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Harley's Joke	By : tooshoes Category: DC Verse Comics > Batgirl Views: 3919 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Batgirl, Harley Quinn, James Gordon or any of the characters or situations of the Batman universe. I will not be making any money from this story.

Chapter List
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The police sedan pulls in front of a quaint colonial house in a relatively safe neighborhood in Gotham City.
The little redheaded girl was expecting to be delivered to a hospital or large building, so she waits in the back seat for her father to begin driving again.
But the car doesn't move. Daddy never puts the car in park, and he never looks at her. He just says, "This is the place, Babsy. Everyone says this doctor is the best, so behave yourself and do whatever she asks and I'm sure she'll help you get over whatever is bothering you."
Tears stream down her face as she looks at her hands, which are wringing the hem of her skirt anxiously. She feels lost and far away from her Daddy in the back seat. She wanted to ride in front with him, but he said it was better if she was in the back. He didn't explain why. He doesn't explain anything these days. So she felt isolated during the entire drive, and now he won't even look at her while he makes her leave or call her by her pet name.
When Babsy doesn't move for several seconds, he finally looks at her in the mirror and says, "Go on now. There is nothing to be afraid of. Call the station when you are done, and someone will pick you up."
"Okay Daddy," she finally says, feeling angry, and she abruptly leaves the car, hoping he will see how upset she is, but he doesn't hesitate before driving away.
She glares at the car as it pulls away, wiping away her tears, wanting to feel angry rather than sad or ashamed. She wonders how Daddy wants her to feel.
Babsy walks the brick path to the front door and reads the sign above the doorbell:

H. F. Quinzel Psy.D, M.D.
Ring the bell and step inside
Babsy looks at the doorbell for a long while before following the instruction.
A gentle tone fills the silence, but the door creaks open so loudly, the signal might not even be necessary to announce her arrival.
Just inside the door is a waiting area, and she stands with only closed doors in front and behind her. She is twenty minutes early. She considers turning around and leaving, but it would upset Daddy if she quit therapy so quickly. He tracks her phone, so he'd detect her disobedience right away.
So she sits on one of two Lazy Boys and shuffles through magazines on a coffee table. She finds three issues of Open Minds and a dozen Geographic Exposé magazines. Those seem like odd magazine choices for a doctor who treats teens, so maybe they are for the parents to read while they wait for their kids. But Daddy never waits around for his daughter.
The last thing Babsy wants to do is sit here for twenty minutes thinking about her problems, so she desperately seeks distraction in the magazines. She shuffles through the Geographic Exposé magazines and finds some archival photos of Native Americans in beautiful, ceremonial costumes. Suddenly, she desperately needs that headdress for Halloween, even though she knows it would look so inappropriate on an eleven-year-old red-headed girl of Irish descent.
The accompanying article revisits a familiar subject she had learned about in school two years ago, but Geographic Exposé brings the history to life with stunning and sexy photographs.
Babsy is quickly swept away by the tragic story of how colonial Americans seduced unsuspecting natives out of their land two centuries ago, but the story surprises Babsy when it departs from the black and white narrative she learned in school and introduces many shades of grey. The way she had learned it in school, the innocent Indians did not know what they had, and they were tricked into giving it all up by the allure of trinkets. Now, according to this article, she is informed that while the Indians were disadvantaged, they were not as ignorant as her school history books portrayed them. They weren't tricked into giving up anything. They got what they wanted, even if the process wasn't fair. They willingly took part in their victimhood. The article even claims that their descendants benefited from these seemingly bad deals.
Babsy doesn't know what to think of this new knowledge, but she's not completely surprised by it.
Now that she's getting older, everything seems more complicated than it seemed just a few years ago. She is learning to expect for the world to change around her. She is learning about other perspectives, and how nothing is as simple as she grew up believing it to be. Sometimes the revelations are exciting, but they are always scary at first.
The simplicity of her life had always comforted her, but she is learning that simplicity is never real, and nothing lasts. Yet the world doesn't change; she does.
When she looks at her fingernails, she smiles at how pretty her pink nail polish looks. She likes the idea of pink. But in reality, she went through twenty variations of pink before she found the exact color that she wants, and nothing else is pink in her eyes except that exact color. She always fusses, trying to get the color just right. Maybe tomorrow she won't even like pink anymore.
Lately, the world feels unstable and she questions everything. She's afraid to face the unknown, and she wants someone to finally tell her a truth that she can believe in.
And maybe that's why she's here today, seeing a shrink: so that someone can tell her how to think and make things simple again. Because her feelings have become as complicated and frightening as the world around her.
While reading the heretical magazine and admiring her carefully painted fingernails, she hears movement from beyond one of the closed doors of the waiting room. She feels embarrassed, only God knows why, so she shoves the magazine back where she found it and hides her hands just before the door opens.
A Goth girl not much older than Babsy anxiously emerges. She paralyzes Babsy with a cold look before quickly exiting the house.
Once the dark presence is gone, a pretty blonde woman follows through the same open door. She wears a light grey professional dress, but she challenges professionalism with ample cleavage and plenty of legs. She extends her hand with a smile, saying, "You must be Ms. Gordon. I'm Doctor Quinzel, but you can call me Harley."
Babsy takes her hand with an admiring smile. Harley looks young for someone with so many letters after her name and in possession of a suburban home office. She looks like she could be Babsy's older sister, if she had one. Babsy was worried that she would get a doctor who was so old that she could never remember what it was like to be in seventh grade, but now Babsy feels more comfortable.
Harley leads Babsy back through the door, into her lair.
Harley gestures to a full-sized sofa littered with throw pillows, saying, "Make yourself comfortable, Barbara. Or is it Babsy?"
"Most adults call me Barbara, but Daddy calls me Babsy," she replies while frowning at the sofa. She feels like an animal might when thrown into a new environment, sizing everything up and looking for threats and opportunities. The sofa looks wrong. It makes her feel smaller than she even is. Like it might swallow her.
Harley smiles encouragingly as she sits on a simple wooden chair beside her desk. She crosses her legs as she lifts a clipboard off of a coffee table and rests it against her knees.
Babsy finally sits on the sofa, relying on the small ottoman between her and Harley for protection -- from what she is not sure.
Besides the furniture, the room is nearly empty, with just a few uninspired paintings decorating the walls. After a moment of looking around, it almost feels rude to not look at Harley.
And when she finally does look, she feels utterly exposed.
Because resting atop the desk beside Harley is a tiny hidden camera of a kind that Babsy has become familiar with. Her Daddy installed that exact model as part of their security system back at home. The camera is camouflaged within the USB port that Harley is using to charge her cell phone. Most people wouldn't notice it.
"Do you mind if I record our session?" Harley asks while she picks up a remote.
"No ... I guess not," Babsy replies with an embarrassed smile. If she had not seen the camera, she would have assumed that Harley only meant to record her voice.
Harley smiles back confidently as she presses on a remote.
"So, Babsy," Harley begins daringly while raising a pen to her lips and admiring her new patient. "Tell me about yourself. Why are you here?"
Babsy frowns. "Didn't Daddy tell you?"
She nods. "I'd like to hear it from you."
Babsy looks at her hands. "They suspended me and another girl for smoking pot in the girl's room and sexting at school. I know I'm too young for all that."
Babsy braces for condescending words about how sexting and smoking pot can mess up a girl for the rest of her life.
But Harley shrugs and surprises her. "In older times and cultures, a twelve-year-old girl would be considered old enough to make such decisions for herself. But of course, it's frowned upon by some people these days. Anyway, the school didn't send you here, so what happened?"
Babsy's shame turns to frustration. "Daddy says I have to come here every day so he doesn't have to deal with me."
Harley nods with a gentle smile. "Why do you think your father doesn't want to deal with you?"
Babsy shivers, and tears instantly build in her eyes. "Because that's how Daddy is. He never wants to deal with me. He won't even spank me when I'm bad, anymore."
Harley raises an eyebrow, and she touches her lips with her pen. "Is that why you smoked pot? So your Daddy would have to, umm, deal with you."
Babsy feels a sudden urge to run away from this conversation. She fights off the urge and clenches her fists.
Harley gestures for Babsy to calm down. She pours some water from a pitcher on the desk into a Pixie cup and hands it the anxious girl, saying, "I'm sorry to rush you. Let's start over. Please tell me about yourself."
Babsy drinks the water quickly and then takes several deep breaths. Harley patiently waits, and Babsy finally starts talking, because silence is the worst torture. Babsy has been through this several times already with the school counselor, so she begins the same way, telling Harley all of the embarrassing facts about herself, without telling her anything important.
"Well, I'm a Scorpio. Does that help? I'll be twelve soon. I'm four feet, five inches tall. I weigh 67 pounds. I'm the smallest girl in my class. Nobody understands me. I have nightmares about walking around naked in public. I bite my lips a lot. I cry like all the time. I got my first period three months ago, and when I first saw that icky stuff in my panties, I sighed and said, 'oh, thank God, I'm dying.'"
Harley cracks up, not expecting such a dark joke from the nervous girl.
Babsy smiles and laughs at herself, but the laughter sounds desperate to her ears. Then she stops talking. Her whole body shakes. Her face turns red and collapses upon itself and she cries like an infant, except without any sound.
Harley hands her a handkerchief. Then the doctor pours a glass of water from the coffee table and hands it to Babsy, and waits for the girl to settle.
Babsy is disgusted with herself, and eventually, she forces herself to laugh again. "I haven't had my period again since, so I guess I'm still a baby! I'm sorry about that."
Harley shakes her head. "Not at all. I know it's not easy being here."
Babsy laughs again. "It's not easy being anywhere. This isn't any harder. It's always hard. I don't know why I always get into trouble."
Harley raises an eyebrow. "Tell me about the first time you got into trouble."
Babsy thinks for a moment; then she giggles crazily. "I found Daddy's gun when I was six, and I remember thinking, 'I can be like Daddy.' So I fired the gun at a doll who looked like Chucky from that scary movie. BOOM! The doll flew across the room, and the gun knocked my hand back into my face, giving me a black eye."
Harley cracks up again but quickly collects herself. "Sorry, that's not funny. Your Daddy must have been so mad."
"Not really," Babsy says, then she giggles again and smiles with loving fondness. "I was so scared of what he'd do to me, but he put me on his lap and told me I shouldn't try to be like him or like anyone else. He told me I should find my own future, be my own person, and I have my whole life to figure that out. I immediately decided I wanted to be a superhero, like Batman. But then Daddy replaced the Chucky doll I killed with a Barbie and a three-story Dreamhouse, so I guess he had something else in mind."
Now tears stream down Harley's face, too, because she can't contain the laughter. "Sorry again, but you can be very funny. I love a sense of humor! Do jokes help you feel better?"
Babsy smiles weakly, happy to make Harley laugh, but she never realized that she uses humor as a coping mechanism, and suddenly, the joke doesn't seem funny anymore. Babsy doesn't know how to reply, and a long, awkward silence grows. Anxiously, Babsy touches her neck, then makes sure the top of her shirt is buttoned.
Harley seems to notice everything. She asks, "Isn't that a school uniform? Private school, right? But you are suspended, so why are you wearing school clothes today?"
"Daddy says that uniforms give people character, whatever that means."
"Did your Daddy tell you to wear your uniform here today?" Harley asks.
"No ... I just thought I was supposed to," Babsy says awkwardly, but then smiles slightly. "Everyone wears uniforms where Daddy works."
"Do you visit your Daddy at work often?"
Babsy nods with a wistful smile. "Daddy says I'm old enough now. When my nannies are sick or gone, Daddy sometimes takes me to work with him."
Harley touches her pen to her lips. "Tell me about that."
"Oh, I love it! Daddy is busy there, but he's always nice to me, and I get to see him work! Everyone is very nice, even the men in jail cells! They tease me, calling me 'jail bait', but they are a lot of fun! Uncle Harvey likes to tell me stories about him and Daddy and Batman! Auntie Renee teaches me how to dance, and uncle Lucius lets me use his computer in the library!"
"What do you do on the computer?" Harley asks.
"Oh..." Babsy pauses and looks away shamefully and adjusts her skirt. "You know ... homework."
Harley waits a moment, in case Babsy wants to say more, but when she doesn't, Harley moves on. "Tell me about school. Do you have any friends?"
Babsy looks away evasively. "Not really. I like some of my teachers, but the other kids look at me funny. Like I don't belong. They think I'm crazy. Nobody talks to me."
"Do you want them to talk with you?"
Babsy shakes her head. "Sometimes someone will ask me something, but then it hurts like right here," She presses her palm to her chest, "and I feel like I don't know how to talk. Sometimes it hurts so bad I start crying, and the other kids make fun of me, and I'm wishing Daddy would save me."
Harley looks at her with sympathy, then she looks at her clipboard and writes something. "Please tell me about your family, besides your father."
"There IS nobody else. It's just Daddy and me," Babsy says with a smile, as though just thinking of Daddy calms her. She has answered this question about family a hundred times. "And nannies, but they come and go. My mother died before I was two, so I can't remember almost anything about her. Daddy was never around back then. It was like he was a stranger who came by sometimes, but I would sneak into his bedroom sometimes and see his pictures of Daddy, my mom and me when I was a baby, so I knew he was someone special. I didn't get that he was my father until I was five. It was like he didn't want me to know... like he was afraid it would be worse for me if he got killed, and it would be better if I just thought he was some nice guy who came around on Christmas and gave me presents. Then, when I turned six, he went trick-or-treating with me, and that's when he told me that I had a Daddy. I was so excited, but I didn't know what having a daddy meant. Other kids talked about their daddies, but my Daddy was different. He was super-nice and fun to be around. But then suddenly he was never around again, and that was really hard. I asked my nannies and the other cops about him, but they got tired of answering my questions. I see him more often, now. Mostly, he comes home while I sleep, but I always make sure I wake up before he does, and I make him breakfast. Then he's gone all day again. Every year I get a new nanny. Some of them don't even speak English. So I go to school and get into trouble all the time and go to detention, and Daddy would punish me when I got home. But he doesn't even do that anymore. He gets weird, like he won't even look at me. He just yells at me, and then he won't talk to me at all. And that's my life."
After that long outburst, Babsy suddenly stops talking. The tears have dried up, and she feels a little dead inside. She doesn't understand why she feels that way. It's like an emptiness, and a feeling of desperation and hopelessness is bubbling to the surface, but she has no more tears to shed.
Harley smiles reassuringly. "That sounds like a tough life. So NOW I understand why you were smoking pot," Harley says like it's a perfectly reasonable thing for a seventh-grader to do.
Babsy laughs thankfully. "I know, right?"
Harley's eyes probe Babsy, looking her up and down, making Babsy feel self-conscious. Then Harley reaches into a drawer under the table and reveals a pretty, glass bong and a small bag of weed. "Would you like to join me?" she asks mischievously.
Babsy stares in shock and mutters. "But Daddy's a policeman."
Harley laughs while packing the bong. "I'm a doctor. This is medicinal. Would you like a prescription?"
Babsy laughs in disbelief, but she's already leaning forward.
Harley lights the weed and takes a deep drag. She moves from the office chair to the ottoman and hands the pipe to Babsy. Their knees are nearly touching.
Babsy glances around nervously, half expecting to see Daddy watching her from the doorway. But when she sees they are alone, she takes the bong and inhales deeply and holds the gaseous elixir inside her lungs without coughing. Then she passes the bong back to Harley.
Harley doesn't take the bong, saying, "That's not how you smoke a bong."
"It's not?" Babsy asks, laughing. "I didn't know there was a trick to it."
Harley smiles reassuringly. "You smoke it like it's a chore to get through. Smoking pot is like a kind of communion. Like a ritual. Now try it again. Hold it to your lips and breathe very slowly."
"Okay," Babsy says, feeling a little silly. She starts to drag on the pipe again.
But Harley holds up her hands in a slow-gesture. "Just take it in. Relax."
While Babsy follows her instructions, Harley looks deeply into Babsy's eyes.
A puff of smoke passes between them, like Babsy is entering a dream.
The doctor has captivating blue eyes, and Babsy can't look away.
"Relax," Harley whispers seductively.
Babsy doesn't react.
"Relax," Harley repeats.
Babsy's eyes are blank.
"Go to sleep..."
* * *
When you are with me, you feel calm.
When you do as I say, nothing can hurt you.
You know that you can trust me, because only I understand your feelings.
Because we are both troublemakers.
We are both embarrassments.
Trouble and shame make our pussies wet.
When our pussies are wet, the rules don't apply to us.
If we aren't hurting anyone, then it doesn't matter what we do.
Breaking rules makes us more excited.
Breaking rules makes us free.
Now, wake up...
* * *
"Hello Babsy," Harley says patiently and then reaches forward, asking, "Can I have a drag, now?"
"What?" Babsy replies sleepily while handing over the pipe.
Something doesn't seem right.
She doesn't feel right.
Then she realizes that she is now sitting on the couch while Harley is sitting on the ottoman. Was this where they were sitting before? She can't remember!
Harley takes a drag while saying, "Now you are getting it. Don't you feel better now?"
Babsy has to think about that for a moment. She feels warmer and tingly. The fear and shame she was feeling all day is gone. Finally, she replies with a laugh. "I feel amazing!"
Harley nods. "See, that's how to smoke pot! Do you smoke with anyone at school?"
Babsy shrugs. "Just Alexis. She gets the stuff from ... uh, someone, and she shares it with me."
Harley nods. "Is Alexis your friend?"
Babsy hesitates. "I guess ... I don't know. We're in the same gymnastics program in school. I'm the smallest girl, of course, and she's the biggest. We practice Judo together, too. I'm better at gymnastics, but she always beats me in judo. She likes to pin me to the ground and ... do things. She says I'm a crybaby. We don't really talk much, but she gets me to do things. I don't know why I keep doing them."
Harley nods patiently when Babsy does not elaborate on "the things". She takes a note on how Babsy is framing this relationship, and she asks with a wink, "Are you into girls?"
Babsy blushes. She can't speak for a long time, but Harley waits with a smile, and Babsy eventually says, "I don't know, but I want to be. I think it might be easier."
"Really? Why is that?" the doctor asks, and her eyes seem to check Babsy out.
Babsy squirms, wanting to avoid the question. "Well, I like boys, and they are cute, but they act so immature around me. They make me feel weird. I feel safer around girls. Except Alexis. I mean ... I don't know what I mean."
"How would you know if you prefer boys or girls?" Harley asks. "What do you think would make the difference?"
Babsy smiles and crosses her legs. "A kiss, I guess. I've never kissed anyone like I was in love. I think that's how I'll know who is right for me."
Harley laughs. "You've watched too many Disney movies, but a kiss is a good start."
Babsy shifts in her seat uneasily.
"Would you like some music, Babsy?" Harley asks.
"Do you have Marina?" she replies, suddenly excited.
"Great choice!" Harley flatters, then calls out, "Alexa, play Marina and the Diamonds."
Babsy jumps when the first notes of "Froot" fill the room from every direction. She smiles as she looks around, trying to find where the speakers are hiding.
The music improves her mood even more than the pot had. Her eyes are half-open, and she sways to the rhythm and sings a couple of verses cheerily.
Harley lets her enjoy it for a moment with a curious smile before noting, "You really like this song."
Babsy nods.
"Does it mean something to you?" Harley presses.
"Well, Daddy bought me the CD a few weeks ago," she says with a laugh. "He still buys CDs! Can you believe it? I don't know why he bought it. It wasn't my birthday or Christmas. But he wrapped it like a present and wrote, 'to my little red gummy bear,' and he gave it to me with a kiss! Then he listened to the whole thing with me on his old stereo and talked about music that he likes."
Harley nods and hands the bong back to Babsy. "You don't get many opportunities to learn about your Daddy, do you?"
Babsy shrugs. "I don't know. I feel like I'm getting to know him better recently, I guess."
"Why is that?"
Babsy takes a big drag on the pipe and holds it for a moment, then she laughs and coughs. "Well, I listen to the police radio at night when Daddy is doing police shit."
"Really?" Harley asks while taking the pipe and putting it aside. She picks up a pen again.
"Yeah," Babsy replies while laying back on the sofa. The weed is taking effect big time, maybe even more than this conversation, making her feel a little dizzy and quite a bit naughty. "Daddy has these special police radios, like super-secure, and he left one at home a long time ago. He thinks he lost it, but I hide it in my room. I hear all the big time police stuff. I mean, most of the time my Daddy is doing boring shit, but sometimes it's like burglars or like super-villains. It is really exciting. Sometimes Daddy gets into trouble, and the Bat-guys come and save him."
"Really?" Harley asks again, suddenly very interested. "That sounds very stressful. Does it make you worry about your father?"
Babsy shakes her and giggles. "Nothing ever happens to Daddy! He's the good guy. He always wins in the end!"
Harley looks at her quizzically. "So ... you are saying that your Daddy is a hero, like the Dynamic Duo. He's always helping people. But do you feel that takes away from him being your father?"
"What do you mean," Babsy asks, suddenly nervous.
"You describe him more like a hero than a father. You rarely see him, except when you feed him in the morning before he disappears again to his job. How does that make you feel when he is away?"
Babsy struggles to reply through the drug which is now flooding her body. "I ... I don't know. I feel like I'm with him if I leave the radio on at night. I can't sleep without the radio."
"Why do you think that is?" Harley asks, trying to get to that deeper truth that Babsy is still hiding.
Babsy looks around like a cornered kitten.
Harley raises an eyebrow. She does that a lot, Babsy thinks.
Then Harley asks a more direct question. "Tell me more about your Daddy. You know, just some simple facts. I've never met the man."
Babsy laughs nervously. "What, are you like into him or something? Shouldn't we be talking about me?"
"We ARE talking about you when we talk about your father. It's how we therapists learn," Harley replies, amused by Babsy's deflection. Then Harley asks patiently, "Do you want to talk about something else?"
Babsy shakes her head and closes her eyes and smiles as an image of Daddy appears in her pot-clouded mind. "Well, he's like over fifty years old. He's like super famous around here, of course. He's a Gemini. His hair is blonde and grey. He has scars all over his arms and chest and body hair everywhere. He was always a policeman. He's brave and always tells the truth. He never does anything bad ... except ... I don't know. But he's Catholic. He believes in God and forgiveness and all that stuff."
Harley jumps in, "Do you believe in God?"
Babsy frowns, knowing that her dad wouldn't approve of her answer. "I don't know. I like, you know, pray sometimes, but nothing ever happens. I guess I'm not surprised because of the stuff I pray for. I tried to read the Bible last Christmas, but I couldn't even get past that first chapter. It is so silly. I mean, don't you think Adam and Eve is a stupid story?"
Harley smiles. "No, actually I think the Garden of Eden is a brilliant allegory. I really shouldn't talk about religion here. It's a big no-no, in my profession, but the story Adam and Eve and the serpent is my favorite creation myth, and everyone gets the moral all wrong."
Babsy sits up, realizing that Harley is breaking some kind of rule, and it excites her. "What do you mean? Uncle Harvey says those stories are just fables, like Santa Clause and the Easter bunny."
Harley thinks for a moment, then she asks, "What do YOU think the story is about? What is its moral?"
"I don't know," Babsy says, rolling her eyes, embarrassed to take the subject seriously. "It's about God making people out of dirt, right? Then he tells the boy and the girl 'don't do this,' and they're like stupid because they do it, anyway, so he punishes them."
"What did God order them not to do?" Harley prompts.
"Eat an apple or something," Babsy replies with a mocking laugh, finding it hard to believe someone as cool as Harley would take this shit seriously.
Harley nods. "Not just any apple, but the fruit that gives knowledge of good and evil."
Babsy stares at Harley while straining her handicapped mind to remember what happened in the Garden of Eden.
Harley continues. "Everyone takes that story on face value, but God put that beautiful tree in the middle of the garden for a reason. Adam and Eve had this comfortable, easy life, living like children, and they could live that way forever if they just never learned about good and evil. If they wanted to remain children, God would protect them and give them what they needed. But being a child is never as easy or fun as adults pretend it is, right? God was saying that if they ate the forbidden fruit, they would grow up. They could decide what was good and evil for themselves. Life wouldn't be as easy. It would be more painful and chaotic, but they would be living life on their terms, with self-respect, and that would make all the difference. So Adam and Eve had to choose between an easy life or an adventurous life with all of the pitfalls that go with it. So, you see, God wasn't punishing them by pushing them from the Garden. He was letting them grow up. He was pushing them from the nest so they would learn to fly and discover the world for themselves."
Babsy stares at Harley in awe and a little fear. "Wow! That's ... interesting."
Harley smiles. "Read it again sometime, and ask yourself: which fruit would you eat?"
Babsy laughs, though she's not sure why. Maybe just because she's now totally stoned.
"Please don't tell anyone I told you this story," Harley says with a naughty sounding whisper. "I could get in trouble if anyone knew I talked about the Bible during therapy."
"Oh, of course," Babsy says solemnly, suddenly feeling like Harley's equal, now that they are sharing secrets. "I won't tell anyone."
"Thanks. I trust you," Harley says gratefully, seeming embarrassed, and then she leans forward and whispers. "OK, Babsy, now tell me something that nobody knows about you. Something you don't want anyone to know."
Babsy swallows and her heart races. "Can I do a dare, instead?"
Harley laughs. "Maybe later, Babsy."
She grabs the bong and takes a deep drag, trying to calm down. How did she get suckered into playing this game? She struggles to find a small truth that Harley might accept -- something that won't be too scary to reveal.
But the pot is loosening her up quickly, and Harley looks at her so playfully that soon nothing seems all that scary. Finally, she gives up the big secret that she can't get out of her mind because it's staring her right in the face -- quite literally.
"Ok..." Babsy begins. She points at the hidden camera under Harley's phone and says, "Well, Daddy has a security system like the one you have here."
Harley is startled, but quickly she smiles again and presses, "Is that a secret?"
"I guess so," Babsy says, looking away and feeling a little embarrassed. "But the real secret is how I found out."
Harley leans forward in a very unprofessional way, making Babsy feel excited to tell her story.
"OK, the thing is," Babsy continues, "my nannies aren't around as much anymore, so I spend a lot of time home alone, and a few months ago, I was getting frustrated with my computer and phone because they're loaded with crap like Net-Nanny. So I can't visit fun sites, like those Alexis showed me on her iPad, and I can't even research stuff for my homework.
"So one day I snuck into Daddy's bedroom and checked out his Mac computer. It's old but really nice. Yeah, his computer has a password, but Daddy's not very smart about these things, and he thought it would be a good idea to use 'Batman' as a password. It was the same password he uses for Netflix, and I figured that out a long time ago.
"When I finally got in, I was just going to play some games or, you know, look at some porn," she giggles like it's a joke, but Harley's eyes are intensely curious, so Babsy continues. "But I guess I really just wanted to look around. I mean, I was in Daddy's computer, right? -- and I wanted to see what he kept there.
"At first I didn't find anything fun at all. Just lots of police stuff, so I almost gave up looking, before I found a folder called 'boring stuff.' I don't know why, but I was curious. I mean, everything else looked boring, so this would be super-boring, right?
"Wrong! Daddy had like a hundred pics in there of naked women. Not very good pictures. They looked like they were taken with an old phone, and there were only a few women posing for the pictures, and they all kind of looked like your age and size, but they had red hair.
"The thing is that all of the photos looked kind of like my mom -- if she wasn't wearing any clothes. That's really creepy, right? I never thought that Daddy looked at porn. Why would he?" she asks, suddenly upset. "I know that sounds stupid, but he never talks about women or dating or anything like that."
"It must have been very disturbing finding those photos," Harley states the obvious after listening intently. "What did you do?"
Babsy feels embarrassed. "I copied all of the photos onto my phone. I don't know why, because it felt really wrong doing it, and I never wanted to see them again. The photos aren't artsy. They are just naked women posing with a smile and looking sexy. They aren't doing anything wild. They are just showing off their butts and boobs, and, oh, I don't know. But I knew Daddy saw something in them. These pictures made me feel like I didn't know Daddy at all, and that if I could learn why he kept them, I could understand him a little better. Is that wrong?"
"Of course not!" Harley reassures enthusiastically. "What did you learn?"
Babsy blushes, but Harley's excitement is making this embarrassing story fun. She continues, "Well, I was thinking, everyone says I kind of look like my mom, and these pics look like my mom, too. So ... I started taking selfies in the bathroom, trying to look like those women."
"Naked?" Harley asks with a smile.
Babsy rolls her eyes, feeling both embarrassed and aroused. "Yeah, like completely naked. I learned how to take delayed photos, and I tried to pose just like those pictures in Daddy's computer. I even tried wearing the same makeup. I thought I looked kind of cute in one shot, so I sent it to Alexis, to see what she thought. Then we started sending photos back and forth, you know, like a game. That's what got me in trouble, and I guess that's why I'm here."
"Do you have those photos now?" Harley asks while writing something on her notepad.
"Yeah, my school principal deleted them from our phones, but it's still on my cloud drive. Adults forget those are a thing," she says with a laugh.
"Lots of adults can't seem to keep up with the times," Harley agrees, then whispers a dare, "Can I see, Babsy?"
Babsy takes out her phone, finds the folder, and passes the phone to Harley, almost without thinking.
Only after the phone changes hands does Babsy worry about what she is doing.
Babsy hides her growing anxiety while Harley looks at a photo carefully, zooming in. Then Harley swipes the screen to look at other photos in the folder. Now Babsy presses her fingernails into her palm and shifts uneasily in her chair. She wasn't expecting Harley to look through her whole photo library! Then Babsy's remembers that she also stored a ten second video of herself masturbating, and she begins to panic!
"Oh my!" Harley says, surprised. Then she presses a button to watch the video again!
Babsy clenches her fists in terror and shame. What was she thinking? She is wet between her legs, and she wants to die!
But Harley hands the phone back to Babsy, smiling. "You are a beautiful girl, and quite passionate."
Babsy laughs while tears flow from her eyes. "Oh my God! I can't believe I showed those to you!"
"No really," Harley insists. "Polite society frowns on such images, pretending that they want nothing to do with it, but it's all a huge lie. The world would be a terrible place without passion and beauty."
"You think so?" Babsy says, wiping away her tears. "Thanks. I mean I know I'm not beautiful. I barely have any boobs. I mean, what was I thinking? I'm just a kid! I'm not hot like those girls on the computer. Maybe someday."
"Maybe someday is today," Harley says boldly. "Many people prefer petite and young, and you know that Alexis thinks you are hot, or you wouldn't be sexting her images like those."
Babsy smiles shyly, looking away. She can't quite believe that Harley would approve of all of this. "So ... you don't think I went too far taking these pictures?"
Harley stares at Babsy with knowing eyes. "Oh please! These are nice, but you must know what other girls share on the web these days! The authorities can't even keep up anymore! You are hardly breaking new ground, and you haven't even shaved! You'll have to try harder if you want to impress me!"
Babsy laughs, amazed that Harley isn't shocked, so gets back to her story about Daddy's computer, thinking maybe that might impress her.
"Well, these pictures aren't even the craziest thing, because a couple of days later I went back on his computer, wondering if I had missed anything the first time, and that's when I found a folder called 'Daily surveillance.' It is filled with videos with weird names, like 'adapter A' followed by a bunch of numbers. Anyway, I clicked on one of those videos, and it started playing. At first, I thought it was just a stupid picture of the inside of my kitchen because nothing was moving, until I saw myself walking right into the picture! That's how I found out that he had cameras hidden in the house!"
"Oh my God!" Harley gasps, sounding more excited than upset.
That's the reaction Babsy wants, so she smiles and eagerly shares her adventure.
"Well, I found the cameras in the kitchen and living room. They are just like that one you have there. That is a camera, right? And he never even asked if he could record me! Anyway, I thought it would be fun to move the cameras around, pretending like I didn't know what they were. I'd move it to another socket and charge my phone while it recorded me washing the dishes. Then I brought it in the bathroom and had it record me brushing my teeth. Every time I moved the cameras, the next morning I'd find the cameras moved back to where they started. Finally, I moved one of them into my bedroom, and he left it alone because then he'd have to wake me up to get it," Babsy finished with a laugh, feeling like she won a battle with Daddy. "I don't think he wants me to know they exist."
Harley touches her chin with her pen and says, "So I guess he really looks at those videos, or he wouldn't know you moved them."
"I didn't think of that," Babsy lies. "That's kind of weird, right?"
Harley smiles. "I like weird, and if you want to have a little fun with him, that's okay, too. He started it. But the game will get boring unless you do a whole lot more than brushing your teeth."
"Like what?" Babsy asks, feeling validated and excited by the chance to play a prank.
Harley smiles a little wickedly. "What do you want to do?"
Babsy shrugs. She's not ready for this question.
Harley waits a moment, clearly having something outrageous in mind, but then she says. "You'll think of something."
Babsy smiles and blushes and bites her lip nervously. She feels like Harley is giving her a dare, but without spelling it out.
"Oh, I know," Harley finally says. She unplugs her hidden camera and hands it to Babsy. "What's good for the goose is good for the gander."
"What?" Babsy asks with a laugh.
"It's a really old saying," Harley explains. "It means if he can do it, so can you. Just link this to your Wi-Fi at home, and you can spy on him, too!"
But then Babsy feels bad, as the angel on her shoulder finally attacks her conscience. "Isn't that kind of ... immature, though?"
Harley seems disappointed, but then she quickly asks like a therapist again. "What do you mean? You don't think adults play games?"
"I never play pranks on Daddy, because that's not the kind of thing he likes," Babsy says, but she puts the camera in her purse, anyway. She is excited by the possibility that she is wrong.
Harley feeds her excitement. "What kinds of things does he like? What makes your Daddy happy?"
Babsy thinks for a moment then smiles. "I followed him up to the roof of the police station once, because I wanted to get a look at the Batman. They meet up there sometimes. Nobody saw me, but I could see them. Batman was like amazing. The wind was blowing his cape around, and it looked like shadows flapping around. Everything was pitch black, except for that Bat thing on his chest and the little sliver of skin I could see on his face. I thought he looked awesome, but then I saw the big smile on Daddy's face. And Batman was smiling, too. It was like they were the same, two heroes, and nobody else could understand them. I never saw Daddy happy like that before, and all I wanted was to be like Batman!"
Harley stares at Babsy for a moment, then says, "You are very proud of your Daddy."
Babsy face is suddenly somber and confused. "Yeah."
"And your Daddy loves you," Harley adds, "or else he wouldn't be monitoring you so closely."
Babsy nods, not sure how to react.
"And your Daddy wants to you have fun, or he wouldn't have bought you that CD, or took you trick-or-treating, or told me on the phone that he wanted to see you smiling again," Harley reveals.
Babsy's eyes open wide. "He said what?"
Harley hesitates. "Don't tell him I told you, because it's not really my place to say, but he told me he never sees you smile anymore or have any fun, and he was worried that it was his fault."
Babsy shivers, trying to digest those words, and she doesn't realize that tears are welling in her eyes again. She is confused, and she blames her frustration on the marijuana. She stammers, "He ... I don't understand ... I thought I was the reason that he never smiles anymore."
Harley nods. "I've seen you smiling a lot today, and I'm sure he smiles, too, but you both seem afraid to smile when you are together. It's like you are afraid to show your feelings to each other or tell each other what you want. It's pretty silly, don't you think?"
"Yeah," Babsy laughs awkwardly. She wipes her tears and asks. "What is with me?"
"I just told you! You and your Daddy are burying your feelings deep inside. What are you afraid of?"
Babsy shakes her head, not wanting to answer, then she blurts out everything except what really frightens her. "I guess I'm afraid I'll never get bigger. I'm smaller than anyone in my class. I've always been small. I feel like there is something wrong with me. I mean, I had my first period almost three months ago, and then another two weeks ago. Shouldn't they come every month?"
"Eventually," Harley replies thoughtfully. "Menstruation isn't so regular at first, but if your body is really what is worrying you, I think I can put your mind at ease right now."
"Really?" Babsy asks. "How?"
Harley touches her pen to her lips, acting disinterested. She says, "When is the last time you had a physical exam by a doctor?"
Babsy thinks for a moment. "January, I think."
Harley nods. "That was long before your first period. You are going through changes, and now may be time for another physical."
Babsy looks down. "But I only get physicals once a year."
Harley smiles. "Not necessarily. I'm a medical doctor, you know. I can do it right now."
Babsy looks surprised. "Really?"
Harley nods and stands up. She gestures for Babsy to do the same. "Yes. I don't have any medical equipment here, but I can do the essentials. So just get undressed, and we'll get started."
Babsy doesn't move or react. She is paralyzed.
"Don't worry," Harley says. "I do this all the time. Besides, I've already seen what you look like naked, so what's the big deal? But feel free to undress in the bathroom if you'd feel more comfortable and then come out when you are ready."
Babsy looks down shyly for a moment, acting squeamish, but the blush on her face spreads over her entire body. As soon as she takes her clothes off, the lie will be exposed. The proof of her feelings will be embarrassing and disrespectful. But Daddy told her to do whatever her doctor asked, and she can't think clearly with the marijuana in her head. So she belies her shame with a smile and unbuttons her shirt.
Harley politely pretends to check her phone for messages while Babsy undresses, but Babsy catches her stealing several glances.
Babsy's heart races. Harley is lying, too!
Babsy tosses her shirt at Harley playfully, surprising her doctor and herself, but since Harley laughs with a big smile on her face, Babsy tosses her skirt and socks at her, too.
The fog of the drug lifts for a moment, while Babsy teases before removing her underwear. Does Harley really want for her to remove everything?
Then she remembers what crime led Babsy into Harley's office in the first place: smoking pot and being a slut. Now she's doing it again. She hasn't learned anything!
She fumbles with her training bra, hesitating while looking to Harley for a reaction.
"Here, let me help you," Harley offers and approaches, standing so close that the girl can feel the warmth of Harley's body and can breathe in the gentle scent of her perfume. Harley is not a tall woman, yet she towers over Babsy, making Babsy feel even more childlike. "Lift your arms, please."
Babsy obeys and looks away. She is humiliated and aroused, while Harley lifts the undergarment over her head.
Harley ogles and licks her lips as Babsy's little breasts bounce back into place!
Babsy doubts her eyes, but she is burning up in suspense!
Then she thanks God that she had showered before coming here, or the shame would be too much to bear. She doubts for a moment whether Harley ever intended to perform an appropriate physical exam.
But then Harley grabs her cell phone and turns on the flashlight. She holds the light up to Babsy's face and asks, "Please open your mouth."
Babsy looks up and snaps back into her role as patient. She robotically obeys.
Harley aims the light into the girl's mouth and presses on her tongue with two fingers. "Say ahhhh."
Babsy giggles.
Harley keeps a straight face. "This is serious."
Really? Babsy is suddenly unsure.
"Ahhh," Babsy moans her response. Her knees are shaking. Harley's fingers don't feel or taste like a tongue depressor. She wants to close her mouth and suck on Harley's fingers, but she resists.
"Looks good," Harley says flatly while withdrawing her wet fingers from Babsy's mouth. "Stand on the ottoman so I can get a better look at you."
"Oh God!" Babsy whispers, but she doesn't question Harley's command. Babsy takes a deep breath, takes Harley's hand for support, and suddenly she's almost feet tall!
Harley's fingers slip under the sides of Babsy's panties, and Babsy feels a cool trail of her own saliva dragging down her thigh, as her panties are dragged to the base of the ottoman.
Babsy raises each foot, allowing Harley to take the last shred of her decency away.
Now she is completely naked.
"Raise your arms," Harley commands.
Babsy doesn't hesitate.
Harley gently touches the fine hair under Babsy's arms, tickling her in the process. Then the doctor pinches the skin gently, as though testing for something.
"You should start shaving here and between your legs," Harley says in a detached tone and with serious eyes. "Recent studies have shown that pockets of body hair are bacterial traps, not to mention unstylish."
"Okay," Babsy moans quietly, afraid that Harley is losing interest.
But then she can see Harley's eyes more clearly. She is not looking at her like a doctor should.
"Turn around," Harley instructs.
Babsy obeys, keeping her arms in the air, and she tries to not laugh nervously when nothing happens behind her for several seconds, and she wonders what Harley is doing.
Then Babsy feels hands caressing her ass and waist, stroking and petting and pinching mercilessly, and her doctor finally says approvingly, "You are very thin, but not too thin. You have fat growing in all of the right places."
"Thanks," Babsy mutters, then winces in embarrassment at what she's thanking Harley for.
But when Harley's hands reach around Babsy's body and cup both of her breasts, she stumbles backwards into Harley, surprised and gasping, but she doesn't fight or resist. Harley tickles the girl's plump nipples while she alternates between examining and petting her budding tits. Harley gently blows in Babsy's ear, sending shivers throughout Babsy's body, but when she finally dares to question the authenticity of her doctor's examination, at least in her mind, Harley steps away and picks up her notebook.
"No lumps," she declares. "Both of your breasts are growing normally."
Babsy stumbles unsteadily. She is torn between trusting everything Harley says, and calling her a fucking liar, but Babsy is so wet now that she can't speak at all.
Harley smiles wickedly as she walks back in front of Babsy and kneels in front of the girl again, so now her eyes are staring at Babsy's chest, and Babsy is sure her doctor is going to put her mouth around a nipple and begin sucking.
And, God help her, that is exactly what Babsy wants her doctor to do.
But Harley just stares at Babsy's tiny breasts, then her navel, and then her thighs. She nods and says clinically, "You don't have anything to worry about, Babsy. You are developing beautifully."
All at once, Babsy sighs in relief, confusion and frustration, wondering if Harley is serious or just a total tease. She really wishes she hadn't smoked that pot, now, because she feels like a fucking idiot!
Harley finally looks at Babsy's pussy, and Babsy braces for whatever Harley will say or do next. And if Babsy is reading this all wrong, and Harley is just being an attentive doctor, how the hell is Babsy going to explain how fucking wet she is now?
Harley is about to find out, if she can't see Babsy's excitement already. Her hands are sliding up Babsy's thighs.
Babsy moves her feet several inches apart, and she rests her hands on Harley's head.
Harley moves closer.
Much closer!
Harley licks her red lips while her fingers probe the pink lips of Babsy's pussy!
Babsy's excitement trickles over Harley's fingers.
"Oh my!" Harley murmurs as she slides her wet fingers into her mouth, giving up the lie. She smiles up at Babsy. "I need a closer look."
Closer? Babsy can't take the teasing anymore! She surrenders!
She buries her fingers in Harley's hair and closes her eyes.
Suddenly, Harley's phone vibrates on the hard-wood floor, breaking the silence as completely as if it were ringing!
Harley looks at the phone to see who is calling and says, "Fuck! Sorry, I forgot the time. Your ride is here."
"Oh God!" Babsy cries out in disbelief and frustration. She looks at the window behind Harley and sees a police car barely obscured by the lace curtain. She covers herself with her hands, as the situation hits her all at once, like getting into a car accident. She feels paralyzed, bracing for impact. She never expected to get into trouble here.
She never expected that she'd want to be in trouble!
Harley's professional demeanor is shattered, as she hurriedly hands Babsy her clothes and repeats, "Well, Babsy, I don't see anything wrong with you at all. You are a healthy, beautiful, twelve-year-old girl."
Babsy fumbles with her clothes, feeling unbalanced and like everything Harley just said was a lie, which she tries to prove by muttering, "I'm still eleven."
"Excuse me?" Harley asks while she helps Babsy put on her bra.
"My birthday isn't until Sunday," Babsy reminds her doctor, while she slips into her skirt. She feels stupid for bringing up her birthday right now, but it's easier than considering what just happened.
Harley smiles. "Oh, that's wonderful! Then we'll have to do something extra special really soon!"
"Really?" Babsy asks, hopeful and excited again. She had felt like she was in a different world a few moments ago, where none of her fears felt real. She wants to go back there.
She is still just half dressed, and she wonders why she is in such a hurry to leave. The police car outside can wait. "Can I stay a little longer?"
Suddenly, the police cruiser outside honks its horn, giving Babsy her answer.
"I would like that," Harley replies regretfully, "but I don't think your ride would feel the same way." Harley picks up her pad of paper and says, "I want to see you again as soon as possible. We've got so much more to talk about, but I don't have sessions over the weekend. I'll call your father about scheduling our next sessions."
Babsy swallows. The last half-hour was a rollercoaster, but now it feels like Harley is kicking her off the ride, and she doesn't want to go.
Harley surprises the upset girl by reaching out for a hug.
Babsy disappears into her arms and melts.
Then Harley whispers, "Listen, I'm chaperoning a Halloween party tomorrow afternoon for the children of Arkham patients. I'd love it if I could take you with me. We can celebrate your birthday, too. There will be plenty of kids your age."
"Really?" Babsy asks, suddenly hopeful again.
"Absolutely. Tell your Daddy I think it will be good for you, and it will be fun. I don't do this with all of my patients, but I feel like we are making a connection," Harley says, sounding very unprofessional, then she adds: "But I have some homework for you to do. Nothing hard. I want you to have some fun. Stop second-guessing yourself. It's time to grow up. Be beautiful. Reach out, and don't think. Eat the apple. Because there is nothing wrong with you."
Babsy looks at her doubtfully. "Are you sure?"
Harley smiles gently. "You are going through a lot of changes right now. Hormones really mess with a girl's feelings at your age, so reality isn't always what it appears to be. But your feelings are natural and a part of growing. You should go with them, because you are better off making a mistake by following your feelings, than regretting never even trying," she says while guiding Babsy through her office and waiting area and onto the porch.
Babsy quickly turns and hugs Harley tightly again. Then, with a tearful smile, she waves back as she skips to Harvey's cruiser and hops into the backseat.
Only then does she realize she left her panties in Harley's office
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Harley's Joke