Supergirl and Friends: The Wager

Ollie squeezed his hands into fists. His fingers pressed heavily into his palms, the calluses numbing the pain. He didn't say anything.

"So stop beating yourself up over Dinah. Stop letting other people do it for you. Learn from the experience, make an appropriate act of contrition to the Canary, and move on. Let yourself be open to"—she paused meaningfully—"new opportunities."

Ollie didn't say anything. He stared down into the bubbling water. Gradually, he unclenched his fists. He rested his palms flat on the roiling surface of the tub, and let them float on the surface. He still didn't say anything. He had a reputation as a smart-mouth, but he didn't let it run all the time. Good archery needed patience, and stillness. So Ollie sat, quietly, and thought. Zatanna did the same; good magic required patience and stillness too. The only sound was the hum of the Jacuzzi jets.

After a time, he looked up at her. He didn't say anything, but nodded. She nodded in return. "Welcome back."

"I'm stubborn. One of my many fine qualities, but sometimes I take it too far." His voice was a murmur. "I've seen it happen to other Leaguers. There was this one time, right about the time Dinah and I met..." His voice trailed off. "Anyway. You're right. I wasn't letting her go. Past time I did."

Zatanna's voice was warm. "Then I've done my job. If you want me to go now, I will."

"And if I don't?"

Zee smiled a crooked smile, pleased to hear the old cockiness in his voice again. "Then we'll celebrate your return."

Ollie matched her grin for grin. "Come on in. The water's fine."

Zatanna cocked her head and, reaching up with her left hand, took the brim of her top hat between thumb and forefinger. With a flick of her wrist, she flipped the hat off her head, holding it upside down. She licked her lips. "Sehtolc otni tah!"

The air crackled. Zatanna's costume began to shine, surrounding her in soft blue light. The nimbus glowed bright, brighter, brighter yet, until she was garbed in it, her fishnet stockings and shoes and tuxedo all blurring together. Her top hat, which Zatanna held unwaveringly in the air, remained unaffected. She herself was unaffected as well, her attitude one of determined nonchalance. The light peeled away from her body, gathering itself into a sphere, a floating ball of light that hung in the air over the hot tub. It quivered and shook and began spinning on its own axis, stretching out into a long, quivering tube. One end of the tube undulated around and sank into the interior of Zatanna's hat. The tube slithered into the hat like a snake, sashaying left and right, until, with a last wiggle, the tip of it poured into the hat. For a moment the mouth of the hat glowed, then the light disappeared as if a door had been slammed shut between it and the room. No trace of the light, or of Zatanna's costume, remained; she sat, legs crossed, on the edge of the tub, perfectly nude. She flicked her wrist, and the hat disappeared, winking out like a soap bubble.

Ollie clapped three times, slowly and mockingly. Zatanna acknowledged the compliment with a nod of her head. "What," he asked, "a simple striptease wasn't good enough for you?"

"Already he's forgotten about the showmanship."

"Show-woman-ship. I'm pretty sure of it."

His gaze roamed over her body appreciatively. He'd known she was pretty: her dark, black hair framed a heart-shaped face. With her dark, violet eyes, her pale white cheeks, and her pouty, ruby lips, she could have been a model. He'd known she had great legs: they were long, slim, and dainty, and the fishnet stockings she favoured showed them off to great effect. He'd even known about her hourglass figure: the leotard she normally wore limned her slim waist and flared hips to the world. But he hadn't known just how stacked she was. No longer hidden away behind her tuxedo shirt, her breasts thrust forward, jiggling as she breathed. He was no judge of size, but they were clearly bigger than Dinah's, and Dinah's had been more than a handful.

He watched him watch her with quiet amusement. "I'm not an athlete. I don't work out all the time. I can keep body fat that others can't."

He started to speak but she interrupted him. "And no, I'm not reading your mind. Not with magic, at any rate. Anyone could guess what you were thinking."

"You guessed wrong, sweetheart." With an effort he wrenched his gaze upwards to her eyes. "I was wondering why you keep that all wrapped up. I would have thought a showgirl with assets like that would show them off."

"But I'm not a showgirl. I'm a stage magician. I need to be sexy enough to get the audience's attention, but not so sexy that they're watching me instead of the tricks."

"I see your point. Those would definitely be the star of the show."

"Private engagement tonight." Delicately, she uncrossed her legs and shifted her weight and sat up. She let her legs dangle into the pool. Ollie raised an eyebrow. Between her legs she was completely hairless: her womanhood winked at him as she slid down into the pool. She chuckled. "More women would do it if they could use magic. Beats razors and electrolysis hands down."

She purred as the warm water embraced her. Languidly she stretched her arms along the edge of the pool and leaned back. Her breasts bobbed free in the water, bouncing and jiggling with the rhythm of the jets. She slowly stretched her legs and brushed them against his. He made no move, even as her foot drifted upwards. He shuddered as she gently rubbed his thigh. His organ, which had been coming to attention as he'd taken in her beauty, stiffened more. But still he remained where he was.

Now it was Zatanna's turn to raise an eyebrow. "You're rather tame. Not what I expected."

"I've heard the morning-after gossip from other guys. Leaguers working... er... this sort of case prefer to take the lead."

"That's right. But variety is the spice of life." She shrugged, and her bosom heaved delightfully. "Tonight, I think, you're in charge." She lifted her arms in front of her chest and took hold of her elbows. Dipping her head, she intoned "Your wish is my command, master." Then she leaned back again, giggling.

Ollie smirked. "Fine by me. C'mere."

Zatanna slowly rose to her feet. Steam wreathed her body, and water ran in tiny rivulets off of her arms and breasts. She sashayed across the tub to him, tossing her hips as she went. She stood between his legs and looked down at him. He reached up and placed his rough, callused hands on her shoulders. He pulled on her, and, getting the message, she sank down, squatting in front of him. He pushed on her left shoulder and pulled on her right, and, following his lead, she turned around and sat, daintily, on the small area of bench immediately in front of him. With a sigh she leaned back, nestling into his body, letting her head rest on his right shoulder, her hair falling in a wave around his back. His cock, now mostly stiff, pushed up against the small of her back. Without saying anything he reached up and brought his hands around, cupping her breasts. She sighed again as he began to fondle her.

They sat in the hot tub, the only sound the whirr of the jets and Zatanna's soft moans. Ollie was enjoying himself immensely: like Dinah's, Zatanna's assets were all natural. They were plump, and ripe, and more than filled his hands. Her nipples had hardened as soon as she'd sat in his lap, but she'd been content to rest against him and let him satisfy his curiosity. Before long he dropped one hand down between her legs. With sure fingers he parted her sex and began to finger her. Later, he had no idea how long he'd sat there, fondling her chest, smelling her hair, kissing her neck, stimulating her clit. His cock was now stiff as a board, and pressed hard against her, but she didn't seem to mind one way or the other: she merely sat, and let his hands explore her body, and moaned her approval.

Ultimately, though, while the spirit was willing, his flesh was weak. The heat of the pool, combined with his own excitement, was too much; he had to get out of the tub. Zatanna guessed at his distress, and rose without comment the moment he began shifting his weight. He staggered to his feet and, stepping up out of the tub, using the bench as a step. He staggered with the sudden coolness and, feeling a weakness he hadn't expected, dropped to his haunches, and lay down on the marble edge, his back to the floor.

Zatanna kneeled on the seat next to him, her lower body still submerged. "Your heart's not going to give way on me, is it?"

"Well, let's give it a sporting chance at least. You still taking my orders?"

"Of course, Master."

"Dinah was dynamite in the sack, but there was one thing she wouldn't do for me. I haven't had a good blowjob in I don't know how long. You think you can provide one?"

She smiled a dazzling smile. "I thought you'd never ask."

He blinked. He recognized she had a job to do, but still, her enthusiasm was remarkable. Again she read his mind. "I'll tell you later. Right now, though..."

She chanted a rapid series of spells, her voice so low and quick as to obscure her words. When she was finished, she looked at him and nodded her head, indicating he should rise. This hardly seemed proper behaviour from a genie, Ollie thought, but he rose anyway. Small price to pay, after all. He sat before her, legs dangling in the pool, the heat rising delightfully up his limbs to his entire body. Zatanna knelt before him, his legs on either side of her. She was on her knees on a hard stone bench in a pool of steaming water, but she seemed perfectly content; Ollie thought he could guess at what kind of enchantments she had just cast.

She smiled up at him. Despite the heat of the pool, her skin was milky pale, without blush. Her hair, clean and dry, fell around her face and past her shoulders in an ebony wave. Her blue eyes twinkled. "I see yourshaft isquivering for me."

"Stick to magic, sweetie. Leave the archery jokes to me."

She inclined her head, and bent over his organ. Thanks to the foreplay they had shared, he was hard and ready. With a smack, she kissed his purple tip. "One pours out," she said. "Two fill up."

"Huh?"

"Ask me later."

Bracing herself against his right knee with her left hand, she took hold of the base of his cock with her right hand and began to stroke him. She looked up at him all the while, her mouth open slightly. She licked her lips. With easy deliberateness she lowered her mouth down to his cock, and, without pausing, took him in.

Right away he could tell how good she was; her ministrations were tender and skilled, better than most he'd had, and in his playboy days, before Dinah, he'd had a lot. Slowly, unhurriedly, she bobbed on him. She kept his cockhead in her mouth and, holding it in place, moved her mouth around it. Her tongue traced patterns of pressure on him, at first simple circles, but now more complicated ones, crosses, ellipses, curlicues of warmth. She moved in time with the stroke of her hand along his length, a measured rhythm. She never broke his gaze, her deep blue eyes like dark wells that reflected the stars.

Ollie sat and stared. The walls of the chamber seemed to be receding. It was as if a spotlight had been turned on that illuminated her and only her, and everything else was in shadow. Her skin, so pale. Her hair, so dark. Her eyes, so blue. Her lips, so red. The heat rippling up his legs was filling him up, like some crimson vapour, filling his body. Sitting like this on a hard marble bench, with no back support, he'd begun to feel an ache at the base of his spine, but it faded away. Again and again her tongue danced around his most tender place, her patterns ever more elaborate. She was moaning in time with her bobs. "mmmMMMmmmMMMmmm..." He no longer felt the marble beneath him. He no longer felt the currents of water against his legs. He couldn't feel his hands or his arms. There was nothing but her, her soft moans, the toss of her hair and the bounce of her breasts, and the waves of pleasure crashing out of his cock, as her mouth twisted and twisted. He was losing his self. There was a pull in his cock, and he was being drawn into it. He couldn't remember who he was. He couldn't remember who she was. There was nothing but her, his dark lady, and his cock, and the dance of her mouth across it. He was hurtling through space, dark and warm, faster and faster, hurtling towards a wall. Her moans reached crescendo. The wall was there, it was upon him, he was about to crash...

When he came, he lost himself. He was just a conduit, and the universe passed through him, so vast, coursing through him, more than he could contain. She swallowed and swallowed, humming her approval. As the gouts of fluid began to taper off, his consciousness began to return. Zatanna was rising up before him, her glorious breasts filling his vision. She embraced him and pressed his face between them, and in that soft, sweaty embrace he knew himself. She pulled away from him, stepping back and down into the tub proper, sinking so that the water rose to her neck. Staring down at her (her eyes were closed and she was smiling) he tried to speak. "What..." he managed, his voice an uneven rasp. He tried again. "What did you do?"

"You said you hadn't had a good blowjob in a while. I decided to give you the best you'd ever had."

"Magic?" His head was clear now. He'd never felt so relaxed. There was no trace of any of the pains or aches from his workout. His ribs didn't hurt, and neither did any of the bruises on the rest of his body. But he was as weak as a kitten; he couldn't even raise his hands to his temples to rub them.

"Of course. Erotic magic is as old as magic, or sex. My mouth opened the way, and you poured out your pain, and your sorrow, and your guilt. You filled up with the cosmos: for a moment, you touched the heart of the world. I filled up with your seed, with the essence of life within you. But not to join it with my essence, but to feed on it. We didn't make a new life, but your life is restored to you, and mine is overflowing. One poured out. Two filled up."

Ollie wasn't listening. He was slowly laying down on his side. His head came to rest on the corner of the tub, and he fell asleep.

Zatanna watched him with satisfaction. He'd wake up before too long, filled with a vigour he would not have known for years. And she knew just how he could put it to good use. She was pleased with herself: she'd replenished her store of magical energy, she'd cured a friend of guilt and shame and self-destructiveness, and she'd set herself up for a night of wild sexual abandon. Not bad for an evening's work.

Not to mention, she thought,that I also won two hundred bucks.

*

"May I join you?"

Helena and Zatanna looked up, surprised. They'd seen Supergirl approaching, of course, but neither of them knew her well, and had assumed she'd been going to join someone else. A shift change was coming up, but even so there were enough empty places in the Watchtower cafeteria that no one needed to share a table.

Helena said nothing. She despised small talk, and would have preferred to keep this lunch date private. Helena had few friends in the League. She hadn't had many to begin with, and she'd lost most of those when she had been booted off of the team. After the business with Roulette she'd earned a second chance, but had preferred to remain on the outside. The Question had given her all the backup she needed. But that wouldn't be happening anymore, it seemed. In a predicament with no good solution, she'd turned back to the League for her second chance. Most Leaguers, though, avoided her company, and she avoided theirs. She had time for the Black Canary, and Zatanna, an old colleague from her Gotham days, but that was about it.

Helena was opening her mouth to tell Supertart to buzz off when Zatanna said "By all means," and pulled out a chair for her. Kara put her tray down and took her seat.

"Thanks. Food's good today, huh?"

Helena said nothing, and gave Zatanna a meaningful glance. Zatanna pretended not to see it and agreed that yes, the food was good.

The two chattered away between bites of their rice pilaf. Helena gritted her teeth, said nothing, and waited for Superchick to take the hint, finish her meal, and get lost. But Kara didn't take the hint: Zatanna smoothly kept up her end of the conversation, and Kara, whose ability to detect social undercurrents had obviously not been enhanced by Earth's yellow sun, chattered away, oblivious to Helena's snub.

Finally, Kara finished her meal, and Helena waited for her to pick up her tray and depart. But Kara made no move to go; rather, she picked up the saltshaker in the middle of the table and toyed with it. The conversation lulled. Finally, Zatanna said, "Kara, there's something you want to ask us, isn't there?"

She looked up with relief. "Yeah... yeah, there is. Y'see, I'm on special mission duty tonight."

Helena snorted, and Kara frowned at her. "And it's my first time..."

Helena snorted again, and Kara's frown deepened. Helena raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. She really didn't want to pick a fight with someone who had heat vision.

"Not likethat. It's my first special mission solo, and it's with Dove, and I don't know him that well."

"You shouldn't tell us his name," said Helena, breaking her silence. "Privacy, remember?"

"Sorry."

"You're not supposed to know him. That's the point." Her voice was cool. "The idea is to avoid hooking up people who have experience with each other. Less messy that way."

"Adds to the fun, too. More exotic," added Zatanna. Her smile was wicked.

"I guess," said Kara. "But I was just wondering if you could give me any, you know, advice."

Zatanna looked at Helena, and Helena shrugged. "Did J'onn tell you," Zatanna asked carefully, "to come to us for advice?"

"No! No. Diana and Shayera aren't around right now, and I didn't know who else to ask, and I had a hunch you'd had some experience."

Zatanna nodded slowly. "Well, your hunch is right. I've had a few of these missions under my belt." She smiled at her pun, but the others didn't. With a pout, she went on. "I'll freely admit that to anyone who asks. I'm not embarrassed about it. But a lot of Leaguersare embarrassed..."

"Especially the men," put in Helena.

"...so you shouldn't go around asking them about it point blank."

Kara blushed as she realized what afaux passhe'd made. Despite her years in Kansas, she still didn't have a firm grasp on human sexual delicacy. It wasn't part of her Kryptonian heritage, and it wasn't an Amazon trait either. Whatever Kansas had taught her on this subject, Paradise Island had erased.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to imply—"

"You didn't imply anything. I'm happy with the work I've done, and I can tell you whatever you want to know, except of course just who it is I've been with."

She glanced at Helena, who heaved a mental sigh and said, "I've done a few myself. As a matter of fact, I've got one tonight too."

"And so do I," said Zatanna. "So we can call this a mission strategy session. What's on your mind?"

"Well, J'onn didn't give me much guidance. He just told me to follow my instincts." Given the whole privacy issue, she decided not to mention just why J'onn had such confidence in her instincts in this regard. "But Green Arrow told me once that he'd heard Leaguers on missions like this insist on controlling the encounter. So there's a protocol, right? And I just wanted to hear from a woman what that protocol was."

Zatanna looked thoughtful. "Green Arrow's mistaken. It's not protocol. That's just the way that some of us like to work."

"But it's a good way to work." Helena's voice was firm. "I'm one of those people. Controlling the encounter keeps you secure and comfortable. You're working with a stranger, usually, and you're coming to them to get them off. But there's all sorts of ways to do that, and some of them you may not like. But because of the circumstances, it's hard to negotiate that. Someone can get hurt."