Kid Gloves

BY : DelilahRose
Category: DC Verse Cartoons > Batman: The Animated Series
Dragon prints: 2993
Disclaimer: I do not own Batman. I recieve no profit from this piece of fiction.

Dr. Harleen Quinzel pulled into parking space 339 at the old, brick apartment building she called home. With tired fingers she turned the key in the ignition to off and sat, letting the darkness of the vehicle enclose around her for a moment. It had been a long day, she thought while slowly reaching up to touch the tender, purple bruises at her throat. Her fingers ghosted over the swollen flesh and she inhaled sharply as the raw nerve endings exploded under her touch. She hadn’t expected it to hurt so much.

Of course they had wanted her to go to the emergency room but Harleen had refused adamantly, once she had caught her breath and the room around her came back into focus that was. It had taken six security guards to pull him off of her and the first thing that focused clearly into her line of vision had been those black eyes and leering grin. Even with out the make up he had a certain wickedness about his features. She vaguely heard acid tipped words fall from his tongue while she was being escorted to a waiting room, “Just a joke fellas…it was just a joke.” Obviously from the observation screens it hadn’t looked like a joke to the guards. Although it had taken them a few precious moments to notice what was going on.

It had taken the good Doctor nearly half an hour to convince them that she was in good enough condition to drive home. She wanted to be alone now; not confined to some sterile room being poked and prodded at by some intern with an inferiority complex. Besides she didn’t want it getting out to the papers either. The fact that her one and only patient had tried to asphyxiate her wouldn’t look good in his rehabilitation plea scheduled for the end of the year. Perhaps she could get a hold of that security video and say it had come up missing should someone want to use it against her patient?

That was the one thing Harleen hadn’t quite figured out yet, just why she wanted to help this man so bad. Was it blind faith in humanity that lead her to believe that someone as twisted as The Joker could perhaps be a productive part of society again? That wasn’t quite right; it was something deeper and more visceral. It was something that when the young doctor tried to focus on became almost blurry with confused emotion. The truth was she didn’t really know and some where deep down she doubted her own motivation. Yet, somewhere even deeper she had a gut feeling that if she didn’t at least try no one would and that might as well have been a death sentence to whom the papers were now referring to as ‘The Clown Prince of Crime’.

With that thought Harleen finally got out of the car and walked into her building pushing in the code with one finger, the tip painted a shiny red. She was glad for the fact that it was late in the evening and no one was really out and about. Most everyone in the complex knew who she was by this point as The Joker had been incarcerated at Arkham for nearly a month now and it had hit the papers only two days after his capture that he would be being treated by promising up and coming Dr. Harleen Quinzel. At first the attention had flattered her; stroked her ever budding ego but after a week or so it just became tiresome and now she found herself coming home later and later just to avoid the crowds of reporters and flashing cameras. At least that’s what she told herself anyway. It had nothing to do with the fact that she felt her self looked a mess after treating the insane and dealing with Director Arkham all day.

Swinging the door open into her small apartment the young doctor flipped on a light dropping her grey suit jacket on a chair and tossing her large bag to the table near by. Her body was tired and sore but her mind was so keyed up she was not even sure if she would sleep tonight. The Director had told her to take the next day off but she knew she’d be in bright and early the next morning regardless of whether her head hit a pillow tonight or not.

The blonde walked to the table unclasping the clip that held her hair neatly in place. With a soft swish it swept past those bruises again only this time sending a small shiver up her spine; she tried to shrug it off and began digging through her bag for the file of paper work on her patient. It wouldn’t hurt to go over some of his test scores and it would mean less paper work in that dreary office of hers tomorrow. More hands on time with her patient to help in his rehabilitation. Plus it would hopefully keep her mind off a few other things that had been quietly nagging at her brain almost since she’d started this assignment.

Suddenly her fingers brushed by something incredibly soft in the bottom of her bag and she quickly withdrew her hand with a gasp. For a moment she thought it might be an animal; perhaps a mouse or some other furry creature that had crawled in seeking shelter from the cold concrete floors of the asylum. Curiously Harleen peered over the edge of her bag expecting to see beady black eyes and twitching whiskers. If only she had a rolled up news paper to defend herself with. To her surprise however there was nothing; no movement at all just the dark depths of her leather bag opened before her like a great, hungry maw. With immense care she reached down into the bag again, her slim fingers gripping around that soft little bundle at the bottom. At least it didn’t squeak whatever it was. What she pulled out of that bag though was anything but a rodent. In Harleen’s delicate palm she held two deeply purple colored gloves, the leather soft and supple against her fingers.

It took the doctor a moment to put two and two together but when she finally did the gloves slid from her fingers onto the wooden table top. Blue eyes stared down at the finely made garments as they started to stretch and unwrinkle as though they were alive. “But…how?” Harleen’s voice was small and childish, her breath catching in the heart of her bosom making that fluttering creature feel as though it would stop at any moment. Someone must be playing a trick on her; she concluded trying desperately to calm herself. That was the only way that those things…no His gloves could have gotten into her possession. It had to be one of the other interns. After that little incident today had spread through the asylum like wildfire. Whoever it was probably thought they were being funny.

Harleen remembered when the police had shipped over The Joker’s personal belongings. The officer who had delivered them was making some comment about how they didn’t have room for some silly clown costume down at GPD headquarters. They had however kept all of the random blades found on The Joker during the search. After reading the papers Harleen had remembered wondering with a wry smile if they had kept the lint as well.

Dr. Quinzel reached for the gloves slowly. If anyone found out that she had them it could be disastrous for her new career. The personal effects of patients were not supposed to be tampered with unless the police needed to see them. There was a lump in her throat as her fingers closed around the soft leather again. No need to worry, she would just slip them back tomorrow evening after most of the staff had gone home. It shouldn’t take her long to find the box with The Joker’s possessions in it. For some reason though Harleen could not put those gloves back down into her bag and though she tried to ignore the red flags going off in her mind her fingers slowly began to work that soft leather back and forth.

They were well worn but not to the point of looking dingy or old and she guessed they were probably hand made. Absently the doctor reached up to the bruises at her throat again and swallowed hard. His hands, those strong hands around her throat squeezing just to the point she thought he might break her neck; it sent another more powerful shiver down her spine. These were his gloves, The Joker; Clown Prince of Crime and suddenly she began to imagine what it might have felt like had his hands actually been incased in the velvety leather. Harleen felt her nipples peak under the padding of her bra and realized with a quiet horror that she was terribly aroused.
“No.” She breathed out. It was wrong, all of her training came crashing back into her mind screaming at her, warning her she was about to tumble into a very deep, dark chasm. You never got involved with your patients; it was the cardinal rule. She smiled for a moment; of course Harleen had never been one to always follow the rules. You weren’t supposed to sleep with your professors either but that had never stopped her. “Screw the rules.”

White teeth bit into a plump, red bottom lip as her fingers began as though on their own to slip into the confines of the right glove. A girlish giggle sprang past Harleen’s lips and suddenly the voice of rational was completely gone. It was too late; she was that horny little sixteen year old again eyeing the teacher in her homeroom class. Only this time the feeling was raw and perfectly uninhibited. She felt herself crack and it was so sudden there was no way of catching herself. Her decision was made.

The glove was warm inside as though only moments before it had previously been on its owners hand. That thought alone thrilled Harleen and as she brought the glove up to her cheek a contented sigh escaped her lips. She drug her index finger over her ruby red lips, smearing the lipstick up and along her jaw. A pleasurable tingle raced over her skin sending goose bumps all up and down her arms. It was as though every brush of the fabric from her clothes were like a whispered caress. The left glove clutched in her other hand the blonde slowly began to unbutton her shirt while the right made its way down to lightly brush over the swollen flesh of her throat. She could feel herself getting wet through the thin material of her panties. Oh how delicious the sensation of that warm leather on her skin. Her mind was positively racing now with thoughts of The Joker toying with her.

With a gasp she felt her legs begin to shake as she slowly pushed the material of her blouse off one shoulder. Her skin was pale; soft and creamy but flushed now with a tinge of pink. Harleen closed her eyes picturing The Joker’s face just inches from her own whispering venomous but lewd words into the delicate shell of her ear. Gripping her arm tight and leaving more signature purple bruises. All the while that leather glove slipping down her exposed skin to rest for a moment in the cradle of her breasts. The blonde supported herself with her left hand on the table in front of her the vivid fantasy almost sending her to her knees. How exquisite his touch would feel and his hot breath against her throat, “Oh,” Harleen breathed out feeling a tense throbbing building up in her belly.

Was she really going to loose herself to pure imagination? One last time a bit of her old self came back, testing her with questions, trying to push away that steamy fantasy with a shred of reason. “No!” Harleen cried out pushing the no nonsense doctor she had become far away into the dark corners of her psyche. She wanted to fall and was tired of being this responsible, pent up woman. Harleen threw back her head, golden blonde hair trailing down her smooth back letting that gloved hand tease across her flesh. Her blue eyes shut tight to the world her thoughts now returned once again to lust. It wasn’t long before Harleen finally took that dive her whole body seeming to explode with the shuddering pleasure of her orgasm.

It was the best she had ever had and all she did was run his glove over her skin a few times. Harleen shivered a little as she sat on the floor still clutching the left glove in her had. Slowly she slipped off the right and held both of them to her chest breathing in deeply and letting the waves of pleasure ebb out of her body. She giggled slightly feeling a little ashamed of herself and yet some how more liberated than she had been since the beginning of her college days. A little reluctantly she pulled herself up from the floor and began adjusting her shirt running a hand over her hair to smooth it. She would have to get those gloves back sooner or later, although honestly thinking about it she doubted anyone would notice their absence for a little while longer.



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