swordfish tried using one of his hands on her waist. Again, just his touch sent her into spasms of laughter. The sweet torture continued, unabated, and Batgirl was at a loss to figure out how to stop it. She could not keep focused on concrete thoughts to fight it and she sensed she was losing control of all functions in her body. Finally, in unison, they stopped. It took a moment for Batgirl to realize the tormenting had ceased but when she did she tried to speak, “Okay, you two,” she said between breaths and guffaws, “you guys got me this time. Now go away and let’s take this up another day.” She was hoping they heeded her words because all the laughing left her bladder in a frenzied state of wanting to urinate.
“We’ll go shortly you meandering meddler. First we need to know if you can survive round two.”
“No, please, don’t,” but her pleading was ignored as Shark started to amuse her feet and Swordfish went to work under her chin and armpits. Batgirl immediately convulsed with hee’s and ha-ha’s. She was acutely aware now of the potential consequence of this persecution as a bit of pee escaped from her urethra and into her panties. She didn’t know how much more she could take but it was making her laugh like she never had before. It was a forced joy to the anguish she was experiencing. She could feel the stimulation from Shark work its way up her legs and the cruel pleasure of Swordfish sweep down her torso. Both men’s work seemed to meet at her bladder. She felt the pressure of a bursting point and she valiantly concentrated on making the sensation go away, inviting all the martial art techniques she knew for discipline. Unfortunately, they could not match what had already begun. The tickle rate increased. Her laughter was boisterous. Her bladder was in distress. Something had to give.
Swordfish noticed the tone of Batgirl’s laughter had changed. In addition to the snorting and hooting there was a whimper. He stopped and pulled away to give himself a perspective on the whole seen. As he worked his way down Batgirl’s body he saw the dark stain beginning at her crotch and increasing down her legs. Batgirl had pissed herself.
“Shark,” Swordfish called to get his attention, “it appears our good friend has completely lost control of her social skills.”
“What do you mean?” Shark inquired.
“I mean the Dark Damsel is a bit of a Wet Wanda.”
“Huh?”
“The mighty Batgirl has chosen to wet herself rather than resist us.” He was smiling triumphantly.
Batgirl was thoroughly humiliated. Her whole body slunk against the ropes and she offered no resistance. “You have won. Now, please - please - leave me alone.”
“Do you promise to respect us and rein in your rudeness to us?”
“Yes,” Batgirl answered weakly but with a bit of fluster.
“And do you promise if we should ever meet again in a situation that might appear compromising to us that you will turn the other way and let us flee?”
This time Batgirl did not answer but returned a stare that screamed, ‘Are you out of your mind?’
Swordfish put his arm around the shoulder of his companion. “Very well, our work here is done.”
When Batgirl saw the two disappear up the parking lot ramp she went to work on freeing herself. During the tickle torture she felt one of the restraints on her wrist loosening but she could never pull on it enough in her uncontrolled laughter to slip through it. Within a minute she had liberated that arm and with a knife in her utility belt she cut away the other ropes. She stepped away from the rail and felt the saturation in her crotch. Even though the warm trickle down her legs was revolting, at the moment she lost control, the discharge of pee felt oddly comforting. Its release finally gave her a relaxation that she could not experience under the duress of their nerve ending stimulation. She tried walking a bit but even bow-legged it was unwieldy. She looked at her watch. She had under an hour to return to her apartment and change. Given the traffic and her need to be extra careful for nosy spectators around her place, her ability to arrive at the hotel room on time would be tight but she had no choice. She could not walk into a Witness Protection assignment in pants soaked in her pee. Batgirl fired up her bike and eased herself gingerly on the seat. The wetness was squishy and the warmness was changing to cool.
Batgirl re-arrived at the Witness Protection site refreshed. She not only changed her pants and panties but even took a quick shower as well. She was ready to fulfill her deputized duties as well as have a serious talk with Joey and keep him at bay.
While in the presence of the other officer their conversation was sparse. If it stayed that way it would make the whole night easier. Unfortunately, as soon as he left Joey turned on the charm and began asking her questions that were on the surface harmless but each one slightly chipped away at her defensive armor.
Each of his queries, ask with sincerity, was answered by her with increasingly longer and more involved responses. She found herself unable to walk away. Even in her other, identified life as a Gotham socialite she struggled to cut off conversations with people who bored her or wanted something from one of her foundations but when the person controlling the dialog was someone who intrigued her and ferally excited her, it was impossible. As long as he steered the conversation away from their previous night together she would be okay.
He didn’t. Whether he couldn’t or wouldn’t was irrelevant because the topic of them, together, was raised and now she had to deal with it. She recited her prepared remarks about the inappropriateness of their mutual exploration of each other. She was willing to accept the blame, apologized if she created any false aspirations, and, of course, it could never happen again.
Joey sort of agreed but then elaborated that he agreed on form but not on principle. “The problem as I see it, Batgirl, is we went about our attraction to each other all wrong.” Before she could object to the concept of a mutual attraction he continued, “You made it easy for me to push a sexual agenda forward when in reality I like you. I like you more than any of the girls I have ever known.” Again Batgirl was going to interject when he persisted, “Yesterday, after not seeing you I thought about us a lot and realized that a woman like you is complex and needs to be discovered as well as appreciated. What I forced on Monday was wrong. What I should have done is just kissed you. In fact, we shared an intimate act and never kissed. Isn’t that wrong? I think so. I’d like to rectify that. Can we kiss now? Nothing more, just kiss.”
Batgirl finally saw this was her moment to take a stand and deploy the advice she had been given. “I don’t know, Joey,” she said with her backbone evaporating, “What you say makes sense but we come from different worlds. Even if some things, relationships, could be meant to be, it doesn’t me they will.”
“Everyone is from a different world, a different life, Batgirl. All I’m saying is even if there are more reasons to submit to barriers than to break them down it doesn’t mean that we should give up so easy, especially if something is there. Each of us is in this hotel room because we refused at some point to paddle softly against the stream.
Let’s just kiss. Maybe it will be closure to the other night. Either way we will learn more about each other and how we feel from a kiss, not a blow job.”
Batgirl cringed at his crudeness but she understood his point. “Okay, just one kiss.”
“It’s all I’m asking for,” said Joey as he moved his face closer to hers. The each tilted their heads slightly to accommodate the other. Just before their lips met there was a slight pause, not hesitation, just a moment to acknowledge the expectation. The first kiss was short but really just a set up for a longer, second kiss that allowed the fleshy stimulation of their lips to bond and devour. Their hands found their ways to each others’ bodies, his on her cheeks and hers, one his back and the other pressing against his muscular chest. She eventually takes her hand off his chest and guides one of his to her breast. They continue kissing. His other hand has migrated to her lat back muscle, close to her other breast but honoring the need to be invited. They continued kissing with the contented gusto of young teenagers discovering making out for the first time.
Both of Joey’s hands are now on both of her breasts caressing the best he can over a protective suit. He somewhat suddenly removed his hands and Batgirl thought he was going to take off her top or maybe even ask to take off her pants. Instead he reached for the front of her cowl below her eyes and slowly tried to raise her mask.
“I’m sorry, darling, but that is still off limits,” Batgirl reminded him.
“It’s just that I think I am falling hard for the woman behind the mask. In less than a week, you know me better than any girl I have been with, any of my friends, or hell, even my family. I’m going away forever, FOREVER. This might sound corny but I will be waiting for you, wherever I am. I have to know who I’ll be waiting for.”
This was the heaviness she was hoping to avoid. “Joey, I’d be lying if I said I don’t have feelings for you to. Real feelings. I just don’t know. Let me go to the bathroom a few minutes and think about it.”
In the bathroom Batgirl paced back and forth over his words and her feelings. She thought about a day when she could tell a lover about her life. Could she trust him? He was sincere and it was true, he was going away forever. But, and a big but, they are also together, in this situation, because he betrayed his own family – sold them out to the authorities. He might be able to be trusted now but could that trust last?
Batgirl returned from the bathroom, apologized for interrupting, and explained that despite her affection, she could not reveal her identity to him, not yet. She knew that given their circumstance that it meant never but that would have to be their curse. She would always remember him and maybe someday after her career as a crime fighter was over she just might show up on his front porch, but tonight it could not happen.
Joey did not offer a resistance to her decision. He sulked but did not resort to surliness. A silence engulfed the room until Batgirl was relieved of her duty in the morning.
The story concludes in Part 4…
Any feedback is welcome at tthatcher55@hotmail.com
Batgirl and Gotham City were created by and are copyrighted by and are property of DC Comics. Other characters appearing in this story are owned and copyrighted by other entities as well. This story has been written solely to occupy my free time. This story is purely for adult entertainment purposes and cannot be redistributed for the purposes of making money or profit.
Witness Protection
Part 4: Thursday and Friday
by T. Thatcher
Thursday
Batgirl sat in the Commissioner’s office, intently listening to him provide a very sobering debriefing of the day’s events in the courtroom. While secretly wanting to attend the trial, she knew that as Batgirl she would be a distraction that could hurt the prosecution and, as Barbara Gordon, she had no reason to be there. The Commissioner detailed how the Defense Attorney ripped into Joey’s testimony and credibility by challenging his motives and accusing him of seeking some pathological retribution against his well-intentioned father. The Defense also succeeded in having some key evidence excluded. The worst as the Commissioner outlined was Joey’s demeanor. While in previous days he was engaged and sincere, today he was shiftless, quiet, and offering answer that did not follow the DA’s guidelines. Gordon summed it up, “Today could not have been more of a disaster.”
“Commissioner, I am sorry to hear this. Is there anything I can do?”
“Well, Batgirl, as you know tomorrow is his last day of testimony and then he will immediately be transferred over to the Feds and into the Witness Protection program. We need to have Junior Soprano on his ‘A’ game or the case is lost, his father gets off, and he is gone forever.
I don’t know, talk to him, and see if there is anything he will say to you that he won’t admit to the DA or me. I know he’s a bit of a ladies’ man maybe play up to that – without, of course, compromising your integrity – and see if your feminine prowess can put him in the right frame of mind.”
Batgirl was sure her father wasn’t asking her to prostitute herself but in his desperation to win this case – and she knew it had huge implications both politically and to the morale of his force – it sounded like he was suggesting to her to push the normal limits. “Commissioner, I will do my best to make sure he is prepped and ready to testify as we need him.”
The Commissioner thanked Batgirl and they went over the details for the final night of witness protection. She will have the night shift and the Commissioner would relieve her and collect Soprano in the morning and escort him personally to the Courthouse. He was keen to leave an impression on the jurors how serious this case is and he was hoping his presence would solidify that point.
“What happened today?” Batgirl asked Joey. She needed to be direct with him. When she arrived there was an awkward moment when he shot from the sofa to the doorway to greet her. It alarmed the Detective watching him and if Batgirl did not hold him off with a “Back off, Soprano,” comment and gesture she was sure he would have kissed her. She gave Detective Harrelson a queer “I don’t know” look which diffused any major complications and the officer seemed to agree. Besides, as a cop away from home a lot he was anxious to catch his son’s football game. When Harrelson left, Batgirl wanted to run into Joey’s arms. She thought all day about how she was going to miss him and she was succumbing to the insane notion of carrying a mad crush from youth into adulthood. Their first embrace would have to wait. She knew she had to address business first to help her father. When he didn’t answer her question she repeated the interrogation.
“To be honest, I was depressed today,” his voice was sincere. “You know I am just getting to know you – I want to know you more – and then tomorrow, bam, you are out of my life forever. I couldn’t concentrate all day.”
Batgirl went over the importance of him keeping himself together and admitted she would miss him as well. It released a broad smile from Joey. There was a knock on the door, as Harrelson returned with take-out food for their dinner.
After the requisite thank you, Harrelson left for good. Batgirl reached in the bag and took out each item one by one inspecting what the Detective had chosen and laying it out on the small table. He thoughtfully had chosen Italian food from a reputable restaurant. The two chairs were placed side by side and Batgirl liked the idea of sitting next to him and enjoying the last meal as a couple but finally opted to move the chair so as to sit across from him, a better position to cross examine the witness.
Batgirl ate lightly as was her custom in the evening and pushed her food aside and began asking him questions to test his preparedness. Joey answered each question perfectly despite her persistency as an interrogator. “Mr. Soprano is it true you have been entered into the Witness Protection Program as an incentive for your testimony today?” Batgirl role played.
“I cannot answer that question, your Honor, on the account of the Defense Attorney is nowhere as hot as Batgirl here.”
“Mr. Soprano, this is a trial here, answer the question.”
“Okay, under oath if I knew before I would have to enter the Witness Protection Program and forsake any chance of seeing Batgirl again, I would have declined.”
Batgirl was moved by his affection and leaned in closer, “I need an answer, Mr. Soprano.”
Joey leaned forward to meet her face to face. He paused to speak but held his words as the two felt each others’ breath only inches apart. He made the first move tilting his face to kiss her. Batgirl did not defend her position and knowingly accepted his lips on hers. In seconds he had pulled her over the table scattering the food as the two furiously employed their lips as passionate probes over each others’ face and necks. Joey breathlessly protested, “Not fair, every time I try to kiss your neck, I keep getting a mouthful of body armor.”
“Well, Mr. Sausage, what do you propose I do about that?” Her voice left no mistake of its suggestiveness.
“I think you are in friendly territory and can dispense with all that protective mail.”
Batgirl continued to kiss him all over his face, neck, and shoulders. “Is that what the witness wants?”
“Yeah,” Joey stated, “that’s what I want.” Then he turned serious for a second, “But I have one cross examination question for you that I need for you to answer.”
Batgirl pulled slightly away to look at him directly.
“You know me, like you really know things about my core, things about who I wanted to be, not who I am now, more than anything you could have read in a file about me.” Batgirl realized that her insight really impressed him. He continued, “So my question to you, under oath, is what is your secret, how do you know me so well?”
Batgirl realized how important this was to him. She briefly looked down, took a breath and said, “I will tell you this one thing but after I tell you I will not accept any follow-up questions nor reveal more than what I have stated. Ready?” He nodded. “You might have known me in a previous life.”
The implications froze them both as they realized this information had the weight to change the tone of the evening in both directions.
Batgirl broke their mutual pondering, “Joey, excuse me a moment while I go into the bathroom for a moment.”
A flash of heartbroken protest transformed his face and he sheepishly questioned, “Do you have to…” Batgirl stopped him and put her gloved finger softly over his lips. She knew what he was thinking: if she went into the bathroom she would think about what she revealed, compose herself, and once again come out with greater resolve to end this passionate moment.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she assured him, “I’m coming back. Let me be a bit trite and say I am slipping into something more comfortable.” His face regained its seductively confident composure.
Batgirl closed the bathroom door, took a deep breath, and studied her image in the mirror. She was crossing a line. In truth she had never really thought about it before but if she had she would have avoided it. She stared hard at her reflection trying to glean some last speck hopeful insight or knowledge from her own eyes. A confused lust obscured any guidance her usually penetrating looks could offer.
She started methodically disrobing. First to come off were her gloves. She made a mental note to catalog anything she touched for wipe down to avoid any trace of her presence. Next was the cape which she neatly folded and laid on the counter. Then her crime-fighting identity was the next to be removed. She held her cowl and wig in her hand and again looked at herself in the mirror, this time with Barbara Gordon staring back at her. No thoughts were seriously processed, just next steps. She struggled to pull the Bat-tunic over her head. She knew removing the tunic meant sacrificing an important piece of armor but if she was crossing the line, well…
She had chosen, consciously or not, to wear a purple cotton camisole with a Bat emblem across the chest as an under garment this evening. It was not an official part of her Batsuit; rather it was something quite popular that she bought off the street.
Apparently her renown had spawned a cottage industry of clothes for girls to excite their boyfriends. Tonight, it seemed appropriate – she would wear it back into the bedroom. Finally, she removed her boots and pants leaving her attired in a thin cotton top, black panties, and a utility belt. Just as her hand was about to contact the door handle, she hesitated. She turned back to the mirror. No, she wasn’t ready to go out as Barbara Gordon. Maybe she did not want to completely step over the line, after all.
Her red wig, which she felt gave her the most personality change, went back on. Reapplying the gloves was just common sense, in passion who knew where fingerprints could end up. She fiddled with her cowl in her hand then set it down on the bathroom counter. Reaching into one of her utility belt compartments she extracted her emergency mask, a prop that did not take up precious space in her belt but was essential as a temporary measure in case her cowl was ever compromised. She placed it over her eyes and adjusted the band around the back of her head to a comfortable but secure position. Her new mask covered slightly more of her face than Robin’s but it definitely exposed more of her features and made her appear and feel more open than the cowl. After one more womanly go-over in the mirror she concluded yes, this was the look she wanted for herself and to share with Joey. She exited the bathroom this time without hesitation and with the certainty that she was doing something she wanted to do.
Joey had been sitting on the bed, watching the bathroom door for ten minutes. He chewed over Batgirl’s statement and wondered what her words could have meant. Knew me in a previous life? Does Batgirl believe in reincarnation? No she seems too grounded for that. What other lives have I had? I lived here and in Switzerland. Does she mean we went to school together in Switzerland? Think, Joey, think of all the girls you went to school with. Which one fits for Batgirl?
When the bathroom door finally opened, the scene could have been staged in a movie. The bedroom, now dark, was invaded by the escaping luminescence of the bathroom. Batgirl’s silhouette absorbed a good portion of the bathroom light but after a brief adjustment his eyes took in the vision of Batgirl approaching as on a catwalk path, each leg moving directly in front of the other. In the two or three seconds it took her to reach him he must have scanned her body up and down ten times. He first noticed the bare legs and semi-bare arms. The new mask is what registered next and he was shocked that she actually took off her cowl. Seeing her face in entirety would have been his preference but this was a step. The night was still early.
At the midway point he noticed the sexiest thing of her attire, the way the utility belt draped around her hips with a bit of bare midriff between her panties and camisole. The sight of it made his dick immediately bloom into full erection. When she stood in front of him he noticed the Bat emblem of the cotton camisole and smiled very appreciatively. The way the camisole covered her top was brilliant as well. Since last Sunday, he thought he would never see anything as sexy as when he saw Batgirl in the wet lycra outfit with no crevice in her body hidden. However, seeing the looseness of the tee shirt and how it was propped up by her pert nipples raised the bar of lasting images.
“Do you have a condom?” Batgirl asked with a breathy matter-of-factness.
“Err, no. I never use them.”
“They are for everybody’s safety, you know.”
“Yeah, well, they don’t really fit. They don’t sell them sausage shaped, if you know what I mean,” Joey said with a mixed shade of sheepishness and pride.
Batgirl reached into one of the compartments of her utility belt and produced a neatly foiled pouch. “They do exist, you just have to know where to look.”
As she tore open a top sliver of the package Joey said, “I was kind of hoping you would suck me off first.”
The woman in Batgirl realized how quickly he could slip into boorishness but her passion was forgiving. “No, I want you inside me – now!”
Joey felt a fleeting twinge of disappointment but his dick was yearning and he did not really want to argue with her wishes. He watched with fascination as Batgirl elegantly removed the rubber from the packaging and grabbed his throbbing shaft rather firmly to steady it as she placed the latex on his tip. Still clutching him she made an o-ring with her index finger and thumb to roll the sheath down over his engorged head and pleasurably accelerate as it continued to cover his manhood. The act of preparation alone was almost enough to make him come but Batgirl concluded the procedure by taking one of his nuts in her mouth and gently tugging at it. His first reaction was pain then perverse bliss and her technique did the job of keeping him erect without prematurely exploding and wasting his dream.
He stole a moment to look down his chest and admire himself– naked and fully erect – with his first ever raincoat on his curved dick. It looked pretty impressive. Then, as he was contemplating his wonderful fortune, Joey felt something he never before encountered in this situation: pressure to perform.
Allowing this night of witness protection to transform into a conjugal visit was well over any boundary Batgirl could have imagined. She was enveloped with a sexual desire beyond anything she had ever before felt but she had not lost all control. In fact, she was determined to keep some control and reaction capability by making sure she fucked him and not the other way around. He may be thinking this is his night but to Batgirl this escapade was her guilty pleasure.
Still standing at the foot of the bed, Batgirl pulled her panties to her ankles and stepped out of the black thong. She looked at her lover and saw that his boner, which resembled a street sign at a bend, still peaked halfway up his abdomen. She pushed Joey in the chest firmly and he easily fell to his back. She took two steps toward the top of the bed and climbed in the mattress and crawled over his torso so that she was now kneeling with her butt staring him in the face as it rest on his stomach.
Putting her hands behind her, she lowered her body further down his frame until her vulva came into contact with the base of his imploring cock. The touch was magical and she immediately began to wiggle her hips so the firmness of his manhood caressed her clitoris. Moaning commenced as excitement shot electrically through her system. Batgirl grabbed Joey’s shaft and began moving it between her nether lips and across her love button. She did not know what Joey’s capabilities to hold out were but she sensed she would come without delay.
Joey was confused when Batgirl first straddled him. He thought maybe she was going to blow him after all but as she wiggled down his abdomen on her butt to his eager friend he realized that this was a great way to have a girl get off using his dick for a dildo. He wished the room had a mirror so he could see what it looked like. He liked hearing her so genuinely excited but worried as she grooved out, he would shoot his load before entering her. He decided to pull her gently back by her shoulders so they were now both lying down on their backs with her on top of him.
Meeting no resistance, Joey slipped his hands through the arm holes of her top and placed his mitts on her prominent tits. He ever so gently squeezed them in unison, almost as an introduction, and began the joyful task of caressing every inch of them. The size of Batgirl’s mounds were more than adequate – he could cover her tits but not hide them in his grasp – but what made them so fantastic was their firmness. Was her muscle or was she just born with the perfect rack.
With her tits in his hands and his cock in her grasp, he was as energized as he had ever been. Joey was really feeling that he was going to lose it and blow his wad early when Batgirl moved his dick off her clit and channeled him in to her love mine. The euphoria was so off the charts – her pussy was as perfect as her tits and he was now officially fucking Batgirl! It actually eased the tension of early ejaculation.
Batgirl seemed determined to work him as she forced her pussy down further taking him in deeper. Joey removed his right hand from her right breast and wandered down to her enflamed clit and began rubbing it to the rhythm of her thrusts.
“Ooh! Are you trying to kill me?” Joey quickly raised his hand and stopped but Batgirl quickly placed it back. “I’m just kidding. It feels glorious.”
He resumed his action with more vigor as his left hand tugged at her nipple. Batgirl responded with loader moans. Joey looked down at her face and tried to study it in the dark hoping to remember every detail for the lonely days ahead. The mask covered essential areas of her visage but he really felt he was assembling a lasting image of what she looked like as a civilian. She really was beautiful. Her passion enhanced the magnificence. It would be so easy to rip this flimsy mask off her face he thought. It would be off and I could see her before she could ever react. Who knows, maybe if I did it she really wouldn’t mind.
Taking in Joey’s curved cock was unlike any other love-making sensation she had ever had. He was hitting a corner of her womb that no man had penetrated before; that she did not even know existed. Joey’s penis, splitting her labia and filling her vagina while his hand expertly massaged her clitoris, had brought her to a state of nuclear explosion. Impulsively, she sat up again to feel how the shifting of his member reverberated throughout her womanhood. Oh, he was so deep!
Batgirl felt Joey’s hands on her shoulders and realized he was asking her to turn around. Not wanting to lose a moment of his log inside of her, Batgirl pivoted on his cock and was now facing him. Again, the shape of his penis felt different - but fantastic - inside her.
Face to face, sitting, and focusing on each others’ eyes Batgirl rode Joey up and down. She was enjoying this immensely. Each had a queerly satisfied smiles emoting harmony. Breaking the silence, Joey said, “Wait,” and put his hands on her hips to hold her in place. Not fighting, Batgirl stopped and tilted her head in curiosity. The next words out of his mouth were simple, “Trust me.” He placed his rather large right hand over her mask and with his left he reached over her head and yanked her wig up, back, and off her head, throwing it over the side of the bed, but keeping the mask in place. Joey scans the newly revealed image of her face – her secret identity oh so minimally covered – and smiles approvingly. Batgirl is momentarily stunned; it is not what she expected but there is little that she can do at this point. What she is doing with the witness may not be a representation of her best judgment but she is having fun. She returns his smile and slowly rebounds up and down his pole few times and then leans back.
Imaging the scene, Joey knows the picture is great: he sitting on the bed with Batgirl lying on her back; her breasts are exposed as the camisole material is bunched together between her two marvelously formed tits, and his dick is plunged as deep into her pussy as it can be. He is thumbing her clit and likes that her landing strip now matches the hair on her head. Batgirl is writhing in pleasure. However, the picture does not capture the pain he feels. Her reclined position combined with his sedentary one is stretching whatever dick tendons he has. He feels like it is going to snap off. He now fears her imminent orgasm. She won’t be still, she’ll ruin me. He tries to lean forward a bit to reduce the tautness. A spastic thrust of her hips and he knows she is coming. He focuses hard, fights the pain, and releases his first latex inhibited load. The discharge momentarily has his ears spinning but oddly it does not feel complete. He is sure he has more to give. Batgirl, on the other hand, cannot bluff the attainment she feels.
Much to her disappointment Joey withdrew his penis seconds after coming. She always thought one of the most intimate times couples shared was that post coital stage where they were still physically connected and rediscovering normal breathing patterns. She noticed Joey was slightly turned away from her and wondered if everything was okay. She tried to re-engage him, “You were amazing. I am speechless with how you made me feel.”
“Do you have another rubber,” he asked almost as if he wasn’t paying attention to her platitudes, “or can I re-use this one?”
“You really never have used one before,” she stated in question-like fashion. “No, condoms are single use but I do have more so let me know when you are ready.”
“I think I’m ready now,” and he stood off the bed and turned around revealing another full, crescent-shaped erection. Joey had stunned Batgirl for the second time in a five minute period. Her first thought was did he come just before? Yes, I felt him swell just before he grunted, I’m sure. But can how can anyone recover so quickly?
“My goodness, Joey Soprano, you must think you are a teenage boy.” She wasn’t sure it she was ready to go again but was conscious of keeping him in good spirits. She decided that maybe this was a good erection to deal with using her mouth. She slid across the sheets and carefully rolled the condom back up over and off his stiff member. She looked at the tip of the condom and saw his semen, not a lot but definitely production. She leaned over and placed the spent soldier on the nightstand. She returned to facing his crotch and grabbed his petrified banana with her left hand and opened her mouth wide to slip it over the head of his shaft. She would focus her attention on the upper third of his torpedo. The taste was different from the other time she took him in her mouth. This recipe had a mixture of spent semen, latex and a whisper of her own sex juices. It wasn’t bad, just different.
As she began to rhythmically bob up and down Joey finally decided that he was ready for conversation. “So you enjoyed it before?”
“Mmmhmm,” Batgirl responded with her full mouth.
With his cock halfway down her throat he paused her by holding her cheeks in his hands. As she looked up he said, “I guess it was a bit of a surprise when I pulled off your wig.”
“Hmmm,” was all she could playfully and ruefully reply.
“It’s just that I really want to see the woman you are under the mask and,” as he moved his hands to either side of her mask and gently but firmly grabbed the edges, “I know I could just rip it off,” Batgirl’s eyes widened with anxiety - one sudden movement by either of them and she would be exposed, “but I decided that I will wait until that day when you are ready to take it off yourself,” and he released his grip. “I will say though in your natural brown hair and this little mask, you are beyond hot, actually the word is gorgeous.”
Batgirl blushed partly out of relief that she was not going to be de-masked with a dick in her mouth and partly for the sincerity with which she knew Joey delivered the compliment. She decided to go back to work on his throbbing projectile and really give him an orgasm that he would always reflect upon.
She was blowing him with gusto and felt that this time around she knew how to navigate his peculiar shaped penis better than the first time. She was really quite into it when he asked, “Can I have that condom, now?”
“I thought I would bring you to come, this way. Are you not enjoying it?”
“Yeah, of course I am enjoying it,” he assured her, “it’s just that I want to do you from behind.”
Batgirl wanted clarity. “Do you mean anal sex?”
“Hell no, I’m not a freak,” Joey protested, “I just want to fuck you doggy style.”
Again, his cross-bred street education was bleeding into the boarding school civility.
“That’s fine,” she said lovingly but secretly worried how raw her vagina would feel, “let me get you set up with a new condom.”
“Why don’t you leave them all out,” he proposed with a smile, “it’ll be a long night.”
Re-attired for lovemaking the two performed a pas-a-deux whereby Batgirl crawled into a position on her hands and shins while Joey walked across the bed on his knees into a position behind her. In the darkness he held his dick as he probed for the opening of her love canal but made sure to rub up against her clit before entering. The gesture was appreciated by Batgirl. She wasn’t sure if she would be dry or not but one touch seemed to instantly release the lubrication they would need to make this mutually enjoyable.
Within moments Batgirl felt the walls of her vulva embrace the thick filling of Joey’s gland. This was a good position for seconds as it allowed her to again experience a distinct sensation from his rounded rocket plus it still gave her mobility if she had to respond. Each thrust was forceful and deep. With her already over-stimulated clitoris she quickly returned to the pleasuredome she had just left. Joey was more talkative this time, not necessarily to her but more bursts of “yes” and “take it”. Amazingly, the plunges increased in velocity. After one thrust drove her face into the headboard Batgirl had to adjust her stance at more of an angle so she could absorb the propulsions with her butt in the air and her face in the pillows. With one of his manic plunges, the resistance of the pillow on her face caused her mask to shift slightly down, off her brow. The next drive lowered the top of the mask down to rest on the bridge of her nose. She knew she should fix it but Batgirl was too busy - reaching between her own legs to caress his balls as he pumped away - to adjust her mask. Besides Joey isn’t even noticing, it must be too dark in the room to notice. Finally, the third power thrust exploded with his semen and pushed her mask all the way down so it was now covering her mouth. The last surge also triggered Batgirl into a series of three or four orgasms punctuated with screams that only ended because she needed to breathe. Behind her, he reached for her tits but she pushed her hands off him, “No, please.” She was out of control and any touch would send her into lightheaded ecstasy again. “You,” breath, “need,” breath, “to,” breath “pullout.”
“I thought women liked it when we stayed in,” Joey countered.
“We do,” Batgirl started and inhaled, “but I need to recover,” and exhaled forcefully.
Joey did not prolong the tease and withdrew his orgasmatron. “I think I like condoms,” he announced.
“Fantastic, let’s talk about it later,” sighed Batgirl as she re-positioned the mask correctly on her face. “Now, let’s take a nap.” She collapsed on the bed. This week was pushing her physical skills to the limit. If Joey said anything else to her she didn’t hear it; her body caved into a deep sleep.
As a rule, Barbara Gordon did not sleep much. Starting from childhood and continuing through her teenage years and college the emerging sunrise would often interrupt her reading or on-line research and prompt her to change her clothes and start a new day. Despite her encyclopedic knowledge of the benefits of sleep her body responded differently than others. She indulged in sleep when she needed it and mostly a few hours was enough to recharge her energy to function at the high levels her lifestyle demanded. This was one of the crucial ingredients that made her an ideal candidate for nocturnal patrols.
When she did sleep she dreamed actively and since intimate relationships were one of the areas that suffered from her secret career choice her dreams often indulged heavily in sexual activity. She rationalized it was definitely a compensation issue but one that didn’t hurt anyone so she did not think much about it. When she did permit herself the infrequent but gratifying dalliance she slept dreamlessly.
So it was with a bit of a slumbering surprise that Batgirl’s mind was processing pleasurable thoughts. In her semi-conscious state she sensed the unmistakable surge of blood rushing to the outer lips of her vagina heightening their sensitivity. Her clitoris surged as one of the erogenous crevices around her neck was equally overrun by a delicious suckling. Clarity of thought materialized and Batgirl now recognized her stimulation was not a dream but the skillful touch of Joey Soprano caressing her vulva and teasingly gliding over her love knob as she lay on her back on the bed.
“How long was I sleeping,” wondered Batgirl? “Daddy” – ooh – “Daddy will be here soon. Oh it feels soo good.” As Batgirl opened her eyes and looked into Joey’s staring down at her. He smiled. She returned the radiation but kept her mouth closed, she worried how her breath smelled. “Daddy will knock first. He always does.”
Her lubrication was complete. Just as she was about to shift positions to check his hardness and straddle Joey, he entered her and lowered all his weight to her hips, holding her down. The filling sensation felt divine and she paused to let his cock penetrate its full length. “Let me get on top, lover,” Batgirl whispered.
“Sure, in just a second,” Joey replied as his mouth left her deltoid and landed on her left nipple. His licked the whole areola twice then predatorily sunk his teeth around the protruding nipple. The marvelous feel made Batgirl gasp and Joey responded by pumping firmer and quicker. Her state of arousal which never really came down even during sleep was quickly skyrocketing again. The seconds blissfully became minutes. Joey continued his furious propulsions but focused on her eyes, determined to see beyond the mask to the person he was convinced he had a lifetime connection with.
Batgirl’s body and mind were in full orgasm. She pushed her hips into his thrusts as she screamed, “Oh Joey, oh God, yes, A.J., yes, don’t stop A.J., don’t stop.”
The surge of bliss that usually journeyed to his throbbing member this time trekked to Joey’s brain. I haven’t been called A.J since… “Oh my God, you’re from P.S. 14!”
Suddenly, with a violent thunderclap, the bedroom door blew off its hinges quickly followed by the burly shoulder of a stumbling man clad in a light blue Adidas warm up suit. Batgirl’s body instinctively transferred energy to all the right muscles to spring into fighting position but Joey’s body anchored her to the bed with her legs still high in the air. Joey’s head spun around, too, to witness the intrusion and together they saw a thick mountain of a man brush the splinters off his sleeves while another pocked faced man – smaller but built in more everyday proportions – followed behind him turning on the lights. In the moments of ensuing silence Batgirl was racking her mind on how to free herself from this posture, protect Joey, and neutralize these men. The latter two were well within her capabilities. The vulnerability of sex left her unable to assume any fighting chance.
Before Batgirl could take control of the situation, Joey, still fossil hard inside her, screamed at the two men, “What the fuck are you doing here!”
“What’s up, Joey,” the normally built one greeted – he was obviously the brains and communicator of the two – “banging the help, are we?”
It then dawned on Joey how much danger Batgirl was in. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Who knew that ratting on your family entitles you to fuck the Batgirl,” he clarified.
“Her? This is just some whore,” Joey invented.
“Really? Is that so?”
“Think about it. Look at this shit that they set me up with. Look at this: the costume is wrong, the mask is wrong, shit even the hair is wrong. I told them I needed pussy and since the Batpussy wasn’t puttin’ out this is the shit they gave me.” To seemingly add credence to his story, Joey thrust his dick in and out of Batgirl a few more times.
Batgirl picked up on Joey’s story and tried to take it further, “You mean that guy who arranged this was a cop? I ain’t doing this shit for free.”
“Shut the fuck up, puttana,” the intruder commanded. “Orso, tie her to the bedposts while I figure this out. Get the fuck off her, Joey.”
“What about me, Sallie?” Joey diverted, “I got a load to blow.”
“Blue balls should be the least of your concerns right now, you little shit.” Just then Sallie saw Joey’s sheathed dick. “Holy shit, I didn’t think I’d ever see the day when Joey Sausage put on a raincoat.”
“I’m tellin’ you, she’s a fucking whore, you know I’d never wear one of these things otherwise.”
While Joey was protesting, Sallie wandered into the bathroom and came out with Batgirl’s costume in one arm and her cowl in his other hand. “Joey, don’t be fucking with us. This shit sure looks like a real Batgirl costume to me. These clothes have some fucking armor in them. And what’s that over there? It looks like a red wig to me. I’m startin’ to think you had your dick in the real deal and now you’re thinkin’ with that dick and not your head.”
Orso finished securing the last of Batgirl’s limbs so now she was fully on display for all of the men to see. Unlike her bondage of yesterday, this time the ropes burned into her wrists and ankles. Sallie now directed his comments to the bound woman on the bed, “so tell me, are you the Batgirl or some two-bit cunt for hire?”
Batgirl was affronted with his disrespect. “Is that the way your good mamma taught you to talk to girls?”
“What’s your fucking answer: whore or Batgirl?”
“Let me go,” was all she would respond.
“We will, in time,” Sallie offered without much conviction. “First, let’s have a look at what’s behind the mask.” As he moved forward Batgirl pulled on her restraints but there was no give. She gave up her on her acting and jerked her head away as Sallie first reached for her black veil. Holding her chin with one of his surprisingly strong hands he grabbed the bottom of the mask with the other.
Batgirl gave a look to Joey, imploring him to help. All he could say was, “Come on, Sallie, leave her out of this.” His words had no authority with the intruders and Batgirl noticed that his dick which had gone limp as he argued with Sallie was now growing in excitement again at the prospect of her unmasking. He would not save her.
“Come on, let’s end this,” and he lifted the mask completely off her face. Batgirl closed her eyes and hoped this would all go away. After an eternity of silence in the room she opened her eyes again. They were all staring at her. Finally, Sallie turned back to Joey and said, “Sausage, clarify something for me. Is the fucking Police Commissioner’s daughter a whore or is she the Batgirl?”
Joey lowered his head. This revelation was her death sentence.
Batgirl knew this could only end badly. She not only was unmasked but they knew who she was. She knew the revenge her father had exacted on their families was about to be brought down on her. She resolved not show weakness, whatever they would do, she would not cry, she would not cave into emotion. She heard Sallie ask, “Hey Orso, do you want to have the Batgirl suck your dick?”
He answered with his first words of the night, “Yeah, that would be nice.” His voice was gentle and therefore deceptive for his size.
Batgirl responded indignantly, “You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to do anything like that.”
“Yes you will,” Sallie countered with intent as he drew his gun, “or I will blow Loverboy’s brains all over your fucking spread pussy.”
Orso felt the urge to speak again, “Can she suck it wearing the mask?”
“Sure, Orso, whaddever you want. That’s a good idea.” Sallie reached down to the floor and picked up the red wig, walked back to the bed, and used it to cover Barbara’s brunette locks. He then lifted her head and placed on the cowl. She was Batgirl again visually but her predicament was as dire as any other helpless woman’s.
Orso stepped closer to her and lowered the waistband of his sweats and underwear. A meaty cock was revealed. “C’mon,” was all he said. Batgirl turned away and then looked straight ahead at Joey with the metal at his temple. She turned back to Orso who now was kneeling on the bed and lifted her head and took hold of the head of his penis in her mouth. She didn’t try to take in any more of him but literally sucked it for a bit. Her technique worked because Orso was quickly at full mast. She hoped she could continue to just pucker around the tip the whole time but Orso grabbed the back of her head with both hands and pulled her completely over him so his hairy boner was fully in her mouth. Any movement of her mouth over his dick was initiated by him as he now held her at the temples and moved her head back and forth along his shaft. Fortunately, he came quickly without much force and without much semen. Despite the small payload his reaction was a fierce grunt of satisfaction.
He then quickly composed himself by pulling up his pants and - with his accustomed succinctness - said, “Thanks, Sallie.”
Batgirl was relieved that the ordeal did not last long and hoped it would be all she would be subjected to. At the end of the bed Sallie and Joey were locked in conversation. Sallie was the more animated of the two. “We thought everything was going good. You turn State’s to get the old man arrested and during the trial your testimony is good enough for protection but not good enough for conviction. Then Big Tony is released and can’t be tried again for double jeopardy. But then you start fucking everything up. First you save the Batgirl when we could have drilled her and sent a strong message to the Commissioner to not mess with us; then at the fucking trial you start improvising and making things look grim for Old Tony. Granted, yesterday was pretty good for us but we are concerned that if you don’t play along again tomorrow, everyone is fucked. Tony – your Papa – is at risk here. We thought everyone understood the plan. Christ it was your idea.”
Joey quickly looked at Batgirl and they locked eyes, his worried and imploring her not to believe what was just said. Hers eyes emoted the rawness of betrayal and hurt.
As if remembering a chore, Sallie suddenly turned away from Joey and focused his attention on Batgirl. “I think I have some unfinished business here, too.” He unzipped his pants and pushed them down to his ankles. Then with his thumbs he lowered his boxer shorts as well. “Hey, chickie, guess what Uncle Sallie has for you?” he teased. He started rubbing out his rather large bologna which was also curved but not nearly to the extent of Joey’s.
Batgirl looked with dismay at what was about to enter her. She had lost any lubrication she had had and now was facing the prospect of considerable pain. “Is having a large penis required to get into the mob?” she wondered.
Sallie crawled between her legs and propped her thighs slightly up using all the slack in the binds that he could. Are you ready for me, Batgirl?” he jested and immediately thrust himself into her unprotected and exposed vagina.
The immediate pain was staggering but Batgirl fought to avoid showing any weakness, any semblance that he was beating her. Up close she realized he was older than he first appeared, the grey pubic hairs were a telling sign, but he was in fairly impressive shape for his age. The walls of her vagina throbbed as the abrasion of his thrusts acted like a metal brush in her love canal.
“Hey Batgirl, you’re okay, not a bad fuck at all,” Sallie announced. “I can see why you wanted to keep her for yourself, Joey.” He continued to take short, measured thrusts. Abruptly, his composure changed and with the change he leaned forward and ripped her Bat camisole down the middle, exposing her breasts to all of them. Still pumping but adjusting himself more upright he slapped her breasts hard back and forth, each blow sounding like a severe spanking. He was yelling incoherently about all the extra work she had made for him and how the Commissioner was a prick. Joey pleaded with Sallie to stop but all he heard were angry voices from years past.
He then slapped Batgirl’s face with both sides of his hand. It stung sharply but Batgirl still kept her form – but it was becoming more difficult. Sallie clutched the top of her cowl and pulled up taking the titian wig with it. He slapped her again but now his voice was calm. “You know what boys?” he said to the onlookers behind him. “I can claim something that no other made man can, not even your old man, Joey.” He was smiling and driving into Batgirl. I’m the only one who has fucked both the Commissioner’s wife and daughter. That’s right, Batgirl,” as he looked down on the shocked face of Barbara Gordon, “I was one of the guys there that night we did it to your mother and you know what, she not only was tighter than you but she had more fight in her, too.”
Never in all her years of training and crime-fighting had any blow hit her with such force. In one sentence Sallie inflicted a brutal humiliation upon her, worse than any unmasking. She became Batgirl to avenge her defenseless mother and bring sharked-eyed people like Sallie to justice. The revelation transformed the Batgirl. With a rage and power she had never drawn upon before she pulled bind around her wrist and broke the wood bedpost securing it. With her freed arm she swung but Sallie was too tall and prepared to connect solidly. She then reached for her Utility Belt. If it meant killing everybody in this room, including herself, Sallie would not live to see another day.
Years of fighting people who did not fight fair educated Sallie to watch everything his opponents might try. As she reached for the compartment, he held her wrist to the belt and with his other fist, punched her square in the jaw and jarring her senses. Just before the next strike landed in the same spot knocking her out completely, Batgirl dazedly thought, “Oh God, he coming inside me. Please, please let this be a bad dream.”
Friday
It’s never a good morning when the first thought you try to process is the conundrum of “What happened?”
Batgirl’s eyes burst open. Sensing she was safe, her body sprang up to a sitting position and she surveyed her surroundings. She was alone and in her bedroom and in FULL costume. Her clouded mind began to process memories in sequence: talking with Joey, sex with Joey, intruders, betrayal, rape, her mother’s rape(!), and now here. It did not make sense. Could it have been a nightmare after all? She bounded from her bed to her vanity where the bruises on her face which coincided with the tenderness of her jaw mirrored back to her the reality she endured. What happened after Sallie mounted me? How did I get back here?
Batgirl looked at the clock on her night table. It was still morning and the trial was due to begin momentarily. She needed to call her father the Commissioner but what would she say? I am sorry I abandoned the witness. How will he ever trust me again?
The witness – Joey – he must have saved me after all. It made sense. The mobsters would never have released me and Joey did know my secret identity. I remember him fighting the big goon – Orso, yes, that was his name – and yelling at Sallie to stop. Now that I am here, how can I sync my story with Joey’s so Daddy doesn’t suspect anything? Oh, I don’t want to lie to him. I am going to have to call him and tell him the truth.
Slowly, Batgirl dialed the Commissioner’s private cell phone number. He picked it up on the first ring.
Caught a bit off guard, Batgirl did not even lower her voice as she usually did when calling him in her crime fighting persona. “Commissioner, it’s me, Batgirl.”
“Batgirl, how are you?” His voice had an empathy that she usually did not receive as the Caped Crusadress.
“I – I am fine Commissioner. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay for the trial.” There was silence on the other end. She wasn’t sure what to say, “You know, after last night…” She deliberately trailed off hoping that he would fill in the blanks.
“There isn’t going to be a trial, Batgirl.”
“Excuse me, Commissioner?”
“Tony Soprano was killed in prison early this morning.”
“I’m sorry, I guess, I mean I did not know. I did not see the news this morning.”
The news agencies are just finding out now,” the Commissioner informed her.
“And Joey? Er, the witness, Anthony Soprano, Jr., what has happened to him?” She was sure this would clear some of the missing pieces from last night.
“Junior Soprano was taken care of.” His response was a bit vague for the answer Batgirl wanted to hear but he continued, “I apologize, Baa – Batgirl – for asking you to look after that monster.”
Batgirl wanted to respond, “oh he really wasn’t that bad,” but her sense of decorum caught her and she replied, “Commissioner, I am always prepared to do anything to help you.”
“Yes, pumpkin, I know.”
Batgirl looked at the phone perplexingly. Did she mishear him or did he just confuse her with his daughter. There was a long pause as neither could decide who should speak next.
Gordon pressed the Disconnect button on his cell phone and halted briefly. He looked forward but saw nothing. The images still dominating his thoughts were of what he discovered in that hotel room and his cold, methodical reaction. Mentally returning to his environs he focused on a man, close to his height and frame but holding half his years, standing near the wall that served as a stone barrier to the River. The man was dressed appropriately enough but seemed uncomfortable in his clothes. Gordon approached him without hesitation or urgency. He had never met the man before but knew exactly who he was. “It’s done. You can go”
“So that’s it? I’m really free?” The deceptively muscled man was incapable of standing still. “No cops hasslin’ me, trumping up parole violations to return my ass upstate?” Gordon stood silent, half listening but incapable of responding – his dimension of thought was far removed from this man’s prattle. The other man continued, “You know I’m not really free. I ain’t no fool. I know who I shivved last night. You made me sign my own death warrant. It’s only a matter of time before I am a dead man. Tony Fucking Soprano. Do you think his boys will let me get away with that? Some Mic working for the Mob is sharpening his butcher knife right now thinking about how to slice me up. What the fuck was I thinking? You got to protect me.”
“You and I will never see each other again.” Gordon’s direct but unquestionably authoritative statement broke his silence but created a larger one between them in its wake. “You are already taken care of.” Another speechless pause lingered. A few errant park noises were the only sounds defining their surroundings. “Here.” Gordon handed him a file. “A new slot just became available in the Witness Protection program. We have already established a new identity for you in a faraway place. You have a new life. Use it wisely.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Guys like me don’t get deals like that.”
“You have a flight leaving in two and a half hours. I’d advise you not to miss it. Here,” handing him a Founding Father, “take this and grab the first taxi you can find to the airport. There are plane tickets in the folder. On the flight study the contents of the folder well. When you arrive you’ll have money in a bank account to get yourself situated. This is your second chance and your only option. Do well.” Gordon turned and walked away.
Gordon could hear the trailing voice yell, “How’s a brother supposed to survive in Wyoming?” but he kept walking. He never considered looking back.
Jim Gordon dedicated his life to protecting the citizens of Gotham only to learn that he could never shield the ones he cared about most from the menacing horrors of City’s underbelly. Worse, his actions, his pursuit of the underworld put them directly in its path, front and center. It would be the brutal reality he would have to acknowledge but never accept. Sallie, Orso, Tony Senior, and Junior would never be seen again. To the streets he would bring order, but for his family he would deliver justice.
Author’s note: I wrote most of this story years ago and lost it before ever submitting it. I first had the idea for this story and wrote the outline a year before the eponymous HBO series aired. I had chosen to give the family the name Soprano since the mobster was “singing” to the police. The names Tony and A.J. were chosen because they seemed like reasonable Italian names for a father and son. Imagine my surprise when the TV show used the same names. Imagine my wealth if I didn’t procrastinate and they had to write a disclaimer before every episode saying the characters were owned by a DC fan fiction writer…
Thanks for taking time to read the story. Please let me know if you enjoyed it at tthatcher55@hotmail.com