Birds of Prey - Twisted Desire Ch. 05

She felt it twitch, even through the fabric of his jeans. It was hungry, ravenous. Aching for a woman's touch. Her touch.

I did that. Barbara didn't know why she felt proud just then. Perhaps it was lingering satisfaction at getting Westfield to take the bait. Perhaps.

Humming into Westfield's mouth as his tongue clashed with her own, Barbara slipped one hand from around the teen's neck, reaching lower down, her fingers playing at the button of his jeans...

A sudden, loud tone rocked them both back to the real world. Westfield pulled away first, drawing his arms from Barbara's waist like she was white hot. Barbara herself untangled her fingers from the waistline of the jock's jeans, flattening herself against the wall partly in the hope that maybe she'd sink back into it, into oblivion.

The redhead took deep breaths, staring at the teen with wide, disbelieving eyes. Westfield himself avoided her gaze, looking shockingly bashful.

The tone still played loudly, a short digital tune that seemed to play on repeat. It was coming from Westfield. The teenager fished his phone out of his back pocket, sparing Barbara but a brief, shy glance.

Where the hell was this kind of reservation just a second ago?

Barbara watched in silence as the young man pressed a button to turn off the alarm on his phone and looked through what was likely a series of missed messages. After a moment, he clicked his phone off and stuffed it back into his pocket.

Westfield gave Barbara another nervous look, his expression now looking... Apologetic?

"Sorry, Ms. Morgan. Gotta cut this short. I have a... A thing." Westfield said lamely. He frowned then, like he was perfectly aware of how dumb he sounded. He spared her one more short glance and then turned away, leaving her alone by her dorm room without another word.

Barbara's whole body was still trembling, but the superheroine didn't know for sure whether it was from disgust, anxiety, or - worst of all - arousal. She took a deep breath, touching a hand to her chest. Her heart was beating - No, it was pounding.

The redhead felt... She felt a great many things at that moment. Embarrassment for putting herself in that situation. Anger that the creep had his disgusting hands all over her. Disappointment that she lost him.

She had the guy eating out of the palm of her hand. And he just walks away. For what?

"Damn." Barbara fumed. She stared at the teen's back as he disappeared down the dorm hall. After all that work and effort, parading herself around like a slab of meat, and he was just going to leave her there?

No. Barbara scowled as Westfield turned a corner out of sight. I'm not letting you go that easily.

Batgirl didn't give up. Batgirl didn't fail.

Batgirl sure as shit wasn't going to be ignored.

Not by the likes of Andrew Fucking Westfield.

Barbara, feeling a rush of fury, pushed off the wall. Her heart was pounding all right, but not because of fear or stress. No, she felt righteous passion. An intensity known only to seekers of justice.

She turned and followed Westfield down the hall.

Her Great White wasn't going to get away.

- - -

Chapter Eleven

A Twist in the Knotted Line

Barbara kept a safe distance as she tailed her mark. Andrew Westfield was in a hurry - but for what? The redhead heroine was determined to find out. She kept pace with the athlete as he briskly made his way back towards the student dorms - situated clear on the other side of campus from the faculty accommodations.

Coming to a stop at the courtyard gate, Barbara hid behind one of the brick pillars. Peering around the side, she watched as the young Brotherhood crony entered the boys' dormitory. One of them, to be specific - The Elliot building. It was a four-story behemoth, constructed with lavish stonework all along the exterior, clearly evoking the architecture of Old Gotham. Looming, ominous, severe, it looked exactly like the kind of place in which a group like the Brotherhood would slum it.

He's likely going back to his room...

Barbara had suspected as much once she realized where Westfield was leading her. She had done a bit of on-the-go hacking during the trip over, bringing up school records on Westfield. The information glowed upon her phone's small screen. Not only did she have Westfield's room number, she knew exactly where it was. A room with a window, too. Third floor suite situated in the dorm's east wing.

Making sure the coast was clear, Barbara entered the sparse courtyard and immediately ducked into the neatly maintained greenery that lined the swath of land between the building itself and the stone fence.

Following the rarely-used footpaths, she made her way over to the east wing and found a smaller courtyard. A brick walkway encircling a large, looming oak with ragged, twisting branches. It was more than tall enough to reach the third floor. Even better, the tree seemed to be situated right outside Westfield's room.

Perfect. I don't even need to follow him inside.

Barbara glanced to the right, to the left, making sure the courtyard was empty. Then she took a deep breath and started climbing. A minute or so later, she was perched somewhat comfortably on one of the higher branches - and with a clear view into Andrew Westfield's room. The redhead couldn't help but feel a clear sense of accomplishment at her humble feat.

I climbed this tree in a skirt and heels, Barbara couldn't help but grin. I'd like to see the Batman pull that off.

Thirty feet across from her lonely perch, she saw the light in Westfield's room go on. Barbara's suspicions were proven correct once again. She dug through her purse and pulled out a pair of specialized WayneTech binoculars - A little something she had swiped from the Batcave before starting her own superteam.

"Now what could be so important that you ignore the nice, juicy bait, Mister Westfield?" Barbara murmured as she peered through the binoculars, getting a nice close-up of Westfield's stupid, handsome face as he entered his dorm suite.

But Westfield wasn't alone. There was a figure behind him, following him into his room. They were shorter and dressed in a hooded, gray trench coat. Westfield himself seemed familiar enough with his new guest, gesturing for them to come further inside his room.

Who's your friend, Andrew? C'mon, don't be shy...

The coated figure moved into the living area of the suite, closer to the room's window, and giving Barbara a much better view. Now, she could see that the figure had a distinct feminine profile, curves too generous to be hidden away even by a heavy trench coat.

You blew me off for another woman? Typical.

Then the mystery woman pulled her hood back, revealing...

"Miss Jameson!?" Barbara blurted out, nearly dropping her specialized binoculars. It was good fortune - or thick window glass - that Westfield and his lady friend didn't hear her.

A minute ago, the redhead was gazing into Westfield's room with rapt attention, eager to observe his most private moments. But now she was engrossed, enthralled with morbid fascination.

Belle Jameson turned from the window, smiling, giggling at something Westfield had said. Barbara couldn't hear them but it was clear that the two were engaged in a bout of flirtation. Jameson's dark, pretty face twisted in laughter, excitement, with eagerness clear in her radiant eyes.

The woman undid the belt of her coat and shrugged it off.

"Oh my God..." Barbara nearly choked as the word tumbled from her lips.

Miss Jameson was wearing even less than she was the day Barbara caught her, Miss Flores, and Westfield during their garden party threesome.

She had poured her body into a pair of very tight light blue yoga pants and a snug, white, long-sleeve crop top that exposed a splendid swath of the woman's belly. The light coloring of her clothing gave an alluring contrast to Jameson's lovely ebony skin.

Dressed like that, Miss Jameson was sure to attract men like bears to honey. And indeed, Andrew Westfield being the red-blooded young man that he was descended upon his beautiful female company within seconds.

Morbid fascination turned into horrific captivation. Her whole body had gone rigid, her blood chilled within her veins. She was gripping her binoculars so hard she was sure her knuckles had turned white. Like watching a train-wreck in slow motion, Barbara couldn't look away.

Barbara watched as desperate hands tugged at each other's clothes, tearing off shirts, yanking down pants, exposing more skin to their hands, lips, tongues.

Jameson shockingly had Westfield naked first, tugging down his jeans and boxers both so that his manhood hung freely between his tree-trunk legs. With a playful shove, she had him sprawled back on his sofa, his fully hard prick - Just as impressive now as when Barbara got her first look - twitching hungrily as it rose valiantly against the force of gravity. It pointed up, directly at Jameson, as if daring her to come get some.

Through the binoculars, Barbara could see the look of yearning intent in the other woman's eyes. An intense passion that could only be sated by a big, hard cock.

This time it was Jameson who descended upon Westfield. Her smaller, darker body was a visual shock against the younger man's pale, muscled frame. With ravenous hunger, the two devoured each other, craving more flesh to kiss, to lick, to suck.

And still Barbara could not look away. She watched them connect, join together their sick coupling. Miss Jameson wasted little time, reaching down to touch Westfield's length, dark fingers encircling the angry, throbbing prick. She held him steady, guiding him home as she sank down onto her favorite mount. Pale hands gripped her at the waist as Jameson and Westfield made the deepest connection a man and a woman could have. She took him inside, the entire length of his cock disappearing into her glistening pussy.

Horrific, twisted as it was, it was a sight to behold. Barbara surely would have been impressed with Miss Jameson's fortitude had she not been fucking one of her students. The redhead herself knew from personal experience that it was no easy thing to take a cock that size.

"What the fuck is wrong with this school?" Barbara hissed to herself, her heart pounding against her ribcage.

"Excuse me!"

The voice was shrill, cutting through the silence of Barbara's deep thoughts and morbid fascination. With a demeaning yelp, Barbara jumped slightly upon her perch in the branches, very nearly losing her balance.

Fuck. Barbara winced, clutching the pair of binoculars so hard that her slender fingers were starting to ache. Damn it. Batgirl's not supposed to get caught.

The redhead dared to look down... And saw the glaring face of Headmistress Vivian Kaplan looking back up.

"...Shit." Barbara cursed under her breath.

"Miss Morgan." Kaplan demanded hotly. Barbara felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her, the redhead pressing the binoculars firmly against her forehead. She figured that perhaps if she pushed hard enough they would punch through her brain and mercifully end her humiliation. But Kaplan's voice ended that fantasy by cutting through the silence again, louder this time. "Come down from there. Now."

Barbara inhaled deeply. Her cheeks and ears felt like they were on fire. She glanced towards the window across from her perch and saw Miss Jameson riding Westfield on his couch, the young man's face buried in the teacher's big, brown tits. They two seemed to be more than enjoying themselves.

She watched their bodies rock together, flesh colliding with flesh, their faces twisted in silent cries of ecstasy. She focused on Jameson's face in particular, her full lips moving, speaking, whispering naughty things to her pale lover. Barbara watched the woman throw her head back in a wild moan as the young man beneath her devoured her tits, his big hands pawing them, groping them as his hungry mouth alternated between them. Sucking, kissing, biting. All while she was slamming herself down onto his fat cock, her hips and ass wibbling and wobbling so deliciously as her soft flesh slapped against his firm muscles.

That could have been me, Barbara thought then. Though not even the superheroine herself knew if she was relieved or envious. Truthfully, she didn't want to know.

Reluctantly, Barbara Gordon put on the Barbara Morgan mask once more and began to climb back down the tree. The trip down turned out to be far more dreadful than the trip up.

The Headmistress waited for her at the bottom, arms crossed under her breasts, held snug in a white, button-up blouse. Kaplan was just as striking as the day Barbara met her, the woman's icy blue eyes cutting right down to the redhead's soul.

"Do you care to explain what you were doing up in that tree? Or what you're doing outside the student dorms?" Kaplan's voice was just as cold as her eyes, a far cry from the warm welcome she had given her and Dinah days ago.

"These are the student dorms? Oh." Barbara said lamely, feigning shock. The redhead would look back upon her poor effort with embarrassment and shame. Of course Kaplan didn't buy it for even a second.

"The teachers' dorm is on the other side of campus." Kaplan countered, all but vaporizing Barbara's piss-poor attempt at saving face. The woman narrowed her eyes, glowering at the redhead with barely concealed contempt. "You expect me to believe a faculty member wouldn't know that?"

"It's just... so easy to get lost around here." Barbara didn't know why she was keeping up the charade, especially after being so thoroughly caught. "This is a huge campus, Ms. Kaplan, and-"

"Headmistress Kaplan. And what's this?" Kaplan reached out and snagged the binoculars from Barbara's hands. She turned them over in her gloved hands, inspecting them, then gave Barbara an incredulous look. "Why the hell do you have these?"

Kaplan held up the pair and shook them, as if for emphasis. Barbara wanted to sink into the ground, fall into the void. Anywhere was better than here, experiencing this. God, it's like I'm back in highschool.

"Um..." Barbara tried to come up with an excuse, any excuse, but found that any and all words died in her throat. For the first time in her career as Batgirl, Barbara Gordon had nothing. She was stumped.

"You were peeking into the male dorms, weren't you?" Like a shot straight to the heart, Kaplan's voice cut through the afternoon air. Barbara gulped.

"That's not-"

"And not just the male dorms. This is the athletes' wing." Kaplan took her eyes off of Barbara, regarding the Elliot building with a frown.

Barbara could see the gears turning in Kaplan's head. The woman was slowly coming to a conclusion. One that Barbara realized was more vile than anything she even considered Kaplan would think up. The redhead's eyes widened in horror as Kaplan's accusing gaze fell upon her.

"I wasn't-"

"Quiet." Kaplan commanded. And it was so. Barbara said nothing as the Headmistress pushed past her. "We'll continue this conversation in my office. Follow. Now."

- - -

Kaplan's office, so large and spacious back when the woman greeted Barbara and Dinah to Kingston Academy, now felt small and oppressive. Barbara was sure the walls would start closing in on them when the Headmistress led her into the dark room.

Clutching her purse to her chest, Barbara felt a rare sensation. Fear. Not for herself. For Helena. And for all the other women held in the Brotherhood's perverted grip. If Barbara Morgan got fired for this, then that would be a tremendous blow to the Birds' undercover operation. She wasn't even sure the campaign would survive that kind of setback.

"Headmistress Kaplan, if you would just let me explain-"

"I didn't give you permission to speak." Kaplan shot the redhead a glare, tossing the confiscated binoculars onto her desk. Next, Kaplan flipped on one of her desk lamps, finally filling her office with a little light. Then Kaplan's eyes were on Barbara again, the pale woman possessing an expecting look.

Barbara moved to sit down in one of the chairs across from Kaplan's desk, but Kaplan shook her head, grunting in the negative.

"I didn't give you permission to sit down, either."

So Barbara stood before the Headmistress, wilting under the older woman's intense gaze. For a moment, neither said anything, with Kaplan regarding her newest hire with silent contemplation, wordless judgment.

Finally, the raven-haired woman spoke again.

"Kingston Academy is the elite private school of the Gotham Metropolitan Area. It's easily ranked in the top ten of the entire nation." Kaplan started. Barbara didn't quite understand what the Headmistress was getting at but knew better than to interrupt. The redhead remained silent and simply nodded. "Leaders are molded in these halls, Ms. Morgan. Success is our reputation. Reputation. Explain to me what was reputable about what you were doing."

"I was-"

"You were spying on the male athletes." Kaplan asserted, clear and confident. And mostly wrong. But Barbara wasn't going to tell her that. Ms. Morgan had herself a feasible out, but it wasn't necessarily an ideal one. Kaplan snorted softly from her side of the desk. She pointed to the binoculars with a gloved hand. "Those are WayneTech, too. Expensive stuff."

"...Yes." Barbara had to force the word out. But Barbara Morgan getting busted hunting for jailbait dick was better than Barbara Gordon getting busted as Batgirl.

"Alright, then. Why?"

"I-"

"Nevermind, don't answer that." Kaplan huffed through her nose. She sat back in her chair, now regarding Barbara with unreadable eyes. "That's a book I've read more than enough times."

"You have?" Barbara blurted out, her face twisting in disbelief.

"As a fellow woman, I am more than aware that the current year has provided us with... Less than ideal prospects. Soft men. Weak men." Kaplan spat, a disdainful expression falling across her strikingly beautiful face. But the look of disgust evaporated as quickly as it appeared, with Kaplan's eyes softening as she turned her gaze to Kingston Academy's coat of arms that hung upon her office's far wall. "I am also aware of just how impressive our male students can be. An elite school has an elite student body."

Barbara frowned. She really didn't like what Kaplan was implying.

"I don't-"

"Quiet. I am the Headmistress. You think I don't know what happens in my school?" Kaplan snapped, her words confirming Barbara's fears. The older woman leaned back in her seat, pale hands clasping together on her lap. "The young men who attend Kingston are progeny of the elite. They come from wealth, prestige, power. And when they graduate from these halls, ivory thrones and golden crowns await them. More than a few women would risk scandal for even the smallest taste. But I don't need to tell you that."

Barbara's blood ran cold. Colder than when she first saw Helena's sex tape. Colder than when Kaplan caught her in the tree.

Oh. Oh no. You can't mean it.

A sharp sense of terror shot through Barbara's body. The Brotherhood shit isn't something that's going on under people's noses at all. People know! The Headmistress knows!