Birds of Prey - Twisted Desire Ch. 03

"You know... We were supposed to wait until the ceremony for this..." Rita purred, slowing her manipulations of his manhood to an agonizing pace. She cradled his sack, softly massaging the warm plums while slowly milking him. Westfield groaned again, pulling his head forward to the sight of one teacher giving him a handjob and the other giving him a tongue bath.

"Saturday night?" Andrew Westfield practically croaked. He exhaled through his nose as Belle planted a soft, teasing kiss to his cockhead, following it with a not-so-teasing lash of her tongue. "Ah, hell. Ladies, you know you can't make me wait that long. Not after getting me like this."

Ceremony. Saturday night. Barbara caught those words. Even with the horrific sight before her, she caught them.

"I guess we can call this an audition then, baby." Belle Jameson cooed softly before her head dipped between Westfield's legs. Rita Flores followed her colleague soon after. The young man's cock disappeared from Barbara's view, obscured by the women's heads.

Westfield melted into his seat then, head rolling back as he relished the moment, basking in what was undoubtedly pleasure rivaled only by Aphrodite herself.

"Oh, fuck." Barbara couldn't stop the word from blurting from her lips. Her blood froze as for a moment she thought she had given herself away. But the fear turned out to be baseless. Westfield, Jameson, Flores, they were off in their own little world. Barbara might have been able to walk right up to within five feet of them and she was sure they still wouldn't have noticed her.

Andrew Westfield was getting sucked off by two of his female teachers. He was likely influencing them in some way, which meant that lewd act that Barbara was witnessing was almost certainly rape. But there was nothing she could do to stop it. Not without giving herself (and Dinah) away.

I gathered new intel. That's what matters. Stay patient. Stay collected. It won't do anyone any good if I lose my shit now.

Blood boiling, Barbara tore her eyes from the carnal scene and descended from her spot in the tree. Once she hit the ground, her legs were moving and she was putting as much distance between herself and Westfield as possible. Teeth clenched, she made a silent vow then and there that Westfield would get his. Reston, too. The whole fucking Brotherhood was going down.

Ceremony. Saturday night. All of our Brotherhood eggs in one basket.

Despite her inner fury, Barbara managed a smile. The idea of a bunch of young, privileged jackasses crying for daddy behind bars had only gotten that much more appealing.

But before that happened, Batgirl and Black Canary needed a plan. A good one. Going in half-cocked was a Nightwing or Red Hood thing. Not good enough for the Birds of Prey.

Chapter Five

The Mark

One hour earlier, halfway across campus...

Dinah regarded the outfit laid out on her bed in near silence, her thoughts accompanied only by the soft hum of the spinning ceiling fan. The clothing was lifeless, motionless yet the assortment taunted her all the same.

Faux leather hot pants, colored black. They were low waist, cut short, and needed zips on either side for a fit, young woman to even squeeze into them. Dinah knew this because she had worn them before. But only once. A mission not unlike this current nightmare: Dinah had purchased the skin-tight garb from a sex shop in Amsterdam and used them to infiltrate a notorious sex-trafficking ring in Eastern Europe. She hadn't worn them since. Not even Ollie had gotten to see her wear them.

But Reston will. Along with every other boy in my gym class.

"Oh, God..." The blonde whispered. She hugged her arms close to her body. "Why the hell did I even keep these pants?"

Dinah bit her lip, anxiety and apprehension bubbling and churning her insides. Mentally, she kicked herself. The hot pants were tiny, yes, and no professional woman with even a sliver of self-respect would ever think of wearing them among dignified company. But the truth was that they exposed less skin than the Black Canary's usual heroic getup.

Shaking her head, Dinah let out a noise of frustration. This was absolutely not the time to lose her nerve. The Black Canary never lost her nerve. The Fierce Fishnet Fighter was the kind of gal who took down the bad guys and looked good while doing it. If it meant taking down the Brotherhood, then there was no reason not to wear them. Right?

It was at times like these when Dinah was truly impressed with Barbara's unflappable demeanor. Impressed... and aggravated.

"Field work." Dinah muttered. "Hmph. Easy to be so calm and level-headed about field work when you're not the one who has to get close to the mark, Babs."

Dinah glanced over at the nightstand. 6:55 AM glowed in evil green from the digital clock. Reston's morning gym class started in thirty-five minutes. There was no point in wasting any more time.

The blonde had poured herself into her athletics outfit in an admirable six minutes, taking a sliver of twisted pride at the fact that the hot pants still fit.

7:02 AM. Dinah Blake examined herself in the mirror set within her wardrobe's door. The hot pants fit her like a second skin, clinging to her wide hips. Black sports bra, equally tight and leaving her trim belly exposed. The lines of her abs caught light and shadow in a visual feast of athleticism with a touch of the erotic. White sneakers and gray woolen socks pulled up to just under her knees. Red Kingston Academy hoodie, unzipped. Dinah felt her cheeks warm when she realized the hem of the hoodie reached further down her legs than the hot pants.

Enough to get a teen boy's attention? Hell, it's enough to wake the dead.

The superheroine inhaled through her nose, inspecting herself in the mirror. She turned to one side, then the other. She did a few hip rolls to see if the hot pants still had that devilish shine. The kind that she knew drove men wild, the same way they had done the night she bought them. The hot pants would do their job, Dinah decided, especially so because she was wearing them.

"Fuck..." Dinah groaned, running a hand over her taut belly. She was covering more skin than she did when she was in uniform, so why did she feel so naked? "Am I dressed for field work or for playing the field? Christ."

She spared another glance at the digital clock. 7:08 AM. Roughly twenty minutes until showtime. The blonde took a deep breath.

"Time to strut your stuff, Dinah Blake." She said to her reflection. "You have to. For Helena."

Dinah picked up the coach's ubiquitous clip-board sitting on her desk, pulled her whistle and stopwatch off the peg behind the main door, set her baseball cap firmly on her blonde head and left her room.

The sense of doubt wasn't gone, neither was the anxiety. But Dinah could smother them well enough. At least until the mission was over.

---

Dinah Blake would end up having her students running laps again. She had been so focused on the mission that she had neglected to draw up some lesson plans for her gym class. If the students found the lack of variety in their new athletics program strange then they didn't show it. In fact, Dinah had a strong feeling that they were too distracted to notice.

The low thunder of sneakers pounding against polished hardwood rumbled through Dinah's ears. The blonde bombshell cocked her hips to the side, resting a palm upon her waist as three dozen young men completed their fifth lap. Of course, Dinah noted with a distinct coiling in her lower belly, those young men slowed down considerably as they rounded near her. She couldn't exactly fault them for the poorly disguised ogling. The hot pants were fulfilling their purpose: getting male attention.

A whole lot of male attention. A lot more than I need.

They were a stampede of sweat, muscle, and frothing hormones. Their stink was already heavy in the cool gymnasium air. But even among the bustling charge of his hormonal brethren, Dinah could easily single out her mark. Nearly a head taller than the next tallest boy, Reston had already lapped the rest of his class twice and was clearly using his lead to coast along for the rest of the exercise. He even went so far as to slow himself even more than the rest of the class as he passed by Dinah's side of the basketball court, very deliberately checking out his athletics instructor.

That's the kind of confidence a man gets when he thinks he's untouchable.

Normally, she'd have thought to punish him with push-ups and burpees until he puked. But his overt slacking and near-insubordination was perhaps a good thing. Dinah needed to get Reston alone, away from the other thirty-five pairs of lingering eyes that were currently checking out her long, smooth legs. She'd wait to call him out for lollygagging, use it as a reason to keep him after class.

And get some one-on-one time with the King Creep himself.

One of the students tripped then, a pale, gangly youth with curly black hair faceplanting on the hardwood, taking another three of his classmates tumbling down with him. Tripped over his own feet because he was too busy drinking in the sight of his blonde bombshell teacher wearing hot pants and a sports bra, Dinah figured as she fought back a cruel giggle. She recognized the boy - she could only classify him as such, given his diminutive stature and weak frame, even though he was the same age as Reston. Eric Silverstone? Or was it Ethan Silverstein? Something "Silver"-ish, she thought with pursed lips. A harmless teenager by all accounts, she knew, but he still creeped her out. Even more than Reston did.

"One foot in front of the other, Curly!" She called out as a wry smirk danced at the corner of her mouth. Dinah didn't need to draw attention to the wee lad and put a spotlight on his embarrassment but she couldn't deny the tiny rush of glee she got from the social power she held in that moment. "I hope that's not too difficult for the rest of you boys!"

"I think they might be a bit distracted, Miss Blake." A familiar deep voice sounded off. Masculine, cocky, jovial, but masking darker intentions. The smile dropped from Dinah's face as she turned to see that Matthew Reston had slowed to a stop beside her. Hands on his hips, he stood tall just to her left, watching the other students run laps as if he was her contemporary, her equal. She was standing on the bleacher's first row and he still had a couple inches on her. Her stomach doing flips, Dinah felt a sudden desire to slug the little shit. Drive a hard right hook into his stupid, handsome face.

"Did I give you permission to stop, Mister Reston?" She spoke coldly but with an even tone, burying her boiling fury down deep.

"No ma'am. Just thought I'd speak up for my boys." He gestured towards the curly-haired boy in particular who had already gathered himself up off the floor. Dinah could see the black ring glimmering against the gym lights. "It's just that our last athletics instructor didn't quite... uh..."

"Didn't what?" Dinah pressed him, turning her whole body to face him so that he had a clear view of her exposed legs and belly. Reston held his tongue, taking a brief moment to very deliberately check her out, drawing his eyes up from her legs, lingering on her very tight sports bra, before stopping to lock with her own blue eyes.

She raised a brow at him, keeping her face still as stone. And he smiled. She caught him, he knew she caught him, and still he didn't care.

The absolute balls on this asshole...

"Well..." Reston continued with a shrug. "He didn't command attention the way you do, ma'am."

Dinah feigned shock, mocking shyness twisted across her pretty face. She blinked at the young man with wide eyes, hands diving into her hoodie pockets to cover up a portion of her exposed belly. She turned her body slightly so that she was facing away from the leering eyes of the boys still engaged with running laps, glancing over at Reston over faintly flushed cheeks and batting eyelashes. An imitation of a young lady who was suddenly aware of her womanhood and the effect it had on young men.

"You're saying I'm the one distracting these boys?" Dinah asked, her sudden turn from stern teacher to blushing maiden making it more than obvious that she was playing coy. If that wasn't enough, the little upward curl at the corner of her mouth should have removed any doubt for any observant male.

Reston chewed on his tongue then, casting a friendly glace towards his "boys" as they rounded another lap near his and Dinah's position near the bleachers. Once the last boy sped past, he turned his hungry eyes back onto Dinah. The blonde felt his gaze then, feeling his eyes on her skin, on her lips, on her breasts. Her stomach was coiling and uncoiling, a fiery chill creeping across her skin. She felt like a piece of dripping meat being held in front of a starving wolf.

It lasted for only a moment before Reston had the sense to act like an abashed pupil. At least, that's what Dinah figured. The young man averted his lecherous eyes, his lips contorted into the kind of half-grin, half-grimace that guys did when a lady caught them staring too long.

"Well..." Reston shrugged his shoulders, sparing one more quick look at Dinah's long, bare legs. "Kinda?"

Dinah pursed her lips, rolling her tongue against the inside of her cheek. She pretended to give the young man's words a moment of thought, regarding Reston himself with silent contemplation. A moment later, the shy, blushing goldilocks was gone, replaced once again by the steel-nerved powerhouse, Black Canary.

"And just what's so distracting about me, Mister Reston?" Dinah spoke with a firm voice and a daring tone, pulling her hands free of her jacket pockets. She kept her arms by her sides, allowing the full swath of her toned stomach and sculpted thighs to be exposed. Wide hips hugged tightly by hot pants and her lush breasts wrapped snug in a sports bra. Dinah Lance, superheroine, half-naked in front of some high school boy.

Yeah, that's right. Get a good look, you fucker.

The wilting beauty, "babe-in-the-woods" act had been obvious from the start, but the image it left in Reston's mind was very real. Even now she could see the gears turning in his head. Reston may have had an interest before, but now? Now he really wanted her.

Blood was in the water now. The shark would come.

My Great White is right here. Just gotta get him to take a bite.

The rest of the class rounded another lap. Reston didn't acknowledge them this time, not even sparing them a look. No, he was drinking in the image of a spirited blonde and her defiant blue eyes.

"Well... If you weren't my gym teacher, I'd say there's plenty about you to be distracted by." Reston told her after another moment of bold leering. He looked her in the eyes then, grinning. His eyes were hungry, lustful... and friendly?

Dinah swallowed the saliva that had been building in her mouth before chewing on her lower lip. She narrowed her eyes at the young man before her. The Black Canary had pummeled and locked away predators before, broken all manners of sick freaks who preyed upon vulnerable women. None of them acted like Matthew Reston. Hell, if Barbara didn't have solid evidence to the contrary Dinah would have found Reston to be a charming young man.

Dinah didn't understand. Dinah didn't want to understand. These doubts wouldn't help Helena or any of the other women victimized by Reston and his Brotherhood. So Dinah did the only thing she could think of. She buried them deep.

Hands on her hips, she moved ever so slightly closer to Reston, twisting her body just so to make sure the light danced across the contours of her ab muscles.

"But I am your teacher, Matthew." She spoke low and deliberate, her firm voice melting into honeyed music. "So, what would you say to me now?"

"Not much." He answered bluntly, shrugging again. Dinah caught herself watching the muscles working in his arms and shoulders. Reston gave a small smirk, relishing his turn to play coy. "Flirting with a teacher is disrespectful."

Cocky little shit.

Dinah let the faintest of smiles ghost across her lips. "Uh, huh. Right."

"Did you get your hair done?" He asked, pointedly looking at her breasts.

Dinah would have given a genuine laugh if she hadn't then wanted to throttle the bastard.

"Give me five extra laps, Reston." She said as her smile twisted deviously. She made sure he caught the blaze in her eyes as she gestured for him to get his ass back in line with the rest of the class. "You might have lost your lead, but if you manage to come in first place then maybe I'll tell you what conditioner I use."

Reston blinked, his cool confidence faltering for only a split second. Then he chuckled warmly and nodded before seamlessly moving back into the stampede of young men.