("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._
`6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`)
(_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-'
_..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,'
(((' (((-((('' ((((
K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
_________________________________________
WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age
Eighteen, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
_________________________________________
Scroll down to view text
Archive name: (S)Girl4.txt
Authors name: Ann Douglas
Story Title : Frisking The Cat
------------------------------------------------------------------
Supergirl Meets The Catwoman in "Frisking The Cat"
Wearing a red and blue costume, I could move mountains, and
everyone listened when I talked. But wearing a brown wig and simple
attire, it seemed the only jobs available to me were as a secretary
or a waitress. I was just one in a million college grads entering
the job market during a recession.
I finally landed a job several months after graduation in a
marketing research company, punching numbers and names into a database.
The night hours sucked, and the pay really wasn't enough to live on.
Unfortunately, being a superhero was voluntary work. Maybe I could
use it as a charitable deduction on April 15.
Now, at 1 am, I was a passenger on a subway train from Downtown
Station to South Metropolis. I could fly home in under a minute, but
the train ride lasted almost a half an hour -- just one more cost of
having a secret identity and trying to live a normal life. Yeah, right,
as if commuting home at one in the morning was normal!
Though I guess it wasn't unheard of, because I often shared the
train with a small number of fellow commuters, usually tired, sometimes
insane, and always looking as unhappy as I must have looked.
Tonight (this morning?) there were four of them sitting across from
me, three men and a woman, who were obviously together, but who didn't
speak a word for the first ten minutes of the ride. I crossed my legs at
the knees, because one of the men was looking at me. There wasn't much
else for him to look at, I guess, but he was almost leering. Maybe he
was just admiring my legs, or maybe he caught a glimpse up my miniskirt
and happened to see my pussy in all it's glory. Maybe he saw the blush
on my face, because the thought of being "found out" always turned me
on, which, of course, is one reason why I never wore panties. And that
often led to an escalating cycle, as my excitement made me wetter than
any normal woman, so the juices dripped down my thighs, making my
chances of being found out all the greater.
But he didn't do anything or let on that he knew, and I was
surprised to feel sad. It made me long for my college days, when a
glimpse of my bare pussy would draw men in like bees to honey -- or
at the very least, draw a reaction.
Back at MU, people always looked for an invitation to meet someone
new, and I made new friends almost every day. I never ate alone, never
walked alone, and rarely slept alone. Funny how I sometimes wished
for more privacy back then. At parties, men packed like wolves around
me, trying to get me drunk, not knowing that they didn't stand a chance.
At getting me drunk, that is.
Now, I longed for the parties and the harassing. Now, in "the
real world", almost everyone respected each other's privacy and minded
their own business and took no chances until they were in the safety of
their own homes. What was wrong with society? What happens to people
when they leave the security of the campus? And then it occurred to
me that whatever was wrong with society was wrong with me, too. I
haven't been with someone in months, and my best friend is my cat Calvin.
I was afraid to approach people, the same as everyone else. I don't
know what I was afraid of, though. I didn't need to worry about criminals
or cops, like most other people did. Maybe I was just afraid of offending
someone, or doing something wrong. Maybe I needed the support of my
friends before I could reach out.
I know now how much I relied on friends to make my life happy. They
would push the boundaries, and I would follow behind them. They would
knock on my door, and all I needed to do was invite them in. But I never
knocked on doors myself.
Almost unconsciously, I shifted my sitting position. I crossed my
legs at my ankles, and my thighs were slightly apart. The young man
across from me had a straight line view to my pussy, now, but it was
just a fraction of an inch wide. I rested my hands on my lap, pushing
my skirt between my thighs, stealing away even the suspicion of daylight.
It was amazing how just the slightest possible hint of an
invitation can catch a man's eye, because the young man was now
sweating, and his friends were taking notice now, too. Even the young
woman raised an eyebrow.
I felt a rush run through my body. "Careful, Linda, you are
losing control again, "a wise voice whispered. But I've had a hard
time listening to that voice lately. I swear that since I came to
earth, my sex drive has gone into overdrive. That yellow sun melted
my will, and the loneliness of having no lover for several months
fed my desire and made me a little irrational at times.
I tried to fight it. I looked away from the curious eyes of
the strangers and read some of the advertisements posted on the
train's walls between the windows: There was a picture of a rather
handsome guy with an eye patch and a pistol, starring in a movie
called: Escape From Gotham City. One poster was for Marlboro
cigarettes, which had a skull and crossbones spray-painted over
it. A third poster was of a very attractive woman, with the text:
"I'm Horny, Call Me at (900) 481-3643". And the last poster from
Nike was very simple; it proclaimed in bright big red letters:
"Just Do It!"
So much for distractions, I thought, as I shifted my legs,
casually rubbing my thighs together. When I realized how erotic
that must have seemed to the strangers, I opened my mouth in
surprise. Then I thought how erotic opening my mouth might seem,
so I covered it with my hand and glanced at them. They stared
back at me in surprise and fascination, and I felt like cursing
myself. I was so turned on now that even when I was trying to
act modest, it appeared like I was flirting.
Hell, who was I kidding? I "was "flirting! I was pretty shy
usually, and I didn't have a bubbling personality, but how modest
could I really be? I liked wearing a skin-tight shirt that showed
my nipples whenever I was excited, which was often. I always wore
a tiny miniskirt, with no undies, and every couple of weeks, I
shortened my skirts even a tiny bit more. My pussy underneath was
completely bare (I burned the hair off with my heat vision).
Obviously, I wanted people to notice.
But denuding my pussy in that way irritated it a little,
exciting it even more than normal, and now, with everything else
conspiring to excite me, my pussy was soaking wet and flowing
steadily. I couldn't stand it. I closed my eyes and tried to
ignore the strangers as I pressed my thighs together and gyrated
my ass on the hard metal seat, trying to satisfy my itch in a
most ineffective way. My pussy was aching for attention. I
opened my eyes halfway and stared at my captivated audience. I
opened my mouth and licked my lips. I couldn't hear that tiny
wise voice anymore. Instead I glanced over at the poster: "Just
Do It!"
I closed my eyes, bit my lip, and raised my skirt. My pussy,
slightly pink from irritation, glistened in the bright overhead
lights. I soaked my fingers in the juices and spread the soothing
moisture over the irritated skin. I exhaled loudly, almost a gasp,
almost a sigh of relief, it felt so good!
Then, like background noise, I heard that tiny harassing
voice scolding me. It was accompanied by a symphony of other
voices, that altogether became white noise. The only distinct
voice that kept ringing in my mind was: "Just Do It!
"I parted my pussy lips with my finger tips, showing my
tenderest skin to people I knew nothing about. And from that most
intimate place flowed the message, "come to me."
One of the men answered the call. He knelt between my legs
for a better view of the show. I opened my lips wider, giving him
the best view I could, while I massaged my clit with my other
fingers. Droplets gathered and ran down to my asshole, going to
waste. "Oh, please, don't just stand there!"
Another man sat down beside me, watching from a different
angle. He was watching my face, my other lips, as they also opened
wide in esctacy and longing.
Then, suddenly, a tongue reached deep into my pussy, sending
a shock wave through my body. I quickly withdrew my hands, moving
them to my neglected breasts, squeezing them through my blouse,
while surrendering my pussy to the man's will. He nibbled on my
clit. I gasped and cried out and wrapped my thighs around his head
in reflex. "Oh, a little faster! Oh, a little harder!"
The other two men took hold of my legs, holding them apart,
while he grabbed two handfuls of my ass, and pulled me to his
ravenous mouth. I buried my fingers in his hair, holding on as
if to a support on an amusement park ride. I could barely contain
my enthusiasm. My ass was suspended in mid air now, as he tore
into my pussy, while the others helped him out. And to think just
a moment ago I was worried what they would think of me!
The woman was meandering around the scene, watching the
action, amused. She had a vaguely sly smile on her face. As my
body tingled and an ache consumed me, about to turn in an instant
into the height of pleasure, I wished for the woman to join in.
I wanted for her to kiss me hard, right now. I think she wanted
to. She stepped closer. But she didn't, and that disappointed me,
even as my body and mind were at a critical state, orgasm imminent.
The skyrockets exploded in my mind. My body quaked, my eyes
teared, and I was crying out uncontrollably, but my cries were
overwhelmed by the din of the train rushing through a tunnel.
And then everything seemed silent again.
As I came back down to Earth, I found myself looking into
the eyes of the man who sent me to heaven. His rough features
almost looked beautiful. That's what a mind shattering orgasm
will do to me. I stroked his hair and whispered. "Hi. My name
is Linda."
He smiled, but it was a slightly mischievous smile. "Hi
Linda with the great tasting pussy."
I smiled back.
The train was slowing down and a voice came over the
overhead speaker: "Now stopping at Washington Crossing, take
Red Line to Gotham. Next stop: South Metropolis."
The man wiped his chin on his sleeve and stood up. "Our
stop."
I felt a sudden sense of loss when he said that; I didn't
want them to go. I hurriedly collected myself. I straightened
my skirt and made sure my wig was on straight. The four
strangers gathered at the door to the subway car, when it
opened.
"Can I come with you?" I asked hopefully. After sharing
myself with them so intimately, they were very appealing to
me. I wanted to be one of them, whoever they were. I wanted
to disappear into their lives.
He smiled. "You already have."
The woman laughed wickedly. "Thanks for the entertainment.
We must do it again some time."
I watched them leave. They never looked back at me.
I don't know how I felt. My emotions were overwhelming my
thoughts -- sex always seemed to do that to me. What did that
woman mean? Was she being sarcastic? Was she insulting me? Or
did she mean what she said, but in a playful way?
The train pulled away. The strangers disappeared from view,
leaving me all alone, wondering what I had gained from my stunt.
Part of me was glowing inside, feeling a sense of power and
victory. Bending steel beams and doing acrobatics in the air always
came easily to me, but I never thought I could rise above my
inhibitions like that.
A part of me argued that I didn't rise at all, but fell as
low as I could fall. My inhibitions were my strength, and I had
come away from the experience with less than I had before.
Then, suddenly, I realized in horror, how true that was. My
purse was gone! In all the excitement, I never saw the strangers
snatch my purse. Inside I had some money and IDs, but far more
importantly, that's where I kept my Supergirl uniform!
If I hurried, I could break through the door and chase them
down.
But I couldn't. I was paralyzed by embarrassment over the
thought of facing them. A few minutes ago, I was just an anonymous
woman, gambling with my reputation in front of a few strangers.
Now Supergirl's reputation was thrown in the pot, and the whole
world might see.
So I slumped back on my seat, sighing, and I stared at the
Nike poster. God, I was so stupid sometimes! Why didn't I listen
to that wise little voice? I couldn't help but listen to her now,
screaming her I-told-you-so-s, reminding myself over and over
again how stupid and dirty I was.
* * *
I stepped off the train about five minutes later, and I felt
a little better, a little less worried. It even seemed a little
funny, now. What was that saying? "Whatever will be, will be."
Let them say what they will say, do what they will do. Let the
naked truth come out, and it will set me free! Free from shame,
free from fear, free from clothes, free from that silly looking
costume!
I laughed out loud, and my laughter echoed off the houses
nearby, and it sounded so hollow that I shivered and realized how
truly worried I was. This was a disaster; there was no point in
pretending it didn't matter.
But what point was there in worrying, either? I guess the
only thing I could do now is wait -- and work on damage control.
Ok, think, Linda, what "can " you do? The costume is the
key. When they show it to the media, you are dead.
"If "they show it, I reminded myself.
Then I felt a burst of optimism: how could they be sure the
costume in my purse was real? Some companies sell imitation
costumes as fetishes.
But fake costumes will burn in a fire, I reminded myself.
Fake costumes aren't bullet proof. They will test it, and they
will know.
And a fake costume was apparently what I would be shopping
for soon.
I laughed out loud again, as I walked around the corner. I
don't know if I was laughing or crying when I arrived home.
I was through the door and almost in the kitchen before I
noticed that the lights were on in my apartment. I jumped when
I felt a hand on my shoulder.
I spun around so fast that the man attached to that hand
was thrown to the floor.
I struggled to identify the intruder through the fog of my
emotions, until my memory came back to me, and I recognized his
face.
No, I thought, shaking my head. He couldn't have "possibly"
known, not so soon. Hell it only happened about fifteen minutes
ago! He couldn't be "that "good.
* * *
"Andrew?"
"Geez, Linda," he replied while still lying flat on his back.
"If I had known you were so easy to sneak up on, I wouldn't have
pretended like we were the Impossible Mission Force the last time."
"The Last Time" was two years ago, when I was a junior at MU,
and, as Supergirl, I was was brushing people with political power
the wrong way. Andrew was an agent in an ultra-secret intelligence
agency for the government. Apparently, despite all of Superman's
and my good deeds, the government considered us potentially
greater threats to national security than even the Soviet Union in
it's prime. Publicly, we were treated like heroes, but behind the
scenes, the government tried their best to control us, how we
acted, who we slept with, what we said. So they created a secret
branch under the NSA called the SSA (Superhero Surveillance Agency).
Andrew had been the agent in charge of bringing me to
"justice" for various transgressions, and he proved he was up to
the challenge. He had actually had me at his mercy. He could have
done with me whatever he wished. But he let me go, breaking orders
from above, and no doubt taking a lot of flack in the process. As
much as I hated what he had done to me, I admired him for his
courage to live by his conscience.
That was the only time we had met each other, but Andrew did
call me several times since. He'd ask me innocent questions, like
how was college going, did I have any new friends, did I really
like my hair that way. I didn't know what to make of it. Maybe
he was just trying to be my friend so he could be more influential,
but I believed that he liked me, regardless of what else he was up
to, and I found myself opening up to him.
Then he stopped calling, more than a year ago, and I had
almost forgotten about him. Until now.
"I hope you don't mind that I waited for you inside. The
door was unlocked, so I took the liberty. Oh, and I fed your cat.
It was the only way to keep him off of me."
"Why are you here, Andrew?" I eyed him curiously.
"Why?" he said, as he stood and straightened his suit.
"Because I think I can help you."
"Oh?" I sat down on the sofa and motioned for Andrew to sit
with me. "What makes you think I need any help?"
"Because I've been watching you," he said simply, as he sat
closer than I had expected.
"Oh, that's right. I forgot you did that sort of thing,
peeping through my windows, listening in on my private conver-
sations," I said with a smile that contradicted my deeply
sarcastic tone. I accidentally touched his leg as I tried to
adjust my skirt.
Andrew shifted in his seat, as he conjured up the appro-
priate rationalization. "Common, Linda, the SSA only does that
when we have evidence of a legal infraction. Besides, don't
tell me that you've never used those super-senses of yours to
invade someone else's privacy. We are only trying to level the
playing field a little. It doesn't bring me any pleasure to
spy on you."
I knew that much was true. When he had captured me, I was
totally naked and at his mercy, yet he didn't take advantage of
the situation at all. He let me cover myself, and his dick was
soft the whole time. No sign of hardness even now, as we sat
very close to each other. I guess I just wasn't his type.
And that was probably how it should be, I thought, with
nothing between us. Getting involved with him would be a disas-
ter. Besides, he was always stabbing me with criticisms, like
saying that I spy on people. I replied, "Sometimes I see things
that I probably shouldn't see -- I can't help that. But I don't
go out of my way to spy on people's private lives like you do!"
Andrew held up his hand as if in defense. "OK, I'm sorry
Linda, I didn't come here to start an argument. I guess it's
kind of hard to avoid, considering the nature of my job, that
we'd be on each other's case, but really I came here hoping
that we could cooperate, for a change."
"Cooperate?" I asked, a little amused. "How could we
cooperate on anything? I mean, isn't that like asking a deer
to cooperate with a hunter?"
Andrew smiled and laughed, like he might do if he was
arguing about sports with his buddies. He was acting very
friendly, and I couldn't tell if the emotion was genuine or
if he was trying to sell himself to me. I always had a tough
time knowing that about him. He said, "Don't you think that
analogy is a little extreme? We have a lot of mutual interests."
I smiled back at him, wondering what he was leading up to.
"Such as?"
"Such as your well being. Your "financial "well being."
I stopped smiling and looked away. "I don't want to talk
about that."
"You aren't doing very well. I know that you are two months
behind on paying the rent for this little house. You are three
months behind on your student loan payments, and you could go
into default soon," Andrew pressed.
I shook my head, trying not to listen to him, but I couldn't
help it. Damn him! He always knew my weak spots, and he always
pressed them just right. I had forgotten about that sly part of
him.
He knew how embarrassing it was to be the most powerful
woman in the world, yet to live on the edge of poverty just so
I could have a somewhat normal life. Being Supergirl could be
fun and exciting, but most of the time I was happier when I
wasn't in the spotlight, when people didn't look at me like I
was some kind of freak.
Besides, Superman and I had good reputations with the
public in large part because we didn't mix heroism with personal
gain. We had to be super-giving as well as super-human, or people
would think of us as greedy invaders rather than welcome visitors
from Krypton. For all of my powers, I couldn't force people to
like me, so I always had to be above reproach. I wish I didn't
care so much about what people thought of me, but I always did.
"I understand," Andrew said kindly, "that you want to have
a private life, and you want to protect your image. Believe me,
that's exactly what I want, too. But you aren't serving yourself
or your country well right now. The crime rate is skyrocketing
at night, as criminals have noticed the pattern -- you just
aren't around once the sun goes down. Fortunately for Metropolis,
Superman has a steady presence. Why? Because Kent has the right
kind of job for a superhero. Reporting for the Planet helps him
learn about crimes in progress, and his heroics pay him back by
giving him a great story to write about. Your job, on the other
hand, completely takes you out of action."
"It's the only job I could get," I objected.
"Perhaps you should have thought of that before you
decided on a degree in Liberal Arts," Andrew patronized. "But
obviously you have much more to offer the world than just your
degree."
"Don't you think I know that?" I said impatiently, "But
being a superhero just doesn't pay well, anyway, except on those
rare cases where there is a reward. And then I look bad for
accepting the reward."
Andrew shook his head. "That's not quite what I had in
mind. The government and the police won't pay you to be a free-
lance hero -- too many legal problems, for one thing. But the
SSA has different needs and different legal requirements, and
I have the authority to hire you as an agent, complete with
good pay and benefits, all of which will be strictly confidential
and hidden from the media."
"What?" I was stunned. "You want to hire me? I thought
your agency only spied on people like me -- why the hell should
I trust you, anyway."
Andrew took my attack personally, and I wished I hadn't
been so harsh. "I'm sorry Linda, that we always seem to be on
opposite sides of the fence. I know that sometimes the agency
looks past your rights for the sake of national security, and
that really sucks, but that's why I think this is such a good
idea. If you are working for us, then we will have enough know-
ledge of your activities without the need to spy, since we will
all share the same interests."
"You mean that I would be your hitman," I said skeptically,
though I was beginning to feel enthusiastic. I was also feeling
a little warm inside, because with Andrew sitting so close to me,
the scent of his cologne was very distracting to someone with
super-senses.
Andrew shook his head, "No, no, each mission we'd send you
on would be a separate contract. You could refuse any of them.
And you could be a freelance hero in your spare time, saving
anyone your heart desires."
"So I'd be selling my super-body to you for a couple hours
a night, huh?" I teased, as I crossed my legs, brushing my shin
against his knee in the process.
"I guess you could look at it that way," Andrew said, sud-
denly feeling a little awkward, suddenly feeling a little aroused,
as anyone could see. He moaned so softly that even I could barely
hear it. But he inched himself a few inches further away and put
back on his business face. "So what do you say? Does it sound
interesting?"
"Very interesting," I almost whispered, making him feel even
more uncomfortable. I should have been paying more attention to
what he was saying, but I was feeling very distracted. Knowing
that I could affect him, someone I thought was invulnerable to
my sexuality, sent a thrill through me that felt a little like
passion, a little like revenge, since Andrew had been pushing my
emotional buttons ever since we had met.
Now, he was in the hot seat. I could hear his mouth starting
to water. I could taste his fresh sweat in the air, mixing with
the sharp smell of his cologne. I stroked his leg with my foot
and looked into his eyes, smiling, as if to say: "would you like
to see my pussy?"
But he edged away from me in his seat and held up his hand.
"Please stop, Linda, you really shouldn't be doing this. You've
really got to control that sexual appetite of yours."
"What?" I said, stunned and embarrassed. How could he say that?
He was as turned on as I was.
"Please, let's just stick to business," he continued in a cold,
detached voice, as if the voice wasn't his. "We aren't animals who
have to fuck whenever they are in heat. We can show a little disci-
pline. I don't know how people acted on Krypton, but on Earth, we
try to act with a little decency."
I just stared at Andrew, not knowing what to say. Suddenly, I
understood why someone as seemingly nice and gentle as Andrew could
be part of such an oppressive organization. There was a whole other
side to him, a side I had never seen before. There was a holier-than-
thou side buried deep within him, a side that turned me off completely.
Then his voice softened, and he was Andrew again. "I'm sorry
. . . I didn't mean to be insulting. Maybe we should just forget about
it and talk about your new job."
"Sure," I nodded, anxious to get past the awkward moment.
"Let's get down to business."
* * *
The dark side of Andrew didn't return for the rest of his visit,
and before too long, we were even teasing each other a little, but
with the clear understanding that nothing would happen.
But mostly we stuck to business, and we ironed out the details
and conditions of my new employment.
Simply put, Andrew was hiring me for two or three missions per
week on average. Andrew asked me to wear a beeper, so he could
contact me in an emergency, but I refused. I hate beepers. I told
him if he really wanted to get my attention, wear that sexy cologne
he was wearing, and I'll drop everything and come for him. I think
I almost got to him with that.
But he got me better by waving a wad of $100 bills in front
of my face. He would pay me $2000 up front, in cash, for each
mission. I'm sure now as I think back I could have bargained with
him for much more, but I was so awed when he handed me the money
that I stopped thinking and started dreaming of everything I could
do with it. All my days of debt, coupon hunting, eating leftovers
and riding the subway were finally over, and I could barely even
imagine asking for more.
And Andrew surprised me again by already having a mission for
me to start tomorrow night.
"The Catwoman has been burglarizing Gotham City for years now,
but we've never been able to catch her," Andrew said, as he handed
me a few pictures.
"Are these the best you have?" I asked, as I looked at each
photo. Catwoman was barely visible in any of them. In three of the
four she was in the shadows, and in the last, the picture was so
under exposed that all I could see was her silhouette. "They don't
even look like the same woman."
"Really? How many women do you know that have that kind of
body?" Andrew said with barely hidden admiration. "She looks a
little different because she wears several different costumes. We
don't know how many. Sometimes she wears black leather, sometimes
purple or grey spandex or rubber. Her real name is Selina Kyle,
but we only have this one picture of Selina when she was very
young," Andrew said as he handed me the last 3x5 Kodak print.
This was a very good picture, but she must have been only
about 14, and I didn't know how helpful it would be. Still, I
looked at it for several minutes. There was something haunting
and vaguely familiar about it. She was sitting on a park bench
in a playful pose, a bit too erotic for a girl that age, with
her head slightly arched, her long black hair falling away to
unveil the full of her neck and shoulders. She stared back at
the camera with a hint of a smile and an aura of confidence.
"We've been trying to get her for two years now, but she's
been very slippery. She has many friends, because she likes to
spread some of the bounty from her conquests around, giving some
to the poor and to charities, so she has a kind of Robin Hood
reputation. Sometimes she even helps bring other, more notorious
criminals to justice, winning her favor even among some cops,
who confuse her activities with those of the many vigilantes
that protect Gotham City."
Andrew's voice seemed to be glowing as he talked of her.
Perhaps even he was confused about his feelings towards her, I
thought, when suddenly his tenor changed. "But really she is an
sly opportunist. She is an example of how criminals can take
advantage of Gotham's fascination and need for vigilantes. The
city is overwrought with crime. Many citizens take the law into
their own hands, because the police can't handle the epidemics
of gangs, guns and plunder. Catwoman courts both sides, mixing
good deeds with bad, so she tends to slip through the cracks,
and only the people she steals from realize what she really is
-- a criminal, pure and simple."
"How can I find her?" I asked, "or is that part of the job?"
Just then we were both startled by a ringing sound from
within Andrew's briefcase. "Just a second." Andrew answered his
cellular phone on the third ring, listened for a moment, his
eyebrow raised, then he hung up.
"Well, that was very interesting timing," Andrew said. "I
was just about to tell you that we were hoping to use your powers
to find the Catwoman, but I guess we won't need that. She just
sent an unprotected message over the internet; she forgot to
encrypt it. Apparently she plans to rob an art museum tomorrow
evening. We don't know which one, but since there are only about
five important museums in Gotham City, you should have no trouble
finding them."
"Wow!" I said in amazement. "Looks like my first day is
gonna be a piece of cake!"
Andrew frowned. "Don't even think that way. It's rare for
the Catwoman to slip up like this. She may even have noticed her
mistake and changed her plans. We've thought that we've had her
a dozen times before. Once we even had her cuffed and in the
cruiser, and she managed to escape and disappear down an empty
street."
"She won't be able to escape from me," I said with a smile.
"That's what we're counting on."
* * *
Andrew stayed the rest of the night, sleeping in a spare
bedroom, and he left long before I awoke around noontime.
For the first time in months, I had a very pleasant sleep,
and it was all due to Andrew and the hopes he gave me for this
new job. He fussed over me, making sure that I wouldn't say
no. He even told me that he would take care of my former employer,
so I didn't need to go through the anxieties of quitting or
giving my two week notice. He made me feel very important.
I knew that I was making a compromise. I was giving up what
I had once thought that I really wanted -- living my life as a
normal woman. Lately, though, I had begun to think that normalcy
was overrated. Normal living has left me poor and lonely,
especially since Carol left several months ago.
Carol never said it, but I always knew she left because I
wasn't as exciting as I was once was, back in the days when I
enjoyed being Supergirl. It turned her on to see me on TV all
the time, rescuing people, crushing criminals, and then having
me come home to her every night, surrendering myself to her.
Then came the confrontation with the police, the media
attacks, and my capture by the SSA. I learned what came with
being a hero. Being a hero meant that I couldn't say what I
believed, if it wasn't PC. I couldn't even help people without
worrying that someone would sue me, for, say, breaking down an
historic wall to prevent a murder. And then I made my biggest
mistake by complaining about it, so the media jumped on me,
portrayed me as an ungrateful superbitch on a power trip. That's
when Supergirl all but disappeared from the scene, and I became
Linda Lee full time.
Now Andrew has brought back that old excitement again when
he told me that my country needed me. It was a message I was ready
to hear. After struggling as a college grad for so long, denying
myself the pleasures of my powers, I felt like a bird stuck in a
cage. I was dying to get out and fly.
* * *
But I couldn't be Supergirl without a costume. Flying around
in my regular work clothes would seem wrong. Inappropriate.
Unfortunately, I had very little time to solve this problem,
since I had to be Supergirl in just a few hours. I called all the
costume stores in Metropolis. Most had Superman and Wonder Woman
costumes, but they didn't carry Supergirl costumes even during
Halloween. Finally, I slammed down the phone in disgust. I felt
that unappreciated feeling again, but really what did I expect,
anyway, having virtually disappeared from public view for so long.
Only three hours left. I had to think of something fast. Maybe
if I bought a Superman costume I could modify it.
Then I thought about the vast array of costumes that the
Catwoman had, and I smiled: Why not completely redesign my costume?
After all, I had always thought that cape and those long red boots
looked more than a little silly.
* * *
The Luther Lakeside Galleria was only a five minute ride on
the subway. It was a beautiful outdoor shopper's world, with a
Japanese Garden on one end, a stadium on the other, and hundreds
of stores in between. I felt excited being there with money in my
pocket, for a change. I was drawn to the shop windows, and I kept
thinking how reasonable the prices seemed -- prices that would
have seemed obscene only yesterday. Thankfully, I didn't have
much time on my hands, or I might have lost control of myself.
I kept reminding myself that I was shopping for a new costume,
nothing else.
I had a hundred ideas about what my new costume should look
like. I struggled to keep my imagination from getting too lavish
or impractical. I saw a stunning blue and red designer dress that
would be extremely awkward when I was flying, and a daring bathing
suit that would probably ruin my reputation again. I tried to keep
myself sensible.
The most important part of the costume was probably the shirt.
People should realize who I am as soon as they see me, and I thought
I had the perfect solution: There was a store in the mall that would
print any picture onto a T-shirt in under a half hour. I felt
conspicuous as I handed my "S" symbol to the young man at the counter.
Maybe he would recognize me or put two and two together. While he
was clearly looking me over, his eyes didn't light up, and I don't
think he made the connection. Even if he did make the connection, it
shouldn't matter, as long as I didn't identify myself as Linda Lee.
"Small, Medium, Large, or X-Large," he asked.
That was a simple question I wasn't at all prepared for. I had
a chance to remake my image for the world,. My real costume had
always been a little tight, and some people even claimed it was
indecent because my nipples would show through the fabric. There
was one issue of Metropolitan Weekly in which I swear they air-
brushed my nipples out. The rebel in me demanded the small T-shirt.
But another part of me wanted to do things right for a change.
I didn't want to offend people, least of all Andrew who was giving
me another chance. He wasn't sure about me. He had put his reputa-
tion on the line to get me this job. He didn't say it, but I could
see it in his eyes. The SSA wouldn't never have hired me if not at
his urging, and I owed it to him to be the model superheroine.
"Well?" The impatient young man asked.
"Medium," I finally replied. Then, after a long pause, "and
a small one, too." That was just for me -- I wouldn't need to
wear it in public.
I was surprised how nice the red "S" looked on plain white.
It was simple and fresh and liberating. It felt like a discovery.
Supergirl was long past due for a makeover.
Still, I was a little afraid to experiment with my traditional
uniform. I spent about 30 minutes trying to find a simple red mini-
skirt before I realized that miniskirts were out of fashion. So
once again I was forced to be creative. Maybe a simple pair of blue
jeans would be the right touch to go along with the T-shirt. It
sounded sensible, practical, decent. Millions of women wore long
pants every day.
But I couldn't convince myself to do it. I hated the way
loose fitting jeans hid my legs. I was very proud of my legs.
Tight pants looked attractive, but they tore too easily. Finally
I decided on a pair of loose fitting sky-blue athletic shorts,
which showed off my legs almost up to my hip, yet were conserva-
tive where it counted most.
My biggest challenge was deciding on footwear. I wanted shiny,
red walking shoes, but I couldn't find a single pair that would
stay on my feet while I was in flight. I was so frustrated that I
even considered being the first barefooted superhero. After all,
I didn't really need shoes, anyway. But even with my terrible sense
of fashion, I knew that would not be well received. So I finally
settled on a pair of red ankle-high boots, which wasn't too bad
a compromise.
Now, the sun was almost down, and I didn't have much time left
to shop, so I hurriedly found a Filene's dressing booth. I was pretty
excited, now, and I almost forgot to check for hidden cameras. Some
stores spied on these dressing booths, in their ongoing war against
shoplifters, but Filene's apparently had some respect for their
customers.
First, I donned the small t-shirt, which, as I had expected,
hugged my breasts so tightly that my nipples were clearly visible.
A bra would have solved that problem, of course, but I hated bras
even more than panties. Underwear in general turned me off. It
just wasn't sexy -- or maybe I was prejudiced, because underwear
was foreign to Kryptonian culture.
The medium sized t-shirt was much more modest, showing just
enough of my breasts to catch the attention of the young men I would
save. I wished that I could give them more to look at, and I felt a
touch of regret that my days of skirt-flirting were over.
Still, this new costume had a lot to offer. It showed off even
more of my legs than the miniskirt. The muted colors made my skin
tones stand out more. Maybe the simple design was even sexier than
the garish blues and reds. I looked more approachable, more human,
more like the girl-next-door, less like a comic book character.
I just looked at myself in the mirror for a few minutes,
striking a few poses, alternating between loving and hating the
new look.
Then I packed up Linda Lee's wig and clothes into my shopping
bags, and I took a gulp. I was out of time now. The Catwoman would
be making her move soon. It was time for the new Supergirl to make
her move, too.
I stepped out of the booth. A dozen eyes gravitated towards me
as I left Filene's and entered the walkways of the outdoor mall. One
young man carrying a shiny new surf-board was walking past me, when
he stopped and stared.
"Woah, could this be the one and only Kara from Krypton?" he
asked excitedly.
I nodded and smiled. He looked familiar, but I couldn't place
him. "What do you think of my new look?" I asked, fishing for com-
pliments.
He nodded and gestured widely. "Totally hot! You could surf
with me anytime!"
That was what I needed to hear. I gave him a quick kiss on the
cheek. "Thanks!" And then I waved goodbye, as I lifted off straight
up into the sky.
* * *
Gotham City was just a hop, skip and a jump away from Metropolis
for someone like me. It was only about 150 miles away, and I could
fly there in under 30 minutes at a nice casual pace. I don't know
why I had never visited the dark city before. It was about time I did.
Gotham City was over-run by vigilantes and anarchists. I had
always thought Metropolis was so much more peaceful and civilized
than Gotham City because Metropolis had two superheroes paroling the
skies and maintaining order, while Gotham had none. All Gotham needed
was a hero it could count on.
Clark didn't agree with that theory. When I first came to Earth,
he warned me about going to Gotham. He said it was hard to be a hero
in a place so confusing, where the the line between good and evil was
fuzzy at best. Rich were pitted against the poor, whites against blacks,
gangs against gangs. Everyone felt like a victim, and everyone wanted
revenge. The social fabric was turned inside out, and Clark believed
that going in there to help people would backfire. He compared Gotham
City to a country in civil war: To avoid getting caught in a quagmire,
America should never send troops into a civil war -- unless they have
clear objectives.
And that's why I was going in. I had a clear objective: To
capture the Catwoman and bring her into justice. I knew that I
couldn't save Gotham City from the mess it was in, but at least I
could do this one small thing, remove this one cause of chaos, and
help stem the tide of crime.
Gotham wasn't as ugly as my expectations. In fact, it didn't
look much different from Metropolis at night. But when I looked more
closely, I could see the piles of litter along the streets and the
graffiti on the walls. When I listened more closely, I could hear
screams and sirens running together into a steady wail. My first
impulse was to seek out those alarming sounds, offer my help, but
I forced myself to focus on the task at hand. I wanted to keep my
objectives simple.
If Catwoman's message was to be believed, then she would be
robbing one of Gotham City's art museums tonight, and I had to keep
my eyes on all five of them. But first I had to "find" them. Andrew
had marked their locations on a map last night, but finding them in
a big city at night was a very different thing. I felt a little
angry at myself. I could have scoped out the area earlier in the
afternoon, if I wasn't having so much fun shopping for a costume
at the mall. But scolding myself now wouldn't help. At least I
remembered to bring the map with me, and I felt confident that I
could find all five museums within just a few minutes.
The first museum I found was The Wayne House Monument. "Ah-ha!"
I thought, as I saw stealth-like movement in the darkened building.
But when I looked a little closer, I was disappointed to find only
bats flying around in the caverns underneath. I glanced at the map
and flew on.
The second museum, The Art Expo, was still open to visitors, and
it would remain open until 9 pm. That worried me a little. Maybe
Selina intended to commit her crime under the watchful eyes of the
museum security with some slight of hand. Maybe she had even bribed
the security to steal the art for her. I would have to pay very close
attention, but first I had to find the other three museums.
The Gotham Museum Of Fine Arts was on the other side of town,
and before I was even near the building, I could see the crime in
progress. All of the rooms were dark, except one, where several
people wearing black were scurrying around, removing paintings from
the walls. They weren't even being careful, I thought. Anyone could
see the light from the main street outside the building. Several
museum employees were watching on helplessly from another room as a
fortune in paint and canvas was being plundered.
I landed on top of the building and scanned the room, trying
to locate Selina, but I couldn't tell her apart from the other people.
Unfortunately, my x-ray vision can yield some pretty fuzzy images,
and all I could see was blobs that resembled people moving around
inside. But I could see that there was no Kryptonite awaiting me
inside, and there were no lead boxes hiding unseen surprises. So
there was no point in sneaking around.
With a crash, I pushed my way though a security door that led
into the room. The door was a little tougher than I had expected,
so I had to hit it twice before it fell away. So much for the element
of surprise, I thought casually.
The criminals gained nothing from that extra second or two.
They just stood and stared at me as I paced to the middle of the
room.
"Slumming today, Supergirl?" One of the men asked with a wicked
grin. He, like his companions, was dressed in black.
"Interesting clothes," commented another, as he walked up to me
and looked me over. "Let me guess. Your regular threads are still in
the wash."
A third man, wearing a cat mask just like the Catwoman's, watched
on with a smile on his face and a hard-on in his pants.
I just stood there, surprised by their attitude. Why did they
seem so cocky? I tried to see their faces through their masks, but
I couldn't. Obviously they treated their masks with lead or some-
thing similar. And that meant that they were expecting me, or were
at least prepared for me. I felt a tingle in my back, as I came fully
alert. Could this be a trap?
I looked around the room carefully. Closed-circuit cameras were
recording the robbery from multiple angles. Six witnesses, all men
dressed up in identical security guard uniforms, were watching on
from the next room. I couldn't even see where the robbers were
taking the paintings. It almost seemed like they were taking the
paintings off of one wall and replacing them on another. What was
going on here?
"Where is the Catwoman?" I demanded, barely hiding my confusion.
"Why, I was taking a catnap in the corner," came the reply, as
Selina stepped into the lit room, drawing all eyes to her. All I
could do is stand and stare as she sauntered gracefully towards me.
I knew that Selina had several Catwoman costumes, all of them
daring, and I had anticipated this moment, wondering what she would
be wearing tonight, whether spandex, leather, silk, or even black
lace. But she took my breath away, dressed in transparent purple
tights from her cat mask down to her knee high black books. Her
nipples were hard and prominent behind the sheer fabric. Her trimmed
pussy was moist with excitement, leaving a small dark purple spot
between her legs.
I felt my pussy react sympathetically, as Selina walked right
up to me, looking me right in the eyes. "Can I interest you in a
work of art?" she purred.
I looked away, as I tried to regain my composure. I swallowed
and said, "I'm here to take you in."
Selina smiled and posed, "Oh, by all means take me in! Do you
like what you see?" Then she stepped even closer, so that we were
nearly touching. "Or did you have more in mind? You came here to
experience something new. That's what museums are for, aren't they?"
I felt myself sweating, and the scent of her perfume weakened
my will. I tried to meet her eyes, tried not to blink. "I'm taking
you in for stealing valuable art."
Selina stroked my shoulder carefully with her clawed black glove,
and I stepped back. "I didn't steal anything. We were just rearranging
things a bit."
"Well ... I'm taking you in anyway," I said. "We have a long
list of crimes over the years."
"I'm sorry, but you aren't taking me anywhere," she whispered
in my ear. "Instead, I think I'll be taking you."
I felt my heart racing. "What do you mean? How will you stop me?"
Selina gestured towards the security guards in the other room,
and then rested her glove on my hip. "You see, if you don't do exactly
as I say, my friends on the other end of these closed-circuit cameras
will blow these nice people to tiny bits."
It was a trap! "What do you want me to do?"
I gasped when Selina's glove stroked down my shirt and slipped
into my shorts. My knees gave, and I collapsed against her her larger
body, suddenly breathing heavily, suddenly staring deeply into her
eyes.
"Why nothing at all, for the moment," she purred. And then she
kissed me.
The power of her kiss sent shivers down my body, weakening me.
What kind of perfume was she wearing? It was making me dizzy, and my
heart was racing . . .
But I had to keep my wits about me. I couldn't let these feelings
overwhelm me. These were dangerous feelings that could sap my powers.
I should be trying to think of a way out.
I stepped away from the Catwoman and tried to collect myself.
"I can't do this," I said, scanning the rooms, looking for bombs, but
I couldn't see them. Maybe they were plastic explosives, because I
would have seen anything else right away. "There has to be something
else you want."
Selina touched my face with one claw, lightly scratching my skin.
"Maybe I'll think of something else later," she said, then she sniffed
at my neck and ear, purring. "But for now I have a craving for super-
flesh."
"I don't see any bombs," I said, stepping away again.
Selina glanced at me hard, looking slightly offended. "Oh, would
you like me to set one off? It will only kill one or two people."
I shook my head quickly, and I let her touch me, "No, please,
don't." What else could I do? I thought of the guards who were
watching, the people I was "saving," and I felt extremely embarrassed.
What was Selina going to make me do? I wouldn't let myself think of it.
Selina smiled. "So you'll be good?" She let one clawed finger
travel lazily down my chest, cutting through my T-shirt along the way,
exposing my cleavage, biting into my skin.
I nodded.
When her finger reached my shorts, my shirt hung loose like
drapes. She reached inside with both hands, followed the length of
my side up to my shoulders, exposing both of my breasts along the
way. Then she pushed my shirt back so that it hung loose behind me,
trapping my arms like cloth handcuffs behind my back.
"Say it," she demanded, and she leaned over and sucked on my
right nipple.
"I ...." I started, and then suddenly gasped when Selina
pinched my other nipple with her claws. "I'll be good."
Now Selina was kneeling in front of me with her clawed hands
digging into my shorts. She licked her lips. "Say it again, I didn't
hear you."
"I ..." I started again, when Selina viciously tore the shorts
into shreds. "I'll be good."
"Oh, I don't I believe you," Selina said, as she looked at my
bare, glistening pussy. My juices were running down my thigh. "Good
girls don't shave themselves down here. Good girls never get this wet.
I think being good is the last thing on your mind."
I couldn't speak. I could barely even think.
I closed my eyes, realizing that everyone else's eyes were wide
open, staring at me, stroking my skin like ghostly fingers, filling
me with fear -- and excitement. My excitement overflowed, running
down my thighs almost in a stream.
I could barely stand still as Selina licked my thighs clean.
"Mmm, you taste so good!" she purred, as my juices ran down
her face. "But you've barely quenched my thirst. Open up a little."
She pushed my feet apart, sliding my shoes on the floor, and
I struggled to keep my balance. Then the Catwoman kneeled between
my legs and sniffed at my pussy. My heart was beating out of
control, as I worried and anticipated what she would do next. I
shuddered when she just barely touched my pussy lips with her tongue,
stroking from one end to the other, but she stopped too soon. Then
she held my pussy open wide with two clawed fingers, that felt like
two needles, and she puckered her lips and blew on my clit. I nearly
fell from the shock of the almost agonizing pleasure that shot
through me. My hips thrust and spasmed. My pussy gushed like an
orange being squeezed.
Then Selina grabbed my ass and buried her claws in deep, as
she dove into my pussy like a carnivore, licking and sucking and
even biting.
I couldn't keep my balance anymore, as wave after wave of
pleasure stung me, and I fell like a deer torn down by a lion. But
someone caught me before I could hit the ground. He held me up, as
the Catwoman kept on me, ravaging her helpless prey. All I could do
was moan "no" over and over.
I gazed through half open eyes at the guards in the next room
-- the innocents for whom I was offering up my body. I couldn't
tell what they were thinking. Why weren't they at least using this
distraction to escape? Maybe I was crazy with passion, and maybe
Selina's wonderful tongue was confusing me, but that look in their
eyes didn't look like disgust or disappointment or even worry. They
seemed to be in wide eyed attention, and one man was even trying
to sneak into the room for a better look. I couldn't believe it. I
was a featured exhibit, like an x-rated Monet or Renior. I felt the
last of my resistance give. My body was limp. I was defeated.
"Mmmm, don't you pet a cat when she's affectionate?" Selina
whispered, reaching behind me to free my hands.
I closed my eyes and stroked the Catwoman's hair, while I
moaned softly, then louder. Finally I was crying out without even
thinking, again and again: ""YES!"" I buried my fingers in Selina's
locks when she dipped her tongue inside. I twisted when she squeezed
her claws into my ass, leaving marks that would last several days,
as my powers melted away. I yelled out when she nibbled on my clit.
I was oh so close!
But Selina pulled away just a moment too soon, leaving my
body shivering and aching and empty. "Oh, no," I begged, totally
powerless, not even able to stand on my own, "Please don't stop yet!"
"Now let's not be greedy," Selina said, shaking her finger
and licking her lips. "Remember, you promised to be good. You've
had your fun, and now it's time to share."
I nodded and reached out to her. I didn't resist her orders
anymore. I only wanted to come now.
"Oh, no, not with me," she replied. "Maybe you could start with
the man who's holding you up. I think it's his turn. I think he earned
it last night."
What did she mean by that? I thought, but I forgot the question
when the hands that had been supporting me let go, and I fell to the
floor at his feet. When I looked up at him, he just grinned at me
from behind his black mask. The cat-man. And then the cat-man lowered
his pants, freeing the erection he had since I first saw him. His
excitement hadn't waned, and seeing his excitement started my mouth
watering.
"On your hands and knees," Selina said, reaching down to slap
my ass.
I did as she told me without qualms. Her orders didn't seem like
orders anymore. It was like her will became my will. I kneeled with
my ass facing Selina and an audience behind her. I opened my knees
slightly, wanting them to see my pussy, wanting someone to use it, to
get me off, while I looked at the swollen dick being offered to me,
and I took it in my hand. He was so hot, he might have had a fever.
I glanced up at the cat-man, and his grin was gone. His mouth
was open in expectation.
Back down at eye level, a tiny drop of pre-cum emerged from his
dick. I licked it off and circled the plump head with my tongue, but
when I did, another drop replaced it. So I opened my mouth and took
him in, working him like a Lifesaver with my tongue. I don't know
why, but I really wanted to please him.
Someone was behind me now, touching my pussy, stroking me with
his finger. "Oh, please don't stop!" I arched my back, jutting my
pussy up even higher. Now the finger found my clit and massaged it
slowly. I couldn't think about the dick in my mouth anymore. I was
coming fast again, and I needed to breath.
But the cat-man was coming fast, too, and when I was about to
release his dick, he suddenly grabbed my head and thrusted in deep.
He would have pushed right to the back of my throat, if my hand
wasn't in the way. He thrust again, and again.
And then I felt my ass being lifted into the air, as someone
thrust in from behind, pushing in his dick in so deep I could barely
fit him. I had to gasp and take a breath, when the dick in my mouth
came crashing in again. And again. And again, in rhythm, the dicks
filled my pussy, filled my mouth, until I could barely tell them
apart. I couldn't even move. My body was suspended in the air, my
hair and my ass being pulled in both directions, tossing me like a
rag doll, -- except for one hand that I had firmly planted on the
ground. A million sensations overwhelmed me, but I focused on that
hand, putting all of my strength into it, thinking that it was my
anchor, and if it went, I would be lost.
Suddenly, the cat-man stopped thrusting and pulled my hair
until it hurt. I knew he was about to come, and I had a sudden
impulse, something I had always fantasized about. I wrapped my
lips around his dick tight, and I pressed hard against his dick
with my tongue, cutting off his semen flow. I felt his dick shaking
like a volcano ready to erupt, but he couldn't. He moaned in frus-
tration. He thrust again, but only a drop escaped before I cut him
off again. He needed to come so bad that he wouldn't let me stop
him. He grabbed my hand, pulling it from his dick, and then he
thrust until he hit the back of my throat. I opened my mouth in
reflex, just as he exploded. His hot, salty essence escaped into
my mouth, shocking me, riddling me with confusion.
I didn't know what to think or how to feel. I didn't know
whether he tasted good or bad. I didn't know whether to feel
violated, or to accept his essence as a gift. I only know that
I didn't "want" to feel violated.
And I liked the way he was stroking my hair, now, making
up for the pain he caused only a few moments ago. It was enough.
It let me savor his salty taste before swallowing. It let me suck
him until his plump red dick wouldn't give anymore and I needed
some air.
And now I could concentrate on the man behind me, who was
fucking faster, now. "Oh please don't come too fast, now! Finish
me off! " I don't know know if I ever wanted anything more in my
life.
I was almost hyperventilating, when two more hands grabbed
my legs and lifted my ass high into the air, and the fucking
accelerated. Each thrust gave me greater pleasure and increasing
pain. My pussy was very sore, now, that my lubrication was all
used up, and my powers were all but gone. I couldn't bear it,
yet tears ran down my cheeks, and I yelled out: ""Oh, oh! Don't
stop!""
He didn't stop, and now it was too late. Like magic, the
unbearable aching and pain changed into a mind shattering orgasm.
My arms gave way beneath me, and my head fell to the ground. The
world was spinning, and I was screaming, as if in pain or terror,
but I felt nothing like that. I felt . . . full. I felt relieved.
I felt so fucking awesome that if it didn't stop soon, it just
might kill me.
I was barely conscious when I came again, or the third time.
I only remember feeling my body spasm and my arms going limp.
Before I knew it, it "had" stopped, and I was just lying
there, naked on the floor, sprawled out, at peace. What had
happened to me was like a dream, but I felt the hard cold waxed
floor against my chest. I felt a cool breeze soothing my
irritated pussy.
The cat-man kneeled beside me and stroked my hair. I looked
up at him. He had taken off his mask. I stared, thinking I should
recognize him. He said, "Hi Linda with the great tasting pussy."
Selina stood over me. Her tights were now soaking, and I felt
strangely sorry for her. I was very confused, but I actually
pitied her, that she had to work so hard to conquer me, that she
plotted this rape fantasy so carefully, all for me and her friends,
but not for herself.
"Thanks for the entertainment," she said. "We must do it again
some time."
"You are going?" I asked, suddenly confused and disappointed.
Then, as an afterthought, "What about the security guards?"
"Didn't you guess?" she asked in amazement. "They aren't
security guards. There is no bomb. They are just friends who wanted
to be here. See?" she said with a smile as she grabbed a guard and
kissed him hard on the lips.
No, I had never guessed, and I felt a little angry and
embarrassed at being fooled so easily. I tried to get up, but I
could barely even manage sitting down.
Selina, sensing my anger, raised her hand. "Don't bother trying
to stop us. You won't get your powers back for at least ten more
minutes yet."
"Huh? How do you know that?" I asked. I didn't even know how
long it would take.
"My dear Supergirl," she smiled smugly, and she pushed me over
with her boot, just to show her confidence. "Knowledge is everything.
It's the only thing that keeps a vigilante alive and free. Tell Andrew
that, like always, I was a step ahead of him."
"What?" I asked, understanding her only a tiny bit at a time. The
web I was caught in was much more intricate than I had imagined. "How
do you know about Andrew?"
"You mean he never told you? Really, you should know more about
your friends before you put your trust in them."
"We have to go now, before you get strong and angry and forget
all the nice things we did for you." She gestured to the cat-man, "We
owe her something to wear, after destroying her clothes."
He dropped a very familiar purse onto my lap. "I hope you don't
mind if I keep the cape," he said, grinning. "Just something to
remember you by."
And then they were gone, before I could rise to my feet. A few
minutes later, just like Selina said, my powers were returning, but
by then they were long gone, hiding among ten million faces in
Gotham City.
* * *
I twisted and moaned, half asleep and half awake, half
remembering and half dreaming.
I saw myself lying naked on the floor. I was paralyzed from
extreme pain and pleasure. Scratches ran down the length of my
sides and my legs. My nipples were sore from being sucked. My breasts
were bruised from so much squeezing. My pussy was bleeding, and
Selina was standing over me with my blood all over her face. She
smiled at me. My blood dripped from her long fangs.
Andrew crawled beside her and licked the blood from her lips.
Then he turned his attention to me, and bore into me with a terrible
glare, yelling something that didn't make sense. It sounded like . . .
. . . the doorbell. I sat up quickly and looked around. I was in
my bedroom, and the clock said 7 am. Calvin was lying at the foot of
my bed, looking up at me. I was naked under the sheets. I wasn't
bleeding or bruised, yet my heart was racing, and my pussy was wet
with excitement, ready for fucking again. What was wrong with me?
Was I a slave to my sexuality?
The doorbell buzzed again, this time longer and more insistently.
"Just a second," I yelled. I slipped into a bathrobe, carelessly
tossed on my wig, and floated downstairs. I paused at the bottom of
the stairs when, looking through the door, I saw who was on the other
side.
"Shit"! It was Andrew. I hesitated. Why was he here so early in
the morning? He knows I sleep in late. He must have known about last
night. "Oh, Shit!" What was I gonna say?
"Open the door, Linda," he said impatiently from the other side.
I unlatched the door and let him in. He didn't look at me or
say hello. He walked right past me into the living room to a hard
wooden chair, sat down and told me to do likewise.
I sat in a wooden chair facing him. I crossed my legs and
covered myself as best I could with the bathrobe.
Andrew was very angry. He was so angry he wouldn't even look
at me. He just stared at the ceiling, collecting himself. For almost
a minute, he said nothing. The suspense was almost unbearable. Then
he finally said, "Guess what I found in my mailbox about an hour ago."
I shivered. "I don't know," I said, but I knew it must have
been bad.
"A video tape," he spitted out, and then he paused and let the
words sink in.
I covered my face with my hands and couldn't think of anything
to say, except, "Fuck!"
"Exactly," Andrew replied. "What the "fuck "happened? What
makes you feel worse? That you let Selina get away, or that there
were still a few men that you didn't "fuck" last night?"
"Stop it!" I said, a little shocked, a little angry. He didn't
have the right to talk to me that way. I didn't even think he was
capable of talking that way. "It's not like I had a choice. She "made"
me do it!"
"That's not the way it looked on the tape," Andrew said. "You
didn't even try to stop them."
"I couldn't! She threatened to kill the security guards if I
didn't do what she wanted," I told him, but not convincingly. It
was the truth, but it felt like a lie. It was just a convenient
excuse.
Even so, it surprised Andrew, and he lowered his tone. "What
do you mean?"
"Weren't you listening? That's what she said."
Andrew shook his head, "The tape didn't have sound, just visual.
But what security guards? There were no security guards. And there
was no bomb."
"I thought they were guards. They looked like guards. I didn't
know they were just her friends. And I thought maybe the bomb was
hidden, maybe in lead." I said, clinging to my excuse, no matter how
lame it seemed, no matter how much I might have even enjoyed last
night, it wasn't something I chose to do.
Andrew shook his head. "So you just let them all fuck you. With
all of your powers, you could have done "something!"
"Like what?"
"I don't know! You might have tried to threaten her. You might
have at least objected, instead of begging for more. You are going
to make me look really bad, when I have to show this tape to the
agency. How can I justify hiring you now? What do we do if she makes
this tape public?"
I shuddered at the thought. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to let
you down."
"And what was all this crap about the t-shirt and the shorts?
How did they get your costume?"
"They stole it from me a few days ago on the train. I didn't
know who they were then," I said, hoping he wouldn't press for
details.
"They stole it from you?" Andrew was surprised and more than
a little confused.
I just nodded, expecting to be grilled. "Please don't push me,
"I wished. I knew if he pushed, I'd have to tell him the truth about
that train ride. I was a terrible liar.
"And when were you gonna share this information with me? I
thought we were on the same team."
"So did I," I replied, remembering Selina's last words before
she left. I was grateful to turn the blame back on him. "When were
"you" gonna tell "me" about your connection with Selina?"
"My connection . . .?" Andrew paused as if hit from out of
nowhere. "I didn't think that mattered. It was need-to-know infor-
mation only."
"I think I needed to know. Last night . . . the museum . . .
it was all a trap. They knew I was coming. They knew you were send-
ing me," I said angrily, fighting my way out of the corner of blame.
"She told me to tell you that, like always, she was one step ahead
of you."
Andrew looked shocked. He stood up and looked around the
apartment. He closed the blind to the window, then he examined
the lamps and the furniture, until he found a thin wire emerging
from a hole in the rug and disappearing into the sofa. He tore it
loose with much more force than was necessary. "That bitch!"
"So what is this all about?" I pushed, more curious than
angry, now that I was no longer in the hot seat.
Andrew shook his head and looked away. "I hired her to work
for the agency several months ago."
"You did "what? " You hired a criminal? What for?"
"To help us get close to the major players in Gotham City.
It made sense at the time. She had contacts we could never have.
I thought she'd make a great double agent. We had a second agent
watching her from the other side, in case she decided to betray
us." Andrew shook his head, and either laughed or sighed. Despite
his anger, he half smiled in amazement. "We never expected that
she'd betray both sides."
"What did she do?" I asked. "I mean, it must have been
something pretty awful."
Andrew glared at me and said, "I don't think you need to
know any more."
"Why? Was it something personal?" I asked, stepping closer.
"Never mind. It doesn't matter. Let's just say we both have
good reasons to get her now."
So it "was" personal! My mind fluttered with ideas of what
it might have been. Did she steal from him? Were they lovers?
Andrew walked away from me, as if he was afraid I might ask
these questions. He walked straight for the door, and then he half
turned towards me, saying, "We can't let her get away with this.
I'll contact you tonight."
"So you still want me to work with you?" I asked, barely
believing it.
He nodded. "Sure, and you can keep the video tape. I made
copies before I left."
I watched him leave, wondering and worrying what he meant
by that.
***
I laid on the couch, trying to catch up on some of the sleep
I had lost that morning, but I was too anxious. I stared unseeing
at the television, instead, feeling confused and ashamed and afraid.
And then, as my mind awakened, I began to feel angry.
I guess I can be pretty dense sometimes. Anyone would have
known what he meant by that, except me. Maybe I knew what he meant
all along, but it took a while for me to believe the obvious.
I liked Andrew ever since I had met him, and I thought that
he liked me, too, even when he had trapped me, even when he spied
on me. If I like a man, I can look past ten flaws to the one
wonderful thing about him. Andrew trapped me, but then he let me
go. He would spy on me, but then he'd apologize, saying sometimes
he hated his job, but he had to do it. He'd talk to me for days
like he was my best friend. I thought he had a weakness for me.
I thought maybe part of him secretly loved me.
Even if it were true, he still wanted to keep me on a leash.
That video tape was a leash, and he could use it to keep me in
line. He saw what happened when he let me loose, like at the
museum. He was angry at me, like a master would be angry at a pet
for pooping on the floor. He wouldn't let me loose again.
He was even angrier at the Catwoman. It wasn't just the anger
he might have towards just any criminal. She was like a disobedient
pet. She was the pet that scratched up his prized possessions. She
was the pet that knocked the vase off of the mantel. She was the
pet that ran away.
And I was the pet that would pay the price. I hated being a
part of his control games.
As these thoughts of pets and cats haunted my mind, I thought
about Calvin, and how I hadn't seen him at all since Andrew left.
Usually when I'm lying on the couch, Calvin will leap up and cuddle
with me, purring and demanding attention, making me feel better,
but when I looked for him now, I saw him crouching in the corner.
"What's the matter, Calvin?" I asked. "Did that big, bad man
scare you?"
He just stared at me, as though I was the stranger, not Andrew.
I waited for a minute, just watching him, wondering what was
wrong. He didn't look hurt, yet he just eyed me suspiciously and
kept his distance. I forgot about Andrew and Selina and the anger
I was feeling, as I watched Calvin, His distrust made me feel
lonely and rejected. Sad to say, Calvin was my best friend, and he
had always loved me unconditionally. Until now, anyway.
Finally, Calvin stood up, stretched and said, "Meow". He
leaped onto the couch. He rubbed his head against my belly. When
I stroked his neck and back, he arched into my hand and purred.
"""That's a good boy!" I whispered, as I rubbed his neck and
back. I sheltered him and consoled him like I wished someone would
do for me. I treated him like a pet should be treated. . .
Not that I wanted for Andrew to treat me like a pet. I worked
for him, and I only wanted for him to treat me with the respect an
employer should have for his employees. Employees should be
respected, and pets should be loved. No matter how he thought of
me, he wasn't treating me right. He was using me, and I didn't want
to be used anymore.
My eye twitched and I felt my whole body shiver, when I had
a shameful realization: I've let people use me for most of my life.
Even worse, I think I "wanted "people to use me, to take control
of me. Carol loved to play with my emotions, and I loved the games
she played. My father was very stern, and sometimes I think I
earned his love by always doing as I was told. I can barely even
think about what I let happen with Sam, and I virtually begged
Selina to do whatever she wanted with me. No wonder people didn't
respect me. I was pretty pathetic!
"I won't let anyone do that to me again! "My mind screamed
in anger and shame and disgust. "Not Andrew, not anyone!"
Just then, Calvin clawed his way from my arms and disappeared
in the corner, again. He wouldn't even look out from behind the
chair. I hadn't seen him so scared since. . . well, since he was
Sam's pet three years ago.
What happened? Maybe I let my anger get the best of me, and
I squeezed him a little too tight. Maybe I pet him too hard.
No, that wasn't it. I was angry, and maybe I wasn't being
affectionate, but I was very gentle. I didn't even rub him the
wrong way. I kept my ugly emotions inside, showing him only
kindness, so unless he could read my mind . . .
. . . read my mind! How could I have gone almost four years
on Earth without realizing it? I guess I would have realized it
earlier if I could read "other" people's (or cat's) minds.
Discovering my other powers was easy. I couldn't miss floating
down a flight of stairs, or crushing a telephone in my hand, or
seeing through the walls of my dorm room. But how could I have
guessed that I was sending psychic signals out?
I closed my eyes, breathed in deeply, imagining that my body
smelled like catnip and it felt like a warm, soft spot in the
sunlight.
A moment later, Calvin jumped back on the sofa and nuzzled
against my belly.
I smiled, now knowing that I was right. Calvin had read my
mind.
I closed my eyes again and imagined a familiar field with
bushes and trees and small mice scurrying through the grass and
darting into holes in the ground.
Calvin looked quickly up at me, and then around the apartment.
He leaped from the sofa and onto the window sill. He stared outside,
looking for mice to chase.
I closed my eyes again and thought of a giant Rottweiler,
staring at Calvin, foaming at the mouth, and barking like thunder.
Calvin spun around in panic, fell from the window sill and
disappeared under the sofa, as deeply hidden as he could get.
Why did I do that? I covered my face, laughing in shame and
amazement.
I looked under the sofa and saw Calvin staring suspiciously
back at me. "I'm sorry Calvin. That was very mean of me."
I felt really guilty for scaring him like that, betraying his
trust. The funny thing was that I was still smiling, and not in a
nice way. I was so amazed by how quickly the predator had become
the prey.
***
I hadn't walked the pathways of Metropolis University since
I graduated several months ago, but I thought there was no better
place to experiment with my newly discovered power. After all,
everyone played mind games there, it seemed. When I was a student,
I played them, too. I had been hungry for friends, until I learned
that with a little teasing in my short skirts and tight t-shirts,
I would have as many friends as I could handle.
Just rummaging through my old school clothes made me shiver
in excitement. I put on a one piece gold colored dress, with a
matching gold jacket and gold shoes. Mary once told me that the
gold highlighted my long brown hair. She had much better fashion
sense than I did, so I believed her.
As provocative as my work wardrobe was, my school clothes
were twice that. The jacket completely covered my breasts,
encouraging curious eyes to either look in my eyes -- or travel
south. The dress ended in a microskirt that barely covered my ass
and fell less than an inch below my pussy. Unlike the red skirt
of my Supergirl costume, this skirt was form fitting, clinging to
my ass.
Even so, I didn't call very much attention to myself, because
roughly half of the women on campus were dressed similarly. The rule
among college girls, it seemed, was to dress to the extreme while
still being legally decent.
Right now, brightly colored tights seemed to be in fashion.
I walked past one woman who was wearing purple from head to toe.
She reminded me very much of how Selina looked in the museum, except
this college girl's tights were not see through -- at least to
ordinary eyes. She pushed the limits by shaving her pussy and
wearing nothing under her tights, so the shape of her pussy lips
were clearly visible, as if the tights were a second skin. I admired
that.
We were both pushing the limits, really, but she was getting
more looks than I was. I could steal some of her attention by just
reaching down to pick up a pen -- I might even get the police's
attention. But without breaking the rules, I couldn't compete.
Miniskirts were falling out of fashion. The skirt flirt has
lost some of it's mystery, because everyone knew that most women
were completely decent underneath. Tights gave men more too look
at, but left less for their imagination or anticipation, so I knew
that some day soon, miniskirts would come back.
Men just needed to start believing again. They were tired of
watching a closed cookie jar, just in case it might open. They were
tired of the promise of paradise, but no sign of it. They wanted a
glimmer of hope, like a mirage in the horizon, or a rumor of a
sighting, just to keep their faith alive.
And then I smiled as I realized I could give them exactly what
they wanted.
I paused for a moment at a crossroads, letting people pass
around me, and I concentrated on my appearance. I thought especially
hard about my miniskirt, imagining that it was two inches shorter.
I imagined that my pussy lips were barely visible to people walking
by. They were just a hint of pink below the gold hemline.
When I opened my eyes, half of the people within thirty yards
were staring at me. Maybe they were just staring at the weirdo who
stopped in the middle of traffic with her eyes closed, I thought,
so I started walking again, and sure enough, they were still looking,
eyes slightly down, following my ass.
This time, with my eyes opened, I concentrated on my leg, and I
imagined that a drop of pussy juice was rolling down my thigh,
glistening in the sunlight.
And wow! What a reaction! I felt everyone's eyes on me now, and
a few men were even following close behind.
Then, as I emerged from the shadow of a building, I walked into
a cool breeze that sent a chill over my body, between my legs, and
over my thighs. That's when I felt the moisture -- the tracks of two
"real" droplets that had settled behind my knee. I was having so much
fun imagining that I didn't know how real my fantasy was. My pussy was
overflowing.
"Oh, God! "I thought, in shame, and I walked quickly now.
Embarrassment brought more excitement, and more evidence. At least
I was walking too fast now for people to see. I hurried into the
Mulligan Social Science Hall, and found a deserted corner, where I
paused to collect myself.
This is becoming a habit, I thought to myself as I wiped my
legs clean. I keep getting myself into these kinds of situations.
I want to be a good girl. I want to be a bad girl. I want to do
the right things -- but I want to break all the rules, and I don't
want to be caught. Or do I? God, I'm messed up. I need to see a
shrink.
Which, in a way, is why I was here.
***
"Linda!" Pamela shouted in surprise. She emerged from behind
her desk to greet me. She was wearing one of those fashionable skin
tight suits, and I felt a little more comfortable. She wouldn't
give me those silly Freudian comments, like "penis envy" or like
connecting my desires to the death of my father. She was a good-bad
girl herself. Besides, she was into much more unorthodox theories.
"Hi Pam," I said, as I wrote my name down on the sign-in sheet.
"Not much of a crowd here."
She shook her head, and glanced away. "Nope, I think I started
about twenty years too late. It was a stupid idea for a thesis,
really. People just laugh when you say "ESP" today. The only people
who come in are religious freaks who think I'm some kind of witch,
and students who are desperate for extra credit. Why are "you "here?"
"Well, I'm not a religious freak, so I must be looking for extra
credit, and I thought it would be kewl to get it from an old friend."
Pam looked at me funny. "I thought you graduated."
I shook my head, "Almost. I had an incomplete on a psych course,
and I have to make it up."
Pam looked skeptical, but she wouldn't call me a liar. Why would
I lie, anyway? Just to see what I could get away with, of course.
"Oh," she said. "So . . . are those the only reasons?"
I shrugged. I think she probably asked everyone who walked
through her door about their motivations, but it had a special
meaning for me.
A few years ago, when we were both undergrads, Pam had asked
me maybe ten times to do ESP experiments with her, and I always
refused. People talked about her behind her back, calling her a
flake, and I didn't want to be a part of that.
But more importantly, she had a reputation as a lesbian, and
I was strictly hetero back then. I didn't want to be a part of her
lesbian fantasies. I always suspected that the ESP experiments were
just a scheme to get me in bed.
But I underestimated Pam's devotion to ESP. She always hoped
to do real research on the topic, and finally she had the chance
as a graduate student.
"I thought you didn't believe in this stuff, Linda," Pam said,
maybe feeling used, because I would do this for extra credit, but
not just to be a good friend.
"I'm sorry, Pam. I guess I didn't have a very open mind back
then. It just seemed so ... crazy, but I'm thinking now: if people
can fly or turn invisible, anything is possible, right?"
"I never thought of it that way," Pam said, less angry. "But
you may have been right before. We've tested hundreds of people,
and haven't found a single hint of psychic ability in anyone. I
don't know why I even do it anymore, and I feel like I'm just going
through the motions, now."
"Well, let's go through the motions again," I said, with a
smile. "You never know when the right person will come along."
***
Pam introduced me to her creation: a kind of isolation booth
for two people designed to keep out all noise and external stimuli,
fascillitating psychic stimulation -- or so Pam says. To me it
looked like one of those confessionals that Catholics use. It even
had the slide-away door inside. If I could read Pam's mind, I'm
sure I'd find out that she bought it from an old church.
But I "couldn't" read her mind, as part one of her test bore
out.
Pam read silently from a passage in a book, and asked me what
she had just read.
"Something about disciplining pets?" I asked.
"Huh? Uh, no. Just relax. Try to clear your mind," Pam said.
Next she stared at a series of photographs and asked me what
she was looking at.
"Two women torturing a man?" I asked.
"What?" Pam laughed. "No, it's just a picture of a chair. They
are very simple pictures, Linda. Just one object."
Then she told me that she was thinking of a part of her body --
that this somehow tested emotional signals.
"Your nose?"
"No," Pam replied, barely hiding her frustration. "I was
thinking of my belly button."
"Oh, I knew it was something with an opening."
"Common, Linda, I know it sounds silly, but please take this
seriously," she said as she turned off the light on her side of
the booth. A moment later, my side lit up. "Your turn now. We are
pretty sure that you aren't a receiver, so lets see if you are a
transmitter. Remember, try to think only about the objects in your
hand. The passage first . . ."
I licked my lips, as I picked up a sealed envelop and opened
it. I read silently:
"The long playing record has withstood many challenges
throughout the twentieth century, starting with wire recorders
in the 1920's and then more serious challenges with magnetic tape
technology, including reel-to-reel, 8-Track, and cassette tapes.
Vinyl did not lose it's market until the advent of digitized sound,
starting in the 1980's."
"OK," I said, and then yawned. "What did I read?"
Pam paused, then asked: "Something boring?"
"Yeah . . .?" I said. "What else?"
"Something about car tires?"
Huh? Car tires? "No, let me read it again," I said and tried
to concentrate very hard on what I was reading. "OK, I'm done."
Pam paused, then finally guessed, almost desperately, "A
chocolate donut?"
"No," I said, feeling defeated. "The passage was about
phonograph records."
I was stunned. I had assumed she'd be able to read my mind --
I never even considered the possibility of failure. Had I just
imagined having the power? What about my experiments with Calvin?
Maybe I could only communicate with animals. What about the
students on campus? Maybe they were just responding to my clothes
and my attitude and the excitement running down my legs-- not to
what I was thinking.
"Hey," Pam said, with a touch of enthusiasm, "that's really
not so far off. I mean, they are all round objects with holes.
Try the pictures, next."
I halfheartedly picked up the first photo. It was a picture
of a red pickup truck, driving through a field.
"A car," Pam instantly said. "No, a truck. Red, and a lot of
grass."
I gasped, suddenly awake again.
"Well?" Pam asked.
"You got it! Dead on!"
"No way!" she said, trying to contain her excitement. Surely
I must have been joking with her ...
"Really, here, look," I said, holding the picture up to where
she could see.
Her eyes sparkled, but still she wouldn't let herself believe.
"Try the next picture."
Picture #2 was the Statue of Liberty, which immediately
reminded me of Carol.
"A dark haired woman," Pam said. "No, not a woman. A statue.
The Statue of Liberty?"
I showed her the picture, and she almost squealed in delight.
"Oh, finally! Finally, we have proof! A real transmitter! Try the
next picture."
I was very excited, too, but a warning bell went off in my
head. What did Pam mean by proof? Was she gonna hold me up as an
example? Would she tell everyone about me? If an enemy knew he
could read my mind, my power would become his power, and he could
use it against me. I had to kill the experiment right now.
I didn't look at the next picture. I closed my eyes and
imagined a candle stick.
"A candle?" Pam asked.
I shook my head and showed her a picture of a grandfather
clock.
"Oh." Pam shrugged, but was still enthusiastic. "Just a
fluke. Try the next one."
I closed my eyes and imagined myself giving Pam a massage.
I moved my hands under the towels, around her breasts. Then I
rolled her over and sucked on her nipples.
Pam paused, and when she spoke, she sounded embarrassed. "A,
uh, massage parlor?"
"What?" I asked, laughing and sounding as innocent as I
could. I showed her the picture of a personal computer.
"Damn," Pam said."The statue and the truck couldn't have
just been a coincidence. Try the body part test. Just try and
relax and think only about that one body part."
I closed my eyes and focused my thoughts on my pussy. I
touched myself with a finger, parting the lips, starting the flow.
Pam didn't say anything.
I slowly massaged my clit, imaging that my finger was her
finger. I slipped another finger under the folds and pushed in
deep. I hoped my excitement didn't show in my face.
Pam still said nothing.
I looked through the wall between us, and saw that Pam was
shifting in her seat. She was wet, too. I could smell her
excitement.
"Well?" I asked. "What part of my body am I thinking of?"
Pam finally burst out, not wanting to say it, but she
probably couldn't think of any other body part at this point.
"Your pus --, uh, your genitals?"
"What?" I asked, trying to sound upset.
"Oh, I'm sorry Linda, I don't know why I thought of that."
"Really, Pam . . ."
"Try one more picture, please! I know we had some kind of
connection."
"OK," I closed my eyes and imagined that I was kneeling
between Pam's legs, sucking on her clit and squeezing her ass.
She was twisting my hair in her hands and screaming out Linda,
Oh Linda...
"Linda ..." Pam whispered. She was breathing heavily now,
and her face was almost red.
"Yes, Pam? What was the picture?"
"A woman licking..." Pam said, then took a breath, "I mean
two women having oral sex."
Denying my own needs, I rushed out of the confessional as if
in rage. Pam stumbled out behind me. I thought for a second that
she might try to kiss me -- she was so excited. I don't know what
I would have done if she had kissed me. But she collected herself
and said, "I'm really sorry Linda. I don't know why I said those
things."
"Well, I do," I replied. "And I'm sorry, Pam, but I'm not
looking for a lover right now."
"Maybe you are right," Pam said, looking totally confused.
"Maybe I was just seeing what I wanted to see. But please keep
me in mind ... when you need a friend."
"OK," I said, thinking I might just take her up on that offer
someday. I turned towards the door. "Bye, Pam."
"But Linda ... what about the extra credit?"
I smiled at her, which must have confused her even more, and
said, "That's OK. I've decided to go for the full course, instead.."
***
" Oh, that was so MEAN, Linda!" that voice called a conscience
said.
I smiled. "Fuck that, it was fun! Stop second guessing
yourself, girl. The world is yours, if you want it. It's a good
day to be Supergirl!."
Why did I always feel that when I was having fun, I was
losing control?
I looked left and right as I left the Social Science
building. A thousand students were walking around, but no one
seemed to be watching me. They will be watching soon, I thought,
as I removed my wig and put it in my purse.
People lose control when they always do what society wants,
when they always do what someone else wants, when they never do
what "they" want.
Pam should have done what she wanted.
I kicked off my shoes. One of them took off like a rocket
and landed on the roof of the cafeteria. A man walking nearby
stopped dead in his tracks, and stared at me in awe. I smiled,
blushing, "Oops!"
I walked on the lawn along the sidewalk, feeling the grass
between my toes. I had never done that before, even though my
feet had begged me to for years. Why didn't I just do what I
wanted? Who would it have hurt?
Now many people were watching me. Was it really so strange
to see someone walking barefoot? Or maybe they were seeing into
my mind, anticipating.
I slipped out of my jacket and dropped it on the ground,
and kept on walking. "Litterbug," complained my conscience. "Don't
be silly -- it's gonna make a good souvenir for someone."
My skin tingled from the cool air and the awareness that a
thousand eyes were watching me. A thousand imaginations were
seeing my thoughts.
So they weren't surprised when I lifted my shirt over my
head. I tossed it high in the air. No one saw it land. They were
watching my breasts jiggling back into place, finally free of
that tight shirt. They were staring at my nipples, triggering
that longing to suck, that everyone is born with, and no one
quite completely forgets. I was sorry that I had only two nipples
for this multitude.
My conscience screamed, but the voice just didn't bother me,
anymore. Why should I be modest when everyone can see what I'm
thinking, anyway? Wherever I go, they are sharing my fantasies,
and I never even knew it . . .
I stopped walking for a moment to push my miniskirt down to
my feet, and when I looked up, it was like the whole campus had
stopped moving. Some people were laughing, some people were smiling,
and some people were cheering.
I could barely breathe, as I shivered before their stares.
My heart leaped whenever I heard the click of a camera. But this
was only the beginning.
Weaving through the traffic jam of students were two cops,
but before they could grab me, I floated up, just out of their
reach, hovering above them like a very naughty angel.
I smiled. They didn't look angry, really, they were just doing
their jobs. But I could see the hard ons in their pants, and it
wasn't just because they had a good view of my wet pussy. They were
feeling my excitement. The whole crowd was feeling it. How far did
my power reach, anyway? The feeling was so strong, maybe all of
Metropolis was feeling it. Was that such a bad thing?
"OK, Linda, you've had your fun, "came that voice again."
You've given them all a thrill, now it's time to leave. Just fly
away."
" Oh, no, "I thought, shaking my head, rebelling. "If you say
stop, I say go. Aren't you the same voice that say's if you have
something good, share it with everyone?"
I touched my dripping pussy with my fingertips, and spread
the cum over my lips and all over the triangle. My gasp joined a
chorus of gasps all around campus. I dropped my purse into the
waiting hands of the police, so I could massage my breasts with
my other hand.
" "Cameras clicked. A man right below me had a video camera.
I turned towards him and closed my eyes. I was terrified
and breathless, knowing that I would forever be remembered for
this moment, for good or bad. I opened my legs slowly. My swollen
pussy gushed like an opened melon, baptizing the man with the
video camera.
The crowd was completely silent. I didn't have the courage
to open my eyes and see how they were reacting. I just thought
of that camera, and the aching inside. I stroked my clit and
floated closer to the camera, until I could almost kiss it with
my pussy. "And now", I thought, as I opened my pussy lips wide",
Look into my soul! Come inside! I have nothing left to hide! Here
is my fountain! Drink from it. Here is my body. . .
"A hand grabbed my leg and pulled me down into the hungry
crowd. I didn't open my eyes or put up a struggle. "Oh, take me!
Pillage my body! Leave me with nothing but your passion anointing
my body, and filling my pussy and mouth until I runneth over.
"A hand grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me hard. A voice
carried over the cheers and whistles in the crowd, saying, "Linda!
Linda, wake up!"
I opened my eyes.
***
For the second time today, Andrew shattered my dream. I was
laying on the couch, and he stood over me in my living room,
shaking my shoulders. His eyes were on fire, and he was breathing
heavily. I melted into the cushions, sure that he was gonna kiss
me or just jump on me. But he just stood there, staring, his light
complexion glowing bright red.
"Why Andy," I finally said with a smile, "I didn't know you
cared!"
He stumbled backwards, and looked disoriented, as if coming
out of a hypnotic trance. And then he was Andrew again. "Do your
legs always pop open when you sleep?"
I sat up and adjusted my skirt, which had bunched up to my
waist while I slept. "Only when I'm dreaming of you, Andy," I replied.
He spun around, half smiling, half stern, "Stop calling me
that!" And then he paced around the room for a minute, waiting
for his pulse to slow and his dick to relax, as he spouted random
complaints: "Damn, Linda, you live in one messed up neighborhood.
Someone almost drove into me as I parked in your driveway, and a
couple is making out across the street in the middle of their front
yard as we speak."
I covered my mouth. "Oh my God, did I do that? Did they see
into my dream? Are they living out my fantasy?" "How about you
Andrew? Were you fantasizing about me, too, while you watched me
sleeping?
" "Why are you here, Andrew?" I asked again. "I thought you were
gonna call tonight -- not come over."
Andrew closed the window blind and looked the room quickly over.
He spoke with a hushed voice words he wanted to shout, "We've got her!"
"Selina?" I asked, feeling a little jealous when just the
mention of her name excited him, making him forget his feelings
for me in a second.
"We've got her cornered in an old, condemned cinema in Leesburg.
We already have her henchmen. I have to admire their loyalty. They
could have saved themselves, since Selina was who we were really
after, but they stood and fought, giving her a chance to get away
-- a chance she squandered."
"How did you find her, in Leesburg of all places?"
Andrew looked up as if to the sky. "Blind luck. A Hail Mary
play. I watched Selina's video again after I left this morning,
and this time I noticed that one of her henchmen removed his mask.
I got a good image of his face, which I faxed to the Metropolis and
Gotham TV stations, saying he was wanted for serial murders. If you
weren't asleep, you would have seen his face on the news."
"But he never killed anyone!" I objected. I didn't really
know that. In fact, I didn't know anything about the man, the
cat-man, but I felt a bond, after the intimacies we shared. It
was like: anyone who wanted to fuck me couldn't be "all" bad.
"Don't worry, Linda," Andrew said, surprised by my outburst.
"We arrested him on lesser charges, and since the only evidence
we have against him is that video tape (something we will never
use!) he'll probably be walking the streets again by tomorrow.
But the important thing was that the news report worked. Leesburg
is a tight community that notices new faces. Apparently Selina and
her friends thought it was a nice, quiet place to hide while the
heat was on in Gotham. They dressed up in normal middle-class
attire and checked into a Holiday Inn. They were spotted shortly
after that."
"And now you have them in custody," I concluded.
"Everyone but Selina, who is hiding somewhere in what once
was a cinema. We want you to bring her out."
I laughed. "Why do you need me? You've got her trapped."
Andrew shook his head. "The building is really huge, with
seven screens, and a warehouse and several office buildings in
adjacent buildings. We have her trapped, but finding her could
take many hours and lots of manpower."
"Besides," Andrew continued with a sideways glance. "I thought
you'd want to be a part of this -- to get even with her for what
she did to you last night."
"I smiled, "Mmmm, it's like you can read my mind."
***
"I wished "I" could read "his" mind. Why was he giving me
this opportunity to meet with Catwoman alone? Was he testing
me, to see what I would do? Or did he have some other motivation?"
"I offered to fly Andrew with me to Leesburg, but he said
that he would rather drive. It was only about a 25 minute ride
in his Legend, he said. I countered that it was only about a
two minute flight. Personally, I thought the idea of flying
made him nervous. He was a brave guy, but he was also a control
freak. "
Andrew tore out of my driveway as if he wanted to race me
to Leesburg, while I took a moment to change into Supergirl. I
had to think for a moment, because now I had two costumes, both
incomplete. My familiar blue costume was missing the cape.
Without the cape, my blue top just didn't look right, because
it zipped up in the back. My new costume was missing the shorts.
So I had to mix and match, taking the white t-shirt, the red
mini, and a pair of sneakers. Then I checked myself in the mirror,
striking a few poses. liking what I saw. I never realized how
boring wearing the same costume year after year was until I
played around with my appearance a bit.
Maybe next week I'd try something more fashionable -- maybe
something with black tights, a black jacket, and this white
t-shirt. God, that would look "great"! No blue at all. All black
and white, and just that little touch of red on my chest. Maybe
shiny red shoes, too. I was getting the hang of this fashion
thing!
But this wasn't the time to think about it. I tore myself
from the mirror and barely opened my front door before flying
through it. I wanted to have a few moments with Selina before
Andrew arrived
Really, I could get there in under two minutes, but it's
very hard to follow the landscape at high speeds, especially at
night. Once I was past the bright lights of Metropolis, every-
thing was dark, and I had to follow the highway, or I'd get lost.
Leesburg was not an easy city to see from the night sky, and when
I found it, I wasn't sure where to even look for the old cinema.
But that turned out to be very easy, because there were
seven cop cars encircling it with flashing blue and white lights.
I floated down to the main entrance, where maybe ten years
ago someone could buy tickets, but today the windows were broken,
and conflicting signs said "For Rent" and "Condemned".
"Hello, Supergirl." the officer in charge greeted me and
shook my hand firmly, but he was clearly annoyed. He looked
overdressed for such a warm night. "I'm Sergeant Danvers. We
wanted to take her out ourselves, and teach the rest of those
punks from Gotham to stay in their own damned city, but we were
ordered to wait and let you get her."
I nodded, but I wasn't really paying much attention to what
he was saying. The flashlight tucked into his belt caught my eye.
It was about eight inches long, and about as thick and smooth as
the head of a beer bottle. "It looks very dark inside," I commented
casually.
Danvers nodded, "We don't dare turn on the electricity. This
place hasn't been lit up for as long as I've been here, and who
knows what shape the wiring is in."
"Would you mind if I borrowed your flashlight?"
Danvers handed the light over, but eyed me suspiciously.
"I read in the Planet that Superman can see in nearly complete
darkness."
I smiled, "Superman has a few things that I don't have."
Danvers opened the door like a gentleman, ushering me inside,
where it was as black as coal, and the flashlight really did come
in handy. I was hoping to locate Selina with my x-ray vision, but
it was too dark. I couldn't even make out infrared patterns. There
was something strange about these walls. I examined them more
closely and saw that all the paint was chipped and old. Lead paint.
I walked around for about a minute, flashing the light everywhere,
but realizing that it would take hours to find her this way. There
were dozens of rooms and hundreds of places to hide.
Maybe since I couldn't find her with my eyes, I could find her
with my other senses. Maybe I could hear her breathing or maybe
even hear her heart beating, and then follow the sound to her
hiding place. Unfortunately, I was hearing about ten different
heartbeats. The cops surrounding the building had hearts and lungs,
too. My own heart beat seemed to echo off the walls. No I wasn't
gonna find her with my ears.
That's when I noticed a faint, slightly musky scent in the
air, contrasting with the smells of decay. It was Selina's perfume
-- the same perfume that made me dizzy last night. God, was that
really last night? It seemed longer ago than that, though every
second was etched into my memory. The perfume didn't make me dizzy
now. It made me hungry.
I followed the scent into one of the theaters, and then walked
aimlessly around, trying to sense where it was coming from. I had
never tracked someone this way before, and I figured there must
be a trick to it. Just go where the scent is strongest, I thought,
but her scent seemed to be just as strong throughout the theater.
I aimed the flashlight at all of the seats, down every isle. There
was nowhere to hide. There was no balcony, no curtains, no doors.
Maybe this was some kind of trick. Maybe Selina sprayed some perfume
in the air here.
That's when I noticed a thin denim jacket draped over a seat
in the very center of the theater. I felt a burst of excitement,
even though I knew Selina wasn't hiding there. Tucked under the
jacket was a skirt and a pair of high heeled shoes. I could smell
Selina's perfume in the clothes, but it was faint -- too faint.
Selina must have just been here a moment ago, but where could she
have gone?
Why wasn't her scent getting weaker? If anything it seemed
even stronger than it was a moment ago. And I felt something
different, something that didn't make sense. I felt a slight breeze.
When the breeze blew over me, so did Selina's scent.
Finally I looked up, and I saw a vent in the very center of
the ceiling. The vent had no screen. When I aimed the flashlight
at it, two eyes glowed back at me, and then they were gone, as
footsteps hurried along the roof.
I put the flashlight in the elastic of my skirt. I flew up
through the vent, pushing a fan and a small metal door out of the
way. and I stepped out onto the roof. The fan fell back through the
vent and landed with loud crash in the theater below.
The Catwoman was crouching thirty yards away, looking over the
edge of the building at several cops below, who were having a coffee
and donut break, oblivious to her presence. She glanced about
frantically, like a cat trapped in a corner. Then, finally she
turned to face me.
She was dressed just like at the museum. She looked magnificent
under the stars and the moonlight. I walked casually towards her.
"It's OK, kitty, I have a treat for you."
"Stay away from me!" she hissed, and to further demonstrate
her hostility, she lashed out at me with her whip.
I caught the whip in my hand, and pulled her towards me as if
it was a leash.
Then she lashed out with her claws, tearing holes in my shirt.
"Hey!" I objected, while spinning her around and wrapping her hands
behind her back with the whip. I whispered in her ear. "I don't have
any more of these shirts. Watch it or I'll have to declaw you."
Now, we were standing at the edge of the roof where the cops
only had to look away from their donuts for a second, and they
would see us. I had Selina in a wrestling hold, with one hand
gently squeezing her breast, the other on her thigh. Her mask
felt like satin against my cheek.
"What do you want?" she whispered back, not wanting to
draw the attention of the police.
I loosened my grip and let my hands wander over her sheer
purple outer skin. When my fingers neared her pussy, she fought
with me, turning around, pushing me between herself and the ledge.
Now our breasts touched each other, and I looked up into her eyes.
My memories of last night paralyzed me for a moment. I felt my
knees going weak, and her scent eating away at my strength. Selina
repeated, now more confident, "I said, 'What do you want with me?'"
"No, Selina, I'm in charge tonight! " I squeezed her ass and
kissed her hard, touching her tongue with mine. She was startled,
and she took a step backwards. "I just want to return the favor
you gave me last night."
Selina struggled hopelessly to escape my grasp. She only
succeeded in slipping on the gravel covered roof, and she fell
flat on her back, with me on top of her. In this position, she
couldn't even struggle against my will.
"No," she warned, as I reached up to her mask and lifted it
over her head. She looked away, not wanting me to see her face.
"Why don't you want me to see you?" I whispered. "Remember?
I saw you before, on the train. Why do you wear a mask? I think
you are beautiful."
She sneered at me and said. "We all wear masks --" she
started.
But I swallowed the rest of her reply with another kiss. Her
leg brushed against my thigh, and I could smell her excitement
growing. "Mmm, that was nice," she purred with a naughty smile.
"I'd like to hold you in my arms, if you'd just untie my arms."
I shook my head, and slowly tore at her costume with my
fingernails.
"Why not?" She demanded. Her voice was almost panicky as
I slowly climbed down her body. "I thought you wanted to please
me."
"I do." I said, smiling back up at her, and then I wrapped
my lips around her bare nipple, tickling it with my tongue.
Selina squirmed and gasped. "But make no mistake, this is
revenge."
I climbed further down, tearing her costume in the middle
as I moved, and licking her skin as soon as it was exposed.
"This isn't what you want," Selina tried to reason with me.
"You want some more of what I gave you last night, right? Let me
loose, and you won't regret it."
"Open up, and shut up!" I said, as I pushed her legs apart.
I kissed her inner thighs, as my hands reached up to squeeze her
breasts. Her pussy was wet, and her tights were stained by
excitement. I was about to tear the fabric away, but I liked
the silky feeling against my cheek. "This is what I want. I
wanted to do this ever since I met you on the train."
"No!" she cried out loudly enough to be heard by the police
below, when I licked the length of her pussy. The stain spread
out across the fabric.
"Be a good little kitty," I whispered, before I wrapped my
lips over her clit. Her hips involuntarily rose to give me better
access.
"No," she cried out again, "you don't understand. You can't
make me come."
"Come kitty," I demanded, as I tickled her clit with my
tongue, stroking it in tiny circles at a speed that even a
vibrator couldn't match. "Here, kitty, kitty."
Selina shivered and screamed and gushed so that her tights
couldn't absorb her juices any more. I bit a tiny hole in the
fabric, letting her excitement escape.
"No," she cried out again, "you really don't understand. I
can't come at all."
I climbed up her body again, so I could see her eyes when
she came. I wanted to swallow her screams. "We'll see about
that," I said, as I broke through the fabric with the flashlight,
parting her pussy lips. The invasion took her by surprise. I
pushed it in until she moaned.
"You can't . . .oh!" she cried, when I pushed the flashlight
deeper. I pushed in until her pussy couldn't take any more. I
pushed it in and out, faster and faster. "Give in, "trying to will
her into submission. I kissed her hard, trying to suck out her
resistance. I expected for her to stop saying no at any moment,
and to scream out instead at the top of her lungs: "YES!"
Instead, she shook her mouth free from my kiss. "STOP IT!"
she cried out, surprising me with the desperation in her voice.
"PLEASE!"
And I did. In an instant, the emotion was completely shot.
I could see anguish and need in her eyes. She looked like I
must have looked last night, on the edge of coming, but not there.
Why did she beg me to stop?
"So now you know, Supergirl," she confessed with shame and
tears in her eyes. "I can't come. I've never been able to have
an orgasm. I've tried with many lovers, but no one could make me
come. There is nothing more frustrating! It is frustrating to my
lovers as well, and that's why I have none."
I looked away, feeling very bad. I never wanted to hurt her
like this. I only wanted to give her the same wonderful, humiliating,
overwhelming, devastating, mind-shattering orgasm she gave me last
night. "I'm sorry Selina, I had no idea."
"Andrew never told you?" She said. "What the hell did he tell
you? That damned egotistic sonofabitch never could face the truth."
"Quiet!" a voice said from the darkness, and Andrew stepped
out of the shadows and into the moonlight.
Selina sneered at him, "You never could accept it!" And then
she whispered to me, ignoring him, "Haven't you ever wondered why
he is so mad at me? It's not because of something I did. He knew
who I was when he got involved with me. No, it's because of
something I didn't do, something I couldn't do..."
"Shut up!" Andrew commanded.
"Something "he" couldn't do for me!" Selina yelled back.
Andrew looked at the ground. "I tried my best. I would have
done anything for you, but you just gave up."
"So you sent Supergirl after me? Why?" She said to Andrew. I
felt as though they were talking through me -- as though I wasn't
even there.
Andrew shrugged. "At first I only wanted for her to bring you
back to me. But after last night . . .I thought if anyone could
please you, she could."
"Well, congratulations, to both of you," Selina said bitterly.
"All either of you have succeeded in doing is torturing me, giving
me a need that no one can satisfy."
Andrew and I looked at each other. I felt a little angry at
him, too, for using me yet again, but mostly I shared his anguish.
Like him, despite all of my powers, I couldn't give Selina a
pleasure that I've always taken for granted. A pleasure that always
came so easy for me. A feeling . . .
"I, uh, think I know how to give Selina what she needs," I
said,. "I have a special power that might help."
Andrew and Selina stared at me as if I had three eyes.
Andrew finally asked, "What power might that be?"
"Let's just say that I think I can share my orgasm with you."
"Well," Selina said, "The way I feel right now, I'd be willing
to try almost anything. But do I have to have my fucking hands tied?"
I helped her up, and untied her hands. "I think we will need
Andrew's help to make this work."
Andrew raised his hands defensively and laughed, "Oh, now
wait a minute . . ."
"Common, Andy," Selina teased, "Aren't you just a little bit
interested in doing it with two women."
"Yeah, Andy," I pushed him further. "That gun in your pocket is
growing as we speak."
"Don't call me 'Andy'!" He said, pointing a finger, but the
idea did interest him. "What do you want me to do."
"Well, first thing," I said, while lifting my shirt over my
head, "you need to get as naked as we are. And then you need to
make love to both of us at the same time. When I come, she will
come."
"But how?" He said, while unbuttoning his shirt. "I only have
one dick."
"Try this," I said, handing him the flashlight, before I
stepped out of my skirt. His eyes locked on my shaved pussy, and
I wish he could have seen the smile that brought to my face. I
encouraged his naughty thoughts with a quick kiss. "Don't worry
about how; I have faith in you. You have other resources besides
your dick."
Selina grabbed my arm and hissed in my ear, "This had better
work."
I urged her to lie down with me, on our sides, facing each
other, and our legs spread halfway, one leg in the air. "Keep
looking at my eyes, don't look at Andrew," I said, as I gently
caressed her face.
Andrew went to work immediately -- apparently he wanted the
job more than he let on. He pushed the flashlight into Selina's
pussy, while he chose to eat mine. Our eyes lit up together, and
I knew Selina was feeling the wonderful feeling that burst through
me when Andrew sucked on my pussy lips. Was this feeling new to
her? Could she feel my pussy swelling up with juices? Was her body
tingling all over? Yes, I could see it in her eyes.
We caressed each other's breasts, while Andrew got more
aggressive. I didn't see what he was doing to Selina, but what
he was doing to me was wonderful! He grabbed my ass with one hand
and plunged his face deep into my hole. My leg shivered, as I
struggled to keep it from trapping him inside.
Selina and I were breathing together. Our eyes were glistening.
Even our hearts were beating as one. Oh, God, Andrew, just a little
longer. Don't get tired now!
Then Andrew found my clit, and he sucked on it hard! He licked
it fast and furiously.
Selina and I pawed at other, and we cried out Andrew's name.
Our breathing was irregular, and we felt a growing, overwhelming
ache inside. This was where lovemaking had always ended for Selina
before tonight -- with a deep and agonizing emptiness, needed to
be filled.
I saw the fear in her eyes, as she worried that suddenly it
would end here, leaving her desperate for fulfillment. I touched
her face and smiled, thinking of how much this must have meant to
her. I thought of how much good I could bring into her life.
Andrew pushed two fingers deep within me, pushing us over the
edge. Tears ran down our eyes, as a loud humm seemed to shake the
roof. And then, slowly, we came back to reality, and found ourselves
looking into each other's eyes. Our faces were glowing, and we were
both smiling widely. I doubt anyone had ever seen Selina smile so
beautifully before. I wanted to get closer to her, to see what was
behind her eyes . . .
. . . and that's when I knew that this was just the beginning
of a bigger relationship.
We kissed very gently, very lovingly. This was a very special
moment for her, and somehow that made it special for me, too.
"Hey," came a voice as if from afar. "What about me?"
Selina and I grinned mischievously at each other. We were
thinking the same thing. "Oh, yeah, we forgot about you Andrew.
Thanks." Selina said, then giggled.
"No," Andrew said, "I mean, isn't anyone gonna get me off?"
I looked at Selina, she looked at me, and we both shook our
heads.
"I think I'll let you see what it feels like for a while,"
Selina said.
"Tell you what," I added. "If you bring our clothes back to
my place, we may be able to work something out. Next time we want
multiple orgasms."
And with that, I grabbed Selina and whisked her off into the
air, away from the police, and away from Andrew who was screaming
bloody-murder after us.
T H E E N D
-=from Kristen's collection=-