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Batgirl's Uptown Affairs, Part 2	By : AdultBat Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 7400 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any of the characters in this story. 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.

Chapter List
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            Commissioner Gordon slouched deep into the leather of the chair at his desk. Staring vacuously and feeling chronically fatigued he suddenly realized how spacious and lonely his office was. He harbored a numbing detachment as he questioned his suitability to remain leader of the nation’s largest police force. After countless years of upstanding civil service and a pledge of faithfulness to his deceased wife in the past year he tossed both aside for moments of pleasure with two of the most devious criminals in Gotham City’s history. Sure, his seduction by Catwoman was a costumed ruse but he could not deny that it was precipitated by a forceful lust after a woman young enough to be his daughter. It simply was not the behavior that the City had come to expect from him and his force or from the standards he held himself to.
           For a man with the fitness of someone ten years his junior he felt old and tired. Maybe, he thought, it was time to retire. His daughter, Barbara, had been suggesting it with subtle hints and outright pleas ever since she won the lottery. He had resisted her proposals not because it wasn’t right to have a man be supported by his daughter – no, he was secure enough in himself to have no qualms about that – rather, police work was his life and his refuge from the sorrows over his slain wife. Without it, he would be aimless and self-pitying. Now, sitting here he was not sure it was the compass and haven he needed.

           On a different floor in a much smaller office, Chief O’Hara stewed. He was losing control of his men. Morale was waning and his men were not performing the quality work needed to do their jobs effectively. Part of the reason was questionable recruiting and undeserved promotions but another explanation was prominent stature of Batman and Batgirl. It seemed they received all the credit for high profile cases and his force was left with table scraps of attention. In fact, the most consistent publicity his people received was when something went wrong.
            The amount of criminals Batman and Batgirl sent to prison was statistically insignificant to that of his force. However, it did not matter. The public liked the Caped Crusaders and looked upon his men as bumbling boobs. He wanted to give his men (and yes, women) something more to jump-start their drive. He wasn’t sure yet what it should be but he was confident that if he were to retrace the cycles of crime fighting in his 35-year career, it would come to him.
            Batgirl was feeling better than she had for quite some time. As she vaulted across the rooftops of Harlaam in Gotham City she delighted in her skills and in her confidence that she could be an independent crime fighter. It had been weeks since she had spoken to either of the personas harbored in Wayne manner. Even though she knew she could not avoid Bruce or Batman forever she was aware of a feeling of liberation, not mourning. The only blight on her mood was in her personal life. As it turned out, the day she left Bruce was also the day that Lawrence Pierce left her. Since his departure he had not returned any of her calls and seemed to be in a permanent state of in-communicado. He had been known to be a recluse before his emergence into her life that night at the beach and apparently he returned to that life. Despite the strong feelings she quickly developed for him, his disappearance affected her more with a mood of unresolved emotions than in loss.
            Batgirl’s time for reflection was interrupted as she heard the sound of a posse of skateboarders skim over the sidewalks and echo between the buildings. She followed them (all boys) with a concerned eye, wondering how parents, in good conscience, could let their kids out of the house that late. Trouble was the only thing that they would find at that hour.
They all wore the uniform of the latest fashions that promised individuality but delivered conformity. Growing up is so difficult, she thought. Suddenly, from behind a stoop, an adult figure appeared in front of their path prompting a variety of expert and balletic stops of their wheels. From her vantage point Batgirl could see that the man and the leader of the troupe were exchanging words - thankfully with peaceful intent. Then she saw each reach into their pockets and each pull something out to exchange. Batgirl’s temperature began to rise as the thought of selling drugs to kids ranked in her mind as one of the crimes deserving of the most serious punishments. Instinctively, her hand reached for her utility belt and launched a cable to the street. Before they could place their transacted goods back in their pockets Batgirl had descended to the scene.
“Everybody, freeze,” Batgirl commanded almost like an introduction. Before the boy or the man could react to her presence she had a firm grasp on each of their wrists. Then with the deep blue gaze that could act like a surgical laser when she was filled with fury, she barked at the man as she tightened her grip on the thicker wrist, “As if peddling dope was not wicked enough,” and glancing at the boy, “but to be pushing it on these impressionable kids,” shifting back, “I am going to personally recommend you go away for a long…” Batgirl’s diatribe abruptly faded. Something was wrong with this scene. She looked down at the man’s hand she was restraining. It was holding a bag. She swung her head to inspect the other hand of the boy. It was holding cash. She looked back at the man and his face was emaciated and vacant. The boy’s was crammed with attitude. It dawned on her – the adult wasn’t the pusher, he was the customer which meant that the boys were the ones she should – Crack!
Batgirl heard the sound of the skateboard as it hit her in the back of the head before she felt it. She did not hear the second whack, but saw a flash of bright light as she collapsed to the ground. Flat on the pavement she tried to curl into a protective position, as she knew her profound daze would not allow her any more of a defense. The boys wasted no time in kicking her as they screamed “skank bitch” and other expletives and stomping on her with moves learned from years of watching professional wrestling. As the nausea of unconsciousness crept into Batgirl’s cognizance, she felt her body being rolled onto her stomach and small hands groping for the waistband of her tights. The last thought she could process before she slipped into darkness was the cool night air on her bare behind.

Batman decided to take a holiday from Gotham City. His taste for the familiar streets was stale and he needed time away but not time off. It would also serve as a distraction for his bruised psyche. From the beginning he knew his relationship with Barbara would probably not last. Nothing in his life had a happy ending. However, for once in his life he chose to try the optimistic approach and work to believe their relationship could survive. Unfortunately, for Bruce he focused on the destination and not the path to reach it.
He had served as a deputized crime fighter in many other cities before. It provided Gotham City with ample goodwill to be called upon at appropriate times and it helped him to sample other criminal behaviors and prevent some hardcore thugs from thinking of moving to his turf. He chose the other coast for his tour of duty. It placed him several time zones away from the routine. It separated him from the closeness to Batgirl. And it positioned him in the neighborhood of Barbara’s new boyfriend, Lawrence Pierce.
The form fitting material of Batgirl’s tights made pulling her pants off more difficult than the boys imagined it would be. They stopped as soon as they cleared her buttocks. The sight of a woman’s naked rear froze them momentarily as they paused to admire the tautness of her muscular but shapely ass. Most of the boys traded glances of looking at it and each other wondering what to do next. The leader decided to take the initiative and did the first thing that he could think of. He bent down and separated the cheeks of her butt with his thumbs and spit down her anus. He stood up proudly and began to laugh. Soon other boys joined him and spit down her chute. When they all took their turns and the laughter wore thin they began to look around again for their next course of action. Damien, the leader, appeared even surer of himself this time when he rolled her over on her back and pulled her tights down to her calves. He lifted her knees so he could spread her legs in a lotus position. The vista of a neatly trimmed vagina made their pubescent dicks urgently rock hard. “Okay,” Damien began, “whose got anything we can stick up her cunt?”
One of the boys had a soda bottle that Damien emptied on the street and then regretted not keeping the soda in and shaking it up. Nevertheless, he dug his hand into her pubis and split her labia as he inserted the tip of the bottle. As he tried to force it up higher, suddenly an ominous presence invaded their nocturnal playground. The silhouette under the street light told them he was big. The determination of his stride in their direction told them that he was mean. Damien looked at his boys and tried to muster enough courage in himself to keep them from fleeing. “I got this one, guys. You just back me up.”
The fearsome and leather-clad apparition stood before them assessing the limp, defenseless body on the pavement with the soda bottle still penetrating her womanhood.
Damien postured, “Yo, back off brother. This bat-booty is our find.”
The darkness of his complexion gave them no further clue to his features than they had when he was under the light. He shook his head back and forth.
“Hey Mr. Black-As-My Ass, don’t you be dissing us. As you can see we out number you eight or nine to one.”
Finally, he spoke. His voice was a baritone of controlled anger and disgust. “Boys, go home.” Its effect was a direct command to each of them.
Damien chose this moment to make his stand. He reached under his shirt and pulled out a shiny .45. He held it sideways gangsta style and said, “Yo nig-gare, maybe you a crazy fool or something but I think you better be respecting this. He pointed the gun directly at his face and as close as he could considering the man towered over him.
“Why do you punks hold you guns that way? It doesn’t make you shoot straight. Anyone worth their shit with firearms laughs at punks like you every time he sees it.” Then with a quickness that none of the boys had ever seen before he struck Damien with the back of his hand literally lifting him off of the ground and sending him crashing into the wall of a building. The blood pouring from his skull indicated to all that his injuries were critical. Without waiting to see what would happen next the rest of the boys shot off and disappeared into the billiard table of alleyways. The mysterious black man bent down, gently removed the bottle and flung it into the building shattering it into molecules. He then lifted the masked heroine from the ground and carried her away.
            Bruce Wayne took advantage of his time on the coast to tie up some of the nagging loose ends of various business affairs and to schedule in some charity appearances. One of the fund-raisers that intrigued him was a reception at a library honoring a young woman considered by many to be the most gifted linguist in the world. As a lover of literature and fluent in several languages himself Bruce decided this would be the exact kind of distraction he was seeking. He arrived at the event in his usual tuxedo only to discover that the laid back nature of the coastal lifestyle extended to high society as well. Some of the wealthiest men and women in the country were clad in sandals and linen tops. The men did not bother to tuck in their shirts and the women had their blouses opened immodestly showing off the best bodies money could buy. He considered turning around and leaving but swathed in self- confidence he chose to stay and meet the guest of honor, Miss Lydia Limpet.
            The event was buzzing with excitement in part due to his presence. Despite the plethora of wealth endowed to this coast, having a touch of old, other coast money added a touch of elegance and sophistication. Many people begged for moments of his attention and soon he realized that if he did not act quickly, Miss Limpet might be gone before he could introduce himself. He canvassed the room searching for a woman with school-marmish features. He noticed her right away. Surprisingly, she was alone.
            “Good evening, Miss Limpet, I am Bruce Wayne.” She took his hand and gave him an assertive handshake. “I am a bit astonished to see you unattended.”
            “Well, Mr. Wayne, it appears that most of the people attending are here for appearance sake and not for any stimulating discourse, at least with me. What brings you to this fair event?”
            “I am afraid to say for sounding trite however, it was you that compelled my agenda.” Bruce flashed a grin that was both sheepish and wolfish. It enticed her immensely.
            “Well, I am flattered indeed.” She, too, revealed a multi-layered glimpse expressing some of the beauty trapped behind her thick glasses. “Now that you have my attention what can I do for you?”
            Trying to avoid obvious questions and remarks Bruce asked her opinion on various translations of works covering works from classical literature to the Dead Sea Scrolls. He introduced a few original opinions of his own and soon they were entwined in robust conversation and flirtatious laughter. Their oblivion to the others at the party added to the intimacy of their exchange.
            The event started winding down at – what Bruce thought – was an early hour but then he remembered that most things began early and ended early here. He was thinking of a polite way to invite Miss Limpet out for a drink when she proposed they head back to her hotel room. “Now, before a handsome and wealthy bachelor like yourself fills his head with any improper ideas, I want you to come back and help me with a crossword puzzle that has positively invigorated me and captivated all my free time.”
            Although an avid enthusiast of most games it was not the invitation he had expected. Unflustered, he accepted with grace.
            Her suite was sumptuous and as ornately adorned as any hotel room he had ever visited. He was a bit shocked to see that a charity would go to such an expense to accommodate a guest of honor. Bruce’s face must have betrayed him because without missing a beat Miss Limpet interjected, “I know you must be thinking how a library can afford such a room. Do not worry. My sponsor has quite substantial resources and sees to it that I am accommodated royally.”
            “Indeed” was the only reply Bruce could offer.
            Surveying the room Bruce noticed that, oddly, it had no newspapers in it. He found this a bit strange since he was invited to assist in a crossword puzzle. Again to his surprise, Miss Limpet mastered his thoughts. “Trust me, Mr. Wayne, I have asked you to join me here for the reasons I stated. However, the crossword puzzle I have in mind is not one of a garden variety. Rather, it is a bit more complex and challenging.”
            Completing her comment she walked to the coffee table and flipped on the rectangular box solely occupying the surface. Bruce thought it was merely a laptop computer however, he was amazed to see it project vertically and display a perfect cube perhaps three feet at each of the dimensions. The cube rotated slowly, Bruce estimating a full revolution every four or five minutes. What was truly fascinating however was the transparency of the cube and that one third of it was filled with words of varying lengths and languages.
            “Yes, Mr. Wayne, what you are looking at is a three dimensional crossword puzzle incorporating the usual across and down but adding an in and out and, cleverly, diagonal entries as well. I am not entirely sure how it was created but I know I have never had this type of intellectual stimulation before.”
            After marveling for a few minutes Bruce finally asked where the clues were located.
            “That is part of the genius and part of the challenge of this conundrum. Pick a space.”
            Bruce hesitated and randomly asked for 43 across and noticing each side of the cube was shaded a different color, added green. The box responded in a computer-generated voice with the clue.
            “Well, what is your answer, Bruce?” Miss Limpet inquired.
            “Oh, I wasn’t really paying attention, please repeat, er - 43 across, green.”
            The voice responded with a mechanical, “Clue 43 across, green provided at 10:47 PM Pacific Time.”
            “I guess I forgot to tell you, Bruce, that part of the challenge is remembering all the clues. They are not repeated.” And to the machine she said, “The answer is p-l-u-p-e-r-f-e-c-t.” Almost magically the cube filled the 10 boxes with her response. Bruce let out an uncharacteristic gleeful laugh. Now with his competitive spirit piqued he removed his tuxedo tie and unbuttoned his top button.
            “So we must remember the clues, eh? There must be over 500 clues to remember. How do you do it?” he asked admirably.
            “Actually, if you count the inner words there are another 316 to remember. I don’t know how I do it, I just do because it is required. The tricky part for me is remembering the clues after I have inserted a word. My tendency is to forget it. It becomes a problem when I discover that one of my responses no longer fits and is therefore incorrect.”
            “Fascinating, Miss Limpet. Let’s begin.”
            Bruce and his linguist companion spent the next two hours probing for clues and discussing the responses. They complemented each other nicely even when they disagreed on which answer was correct. As the game wore Bruce relaxed even more unbuttoning his shirt halfway down his chest and rolling up his sleeves. Even Miss Limpet unwound a bit from her prim librarian exterior. Finally, at some moment – the right moment – the game became less interesting and exploring each other became the game d’jour.
            Miss Limpet lay back on the sofa and Bruce hovered over her kissing her face and neck as he worked the buttons of her blouse. With his shirt mostly undone she just had to concentrate on peeling it off his chiseled body. Bruce was pleasantly surprised to find a nice endowment hidden beneath her frilly top. He pushed the material back over her arms and continued his caressing kisses down her neck and settled between the cleavage supported by a white lace bra. As his shirt passed his wrists she paused to take a deep look at the hunk sharing intimate space with her. The suspenders of his tuxedo pants framed his bare torso leaving her sections to admire. His chest was broad and hairless. His arms were offered a muscled strength that suggested protection not narcissism. Overall, his body was uncommonly muscular for a billionaire but not without old scar tissue. She knew there must be interesting stories for each nick in his armor.
When seen as part of his whole body his face looked more handsome than pretty and she liked the perspective. As she peaked down to his pants she could see the excited bulge of his manhood informing her that she was his desire. She looked to her own crotch and noticed that while she was observing him he wasted no time in removing her skirt. Her bra and panties were the only clothes left on her. Miss Limpet reached out to grab his protuberance and unzipped the fly of his trousers. She could feel the silk of his boxer shorts but noticed his penis had already broken through the slit in the material. She pulled him out and slid closer to him so she could introduce his organ into her mouth.
Bruce was slightly surprised to see that she did not react to his large offering. Many of the women he had been with felt it necessary to comment on his size, some with delight some with horror. Yet Miss Limpet took him out and didn’t even bother to inspect him. She just put her lips around his head and methodically began to juicily suck his member.
Wanting to participate more in their lovemaking Bruce tried to put his hands to use by letting down her hair with his left hand and removing her glasses with his right. She reacted quickly – over reacted really – and said, “Please don’t remove my glasses. I am blind without them and I want to see you make love to me.” He thought it a bit odd but when she removed her panties he didn’t think anymore about it.
He picked Miss Limpet up and carried her to the bedroom in the suite and smoothly set her down on the mattress as he removed his pants and shorts. He was now completely naked and fully erect. Looking up at him she put her pinky in her mouth and slowly spread her legs showing off her succulent muff hidden behind pubes a shade lighter than black. Panther-like he lowered himself to taste her charms. Starting at her calves he kissed and licked her thin legs steadily moving up to her pussy. Upon reaching it he slid his tongue over her labia. Her hair was smooth and it felt like it melted away allowing him to glide over her most sensitive skin. She giggled and he teased her with a slight penetration with his tongue.
“Please enter me now,” she begged. Bruce normally liked to stay down on a woman longer but, with his dick already secreting pre-cum, he happily obliged. The first half of his penis slid in easily and then he hit the usual barrier that sometimes prevented him from full penetration. However, when Miss Limpet adjusted her position it was like a canal lock opening and he slithered the rest of the way in.
For as excited as she looked Miss Limpet was not very energetic during lovemaking. Bruce felt like he was doing all the work. His mind wandered a bit and he began to think that maybe he should have ended the evening with the game then he would have remembered the night more fondly. ‘This lass is a dead fish. Oh well, some people were not made to fuck.’
“Wait,” she interrupted, “I have an idea,” as she pushed him off her. Sitting on the bed with his rocket straight up and dancing off his stomach, Bruce was a bit perplexed. She sprang out of the bed and grabbed him by his pole with an enticing, “Follow me.” Miss Limpet tugged at his dick leading him to the balcony of her suite. It spectacularly offered a view of the whole city. Her room was on the top floor, at thirty-five stories high.
Bruce had a little apprehension making love so publicly but he scanned the surroundings and determined that they would enjoy the necessary privacy. Aiding his decision was Miss Limpet, who, on the balcony, was a different woman. She vigorously worked his meat, taking him deep in her mouth and jacking his shaft with her free hand. In command of their lovemaking she brought herself down on him forcibly and he could feel his cock touching the walls of her throat. After five minutes she came up and, still holding his trophy pulled him toward her as she backed up to the rail of the balcony. She let go of him to push herself up on the rail. She spread her legs widely exposing gaping pussy. “Fuck me, Bruce.”
For good measure Bruce looked down to see exactly how far up they were. “Why don’t we just lie down here Lydia and do it,” he suggested.
“No, fuck me up here. I trust you’ll hold me,” was her reply. He looked down over the balcony again and then looked at her dripping invitation again and moved toward her. This time he went all the way in immediately and she responded by gyrating in a vertical swirl. He fumbled for the best position to keep her safe and she helped by holding the back of his neck but each time she thrust she wound up by pushing backwards off of the railing and precariously over the edge. She seemed to become more excited with each drive.
Her excitement and activity made her begin to sweat and Bruce was having a more difficult time holding on to her. He tried to concentrate on coming so it would end but his mind could only focus on finding a safe guard in case she slipped. Finally, without his help, he felt a climax swelling up from his balls to his shaft. Miss Limpet felt the surge, too, and moaned in delight. Bruce blasted his semen inside her as she screamed and pushed back. Their conflicting momentum caused his grip to slip and her saw her fall back as her eyes widened with a combination of terror and ecstasy. He managed to secure her legs just as her body was about to go airborne. The lasting image in his mind was of Miss Limpet suspended upside down with her hair finally falling from its bun and her glasses falling to the earth with him holding her by her knees and the tip if his dick still in her pussy.
After he was assured of his hold on her, Bruce lifted her up and over the railing of the balcony. He gazed into her eyes now unhidden by her thick glasses and saw how beautiful and sexy she was. She briskly walked past him to the bedroom and when he returned her hair was up again and a new pair of glasses - identical to the black plastic frames of before – was on her face. “Well wasn’t that fun,” she said as if this was part of her evening routine.
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Batgirl's Uptown Affairs, Part 2