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Batgirl's Uptown Affairs Part 1	By : AdultBat Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 9379 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any characters in the series. I have not or will not receive any money for this story. It is for adults only and is not intended for redistribution or renumeration.

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The limousine door open and a hand extended its assistance. Barbara Gordon demurely clutched it. Despite the elegance of the courtesy, the full length of her designer gown still required a bit of work to slide out of the deep seats of leathered upholstery and onto the sidewalk. Immediately, bursts of light illuminated the evening. She slowly pirouetted seemingly for the benefit of the rabid press corps but, in reality, she was absorbing the surrealness of her surroundings. As her date and lover, Bruce Wayne, followed her out of the modern chariot, unassisted, Barbara turned around to greet him. The brilliant flashes created an odd strobe effect making his emergence appear dreamlike. They exchanged smiles that told the world they were happy but said nothing to each other.
Tonight was a big night in Gotham City cultural coteries. The opera house was welcoming for the first time the world-renowned diva, Lorelei Circe, who had dazzled the elite of Europe for the past year with stirring interpretations of the most profound arias. Miss Circe, whom the tabloids had nicknamed the Siren, combined a voluptuous beauty with her commanding voice that further served to enhance her intrigue to her many admirers. One of those admirers was Bruce Wayne.
Barbara had agreed to go but was not one of the overwhelmed. She liked opera but was not passionate about it. She did not grow up with it, so she could only acquire so much appreciation. Yes, she could distinguish the best singers from the rest but overall she was not moved by the music. Rock and roll was still her mainstay and in her mind she was still a girl and had a right to blast her stereo now and then. Normally, she would pass on such a public gala as this but at her lover’s request she agreed to accompany him. Her reluctance was fueled by several justifications. The first was her desire was to keep nights-off as nights-in with a good book or catching up with old computer friends. More serious was the nebulous relationship that she shared with Bruce and Batman over the past year and a half. It was glamorous but unfulfilling.
The sex was fantastic. In either persona they seemed to click and respond to each other’s needs in the most erotic ways. They satisfied fantasies having interludes as Batman and Batgirl, Batman and Barbara, and Bruce and Batgirl. Their sex while donning their Superhero personas may have been the best as they tested new limits of danger and discovery with many unplanned trysts and daring locations. Once, they even made love right next to the bound Joker and Penguin as they waited for the Gotham police. The villains’ claims of Bat-perversion fell on deaf ears as they were convoyed to the Arkham Insane Asylum. Yet, despite the compatibility of their situations, Bruce always fought to keep both of their relationships secret. His rationale was that as crime fighters it could jeopardize their leverage with criminals if one were ever captured. As Bruce and Barbara, he kept insisting that if their relationship was public it would automatically compromise the other crime fighter if one of their identities were revealed. She found the second excuse a bit dubious and suspected that Bruce did not want to have a public relationship with her so he could continue to have dalliances with models and starlettes. Despite his insistences of fidelity she knew he was not to be trusted as Bruce Wayne when a short skirt was near.
At 25 years old, Barbara had enough self-awareness to know she wanted to end the relationship. Only she wasn’t quite sure how or as whom. Were they seeing each other as their true identities or their assumed personalities? Complicating matters was that with Bruce she was never sure which personality was his true self. He could keep the two sides of himself separate much more effectively than she could but each identity was so strong she could never be sure which one was dominant. She decided to let the night dictate her course of action.
                Surprisingly, the opera was thoroughly enjoyable and Barbara found the Siren noticeably gifted. Not surprisingly, she could tell Bruce was positively smitten. His applause was just a bit too enthusiastic and his bravos too raucous for his normally restrained self. After the final encore the crowd finally began to retreat amidst the buzz of excitement and contentment. Bruce and Barbara remained seated in their box as the crowd dispersed. He turned to her and offered,
“Let’s go backstage to meet the artist,” as if he was suggesting it for her enjoyment as much as his.
“Do we have to, Bruce. I’d really rather go home and talk.”
“Barbara, how many chances do we have to meet one of the greatest opera singers in recorded history? It will be a great opportunity.”
“For whom, Bruce?”
“I understand the music fine and my appreciation is adequate for my tastes. Please just admit you want to meet the Siren because you fancy her. And I don’t know why, she a bit of a cow if you ask me.” The last comment was unfair and Barbara knew it. Certainly, the woman was not as lean and muscular as she or other aerobicized women but, in honesty, her curvaceous build was proportional.
“Barbara, I am surprised at you. Of course she is beautiful, in a Renaissance sort of way, but my eyes are for you.”
Barbara pouted but went along, perversely to see how far Bruce would flirt with the Siren in front of her. Maybe it would give her a simple and obvious excuse to call it quits. As they entered the dressing room the first thing that Barbara noticed was the size of the diva’s entourage. It included several heavyweights, obviously bodyguards. She had a collection of young girls - quite pretty and no older than eighteen - that saw to her needs and helped her remove the thick theatrical make-up. As her mask dissolved into the towels her face emerged. Normally, the removal of make-up revealed all one’s blemishes but in the Siren’s case it released her beauty. It almost knocked Bruce over.
“Ms. Circe, I am Bruce Wayne.” It was uncanny. Even though Barbara knew him well enough to expect shyness or awe he immediately switched to the billionaire confidence that swept most women off their feet. “It would be such an understatement to tell you how much I enjoyed your performance.” He took her hand in his and bowed to kiss it.
“Why thank you, Mr. Wayne. I have heard a lot about you and it is certainly a pleasure to meet one of America’s finest men.”
“Please, the pleasure is mine, Ms Circe.”
“Lorelei, Mr. Wayne, Lorelei. Tell me, is this your girlfriend standing next to you?”
“Oh her, this is the Police Commissioner’s daughter, Barbara Gordon.”
‘That bastard’, fumed Barbara. The woman asked him directly if I was his girlfriend and he introduced me as Daddy’s daughter. The diva did not even acknowledge her introduction.
“Tell me, Mr. Wayne - may I call you Bruce - what was the one flaw I made in this evenings performance?” She asked the question but was more of a come-on. He gave some sort of response about her perfect pitch but the timing of her vocal interlude between the 15th or 16th bars or something like that and the Siren applauded his astuteness. They continued chit-chatting and finally she got up to remove her costume. Barbara hoped this was their cue to leave. Instead, the diva went behind an exquisite Japanese curtain and returned wearing a toga complete with a gold leafed tiara. Barbara remembered that that was her signature outfit and shook her head amusingly to no one but herself.
Finally, the Siren acknowledged she had some other commitments and made the following proposal. “Bruce, would it be too much of an imposition to come to your Manor tomorrow and have me rehearse at your place?”
“Lorelei, it would be an honor to me and the Estate of my family.”
“Wonderful,” she cooed, “but don’t expect me too early. I never get out of bed before noon in any time zone.” Then almost as an afterthought she added, “Betty, I hope you can make it, too,” as she waved in Barbara’s general direction.

                The ride home from the opera house was as silent as the trip there. The major difference was that instead of the apathy that separated them on their arrival, the stale air was now pungent with tension. People’s reaction to their own death had a well-chronicled series of stages ending with acceptance. Unfortunately, the stages of instant wealth had stages as well. Her Powerball lottery winnings had already introduced Barbara to the experiences of brief joy and an overwhelming responsibility. She dealt with those as Batgirl. The past few months with Bruce had brought on the shallowness and resentment. Finally, the silence was interrupted by Barbara’s request to the driver to drop her off at her apartment.
“What is it Barbara? Why are you so angry with me?” was Bruce’s reply as he rolled the window separating them from the driver back up.
“Bruce, do you think you could have fawned over her any more in my presence? My God, you made a date with her right in front of me. But, you know what? I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself for thinking you would change. Why don’t we just end this so we can still have a chance to be friends and colleagues?”
“Barbara, I don’t know what you are talking about,” but he did. He cared for her as much as he could for any woman but he just couldn’t allow himself to become too attached to her or anyone. It was the dark cloud that he woke up to each and every morning. Yet he did not want her out of his life - not now, not this way. “You are mistaken about my plans with Lorelei. Didn’t you hear her? She invited you, too. Please come tomorrow. You’ll see how innocent my aesthetic admiration really is.” The car drove up to her curb.
“Good night, Bruce,” and she was out the door before he could return the gesture.
                Barbara ran up the stairs rather than wait for her erratic elevator. For some reason she avoided replacing the lift - she certainly could afford it - perhaps it was one of her ways to remind herself of humbler beginnings. The brief exercise made her feel better. Maybe a night of fighting crime would even exhilarate her more. Without bothering to decide yes or no, she was reaching behind her back to unzip her dress as she headed to the sliding panel that provided the stealth for her Bat sanctuary. Barbara preferred styles that accentuated grace rather than avant-garde so once unzipped, the spaghetti straps eased off her shoulders dropping the top of the dress in a neat fold around her hips. Before she sat down at her vanity she put her hands on her hips took a direct look at her image in the mirror. She liked what she saw: arms that blended femininity with sinewy definition, a ridged abdomen that tucked in flatly, and, as she cupped her breasts in her hands and appreciatively squeezed them, firm bosoms whose fullness rounded an attractive hourglass figure. “There are men better than Bruce Wayne who deserve these”, she said to Charlie, her recently acquired rare tropical bird. He was a reward for breaking up a Brazilian animal smuggling ring. Normally, she had a strict policy against accepting gifts but when it was brought to her attention that it could not be returned to the wild and would have ended up in an inferior zoo, she agreed to find a home for him.

                Batgirl considered cruising around Brookline for a change of pace but soon found herself heading uptown to the alley behind the opera house and scaling the fire escape toward the Siren’s suite. She knew that the building had regal accommodations for visiting performers who requested them. She had overheard the Siren mentioning it to Bruce. Batgirl knew her jealousy was working overtime but as she approached the window of the Siren’s room her Bat instincts started alarming, too.
Batgirl peered inside and saw the entourage sprawled about the room in postures reminiscent of an impending orgy. Focusing on the center, she saw the Siren gleefully holding up an ornately framed painting. When the diva spun around to show it to her gathering Batgirl recognized it as on of the Metropolitan’s priceless van Gogh’s. “She may sing beautifully but I have no tolerance for a thief.” Batgirl burst through the window startling everyone. Before the bodyguards could react Batgirl had yanked the painting from the Siren’s hands and began her apprehension. The Siren’s arms were too thick to allow Batgirl’s hands to reach all the way around them.
“Who are you? What is the meaning of this?” the Siren demanded.
“I am Batgirl and you are under arrest for grand larceny. Don’t make me hurt you.”
“My dear, you are making a big mistake. You do not know whom you are dealing with.”
“Please, Siren, a crime fighter like me hears that all the time. You are new to Gotham City, not me.”
“My dear,” this time the second word had more condescending emphasis, “what crime has been committed?”
“I supposed that van Gogh just happened to appear in your room? Please.”
“As a matter of fact, it did. Or should I state more correctly that thanks to Mr. Harrison over there, it did.”
Batgirl swung around to grab a quick look, careful not to be tricked. However, her vision locked on Roderick Harrison, the esteemed Executive Director of Gotham’s Metropolitan Museum. Batgirl was confused.
“Yes Batgirl, what Ms. Circe says is true. The painting is a gift from me.” As Barbara Gordon, Batgirl knew him well enough to recognize it was he but his voice seemed oddly distant, almost patterned.
“Rod—Mr. Harrison, are you sure? Do you have the authority?”
“Batgirl, as Director I have final say in all of the Museum’s acquisitions and bequeathals. This painting now belongs to her.”
As Batgirl loosened her grip, the Siren quickly pulled free. She started to walk away but abruptly turned around and was in Batgirl’s face. “I should have you arrested you little nobody. How dare you slander my name with such accusations? Get out of here before I change my mind you scamp. Now!” The power in the final exclamation almost knocked Batgirl over. It certainly made her lose her balance.
“Her voice is a weapon,” she thought.   “I hope she chooses not to use it as such.” Batgirl sheepishly apologized and left through the hole where the window once guarded. Slowly, the Princess of Darkness descended the metal strips of stairs embarrassed that she made such a mistake but sure that something was indeed amiss.

                Bruce Wayne woke up early the next morning. He excitedly logged into his network of databases to find out as much as he could about the Lorelei Circe. There was not much available. Her talent almost immediately had her performing in the top opera houses and before that her life was sketchy at best. He was able to find her preferences and immediately ordered his kitchen to ensure that only the freshest fruits and juices were laid out. He recognized that his excitement was akin to a boyhood crush but, now more than halfway past his 34th birthday, he knew that the companionship he felt with Barbara was better than the flings that had defined his billionaire bachelorhood. He had not been completely faithful to her during their relationship but more faithful than in previous relationships. That argument would not earn him points. The thought of losing her hurt him and riding home alone he felt a sense of loss. He needed to make things right with her.

                True to her word, the Siren arrived around two in the afternoon. Bruce had his kitchen prepare food for her full staff but, surprisingly, she came unescorted. Bruce met her at the front door himself. She neatly placed her arm in his and allowed him to guide her to the conservatory. It was a perfect room inviting the warm sunlight and with the French doors opening up to the magnificent manor gardens. A handsome black grand piano was acoustically positioned and shone with a hard rubbed polish that reflected all the objects in the room.
Lorelei admired the instrument’s beauty and craftsmanship. Without wasting any time she seated herself on the bench and began to play, quite wonderfully in fact.
“Mr. Wayne, is everything you own as tuned to perfection as this piano?”
“Just all the important things,” he teased back. Among his early morning phone calls was to Gotham’s best piano tuner, the man who was the house tuner for the symphony orchestra. The Siren started with the basics and ran through the scales covering five octaves without effort. Impressed with just the fundamentals Bruce sat down to enjoy his private recital. She asked Bruce for his favorite aria and unable to name just one she told him she would choose a medley of her own beloved pieces. Bruce listened with enchantment.
Somewhere during the third or fourth selection Bruce realized that he was no longer in control of his thoughts. It did not distract him from the music rather it prevented him from wandering from it. It was if the music became a language in itself and he was forced to obey its commands. As the Siren continued to sing he stood up and looked directly at her. She just nodded indicating for him to continue. He removed his jacket and loosened his tie. Her singing continued uninterrupted as he proceeded to unbutton his shirt and reveal the muscular broadness of his chest. He briefly sat down to carefully untie his shoes, remove them, and place them together by the leg of the chair. Each sock was slid off and placed in the appropriate shoe. He stood up again and unbuckled his belt pulling it through the loops so quickly that the leather snapped. He rolled the belt and placed it on the seat. His pants soon fell to his ankles and he stepped out of them with none of the care he showed for his other articles of clothes. He stood in from of her wearing nothing but his silk boxer shorts.
The Siren seamlessly began another aria and gave Bruce a look as to say, “You’re not done yet.” He understood and slipped his thumbs into his waistband and glided his boxers over his taut buttocks and down his powerful legs. Again he stepped out of the leg holes and stood before her, completely naked.
Lorelei stopped playing and stood up to walk around the piano to inspect her goods. She eyed him up and down with enthusiasm. The length of his penis was much more than she had expected or had ever enjoyed for herself before. Now she was the one who was giddy. She circled him repeatedly, occasionally touching his back, arms, and chest. Finally she stopped in front of him and placed her hand under the tip of his manhood. His length exceeded bottom of his scrotum by some distance. She turned her palm up and lifted feeling the weight of his beautiful penis and balls. “I am impressed, Mr. Wayne, I am impressed.” She then gently lowered her hand again to allow his package to fall to its flaccid position.
Bruce continued to stand there somewhat aware of what was happening but powerless to do anything. He normally liked to keep control but the feeling of waiting for her next instruction had him relaxed. Now the Siren began to sing another song, one with which he was unfamiliar, but was nevertheless seductive to his ears. She sang without accompaniment and the complexity of sounds started to excite him.
Lorelei watched Bruce as she sang, anxious to see the results of her work. Her beautiful billionaire plaything stood there and as she sang, she drew his spirit to her, and she observed with merriment the birth of his erection. First, his penis jumped as if reacting to a sound. As the blood in his body rushed to his organ it began to dance as it swelled and darkened. Finally, as if gathering strength and willing itself on, it lumbered out and up till at last, after several minutes, it now positioned itself up to his navel. She found herself drawn to it and moved closer to inspect her prize. She grabbed it with her right hand and pushed him down to a perpendicular position and marveled at its bloated purple head and veins that were bursting out of the shaft. She let go and it sprung back up to its glorious position. This man was more powerful than she ever imagined. A chiseled body and a prick like a horse. He was a keeper.
Bruce was totally under her control. Her singing seemed to direct urges to specific parts of his body and the last song felt like lips curling their way over his dick. It felt so real that is, until he noticed Lorelei’s real lips beginning to pick up where the song left off. Grabbing his shaft in her hand the Siren alternated between sucking the head and rubbing it against her cheek in a closed-eyed ecstasy. She focused on his fire helmet keeping it generously moist. She occasionally caressed his balls with her other hand but kept the one firmly on his pole periodically jerking him. As he looked down at her head bobbing cautiously over his member she looked up and for the first time he noticed how chubby her fingers were as they grasped him. It did not matter. Despite his reputation of a starlet-hound, Bruce Wayne had taken many types of women to bed. Size or color rarely mattered. Right now, she was all he wanted.
The Siren stood up, still with one hand on his dick, and began to move forward forcing Bruce to retreat. She pushed him back to a sumptuous divan where he stumbled backwards landing safely. The Siren released her grip and, with him eyeing her every move, undid the clasp on the shoulder of her toga causing it to drop to her waist. She was a broad woman but with a tremendous set of breasts that held firmly despite their size. Bruce ogled them from his supine position. He watched as she continued to undress, loosening her gold rope belt and letting the toga slip to the floor. Her full figure revealed, Bruce’s lying posture forced him to look around his throbbing sundial to glimpse the love mound he would soon enter.

                Barbara woke up later than intended and still frustrated by the last night’s events in the Siren’s suite. She trusted her instincts and knew that they rang stronger than any resentment toward the diva or Bruce. It still did not make sense why the museum would give away such a precious piece of art. Something did not make sense. She decided to log in and find out more about Miss Lorelei Circe. Like Bruce, she was unable to find out much about her past since she hit the international stage stories abounded. Cross-referencing material Barbara discovered that wherever she sang heirlooms or artifacts quietly disappeared. Another common thread in all the missing items was that no break-ins or thefts were ever reported. Finally, whether it was relevant or not, all the articles were owned or controlled by men. “What does this woman have that makes men need to give away their earthly possessions? I better talk to Bruce before she shows up.”
Barbara remembered the Siren’s boast that she was not a morning person and checking the time realized that she, too, had already let the morning slip by. She changed into an outfit suitable for an afternoon tea. She took a cab to the outskirts of the City where Wayne Manor stood as a fortress from another time. At the gate she noticed Alfred pruning some roses so she paid the driver and climbed out of the car rather than announce herself at the gate. Alfred let her in. He liked her and, although he never tipped his hand, did not think that she and Mr. Wayne made for a brilliant match. He told her that he heard singing in the conservatory and it would probably be best if she walked around the mansion and entered through the garden. She thanked him and proceeded to saunter to the back soaking in the warmth of the pleasant summer afternoon. A quick inventory of her outfit re-convinced her that she looked cute. The hat made the difference.
As she approached the conservatory she shielded her eyes from the brightness of the sun as it reflected off the French doors. She didn’t hear music and thought it must be a break. She turned the ornate handle and walked in. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust but what she saw was unmistakable. She first recognized the bare back and buttocks of the Siren. Then she saw Bruce’s dick sloshing between the thick legs as she moaned in a frenzied rapture. Bruce’s face and torso where concealed by the presence of her body but with his bare legs dangling out from her rear and over the day bed she knew what was going on.
“I guess this is what you meant by aesthetic admiration, Bruce,” she growled. He didn’t react but the Siren turned her head to look back as she continued to invite him deeper in her.
“Oops,” she giggled conveying no guilt or shame.
                Bruce could not believe the total body sensation of having Lorelei ride him and take him so deeply. From experience he knew that bigger women did not necessarily have bigger vulvas, in fact, most of the sizeable women he had been with were quite small and penetration was a problem. But with the Siren this was not an issue. Her vagina looked small, although her barrel-chested frame may have contributed to the illusion, but when she climbed on top of him and slid his dick in her it went directly into the far reaches of her vagina. The impact of having her body lustily crush down on him added to his pleasure. He was trapped in her but had no designs on escape. As she leaned forward her breasts swung violently into his face and he needed two hands just to control one of the delights. He suckled feverishly on the generous nipple occasionally biting down and tugging. Each time he did it she squealed some more. He was lost in her body both figuratively and literally. All he could think about was ‘how can I keep her happy and satisfied?’ Finally, after twenty minutes of her choreographed gyrations on top of him, the pace of her breathing quickened and she began to scream ‘yes, mi amore, yes’. At its peak she hit a high note that signaled her orgasm and triggered a release in Bruce that caused his semen to burst into her womb.
Satisfied with his trimming of the bushes Alfred turned to head back to the Manor. He noticed Miss Gordon coming around the side of the estate and thought she must not have been able to gain access. However, as she continued toward him he noticed the fury of her gait and concluded that Mister Wayne must have screwed up another relationship again. He moved to meet her but Barbara paced past him without acknowledgement. “That bastard,” thought the servant and confidante, “he certainly ignited a wrath this time.” He felt sorry for her because he, too, had known Miss Gordon since she was young and albeit from a distance had observed her mature and blossom. She was different from the endless stream of nymphs who regularly paraded through Mr. Wayne’s house. Even though some of the other ladies in their lives (for managing Mr. Wayne meant assuming his boss’ life into his own) had been smart, innocent, or rich, Miss Gordon managed to combine all three and add in elements of decency, elegance, and sincerity that he always found refreshing. He knew he would quietly mourn her absence. When Barbara reached the gate she pressed the button for the security to open it but impatient with the response time she effortlessly scaled the wall setting off a fury of alarms. Alfred hustled back to the house to shut off the alarm and call a car service to transport her back to the City.
After he confirmed with the livery that Miss Gordon was successfully escorted back to Gotham Alfred sat down and pondered the future. He was tired. Until recently, he had never thought about retiring. For one thing, he had stopped considering his duties as a job and more of a function in his life. The generosity and success of Mr. Wayne and Waynetech had made him a wealthy man in his own right. In fact, since the murder of Mr. Wayne’s parents he was not sure if he even ever received a paycheck. He had few expenses and on occasions when he needed money it was always available. Every month he received statements from banks and brokers indicating further gains in his own prosperity. The other reason he never considered retiring was that he never developed thoughts about what else he would rather do. He was a mentor and an intimate. It was not a calling with which one could gracefully decide to quit although lately the idea began surfacing. He decided to inform Mr. Wayne that he would take a few days for himself and he would think about it further.
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Batgirl's Uptown Affairs Part 1