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 conversations," 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 appropriate 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 disaster. 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 freelance 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 knowledge 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, suddenly 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 discipline. 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 reputation 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 miniskirt 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 conservative 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 compliments.
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 something 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 frustration. 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 information 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 sending 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, everything 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.