Seduced by Selina

It was only by the sheerest coincidence that Jack Potter got a look at her. He didn't credit himself with any amount of skill over the GCPD boys. If he'd blinked, he'd have missed her, and he certainly wouldn't have heard her. She was a shadow running across that corridor, even in high heels, her black leather suit eating up what little light there was in the closed museum and not giving any of it back.

But he did get a look at her, just out of the corner of his eye, and it was enough to make him break from his patrol route. He had the impression of a bare face floating in all that unseen black, a glint of teeth on the smoothly tanned skin. Almost the Cheshire cat's smile, lingering behind a body that had faded. Even now, he could remember that smile.

He rounded the corner and caught a real glimpse of her. Her catsuit outlined her with incredible tightness, only tiny wrinkles in the fabric where she moved giving away that it wasn't a layer of black paint over her firm, well-muscled body. And there was something perversely exciting about watching those wrinkles move with her, bunching and clenching and pulling taut to show off the smooth workings of her musculature. She was a work of art in boundless motion, even just coming to a stop and staring appraisingly at the path before her.

The set-up of this exhibit was simple. The hallway she was in ran for several yards, protected by electric eye lasers, and then opened up into a little chamber where guests could gather around the pre-Columbian jade jaguar figurine and marvel at its importance to Mayan culture. Between Catwoman and that prize, the lasers swept in swirling formations, cutting up, down, and to the sides. Jack had worked there three days a week for four years now, and he couldn't make heads or tails of what the lasers were supposed to be doing in their crazy pattern.

But after just a few moments of staring--almost like she were confirming some private hypothesis instead of really trying to discern what orders the lasers were following--Catwoman burst into motion. Her catsuit stretched and swam over tight muscles as she became a somersaulting whirling dervish. She seemed to expend no effort at all, dancing with the lasers like a cat would play with a length of string, easing forward, then to the side, backwards a little, then forward in sweeping gulps. The lasers didn't get close to her. Her pitched breathing was a whisper, but it was still louder than the pillow-soft falls of her feet and hands on the ground. In an ejaculation of motion, she flew past the last laser beams and fell to all fours, mewling in a contented exhaustion that was more like that of a held breath than any serious strain. With a deep breath, she erected herself, staring straight ahead at the artifact--now a cat with a canary, puzzling out to get it out of its cage.

Jack couldn't just watch anymore. As much as it was probably a good idea to pretend he hadn't seen anything when a freak decided to rob the place, he couldn't cash his checks and call himself a guard in good conscience if--having chanced upon this opportunity--he didn't at least try.

He dialed the volume on his walkie-talkie as low as it would go and pressed talk. "Freddy, we've got an intruder in the south wing. It's Catwoman! Call the GCPD and tell them to get down here, now!"

There was no response, even at the whisper-quiet level he had set the walkie for. He should've guessed that Catwoman had done something to block off communications. She wouldn't leave a thing like that to chance. Cursing inwardly, Jack drew his sidearm and aimed it at Catwoman as he kicked out his foot into the nearest laser.

Only the silent alarm went off--no sense in alerting a thief that they were caught until they were well and truly caught--but Catwoman must've been wired into the system, because she cocked her head almost instantaneously and emitted a displeased growl. Knowing that she was alerted, Jack thumbed his safety off.

"Hold it right there!" he called. "You're under arrest!"

Catwoman turned, seemingly instinctually, at the sound of his voice. As if she were just politely turning to regard the person who'd spoken to her. But in that casual, seemingly harmless act, her hand whirled with an almost unseeable speed and a glint of light was the only warning Jack got as something hit his pistol and forced it out of his hands.

Catwoman was moving, even then, running through the laser hallway with their dots of scarlet light roving over her body like fingers fondling but unable to hold her. Her breasts jiggled with the motion, full and proud in a comfortably wicked constraint within her catsuit, bounding within that tight embrace as if they might break loose at any moment. Jack caught a glimpse of her, but almost helplessly he was also searching for his gun. He saw it on the floor, having hit butt-end first, and only now toppling over. There was a sort of shuriken in the shape of a cat's-paw that had hit the barrel, four crescent-shaped claws curling from the body of the implement to shear into the gunmetal. Then, before Jack could even think of picking it up, he felt a gust of wind at his back. He turned instinctively, knowing that Catwoman had just dashed past him. So thinking, he completed his turn, looking where she must've gone at the mouth of the hallway, but he saw nothing. No shadow, no stir of movement, no evidence that anyone had ever been there at all. Yet he knew, with all the certainty in his gut, that Catwoman had just rejoined the fraternity of shadows that kept silent vigil over the museum at night.

***

Jack Potter ended up having to stay an hour after his shift, just explaining to the GCPD what had happened and no, he hadn't noticed anything at all that could point to Catwoman's current whereabouts.

Selina Kyle's night was not going well either. Back at the latest hide-out of the Gotham City Sirens, she was wracking her claws over the spot on her dresser that had meant to have an ancient Mayan artifact catching the eye... at least until she grew bored of it and sold it to the highest bidder. Although she couldn't have cared less about the jade itself--such things came and went, and she prided herself on a capriciousness towards them--the fact that it'd been taken from her, to her way of thinking, grated.

Just a little ways away, Poison Ivy was using the computer, while Harley Quinn was bound and gagged by a succession of vines. Ordinarily, Selina would've thought it was a little kinky, but living with Ivy and Harley for a little while had convinced her that it was the only way to get some peace and quiet.

Harley's toys littered the floor, although that was almost overrun with the grass and creeping vines that Ivy had grown after taking out the floorboard. Selina considered herself above that kind of tacky decor, although she had a dozen cats running roughshod over the place. They were giving Selina a wide berth at the moment, although one sat on Ivy's lap and another was curled in front of Harley, flicking its tail in her face.

"I had it!" Selina fumed, carving more wood shavings out of her barren would-be display. "It was in my hand! I'd looped the cameras, hacked the entrance codes, spoofed the communications--and some flatfoot gets lucky and sours the whole heist. I know life isn't fair, but how can it be that unfair to me? I deserve nice things when I put such hard work into stealing them."

"And looking good while you do it," Ivy observed, idly tapping at the keyboard with one bored finger. The monitor scrolled down and down.

"Don't try to flatter me. It's no fun having your ego stroked when I don't have something to be all egotistical over. You're making me feel like I'm getting a participation trophy in crime."

"Just trying to cheer you up. I'd rather hear you moaning on about Batman than complaining you couldn't pull off a heist."

"You're one to talk. When aren't you whining about some environmental cause or another?"

"If you want," Ivy said dangerously, "I could have you gagged and tied right beside Harl. Maybe then I could have an intelligent conversation around here."

"About your poor, precious plants? How long can you natter on about them, anyway? Say what you will about Harley's clown fetish, at least the Joker does things."

Ivy shut her eyes and took a deep breath. Her plants retracted from Harley, setting her free.

"Ahhh," Harley keened, "I thought me and kitty were gonna get to be bondage buddies."

"Take her and get out," Ivy insisted, speaking to Harley.

Selina crossed her arms, flashing the claws of her dominant hand above her bicep.

"Uh, I don't think she wants to go, Red," Harley replied.

Ivy pressed Print on the computer, bringing the printer to life with some chattering mechanisms. "The police blotter mentioned your boyfriend from the museum. He works two jobs, since they don't employ him full-time. At his other job, he's night watchman for that disgustingly big department store downtown. Like they say, Selina: don't get mad. Get even."

"Revenge!" Harley cried excitedly. "That's great for a relationship! Whenever Mistah J tries to kill me, I always get revenge! It reminds him how he's in love with me."

"Reminds him how he'd rather not get his cranium scrambled with a mallet, more like," Selina muttered. Those two were made for each other. "And I don't want to date the guy. Just get some payback for sticking his nose where it didn't belong."

"Why, where'd he put his nose? I thought that costume of yours covered everything--"

Selina interrupted her, staring at Ivy. "There is no way I'm babysitting her. You're coming too."

"Yeah, Red, c'mon! We can pick up some dresses, and some perfume, and we could use more washcloths, and a footstool..."

***

Jack Potter didn't enjoy patrolling Greeks' half as much as he did the museum. It wasn't an aversion to work. He did his job, he took home what he did. But there was something mythic about the museum. As creepy as it could be at times, it was just classy, with its soaring architecture, lovely exhibits, and air of refinement and knowledge. The department store was, well, a department store. Passing by a make-up counter or a shoe sale had nothing on walking by a mummy's sarcophagus.

Still, at least they let him listen to books-on-tape. He walked through the darkened rows and stacks of clothing with only his flashlight, one earbud in, listening to the narrator do his thing. If you wanted to teach a baby a lesson, would you cut its head off?

Then he stopped, stockstill. Ahead of him, spotlit in the beam of his flashlight, was the woman he had seen in the museum. She wore the same black catsuit--vinyl, or was it leather? Only she'd unbuckled the choker at her throat that connected the suit to her cowl, and unzipped it in front so that it fell open. The zipper stopped midway down her cleavage, which was more than far enough for a gorgeous endowment to show, and with the slightest breath, her tits heaved and the zipper jostled. Jack wasn't sure if it was descending, and showing more of her firm and pert cleavage, or if there was just such an expanse of her breasts revealed that they perpetually looked like they were on the verge of being fully exposed.

"Y-you," Jack said, and there was a sudden shock of movement. Catwoman drew her whip like a quick-draw artist, shifting to the side as she unfurled it, and as she did, Jack thought he saw into the side of her undone cleavage, saw no bra and a hard nipple pressed flush against the inner surface of her catsuit. Suddenly the whip seized his wrist, making him drop the flashlight in that hand, then he was pulled off-balance and a blow struck him in the breadbasket, pumping the air from his lungs. The next thing he knew, he was on the floor, heaving like he might vomit. The audiobook continued playing, the earbuds in a tangled length of cord that led to his fallen iPod like viscera to a severed body part.

The purpose of war is to support your government's decisions by force. The purpose is never to kill the enemy just to be killing him... but to make him do what you want him to do. Not killing... but controlled and purposeful violence.

***

"This is the guy that foiled your evil plot?" Ivy asked.

Jack Potter's head hurt. He must've blacked out for a moment. Because, now, he was seated in one of the iron folding chairs the check-out girls got, his hands tied behind his back.

He could see Catwoman and her two infamous cohorts, Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn. Ivy was dressed formally in a full-length dress of embroidered white material. Her skin seemed smooth and flawless in the dim light and the swells of her voluptuous breasts under the cloth seemed more sculptural than sexual. Unlike Catwoman, she was making no effort to seduce, and seemed to be unconcerned with any potential attraction on his or anyone else's part. As unconcerned as she would be with a pet approving of her fashion sense.

Harley was a little taller than Ivy. Her large, expressive blue eyes were complemented by her short, wavy blonde hair, a braided ponytail running down from the back. She had a large, wide mouth with girlishly thin lips. Her face was round and cute, given barely any mystery or exoticism by the sheen of white facepaint that covered it from scalp to neck. From there down, the make-up stopped; her exposed skin was creamy and smooth, with a butterish softness that looked absolutely sensuous to the touch.

What really surprised him was her clothing. She wasn't wearing anything like the costume she'd worn to rampage through Gotham with the Joker, but a red, ruffled collar with a chain dangling down off it. A familiar looking bra, one cup red and one black, held in a small but impressively perked chest--it was curlicued with yin-yanging metal, half red and half black.

Her shoulders were bare, as were her arms, and her long, lean belly, down almost to her pubis, where it was interrupted by a girdle with a similar mixture of coloring. From the girdle hung a loincloth, half red and half black, with the distinctive three diamonds logo on it that Harley Quinn had taken as her calling card. She looked like some... demented take-off on Princess Leia after Jabba the Hutt had taken her prisoner, Jack realized.

And then, there was Catwoman. She'd done up her choker again. But she'd pulled down the O-ringed zipper in front, while leaving her choker buckled. The effect was to create a vulval opening in her costume from her throat to her navel, and it yawned open to reveal the golden skin of her chest, the alpine slopes of her inner cleavage, and her flat stomach set with bricks of tense muscle.

"It was nowhere near a plot," Selina said, casually prying open a cash register and placing tomorrow's cash change inside her catsuit. "More of an impulse thing. I barely even tried."

"Just keep telling yourself that," Ivy cooed viciously, batting at Harley's chain leash in passing. "Should we tie this to a clown to complete your Halloween costume?"

"Look who's jealous just cuz I got a boyfriend!"

"If you need one," Selina said, "I have got a man just lying here. What to do, what to do?" She flicked her index finger at the gaping separation between the two halves of her unzipped costume, making it flap open nearly to the nipple before tightening back to her body. Her breasts protruded so fast that, if the costume didn't slip off them entirely, then it clung tightly around their fullness and could barely be moved.

"He is awful cute," Harley said, spinning her chain around like a set of keys. "Ivy, mebbe you could give him some of your special fairy-moans. He could spend a couple weeks as our love slave."

"A pet's an awful lot of responsibility," Ivy countered. "You'd have to water him, feed him, give him baths. Let's just bury him in the garden. The plants could always use more fertilizer."

"I don't want to kill the guy," Selina hissed. "That'd mean no more free passes from Batman, just a direct trip to Blackgate."

"Who said anything about killing?" Ivy asked innocently. "We can bury him alive. That's a thing."

"Maybe we're going about this all wrong," Selina said. "He did manage to throw me off my game. That's more than most of this city's flatfoots ever do. So maybe he deserves a reward."

Smiling, Selina pulled her catsuit open until even the tightness of its stretched contours around her curvaceous breasts couldn't hold it in place. It slid to either side, uncovering her breast. She delighted in Jack's shocked expression as he saw her enormous D-cup breasts; she loved the control and sensuality of teasing him. In his pants, she could see Jack's cock pulse and jerk at the sight of her huge, milk-white breasts and the reddened nipples that capped them.

"Jesus Christ," Jack said numbly, as if unaware that he was even talking. The swelling of his erection stormed painfully against the groin of his pants, and Selina took notice of that. She glanced, then stared. His manhood, quadrupled in size and hardened to steel, ramrodded against the white elastic of his briefs. The fat crown was trapped and contorted under the waistband of his pants, threatening to burst free of the restraining cloth at any second.

Selina could even see the hint of his pants pushing away from his waist to reveal his similarly distended underwear. Jack was in obvious agony. He squirmed, even as he held himself still for fear of jostling his cock even more uncomfortably.

"Oh wowie!" Harley gasped. "What's that?"

"I don't know, girlfriend," Selina replied innocently. "Let's find out."

She hooked her forefinger through the buckle of Jack's belt and pulled it, and the waistband of his pants, out away from his crotch. His briefs, with his prick trapped vertically inside, were revealed to Harley's widening eyes. Selina tried to look unimpressed, but she unconsciously pursed her lips at the sight of his glans pushing upward to the elastic band of his underwear. His tip, with a clear bead of precum on it, squeezed into view above the top of his briefs, dark and thrumming violently as it pushed into full view. It was followed by an inch... two... then three inches of flushed red shaft.

Perspiration dotted his forehead as Jack struggled against his bonds, but only succeeded in revealing more of his prodigious erection. Perhaps that was what he had been trying to do. Selina's clawed glove landed on his thigh, kneading it like a cat loving its owner. When he didn't evince discomfort, she walked her fingertips to his inner thigh, then to his crotch. It was as much pleasure as relief when she grabbed his shaft with the cool leather of her gloved fingers, not the claws on the end of them.

Selina sized up his prick, the twelve fat inches of its length, the huge, hairy balls dangling below, so rich and full of the steaming hot seed she could imagine shooting home inside her cunt. Seeing it, every woman there imagined that dick being forced deep inside her, stretching the walls of her constricted sex with the knob so broad and purple with hot blood.

"Maybe we could use a love slave," Ivy said idly, even as her gaze was perfectly intent.

"It was my idea!" Harley said. "Everybody remember I said it first!"

Jack's eyes, bright and panicked, were on Selina's face as her hand moved downward to force his briefs lower and expose more of his hard cock. She never lifted her gaze from his manhood, and her pronounced attention inflamed his erection even more.

"That looks... hungry," Selina said, her voice almost sympathetic, commiserating. "When's the last time you came? Been a while, hasn't it?"

"Months," Jack admitted, getting Selina to scoff.

"Mmm... so many lonely guys in this city. And here I thought the three of us at least gave you a little... inspiration. What's the matter, Jack? Does all the leather not do it for you?"