Batgirl: The Vampyre Caper Ch. 04

This story is the seventh in an ongoing series of Batgirl adventures, mainly based on characters in the early Batman comics and that wonderful '60s TV series but with the timeline brought up to the present.

Warning! This fictional story contains strictly ADULT content and is ONLY intended for mature readers and for personal consumption. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 4: A Date With Phil

Barbara gently tugged the lacy black top of her hold-up stocking to within a couple of inches of the baby smooth junction of her thighs, ensuring it matched up with the other half of her sexy sheer hose, before leaning forward to slip on her red high-heeled platform soled shoes. She then tugged down the hem of her matching short skirt, to cover her snugly fitting panties, before rising to her feet.

After checking the time on her wristwatch, she walked over to the dresser and picked up her purse. She paused, half turning away, to check out her reflection in the mirror, ensuring that her skirt adequately covered her bottom. It did, but with not a lot of material to spare, despite an extra tug or two.

"Phil should be here any minute now," she mused, leaning forward in the daringly low-cut dress, to check out her painstakingly applied makeup in the dresser mirror, for one last time. Her minimally restrained bra-less breasts, almost made a break for freedom, as she did so and she giggled, nervously, as she imagined such an embarrassing event occurring in a crowded restaurant.

As if on cue, the buzzer sounded, indicating that someone had arrived at the main entrance to the apartment block and pressed the button for her apartment. Non-residents couldn't gain access to the building, unless the external high security door, was opened with a key or electronically unlocked by one of the residents.

Barbara jumped to her feet and hurried over to the intercom that was attached to the inside of the apartment door. A small monitor screen gave her a view of the front entrance, where a tall but familiar, smartly dressed guy with close-cropped blond hair, in his early thirties, stood waiting.

She smiled and pressed the reply button alongside the monitor screen. "Hi, Phil. Don't bother to come on up, I'm on my way down. Be with you in just a minute!"

Pausing only long enough to close and lock the heavy metal door behind her, Barbara clicked her way along the short hallway to the elevator, as quickly as her tight skirt and heels would permit. She was really looking forward to her evening out with Phil.

-oOo-

They dined at the 'Moulin Rouge', a high class French restaurant that was one of Barbara's personal favorites. She had been introduced to it a few months earlier, while she was dating Harvey Dent Jr., the former Gotham City Assistant D.A. It was very expensive but the food was magnificent. Barbara liked to dine out there as often as her modest salary would permit.

"Good evening, Ms. Gordon," the maitre d'hotel greeted, as they entered, giving Barbara a warm welcoming smile. "So nice to see you again. A table for two?"

Barbara returned the handsome head-waiter's welcoming smile. "Yes please, Henri, preferably in a secluded corner."

"Certainly! Please follow me." Henri led them over to a secluded alcove table on the far side of the restaurant. "I hope this is suitable?"

"Thank you, Henri, it is perfect," Barbara murmured, squeezing the Frenchman's hand, while Phil pulled out a chair, prior to her sitting down at the table.

"Merci, Mademoiselle! I will return shortly, with the menu."

-oOo-

During the main course, a delicious coq au vin, Barbara subtly introduced the topic of the late Dr. Zarkhov into their conversation. Normally a little reticent to discuss police matters with a civilian, Phil was willing to make an exception in this case, since Barbara was the Commissioner's daughter and obviously already knew a fair amount about the doctor's demise.

"According to daddy, his body had been drained of blood, possibly by a vampire," Barbara continued, clutching at her impressive chest, dramatically. "I'm sure I won't be able to sleep soundly tonight, all ALONE in my bed."

Phil grinned at her typically 'over-the-top' feminine reaction. "True, the old guy had a couple of puncture wounds in his neck and was a little short of the sticky red stuff," he grudgingly admitted, "but Zarkhov died of a heart attack, after an over-enthusiastic bout of love-making." He failed to notice the sudden reddening of Barbara's cheeks.

His brow suddenly furrowed. "Funny you should bring the subject up though, Barbara. We had another similar death occur sometime last night."

"Oh, yes?" Barbara breathed, trying not to appear over anxious for the details.

"Yes, some old hobo. This guy was completely drained of blood though."

"Goodness gracious," Barbara gasped, eyes widening with unfeigned surprise.

"Yeah! This old tramp also had two puncture wounds in his neck, but it wasn't no vampire that caused it, such creatures don't exist.

"OH, NO?" Barbara retorted, a little more forcefully than she'd meant to.

"Of course NOT! There has to be a more rational explanation."

"Yeah, yeah, sure, if you say so, Phil."

The police officer looked across at his dinner guest, suspiciously. "Now don't you go gossiping about this, Barbara Gordon or, before we know it, half the residents of Gotham City will be milling around in a blind panic," he ordered, sternly, reaching over and gripping her left wrist.

"As if I would," the lovely redhead gushed, perhaps a little too eagerly.

Phil rolled his eyes up to the ceiling in exasperation. "Women!" he muttered, under his breath.

Barbara could tell that Phil was becoming a little annoyed with her, so she decided to change the topic. "Would you like to come back to my place, later, for a nightcap or something?" she enquired, staring at him over the top of her glass of white wine, with just a hint of a smile touching her full red lips, already anticipating his answer.

The policeman relaxed and gave her one of those crooked grins that always set her heart a-flutter, before squeezing her delicate hand. "I thought you'd never ask," he murmured, eagerly nodding his head.

Later, when they were finishing their evening out with a hot cup of coffee, Phil couldn't resist saying, "Don't lean forward too far, darling, or your boobs might fall out of that top. I don't think any of the other male diners would complain, but you could suffer a nasty attack of heartburn, if one of them should drop into your café au lait." He gave a low chuckle, obviously amused by his infantile humor, but then, he was a man.

Barbara pulled a sour face at this corny joke. "Ha, ha, ha! Very funny," she retorted, absently pulling up the front of her low-cut dress and trying to suppress the flush of her cheeks that threatened to reveal her embarrassment.

-oOo-

Barbara eased her pelvis up and down, as she rode Phil's impressive, Latex sheathed erection, as if she were astride a bucking bronco in a Wild West rodeo. The naked policeman was stretched out on the bed beneath her, his wrists cuffed to the headboard behind his head, by means of his own police issue handcuffs. A big grin was plastered over his face, as the gorgeous redhead gradually upped the tempo of her energetic bumping and grinding, at the same time increasing the length of each stroke. By now, she was panting, loudly, from her considerable exertions.

"For someone who looks like an Angel from Heaven, she sure knows how to keep a guy happy," Phil thought, as he watched his fat penis sliding in and out between her tightly stretched labia. Barbara easily absorbed his impressive length, with each squat, the well-toned muscles of her thighs, bulging and rippling, impressively.

Phil laid his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes, enjoying the wonderful sensations that his sexy girlfriend was creating. Barbara Gordon had the most incredibly powerful pussy muscles. They clung to his throbbing shaft like the grip of a velvet glove, resulting in an unbelievable feeling of pleasure. Phil had made love to many women in his time, but none of them could hold a candle to the gorgeous librarian... with the possible exception of Batgirl. A picture of the Dark Angel being raped by the Joker, while he looked on, helplessly, sprang to mind and he almost lost it and ejaculated.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah!" the redhead gasped, her splayed hands braced against her muscular thighs and her head thrown back as far as it would go, back arched and eyes squeezed tight shut. Her unblemished skin shimmered with a faint sheen of perspiration, in the warm red glow of the bedside lamp.

"I'm gonna cum," the policeman warned, as the pressure in his balls became almost intolerable and he finally lost control and toppled over the edge. "I just hope that rubber is big and strong enough?" he cried out.

"Aaaaaaahhhh!" Phil's hips jerked, uncontrollably, as he started to ejaculate his load of hot sperm, in short but powerful spurts.

"Not yet, Phil! Please, not yet," Barbara pleaded, looking down and trying to focus her gaze on her lover, as his hips began jerking up to meet her widespread crotch. "I'm sooooooo close, so very close..."

"Aaaaggghhh! Oh yes, yesss, yesssssss!" she cried, with a shudder of delight, as she reached her own much needed orgasm. Her ass sank down onto the tops of his thighs, until his stiff shaft was completely engulfed by her wet slippery sex. She arched her spine in pleasure and squirmed her ass, as her sex flooded with her own secretions.

As the last of the orgasmic tremors faded, Barbara rocked forward, her round breasts heaving, fetchingly. She lowered her lips to Phil's, in a long, passionate kiss. "Thank... you..." she murmured, simply, when they were finally forced to break apart, both gasping for air.

Phil smiled up at her, as his shrinking penis slithered from her wet pussy. "You're most welcome, Ms. Gordon, but better not tell your Pa about this. He may not be quite so understanding about your, ah, little hobby."

"What hobby?" Barbara asked, sharply, momentarily misunderstanding him.

"Having sex with strange men."

"Oh, that?" Her lovely face broke into a relieved smile and she shook her mass of wild red hair down over her bare shoulders, causing her breasts to judder, delightfully. "You're right of course, darling, I doubt whether daddy would approve of this, especially with one of his officers," she agreed. This was followed by a tinkling laugh.

Barbara wrinkled up her cute button nose, as she removed the cum-filled condom from his shrunken penis and dropped it into the waste container alongside the bed. "That's always the worst part of safe sex," she muttered.

"Now, let's get those cuffs off of you," she added, in a business-like tone, her naked breasts rubbing over his face, as she stretched forward to unlock the shackles with the key that she'd just picked up from the bedside table. "Now it's your turn to handcuff me."

Phil's hot mouth had just descended over the perky nipple of her left breast. "Mmmmmm, mmmmm," he murmured in total agreement, before sucking, powerfully on her already stiff teat.

-oOo-

Later, as they lay side by side on the bed, Phil reached out and trailed his fingertips over the copper colored choker around Barbara's slim neck. "This is new isn't it?" he murmured. "How come you left it on, while we were..."

Barbara jerked her head away. "Because... because I like it," she replied, a little too sharply, nervously running a hand through her unruly mop of fiery red hair.

"Matching bracelets as well," he observed, reaching out to stroke her hand.

"So?" she snapped, brushing his hand away.

Phil shrugged, realizing that Barbara had suddenly become very uptight, for some unaccountable reason. He sat up and stared down at her, with a look of confusion on his rugged features. "I, ah, I think I'll go take a shower, before I leave," he informed her, with a sigh of regret. "I'm on the early shift tomorrow."

Barbara nodded, feeling a little guilty about her over-reaction to his natural curiosity. "Thank you for a wonderful evening, Phil," she murmured, forcing a smile to her lips. "We must do this again, sometime soon."

"Yeah, sure." He smiled and nodded.

Barbara watched him turn away and amble, naked, into the adjoining bathroom. "That man has the cutest butt," she told herself.

-oOo-

As Robin slid down the Bat-pole into the massive underground cavern situated beneath stately Wayne Manor, he spotted his mentor and fellow crimefighter, sitting in front of the Bat-computer. As usual, both men had changed into their familiar masked vigilante costumes, before entering the Bat-cave.

"What's up, Batman?" the Boy Wonder called out, as he bounded over to his partner. "Alfred said you were down here, working on the Batcomputer."

The Caped Crusader looked up, with a grim set to his firm jaw. "I received a disturbing call from Commissioner Gordon, just a short while ago, Robin. Apparently, there have been two very mysterious deaths in Gotham, during the past 36 hours. Both look like the work of a vampire, or some similar creature, on the face of it."

"HOLY BLOOD TRANSFUSION!" exclaimed the Boy Wonder, with a disbelieving grin. "You gotta be joshin' me, Batman. There ain't no such thing... is there?"

"Well, there ARE blood sucking vampire bats, of course, Boy Wonder, but I think we are both referring to the human variety, are we not?"

Robin nodded, wide-eyed.

"Well, there's no scientific evidence to support their existence and, according to the research I've just been conducting on the computer, they are merely a thing of myths and the fertile minds of certain horror fiction authors."

"What makes the Commissioner think these deaths are something to do with a vampire, then?"

"In both cases, the corpse was at least partially drained of blood, and there were twin puncture marks on the victim's neck, as if he had been bitten by a set of fangs."

Robin released a long, low whistle of surprise. "Now that IS strange... not to mention a little creepy."

"Exactly, Boy Wonder. We shall have to be extra vigilant, whilst out on our patrol tonight, Robin and check out anything that seems the slightest bit unusual. I doubt whether these two deaths will be the last ones of this nature. Until then, we must keep an open mind on the subject. No-one is ever too old to learn, old chum."

The Boy Wonder punched one gloved hand into the palm of the other, for emphasis. "Yeah, there's only enough room in this town for one kind of bat," he growled, menacingly, "and a vampire it ain't!"

Batman shook his head, at his young partner's abuse of the English language.

-oOo-

Barbara could hardly wait for Phil to exit her apartment, before hurrying over to the dresser. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and watched it reach up and press the button on her collar, as if it had a life of its own. She looked on in utter fascination, as the undulating purple layer flowed down over her naked contours, until she was completely covered, apart from her head and her hands. The choker and bracelets had assumed a similar purple shade.

She released a shuddering breath, until that moment, unaware that she had been holding it. The feeling she had just experienced, had been akin to that of a heroin junkie, after he had just injected his fix.

Barbara smiled, slyly and cradled her shapely breasts in her hands, noting that her normally prominent nipples had grown even longer and become rock hard with arousal. She felt good, she felt fulfilled, she felt invincible, as she caressed them, lovingly.

Rummaging through the top drawer of the dresser, she located a clean pair of black thong panties and delicately stepped into them, She tugged them up until the thong was positioned deep between her rounded buttocks and fitted snuggly over the smooth swell of her mons. The stretch material clung high on her hips before plunging down between her legs, to barely cover the outer labia of her vagina. She half turned, to check out her pert rear. The thong was invisible, apart from a minute black triangle of material that emerged from between the tops of her taut ass cheeks and the narrow support bands attached to it.

After carefully applying a shiny coating of her favorite lilac lipstick to her eminently kissable lips, Barbara reached out and pressed the hidden button beneath the front lip of the dresser top. She watched, as the dressing table and a section of wall behind it, swung inward, noiselessly, to reveal the narrow dark passage beyond. She stepped inside and selected a pair of black ankle boots, before unhooking a utility belt, cape and Bat-cowl from the clothes hooks attached to the rear panel of the mirror.

Humming cheerfully to herself, she sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on the shiny high-heeled boots and zipped them up. Rising to her feet, she strapped the bright yellow utility belt low about her curvy hips, before pulling on the combination Bat-cowl and mask and tucking away a few stray wisps of red hair. Standing with hands on her hips and chest thrust out, she checked out the overall effect in the mirror. Satisfied with her sexy image, she entered the secret passageway, heading for the hidden ground floor garage and her trusty Batgirl-cycle.

Tonight, Batgirl had an added incentive; to search for and capture, if possible, the human vampire that had arrived in Gotham City and started to reek mayhem. She had no idea what he looked like, but in her mind's eye, she picture someone who looked a little like Christopher Lee, the British actor and star of so many Gothic horror movies.

-oOo-

"You've been holdin' out on me, ya lyin' slut!" snarled the heavy built, six-footer with the completely shaven head, raising one meaty paw and bringing the palm down across the mousy blonde's face, in a fast descending arc.

Thwack!

"Yeeeooowww!"

The stinging impact, sent the 30 year old willowy blonde sprawling across the unmade bed, with a shrill cry of pain, popping a couple of buttons on her low-cut silk blouse, from the force of the impact.

The hooker stared up at the muscle-bound pimp, through glistening tear-filled eyes, one hand clutching her reddening cheek. "Honest, Jake, that's all the money I've made tonight," she gasped, fearfully. "I ain't got the looks I used to have when I was sixteen. A lot of the Johns like 'em young an' fresh and ain't willin' to pay the goin' rate for an experienced workin' girl like me."

Jake grabbed the collar of her shirt and hauled her back to her feet, popping the remaining buttons in the process and causing her drooping tits to flop out of her lacy half-cup bra. He casually backhanded her across the face but not forcefully enough to permanently mark her, just sufficient to induce another whimper of pain and fear.

"Then you'd better start offerin' them some extra inducements, bitch," he growled, menacingly, "at least another 500 bucks a week's worth, if ya know what's good for ya!"

"I-I will Jake, honest I will," the woman gasped, tears ruining her carefully applied mascara. "Just don't hit me again. Just tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it?"

"I'll do better than that, bitch, I'll show ya," he said, ending with a humorless cackle.

-oOo-

Batgirl had been watching this scenario play out from the rooftop opposite the fifth floor apartment, before deciding she should intervene. Despite her enhanced hearing, she had been unable to make out more than the odd word or two of their conversation, but it was obvious that the man and woman were having a heated argument. She fired the grapnel onto the roof of the apartment block using her pneumatic Batpistol and, after tugging on the attached line to ensure that the multi-barbed hook was firmly embedded, she swung over the intervening drop on the nylon rope.