From tooshoes@concentric.net Mon Mar 10 20:26:46 1997
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From: tooshoes@concentric.net (tooshoes)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Supergirl and Catwoman in "Frisking The Cat" (fm,ff,no-sometimes-means-yes) - sg5.txt [1/1]
Date: 11 Mar 1997 01:26:46 GMT
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These story are very naughty, and since only adults should
have naughty thoughts, you shouldn't read them if you are
under 18 years old!

These stories and others may also be found on the WWW site:

http://www.cris.com/~tooshoes/PenPartners.html
---------------------------------------------------

Frisking The Cat 
 
	Wearing a  red and blue costume, I could move  
mountains, and everyone listened when I talked. But wearing  
a brown wig and simple attire, it seemed the only jobs  
available to me were as a secretary or a waitress.  I was  
just one in a million college grads entering the job market  
during a recession.   
	I finally landed a job several months after  
graduation in a marketing research company, punching numbers  
and names into a database. The night hours sucked, and the  
pay really wasn't enough to live on. Unfortunately, being a  
superhero was voluntary work. Maybe I could use it as a  
charitable deduction on April 15.  
	Now, at 1 am, I was a passenger on a subway train  
from Downtown Station to South Metropolis.  I could fly home  
in under a minute, but the train ride lasted almost a half  
an hour -- just one more cost of having a secret identity  
and trying to live a normal life. Yeah, right, as if  
commuting home at one in the morning was normal! 
	Though I guess it wasn't unheard of, because I often  
shared the train with a small number of fellow commuters,  
usually tired, sometimes insane, and always looking as  
unhappy as I must have looked. 
	Tonight (this morning?) there were four of them  
sitting across from me, three men and a woman, who were  
obviously together, but who didn't speak a word for the  
first ten minutes of the ride. I crossed my legs at the  
knees, because one of the men was looking at me. There  
wasn't much else for him to look at, I guess, but he was  
almost leering. Maybe he was just admiring my legs, or maybe  
he caught a glimpse up my  miniskirt and happened to see my  
pussy in all it's glory. Maybe he saw the blush on my face,  
because the thought of being "found out" always turned me  
on, which, of course, is one reason why I never wore  
panties. And that often led to an escalating cycle, as my  
excitement made me wetter than any normal woman, so the  
juices dripped down my thighs, making my chances of being  
found out all the greater. 
	But he didn't do anything or let on that he knew, and  
I was surprised to feel sad. It made me long for my college  
days, when a glimpse of my bare pussy would draw men in like  
bees to honey -- or at the very least, draw a reaction. 
	Back at MU, people always looked for an invitation to  
meet someone new, and I made new friends almost every day. I  
never ate alone, never walked alone, and rarely slept alone.    
Funny how I sometimes wished for more privacy back then. At  
parties, men packed like wolves around me, trying to get me  
drunk, not knowing that they didn't stand a chance.  At  
getting me drunk, that is.  
	Now, I longed for the parties and the harassing.   
Now, in "the real world", almost everyone respected each  
other's privacy and minded their own business and took no  
chances until they were in the safety of their own homes.  
What was wrong with society? What happens to people when  
they leave the security of the campus?  And then it occurred  
to me that whatever was wrong with society was wrong with  
me, too. I haven't been with someone in months, and my best  
friend is my cat Calvin. 
	I was afraid to approach people, the same as everyone  
else. I don't know what I was afraid of, though. I didn't  
need to worry about criminals or cops, like most other  
people did. Maybe I was just afraid of offending someone, or  
doing something wrong. Maybe I needed the support of my  
friends before I could reach out. 
	I know now how much I relied on friends to make my  
life happy. They would push the boundaries, and I would  
follow behind them.  They would knock on my door, and all I  
needed to do was invite them in. But I never knocked on  
doors myself.  
	Almost unconsciously, I shifted my sitting position.  
I crossed my legs at my ankles, and my thighs were slightly  
apart. The young man across from me had a straight line view  
to my pussy, now, but it was just a fraction of an inch  
wide. I rested my hands on my lap, pushing my skirt between  
my thighs, stealing away even the suspicion of daylight. 
	It was amazing how just the slightest possible hint  
of an invitation can catch a man's eye, because the young  
man was now sweating, and his friends were taking notice  
now, too. Even the young woman raised an eyebrow. 
	I felt a rush run through my body. *Careful, Linda,  
you are losing control again*, a wise voice whispered. But  
I've had a hard time listening to that voice lately. I swear  
that since I came to earth, my sex drive has gone into  
overdrive. That yellow sun melted my will, and the  
loneliness of having no lover for several months fed my  
desire and made me a little irrational at times. 
	I tried to fight it. I looked away from the curious  
eyes of the strangers and read some of the advertisements  
posted on the train's walls between the windows: There was a  
picture of a rather handsome guy with an eye patch and a  
pistol, starring in a movie called: Escape From Gotham City.   
One poster was for Marlboro cigarettes, which had a skull  
and crossbones spray-painted over it. A third poster was of  
a very attractive woman, with the text: "I'm Horny, Call Me  
at (900) 481-3643". And the last poster from Nike was very  
simple; it proclaimed in bright big red letters: Just Do It! 
	So much for distractions, I thought, as I shifted my  
legs, casually rubbing my thighs together. When I realized  
how erotic that must have seemed to the strangers, I opened  
my mouth in surprise.  Then I thought how erotic opening my  
mouth might seem, so I covered it with my hand and glanced  
at them. They stared back at me in surprise and fascination,  
and I felt like cursing myself. I was so turned on now that  
even when I was trying to act modest, it appeared like I was  
flirting. 
	Hell, who was I kidding? I *was* flirting! I was  
pretty shy usually, and I didn't have a bubbling  
personality, but how modest could I really be? I liked  
wearing a skin-tight shirt that showed my nipples whenever I  
was excited, which was often. I always wore a tiny  
miniskirt, with no undies, and every couple of weeks, I  
shortened my skirts even a tiny bit more. My pussy  
underneath was completely bare (I burned the hair off with  
my heat vision). Obviously, I wanted people to notice. 
	But denuding my pussy in that way irritated it a  
little, exciting it even more than normal, and now, with  
everything else conspiring to excite me, my pussy was  
soaking wet and flowing steadily. I couldn't stand it. I  
closed my eyes and tried to ignore the strangers as I  
pressed my thighs together and gyrated my ass on the hard  
metal seat, trying to satisfy my itch in a most ineffective  
way. My pussy was aching for attention. I opened my eyes  
halfway and stared at my captivated audience. I opened my  
mouth and licked my lips. I couldn't hear that tiny wise  
voice anymore. Instead I glanced over at the poster: *Just  
Do It!* 
	I closed my eyes, bit my lip, and raised my skirt. My  
pussy, slightly pink from irritation, glistened in the  
bright overhead lights. I soaked my fingers in the juices  
and spread the soothing moisture over the irritated skin. I  
exhaled loudly, almost a gasp, almost a sigh of relief, it  
felt so good! 
	Then, like background noise, I heard that tiny  
harassing voice scolding me. It was accompanied by a  
symphony of other voices, that altogether became white  
noise.  The only distinct voice that kept ringing in my mind  
was: *Just Do It!* 
	I parted my pussy lips with my finger tips, showing  
my tenderest skin to people I knew nothing about. And from  
that most intimate place flowed the message, *come to me.* 
	One of the men answered the call. He knelt between my  
legs for a better view of the show. I opened my lips wider,  
giving him the best view I could, while I massaged my clit  
with my other fingers. Droplets gathered and ran down to my  
asshole, going to waste. *Oh, please, don't just stand  
there!* 
	Another man sat down beside me, watching from a  
different angle. He was watching my face, my other lips, as  
they also opened wide in esctacy and longing.  
	Then, suddenly, a tongue reached deep into my pussy,  
sending a shock wave through my body. I quickly withdrew my  
hands, moving them to my neglected breasts, squeezing them  
through my blouse, while surrendering my pussy to the man's  
will. He nibbled on my clit. I gasped and cried out and  
wrapped my thighs around his head in reflex. *Oh, a little  
faster! Oh, a little harder!* 
	The other two men took hold of my legs, holding them  
apart, while he grabbed two handfuls of my ass, and pulled  
me to his ravenous mouth. I buried my fingers in his hair,  
holding on as if to a support on an amusement park ride. I  
could barely contain my enthusiasm. My ass was suspended in  
mid air now, as he tore into my pussy, while the others  
helped him out. And to think just a moment ago I was worried  
what they would think of me! 
	The woman was meandering around the scene, watching  
the action, amused.  She had a vaguely sly smile on her  
face. As my body tingled and an ache consumed me, about to  
turn in an instant into the height of pleasure, I wished for  
the woman to join in. I wanted for her to kiss me hard,  
right now. I think she wanted to. She stepped closer. But  
she didn't, and that disappointed me, even as my body and  
mind were at a critical state, orgasm imminent. 
	The skyrockets exploded in my mind. My body quaked,  
my eyes teared, and I was crying out uncontrollably, but my  
cries were overwhelmed by the din of the train rushing  
through a tunnel.. 
	And then everything seemed silent again. 
	As I came back down to Earth, I found myself looking  
into the eyes of the man who sent me to heaven. His rough  
features almost looked beautiful. That's what a mind  
shattering orgasm will do to me. I stroked his hair and  
whispered. "Hi. My name is Linda." 
	He smiled, but it was a slightly mischievous smile.  
"Hi Linda with the great tasting pussy." 
	I smiled back. 
	The train was slowing down and a voice came over the  
overhead speaker: *Now stopping at Washington Crossing, take  
Red Line to Gotham. Next stop: South Metropolis.* 
	The man wiped his chin on his sleeve and stood up.  
"Our stop." 
	I felt a sudden sense of loss when he said that; I  
didn't want them to go. I hurriedly collected myself. I  
straightened my skirt and made sure my wig was on straight.  
The four strangers gathered at the door to the subway car,  
when it opened. 
	"Can I come with you?" I asked hopefully. After  
sharing myself with them so intimately, they were very  
appealing to me. I wanted to be one of them, whoever they  
were. I wanted to disappear into their lives. 
	He smiled. "You already have." 
	The woman laughed wickedly. "Thanks for the  
entertainment. We must do it again some time." 
	I watched them leave. They never looked back at me. 
	I don't know how I felt. My emotions were  
overwhelming my thoughts -- sex always seemed to do that to  
me. What did that woman mean? Was she being sarcastic? Was  
she insulting me? Or did she mean what she said, but in a  
playful way? 
	The train pulled away. The strangers disappeared from  
view, leaving me all alone, wondering what I had gained from  
my stunt. 
	Part of me was glowing inside, feeling a sense of  
power and victory. Bending steel beams and doing acrobatics  
in the air always came easily to me, but I never thought I  
could rise above my inhibitions like that.  
	A part of me argued that I didn't rise at all, but  
fell as low as I could fall. My inhibitions were my  
strength, and I had come away from the experience with less  
than I had before. 
	Then, suddenly, I realized in horror, how true that  
was. My purse was gone! In all the excitement, I never saw  
the strangers snatch my purse. Inside I had some money and  
IDs, but far more importantly, that's where I kept my  
Supergirl uniform! 
	If I hurried, I could break through the door and  
chase them down. 
	But I couldn't. I was paralyzed by embarrassment over  
the thought of facing them. A few minutes ago, I was just an  
anonymous woman, gambling with my reputation in front of a  
few strangers. Now Supergirl's reputation was thrown in the  
pot, and the whole world might see. 
	So I slumped back on my seat, sighing,  and I stared  
at the Nike poster. God, I was so stupid sometimes! Why  
didn't I listen to that wise little voice? I couldn't help  
but listen to her now, screaming her I-told-you-so-s,   
reminding myself over and over again how stupid and dirty I  
was. 
 
* * * 
	I stepped off the train about five minutes later, and  
I felt a little better, a little less worried. It even  
seemed a little funny, now.  What was that saying? *Whatever  
will be, will be*. Let them say what they will say, do what  
they will do. Let the naked truth come out, and it will set  
me free! Free from shame, free from fear, free from clothes,  
free from that silly looking costume! 
	I laughed out loud, and my laughter echoed off the  
houses nearby, and it sounded so hollow that I shivered and  
realized how truly worried I was. This was a disaster; there  
was no point in pretending it didn't matter. 
	But what point was there in worrying, either? I guess  
the only thing I could do now is wait -- and work on damage  
control. 
	Ok, think, Linda, what *can*  you do?  The costume is  
the key. When they show it to the media, you are dead. 
	*If* they show it, I reminded myself. 
	Then I felt a burst of optimism: how could they be  
sure the costume in my purse was real? Some companies sell  
imitation costumes as fetishes. 
	But fake costumes will burn in a fire, I reminded  
myself. Fake costumes aren't bullet proof. They will test  
it, and they will know. 
	And a fake costume was apparently what I would be  
shopping for soon. 
	I laughed out loud again, as I walked around the  
corner. I don't know if I was laughing or crying when I  
arrived home. 
	I was through the door and almost in the kitchen  
before I noticed that the lights were on in my apartment. I  
jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder. 
	I spun around so fast that the man attached to that  
hand was thrown to the floor. 
	I struggled to identify the intruder through the fog  
of my emotions, until my memory came back to me, and I  
recognized his face. 
	No, I thought, shaking my head. He couldn't have  
possibly known, not so soon. Hell it only happened about  
fifteen minutes ago! He couldn't be *that* good.    
 
* * * 
 
	"Andrew?" 
	"Geez, Linda," he replied while still lying flat on  
his back. "If I had known you were so easy to sneak up on, I  
wouldn't have pretended like we were the Impossible Mission  
Force the last time." 
	"The Last Time" was two years ago, when I was a  
junior at MU, and, as Supergirl, I was was brushing people  
with political power the wrong way. Andrew was an agent in  
an ultra-secret intelligence agency for the government.  
Apparently, despite all of Superman's and my good deeds, the  
government considered us potentially greater threats to  
national security than even the Soviet Union in it's prime.  
Publicly, we were treated like heroes, but behind the  
scenes, the government tried their best to control us, how  
we acted, who we slept with, what we said. So they created a  
secret branch under the NSA called the SSA (Superhero  
Surveillance Agency). 
	Andrew had been the agent in charge of bringing me to  
"justice" for various transgressions, and he proved he was  
up to the challenge. He had actually had me at his mercy. He  
could have done with me whatever he wished. But he let me  
go, breaking orders from above, and no doubt taking a lot of  
flack in the process. As much as I hated what he had done to  
me, I admired him for his courage to live by his conscience. 
	That was the only time we had met each other, but  
Andrew did call me several times since. He'd ask me innocent  
questions, like how was college going, did I have any new  
friends, did I really like my hair that way. I didn't know  
what to make of it. Maybe he was just trying to be my friend  
so he could be more influential, but I believed that he  
liked me, regardless of what else he was up to, and I found  
myself opening up to him. 
	Then he stopped calling, more than a year ago, and I  
had almost forgotten about him. Until now. 
	"I hope you don't mind that I waited for you inside.  
The door was unlocked, so I took the liberty. Oh, and I fed  
your cat. It was the only way to keep him off of me." 
	"Why are you here, Andrew?" I eyed him curiously. 
	"Why?" he said, as he stood and straightened his  
suit. "Because I think I can help you." 
	"Oh?" I sat down on the sofa and motioned for Andrew  
to sit with me.  "What makes you think I need any help?" 
	"Because I've been watching you," he said simply, as  
he sat closer than I had expected. 
	"Oh, that's right. I forgot you did that sort of  
thing, peeping through my windows, listening in on my  
private conversations," I said with a smile that  
contradicted my deeply sarcastic tone. I accidentally  
touched his leg as I tried to adjust my skirt. 
	Andrew shifted in his seat, as he conjured up the  
appropriate rationalization. "Common, Linda, the SSA only  
does that when we have evidence of a legal infraction.  
Besides, don't tell me that you've never used those super- 
senses of yours to invade someone else's privacy. We are  
only trying to level the playing field a little. It doesn't  
bring me any pleasure to spy on you." 
	I knew that much was true. When he had captured me, I  
was totally naked and at his mercy, yet he didn't take  
advantage of the situation at all. He let me cover myself,  
and his dick was soft the whole time. No sign of hardness  
even now, as we sat very close to each other. I guess I just  
wasn't his type. 
	And that was probably how it should be, I thought,  
with nothing between us. Getting involved with him would be  
a disaster. Besides, he was always stabbing me with  
criticisms, like saying that I spy on people. I replied,  
"Sometimes I see things that I probably shouldn't see -- I  
can't help that. But I don't go out of my way to spy on  
people's private lives like you do!" 
	Andrew held up his hand as if in defense. "OK, I'm  
sorry Linda, I didn't come here to start an argument. I  
guess it's kind of hard to avoid, considering the nature of  
my job, that we'd be on each other's case, but really I came  
here hoping that we could cooperate, for a change." 
	"Cooperate?" I asked, a little amused. "How could we  
cooperate on anything? I mean, isn't that like asking a deer  
to cooperate with a hunter?" 
	Andrew smiled and laughed, like he might do if he was  
arguing about sports with his buddies.  He was acting very  
friendly, and I couldn't tell if the emotion was genuine or  
if he was trying to sell himself to me. I always had a tough  
time knowing that about him. He said, "Don't you think that  
analogy is a little extreme? We have a lot of mutual  
interests." 
	I smiled back at him, wondering what he was leading  
up to. "Such as?" 
	"Such as your well being. Your financial well being." 
	I stopped smiling and looked away. "I don't want to  
talk about that." 
	"You aren't doing very well. I know that you are two  
months behind on paying the rent for this little house. You  
are three months behind on your student loan payments, and  
you could go into default soon," Andrew pressed. 
	I shook my head, trying not to listen to him, but I  
couldn't help it.  Damn him! He always knew my weak spots,  
and he always pressed them just right.  I had forgotten  
about that sly part of him. 
	He knew how  embarrassing it was to be the most  
powerful woman in the world, yet to live on the edge of  
poverty just so I could have a somewhat normal life.  Being  
Supergirl could be fun and exciting, but most of the time I  
was happier when I wasn't in the spotlight, when people  
didn't look at me like I was some kind of freak. 
	Besides, Superman and I had good reputations with the  
public in large part because we didn't mix heroism with  
personal gain. We had to be super-giving as well as super- 
human, or people would think of us as greedy invaders rather  
than welcome visitors from Krypton. For all of my powers, I  
couldn't force people to like me, so I always had to be  
above reproach. I wish I didn't care so much about what  
people thought of me, but I always did.  
	"I understand," Andrew said kindly, "that you want to  
have a private life, and you want to protect your image.  
Believe me, that's exactly what I want, too. But you aren't  
serving yourself or your country well right now. The crime  
rate is skyrocketing at night, as criminals have noticed the  
pattern -- you just aren't around once the sun goes down.  
Fortunately for Metropolis, Superman has a steady presence.  
Why? Because Kent has the right kind of job for a superhero.  
Reporting for the Planet helps him learn about crimes in  
progress, and his heroics pay him back by giving him a great  
story to write about. Your job, on the other hand,  
completely takes you out of action." 
	"It's the only job I could get," I objected. 
	"Perhaps you should have thought of that before you  
decided on a degree in Liberal Arts," Andrew patronized.  
"But obviously you have much more to offer the world than  
just your degree." 
	"Don't you think I know that?" I said impatiently,  
"But being a superhero just doesn't pay well, anyway, except  
on those rare cases where there is a reward. And then I look  
bad for accepting the reward." 
	Andrew shook his head. "That's not quite what I had  
in mind. The government and the police won't pay you to be a  
freelance hero -- too many legal problems, for one thing.  
But the SSA has different needs and different legal  
requirements, and I have the authority to hire you as an  
agent, complete with good pay and benefits, all of which  
will be strictly confidential and hidden from the media." 
	"What?" I was stunned. "You want to hire me? I  
thought your agency only spied on people like me -- why the  
hell should I trust you, anyway."  
	Andrew took my attack personally, and I wished I  
hadn't been so harsh.  "I'm sorry Linda, that we always seem  
to be on opposite sides of the fence. I know that sometimes  
the agency looks past your rights for the sake of national  
security, and that really sucks, but that's why I think this  
is such a good idea. If you are working for us, then we will  
have enough knowledge of your activities without the need to  
spy, since we will all share the same interests." 
	"You mean that I would be your hitman," I said  
skeptically, though I was beginning to feel enthusiastic. I  
was also feeling a little warm inside, because with Andrew  
sitting so close to me, the scent of his cologne was very  
distracting to someone with super-senses. 
	Andrew shook his head, "No, no, each mission we'd  
send you on would be a separate contract. You could refuse  
any of them. And you could be a freelance hero in your spare  
time, saving anyone your heart desires." 
	"So I'd be selling my super-body to you for a couple  
hours a night, huh?" I teased, as I crossed my legs,  
brushing my shin against his knee in the process. 
	"I guess you could look at it that way," Andrew said,  
suddenly feeling a little awkward, suddenly feeling a little  
aroused, as anyone could see. He moaned so softly that even  
I could barely hear it. But he inched himself a few inches  
further away and put back on his business face.  "So what do  
you say? Does it sound interesting?" 
	"Very interesting," I almost whispered, making him  
feel even more uncomfortable. I should have been paying more  
attention to what he was saying, but I was feeling very  
distracted. Knowing that I could affect him, someone I  
thought was invulnerable to my sexuality, sent a thrill  
through me that felt a little like passion, a little like  
revenge, since Andrew had been pushing my emotional buttons  
ever since we had met. 
	Now, he was in the hot seat. I could hear his mouth  
starting to water. I could taste his fresh sweat in the air,  
mixing with the sharp smell of his cologne.  I stroked his  
leg with my foot and looked into his eyes, smiling, as if to  
say: *would you like to see my pussy?* 
	But he edged away from me in his seat and held up his  
hand. "Please stop, Linda, you really shouldn't be doing  
this. You've really got to control that sexual appetite of  
yours." 
	"What?" I said, stunned and embarrassed. How could he  
say that? He was as turned on as I was. 
	"Please, let's just stick to business," he continued  
in a cold, detached voice, as if the voice wasn't his. "We  
aren't animals who have to fuck whenever they are in heat.  
We can show a little discipline. I don't know how people  
acted on Krypton, but on Earth, we try to act with a little  
decency." 
	I just stared at Andrew, not knowing what to say.  
Suddenly, I understood why someone as seemingly nice and  
gentle as Andrew could be part of such an oppressive  
organization.  There was a whole other side to him, a side I  
had never seen before. There was a holier-than-thou side   
buried deep within him, a side that turned me off  
completely. 
	Then his voice softened, and he was Andrew again.   
"I'm sorry . . . I didn't mean to be insulting. Maybe we  
should just forget about it and talk about your new job." 
	"Sure," I nodded, anxious to get past the awkward  
moment. "Let's get down to business." 
 
	The dark side of Andrew didn't return for the rest of  
his visit, and before too long, we were even teasing each  
other a little, but with the clear understanding that  
nothing would happen. 
	But mostly we stuck to business, and we ironed out  
the details and conditions of my new employment. 
	Simply put, Andrew was hiring me for two or three  
missions per week on average. Andrew asked me to wear a  
beeper, so he could contact me in an emergency, but I  
refused. I hate beepers.  I told him if he really wanted to  
get my attention, wear that sexy cologne he was wearing, and  
I'll drop everything and come for him. I think I almost got  
to him with that. 
	But he got me better by waving a wad of $100 bills in  
front of my face. He would pay me $2000 up front, in cash,  
for each mission. I'm sure now as I think back I could have  
bargained with him for much more, but I was so awed when he  
handed me the money that I stopped thinking and started  
dreaming of everything I could do with it. All my days of  
debt, coupon hunting, eating leftovers and riding the subway  
were finally over, and I could barely even imagine asking  
for more. 
	And Andrew surprised me again by already having a  
mission for me to start tomorrow night.  
	"The Catwoman has been burglarizing Gotham City for  
years now, but we've never been able to catch her," Andrew  
said, as he handed me a few pictures. 
	"Are these the best you have?" I asked, as I looked  
at each photo. Catwoman was barely visible in any of them.  
In three of the four she was in the shadows, and in the  
last, the picture was so under exposed that all I could see  
was her silhouette. "They don't even look like the same  
woman." 
	"Really? How many women do you know that have that  
kind of body?" Andrew said with barely hidden admiration.  
"She looks a little different because she wears several  
different costumes. We don't know how many. Sometimes she  
wears black leather, sometimes purple or grey spandex or  
rubber.  Her real name is Selina Kyle, but we only have this  
one picture of Selina when she was very young," Andrew said  
as he handed me the last 3x5 Kodak print. 
	This was a very good picture, but she must have been  
only about 14, and I didn't know how helpful it would be.  
Still, I looked at it for several minutes. There was  
something haunting and vaguely familiar about it. She was  
sitting on a park bench in a playful pose, a bit too erotic  
for a girl that age, with her head slightly arched, her long  
black hair falling away to unveil the full of her neck and  
shoulders. She stared back at the camera with a hint of a  
smile and an aura of confidence. 
	"We've been trying to get her for two years now, but  
she's been very slippery. She has many friends, because she  
likes to spread some of the bounty from her conquests  
around, giving some to the poor and to charities, so she has  
a kind of Robin Hood reputation. Sometimes she even helps  
bring other, more notorious criminals to justice, winning  
her favor even among some cops, who confuse her activities  
with those of the many vigilantes that protect Gotham City." 
	Andrew's voice seemed to be glowing as he talked of  
her. Perhaps even he was confused about his feelings towards  
her, I thought,  when suddenly his tenor changed. "But  
really she is an sly opportunist. She is an example of how  
criminals can take advantage of Gotham's fascination and  
need for vigilantes. The city is overwrought with crime.  
Many citizens take the law into their own hands, because the  
police can't handle the epidemics of gangs, guns and  
plunder.  Catwoman courts both sides, mixing good deeds with  
bad, so she tends to slip through the cracks, and only the  
people she steals from realize what she really is -- a  
criminal, pure and simple." 
	"How can I find her?" I asked, "or is that part of  
the job?" 
	Just then we were both startled by a ringing sound  
from within Andrew's briefcase. "Just a second." Andrew  
answered his cellular phone on the third ring, listened for  
a moment, his eyebrow raised, then he hung up. 
	"Well, that was very interesting timing," Andrew  
said. "I was just about to tell you that we were hoping to  
use your powers to find the Catwoman, but I guess we won't  
need that. She just sent an unprotected message over the  
internet; she forgot to encrypt it. Apparently she plans to  
rob an art museum  tomorrow evening. We don't know which  
one, but since there are only about five important museums  
in Gotham City, you should have no trouble finding them." 
	"Wow!" I said in amazement. "Looks like my first day  
is gonna be a piece of cake!" 
	Andrew frowned. "Don't even think that way. It's rare  
for the Catwoman to slip up like this. She may even have  
noticed her mistake and changed her plans. We've thought  
that we've had her a dozen times before. Once we even had  
her cuffed and in the cruiser, and she managed to escape and  
disappear down an empty street." 
	"She won't be able to escape from me," I said with a  
smile. 
	"That's what we're counting on." 
* * * 
	Andrew stayed the rest of the night, sleeping in a  
spare bedroom, and he left long before I awoke around  
noontime.  
	For the first time in months, I had a very pleasant  
sleep, and it was all due to Andrew and the hopes he gave me  
for this new job.  He fussed over me, making sure that  I  
wouldn't say no. He even told me that he would take care of  
my former employer, so I didn't need to go through the  
anxieties of quitting or giving my two week notice. He made  
me feel very important. 
	I knew that I was making a compromise. I was giving  
up what I had once thought that I really wanted -- living my  
life as a normal woman. Lately, though, I had begun to think  
that normalcy was overrated. Normal living has left me poor  
and lonely, especially since Carol left several months ago. 
	Carol never said it, but I always knew she left  
because I wasn't as exciting as I was once was, back in the  
days when I enjoyed being Supergirl.  It turned her on to  
see me on TV all the time, rescuing people, crushing  
criminals, and then having me come home to her every night,  
surrendering myself to her.  
	Then came the confrontation with the police, the  
media attacks, and my capture by the SSA.  I learned what  
came with being a hero. Being a hero meant that I couldn't  
say what I believed, if it wasn't PC. I couldn't even help  
people without worrying that someone would sue me, for, say,  
breaking down an historic wall to prevent a murder.  And  
then I made my biggest mistake by complaining about it, so  
the media jumped on me, portrayed me as an ungrateful  
superbitch on a power trip. That's when Supergirl all but  
disappeared from the scene, and I became Linda Lee full  
time. 
	Now Andrew has brought back that old excitement again  
when he told me that my country needed me. It was a message  
I was ready to hear. After struggling as a college grad for  
so long, denying myself the pleasures of my powers, I felt  
like a bird stuck in a cage. I was dying to get out and fly. 
* * * 
	But I couldn't be Supergirl without a costume. Flying  
around in my regular work clothes would seem wrong.  
Inappropriate. 
	Unfortunately, I had very little time to solve this  
problem, since I had to be Supergirl in just a few hours. I  
called all the costume stores in Metropolis. Most had  
Superman and Wonder Woman costumes, but they didn't carry  
Supergirl costumes even during Halloween. Finally, I slammed  
down the phone in disgust.  I felt that unappreciated  
feeling again, but really what did I expect, anyway, having  
virtually disappeared from public view for so long. 
	Only three hours left. I had to think of something  
fast. Maybe if I bought a Superman costume I could modify  
it. 
	Then I thought about the vast array of costumes that  
the Catwoman had, and I smiled: Why not completely redesign  
my costume? After all, I had always thought that cape and  
those long red boots looked more than a little silly. 
* * * 
	The Luther Lakeside Galleria was only a five minute  
ride on the subway.. It was a beautiful outdoor shopper's  
world, with a Japanese Garden on one end, a stadium on the  
other, and hundreds of stores in between. I felt excited  
being there with money in my pocket, for a change. I was  
drawn to the shop windows, and I kept thinking how  
reasonable the prices seemed -- prices that would have  
seemed obscene only yesterday. Thankfully, I didn't have  
much time on my hands, or I might have lost control of  
myself. I kept reminding myself that I was shopping for a  
new costume, nothing else. 
	I had a hundred ideas about what my new costume  
should look like. I struggled to keep my imagination from  
getting too lavish or impractical. I saw a stunning blue and  
red designer dress that would be extremely awkward when I  
was flying, and a daring bathing suit that would probably  
ruin my reputation again. I tried to keep myself sensible. 
	The most important part of the costume was probably  
the shirt. People should realize who I am as soon as they  
see me, and I thought I had the perfect solution: There was  
a store in the mall that would print any picture onto a T- 
shirt in under a half hour.  I felt conspicuous as I handed  
my "S" symbol to the young man at the counter. Maybe he  
would recognize me or put two and two together. While he was  
clearly looking me over, his eyes didn't light up, and I  
don't think he made the connection. Even if he did make the  
connection, it shouldn't matter, as long as I didn't  
identify myself as Linda Lee. 
	"Small, Medium, Large, or X-Large," he asked. 
	That was a simple question I wasn't at all prepared  
for. I had a chance to remake my image for the world,. My  
real costume had  always been a little tight, and some  
people even claimed it was indecent because my nipples would  
show through the fabric. There was one issue of Metropolitan  
Weekly in which I swear they air-brushed my nipples out. The  
rebel in me demanded the small T-shirt. 
	But another part of me wanted to do things right for  
a change. I didn't want to offend people, least of all  
Andrew who was giving me another chance. He wasn't sure  
about me. He had put his reputation on the line to get me  
this job. He didn't say it, but I could see it in his eyes.  
The SSA wouldn't never have hired me if not at his urging,  
and I owed it to him to be the model superheroine. 
	"Well?" The impatient young man asked. 
	"Medium," I finally replied. Then, after a long   
pause, "and a small one, too."  That was just for me -- I  
wouldn't need to wear it in public. 
	I was surprised how nice the red "S" looked on plain  
white. It was simple and fresh and liberating. It felt like  
a discovery. Supergirl was long past due for a makeover.  
	Still, I was a little afraid to experiment with my  
traditional uniform. I spent about 30 minutes trying to find  
a simple red miniskirt before I realized that miniskirts  
were  out of fashion. So once again I was forced to be  
creative. Maybe a simple pair of blue jeans  would be the  
right touch to go along with the T-shirt. It sounded  
sensible, practical, decent. Millions of women wore long  
pants every day. 
	But I couldn't convince myself to do it.  I hated the  
way loose fitting jeans hid my legs. I was very proud of my  
legs. Tight pants looked attractive, but they tore too  
easily. Finally I decided on a pair of loose fitting sky- 
blue athletic shorts, which showed off my legs almost up to  
my hip, yet were conservative where it counted most. 
	My biggest challenge was deciding on footwear. I  
wanted shiny, red walking shoes,  but I couldn't find a  
single pair that would stay on my feet while I was in  
flight. I was so frustrated that I even considered being the  
first barefooted superhero. After all, I didn't really need  
shoes, anyway. But even with my terrible sense of fashion, I  
knew that would not be well received. So I finally settled  
on a pair of red ankle-high boots, which wasn't too bad a  
compromise. 
	Now, the sun was almost down, and I didn't have much  
time left to shop, so I hurriedly found a Filene's dressing  
booth. I was pretty excited, now, and I almost forgot to  
check for hidden cameras.  Some stores spied on these  
dressing booths, in their ongoing war against shoplifters,  
but Filene's apparently had some respect for their  
customers.  
	First, I donned the small t-shirt, which, as I had  
expected, hugged my breasts so tightly that my nipples were  
clearly visible. A bra would have solved that problem, of  
course, but I hated bras even more than panties. Underwear  
in general turned me off. It just wasn't sexy -- or maybe I  
was prejudiced, because underwear was foreign to Kryptonian  
culture. 
	The medium sized t-shirt was much more modest,  
showing just enough of my breasts to catch the attention of  
the young men I would save. I wished that I could give them  
more to look at, and I felt a touch of regret that my days  
of skirt-flirting were over. 
	Still, this new costume had a lot to offer. It showed  
off even more of my legs than the miniskirt. The muted  
colors made my skin tones stand out more. Maybe the simple  
design was even sexier than the garish blues and reds. I  
looked more approachable, more human, more like the girl- 
next-door, less like a comic book character. 
	I just looked at myself in the mirror for a few  
minutes, striking a few poses, alternating between loving  
and hating the new look. 
	Then I packed up Linda Lee's wig and clothes into my  
shopping bags, and I took a gulp. I was out of time now. The  
Catwoman would be making her move soon. It was time for the  
new Supergirl to make her move, too. 
	I stepped out of the booth. A dozen eyes gravitated  
towards me as I left Filene's and entered the walkways of  
the outdoor mall. One young man carrying a shiny new surf- 
board was walking past me, when he stopped and stared.  
	"Woah, could this be the one and only Kara from  
Krypton?" he asked excitedly. 
	I nodded and smiled. He looked familiar, but I  
couldn't place him. "What do you think of my new look?" I  
asked, fishing for compliments. 
	He nodded and gestured widely. "Totally hot! You  
could surf with me anytime!" 
	That was what I needed to hear. I gave him a quick  
kiss on the cheek. "Thanks!" And then I waved goodbye, as I  
lifted off straight up into the sky. 
* * * 
	Gotham City was just a hop, skip and a jump away from  
Metropolis for someone like me.  It was only about 150 miles  
away, and I could fly there in under 30 minutes at a nice  
casual pace. I don't know why I had never visited the dark  
city before. It was about time I did. 
	Gotham City was over-run by vigilantes and  
anarchists.  I had always thought  Metropolis was so much  
more peaceful and civilized than Gotham City because  
Metropolis had two superheroes paroling the skies and  
maintaining order, while Gotham had none. All Gotham needed  
was a hero it could count on. 
	Clark didn't agree with that theory. When I first  
came to Earth, he warned me about going to Gotham. He said  
it was hard to be a hero in a place so confusing, where the  
the line between good and evil was fuzzy at best. Rich were  
pitted against the poor, whites against blacks, gangs  
against gangs. Everyone felt like a victim, and everyone  
wanted revenge. The social fabric was turned inside out, and  
Clark believed that going in there to help people would  
backfire. He compared Gotham City to a country in civil war:  
To avoid getting caught in a quagmire, America should never  
send troops into a civil war -- unless they have clear  
objectives.  
	And that's why I was going in. I had a clear  
objective: To capture the Catwoman and bring her into  
justice. I knew that I couldn't save Gotham City from the  
mess it was in, but at least I could do this one small  
thing, remove this one cause of chaos, and help stem the  
tide of crime. 
	Gotham wasn't as ugly as my expectations. In fact, it  
didn't look much different from Metropolis at night. But  
when I looked more closely, I could see the piles of litter  
along the streets and the graffiti on the walls. When I  
listened more closely, I could hear screams and sirens  
running together into a steady wail. My first impulse was to  
seek out those alarming sounds, offer my help, but I forced  
myself to focus on the task at hand. I wanted to keep my  
objectives simple. 
	If Catwoman's message was to be believed, then she  
would be robbing one of Gotham City's art museums tonight,  
and I had to keep my eyes on all five of them. But first I  
had to find them. Andrew had marked their locations on a map  
last night, but finding them in a big city at night was a  
very different thing. I felt a little angry at myself. I  
could have scoped out the area earlier in the afternoon, if  
I wasn't having so much fun shopping for a costume at the  
mall. But scolding myself now wouldn't help. At least I  
remembered to bring the map with me, and I felt confident  
that I could find all five museums within just a few  
minutes. 
	The first museum I found was The Wayne House  
Monument. Ah-ha! I thought, as I saw stealth-like movement  
in the darkened building. But when I looked a little closer,  
I was disappointed to find only bats flying around in the  
caverns underneath. I glanced at the map and flew on. 
	The second museum, The Art Expo, was still open to  
visitors, and it would remain open until 9 pm. That worried  
me a little. Maybe Selina intended to commit her crime under  
the watchful eyes of the museum security with some slight of  
hand. Maybe she had even bribed the security to steal the  
art for her. I would have to pay very close attention, but  
first I had to find the other three museums. 
	The Gotham Museum Of Fine Arts was on the other side  
of town, and before I was even near the building, I could  
see the crime in progress.  All of the rooms were dark,  
except one, where several people wearing black were  
scurrying around, removing paintings from the walls. They  
weren't even being careful, I thought. Anyone could see the  
light from the main street outside the building. Several  
museum employees were watching on helplessly from another  
room as a fortune in paint and canvas was being plundered. 
	I landed on top of the building and scanned the room,  
trying to locate Selina, but I couldn't tell her apart from  
the other people. Unfortunately, my x-ray vision can yield  
some pretty fuzzy images, and all I could see was blobs that  
resembled people moving around inside. But I could see that  
there was no Kryptonite awaiting me inside, and there were  
no lead boxes hiding unseen surprises. So there was no point  
in sneaking around. 
	With a crash, I pushed my way though a security door  
that led into the room. The door was a little tougher than I  
had expected, so I had to hit it twice before it fell away.  
So much for the element of surprise, I thought casually. 
	The criminals gained nothing from that extra second  
or two. They just stood and stared at me as I paced to the  
middle of the room. 
	"Slumming today, Supergirl?" One of the men asked  
with a wicked grin. He, like his companions, was dressed in  
black. 
	"Interesting clothes," commented another, as he  
walked up to me and looked me over. "Let me guess. Your  
regular threads are still in the wash." 
	A third man, wearing a cat mask just like the  
Catwoman's, watched on with a smile on his face and a hard- 
on in his pants. 
	I just stood there, surprised by their attitude. Why  
did they seem so cocky? I tried to see their faces through  
their masks, but I couldn't. Obviously they treated their  
masks with lead or something similar. And that meant that  
they were expecting me, or were at least prepared for me. I  
felt a tingle in my back, as I came fully alert. Could this  
be a trap? 
	I looked around the room carefully. Closed-circuit  
cameras were recording the robbery from multiple angles. Six  
witnesses, all men dressed up in identical security guard  
uniforms, were watching on from the next room. I couldn't  
even see where the robbers were taking the paintings. It  
almost seemed like they were taking the paintings off of one  
wall and replacing them on another. What was going on here? 
	"Where is the Catwoman?" I demanded, barely hiding my  
confusion. 
	"Why, I was taking a catnap in the corner," came the  
reply, as Selina stepped into the lit room, drawing all eyes  
to her. All I could do is stand and stare as she sauntered  
gracefully towards me. 
	I knew that Selina had several Catwoman costumes, all  
of them daring, and I had anticipated this moment, wondering  
what she would be wearing tonight, whether spandex, leather,  
silk, or even black lace.  But she took my breath away,  
dressed in transparent purple tights from her cat mask down  
to her knee high black books.   Her nipples were hard and  
prominent behind the sheer fabric. Her trimmed pussy was  
moist with excitement, leaving a small dark purple spot  
between her legs. 
	I felt my pussy react sympathetically, as Selina  
walked right up to me, looking me right in the eyes. "Can I  
interest you in a work of art?" she purred. 
	I looked away, as I tried to regain my composure.  I  
swallowed and said, "I'm here to take you in." 
	Selina smiled and posed, "Oh, by all means take me  
in! Do you like what you see?"  Then she stepped even  
closer, so that we were nearly touching.  "Or did you have  
more in mind? You came here to experience something new.  
That's what museums are for, aren't they?" 
	I felt myself sweating, and the scent of her perfume  
weakened my will. I tried to meet her eyes, tried not to  
blink. "I'm taking you in for stealing valuable art." 
	Selina stroked my shoulder carefully with her clawed  
black glove, and I stepped back. "I didn't steal anything.  
We were just rearranging things a bit." 
	"Well ... I'm taking you in anyway," I said. "We have  
a long list of crimes over the years." 
	"I'm sorry, but you aren't taking me anywhere,"  she  
whispered in my ear. "Instead, I think I'll be taking you." 
	I felt my heart racing. "What do you mean? How will  
you stop me?" 
	Selina gestured towards the security guards in the  
other room, and then rested her glove on my hip. "You see,  
if you don't do exactly as I say, my friends on the other  
end of these closed-circuit cameras will blow these nice  
people to tiny bits." 
	It was a trap! "What do you want me to do?" 
	I gasped when Selina's glove stroked down my shirt  
and slipped into my shorts. My knees gave, and I collapsed  
against her her larger body, suddenly breathing heavily,  
suddenly staring deeply into her eyes. 
	"Why nothing at all, for the moment," she purred. And  
then she kissed me. 
	The power of her kiss sent shivers down my body,  
weakening me. What kind of perfume was she wearing? It was  
making me dizzy, and my heart was racing . . . 
	But I had to keep my wits about me. I couldn't let  
these feelings overwhelm me. These were dangerous feelings  
that could sap my powers. I should be trying to think of a  
way out.  
	I stepped away from the Catwoman and tried to collect  
myself. "I can't do this," I said, scanning the rooms,  
looking for bombs, but I couldn't see them. Maybe they were  
plastic explosives, because I would have seen anything else  
right away. "There has to be something else you want." 
	Selina touched my face with one claw, lightly  
scratching my skin. "Maybe I'll think of something else  
later," she said, then she sniffed at my neck and ear,  
purring. "But for now I have a craving for super-flesh." 
	"I don't see any bombs," I said, stepping away again. 
	Selina glanced at me hard, looking slightly offended.  
"Oh, would you like me to set one off? It will only kill one  
or two people." 
	I shook my head quickly, and I let her touch me, "No,  
please, don't." 
	What else could I do?  I thought of the guards who  
were watching, the people I was "saving," and I felt  
extremely embarrassed.  What was Selina going to make me do?  
I wouldn't let myself think of it. 
	Selina smiled. "So you'll be good?" She let one  
clawed finger travel lazily down my chest, cutting through  
my T-shirt along the way, exposing my cleavage, biting into  
my skin. 
	I nodded. 
	When her finger reached my shorts, my shirt hung  
loose like drapes. She reached inside with both hands,  
followed the length of my side up to my shoulders, exposing  
both of my breasts along the way. Then she pushed my shirt  
back so that it hung loose behind me, trapping my arms like  
cloth handcuffs behind my back. 
	"Say it," she demanded, and she leaned over and  
sucked on my right nipple. 
	"I ...." I started, and then suddenly gasped when  
Selina pinched my other nipple with her claws. "I'll be  
good." 
	Now Selina was kneeling in front of me with her  
clawed hands digging into my shorts. She licked her lips.  
"Say it again, I didn't hear you." 
	"I ..." I started again, when Selina viciously tore  
the shorts into shreds. "I'll be good." 
	"Oh, I don't I believe you," Selina said, as she  
looked at my bare, glistening pussy. My juices were running  
down my thigh. "Good girls don't shave themselves down here.  
Good girls never get this wet. I think being good is the  
last thing on your mind." 
	I couldn't speak. I could barely even think. 
	I closed my eyes, realizing that everyone else's eyes  
were wide open, staring at me, stroking my skin like ghostly  
fingers, filling me with fear -- and excitement. My  
excitement overflowed, running down my thighs almost in a  
stream. 
	I could barely stand still as Selina licked my thighs  
clean. 
	"Mmm, you taste so good!" she purred, as my juices  
ran down her face. "But you've barely quenched my thirst.  
Open up a little." 
	She pushed my feet apart, sliding my shoes on the  
floor, and I struggled to keep my balance.. Then the Catwoman  
kneeled between my legs and sniffed at my pussy.  My heart  
was beating out of control, as I worried and anticipated  
what she would do next.  I shuddered when she just barely  
touched my pussy lips with her tongue, stroking from one end  
to the other, but she stopped too soon. Then she held my  
pussy open wide with two clawed fingers, that felt like two  
needles, and she puckered her lips and blew on my clit. I  
nearly fell from the shock of the almost agonizing pleasure  
that shot through me.  My hips thrust and spasmed. My pussy  
gushed like an orange being squeezed. 
	Then Selina grabbed my ass and buried her claws in  
deep, as she dove into my pussy like a carnivore, licking  
and sucking and even biting. 
	I couldn't keep my balance anymore, as wave after  
wave of pleasure stung me, and I fell like a deer torn down  
by a lion. But someone caught me before I could hit the  
ground. He held me up, as the Catwoman kept on me, ravaging  
her helpless prey. All I could do was moan "no" over and  
over. 
	I gazed through half open eyes at the guards in the  
next room -- the innocents for whom I was offering up my  
body.  I couldn't tell what they were thinking. Why weren't  
they at least using this distraction to escape? Maybe I was   
crazy with passion, and maybe Selina's wonderful tongue was  
confusing me, but that look in their eyes didn't look like  
disgust or disappointment or even worry. They seemed to be  
in wide eyed attention, and one man was even trying to sneak  
into the room for a better look. I couldn't believe it. I  
was a featured exhibit, like an x-rated Monet or Renior. I  
felt the last of my resistance give. My body was limp. I was  
defeated. 
	"Mmmm, don't you pet a cat when she's affectionate?"  
Selina whispered, reaching behind me to free my hands. 
	I closed my eyes and stroked the Catwoman's hair,  
while I moaned softly, then louder. Finally I was crying out  
without even thinking, again and again: "YES!" I buried my  
fingers in Selina's locks when she dipped her tongue inside.  
I twisted when she squeezed her claws into my ass, leaving  
marks that would last several days, as my powers melted  
away.  I yelled out when she nibbled on my clit. I was oh so  
close! 
	But Selina pulled away just a moment too soon,  
leaving my body shivering and aching and empty. "Oh, no," I  
begged, totally powerless, not even able to stand on my own,  
"Please don't stop yet!" 
	"Now let's not be greedy," Selina said, shaking her  
finger and licking her lips. "Remember, you promised to be  
good. You've had your fun, and now it's time to share." 
	I nodded and reached out to her. I didn't resist her  
orders anymore. I only wanted to come now. 
	"Oh, no, not with me," she replied. "Maybe you could  
start with the man who's holding you up. I think it's his  
turn. I think he earned it last night." 
	What did she mean by that? I thought, but I forgot  
the question when the hands that had been supporting me let  
go, and I fell to the floor at his feet. When I looked up at  
him, he just grinned at me from behind his black mask. The  
cat-man. And then the cat-man lowered his pants, freeing the  
erection he had since I first saw him. His excitement hadn't  
waned, and seeing his excitement started my mouth watering. 
	"On your hands and knees," Selina said, reaching down  
to slap my ass. 
	I did as she told me without qualms. Her orders  
didn't seem like orders anymore. It was like her will became  
my will. I kneeled with my ass facing Selina and an audience  
behind her. I opened my knees slightly, wanting them to see  
my pussy, wanting someone to use it, to get me off, while I  
looked at the swollen dick being offered to me, and I took  
it in my hand. He was so hot, he might have had a fever. 
	I glanced up at the cat-man, and his grin was gone.  
His mouth was open in expectation. 
	Back down at eye level, a tiny drop of pre-cum  
emerged from his dick. I licked it off and circled the plump  
head with my tongue, but when I did, another drop replaced  
it.  So I opened my mouth and took him in, working him like  
a Lifesaver with my tongue. I don't know why, but I really  
wanted to please him. 
	Someone was behind me now, touching my pussy,  
stroking me with his finger. *Oh, please don't stop!* I  
arched my back, jutting my pussy up even higher. Now the  
finger found my clit and massaged it slowly. I couldn't  
think about the dick in my mouth anymore. I was coming fast  
again, and I needed to breath. 
	But the cat-man was coming fast, too, and when I was  
about to release his dick, he suddenly grabbed my head and  
thrusted in deep. He would have pushed right to the back of  
my throat, if my hand wasn't in the way. He thrust again,  
and again. 
	And then I felt my ass being lifted into the air, as  
someone thrust in from behind, pushing in his dick in so  
deep I could barely fit him. I had to gasp and take a  
breath, when the dick in my mouth came crashing in again.  
And again. And again, in rhythm, the dicks filled my pussy,  
filled my mouth, until I could barely tell them apart.  I  
couldn't even move. My body was suspended in the air, my  
hair and my ass being pulled in both directions, tossing me  
like a rag doll, -- except for one hand that I had firmly  
planted on the ground.  A million sensations overwhelmed me,  
but I focused on that hand, putting all of my strength into  
it, thinking that it was my anchor, and if it went, I would  
be lost. 
	Suddenly, the cat-man stopped thrusting and pulled my  
hair until it hurt. I knew he was about to come, and I had a  
sudden impulse, something I had always fantasized about. I  
wrapped my lips around his dick tight, and I pressed hard  
against his dick with my tongue, cutting off his semen flow.  
I felt his dick shaking like a volcano ready to erupt, but  
he couldn't. He moaned in frustration. He thrust again, but  
only a drop escaped before I cut him off again.  He needed  
to come so bad that he wouldn't let me stop him. He grabbed  
my hand, pulling it from his dick, and then he thrust until  
he hit the back of  my throat. I opened my mouth in reflex,  
just as he exploded. His hot, salty essence escaped into my  
mouth, shocking me, riddling me with confusion. 
	I didn't know what to think or how to feel. I didn't  
know whether he tasted good or bad. I didn't know whether to  
feel violated, or to accept his essence as a gift. I only  
know that I didn't *want* to feel violated. 
	And I liked the way he was stroking my hair, now,  
making up for the pain he caused only a few moments ago. It  
was enough. It let me savor his salty taste before  
swallowing. It let me suck him until his plump red dick  
wouldn't give anymore and I needed some air.  
	And now I could concentrate on the man behind me, who  
was fucking faster, now. *Oh please don't come too fast,  
now! Finish me off!*  I don't know know if I ever wanted  
anything more in my life. 
	I was almost hyperventilating, when two more hands  
grabbed my legs and lifted my ass high into the air, and the  
fucking accelerated. Each thrust gave me greater pleasure  
and increasing pain. My pussy was very sore, now, that my  
lubrication was all used up, and my powers were all but  
gone. I couldn't bear it, yet tears ran down my cheeks, and  
I yelled out: "Oh, oh! Don't stop!" 
	He didn't stop, and now it was too late.  Like magic,  
the unbearable aching and pain changed into a mind  
shattering orgasm. My arms gave way beneath me, and my head  
fell to the ground. The world was spinning, and I was  
screaming, as if in pain or terror, but I felt nothing like  
that. I felt . . . full. I felt relieved. I felt so fucking  
awesome that if it didn't stop soon, it just might kill me. 
	I was barely conscious when I came again, or the  
third time. I only remember feeling my body spasm and my  
arms going limp. 
	Before I knew it, it had stopped, and I was just  
lying there, naked on the floor, sprawled out, at peace.  
What had happened to me was like a dream, but I felt the  
hard cold waxed floor against my chest. I felt a cool breeze  
soothing my irritated pussy. 
	The cat-man kneeled beside me and stroked my hair. I  
looked up at him. He had taken off his mask. I stared,  
thinking I should recognize him. He said, "Hi Linda with the  
great tasting pussy." 
	Selina stood over me. Her tights were now soaking,  
and I felt strangely sorry for her.  I was very confused,  
but I actually pitied her, that she had to work so hard to  
conquer me, that she plotted this rape fantasy so carefully,  
all for me and her friends, but not for herself. 
	"Thanks for the entertainment," she said. "We must do  
it again some time." 
	"You are going?" I asked, suddenly confused and  
disappointed. Then, as an afterthought, "What about the  
security guards?" 
	"Didn't you guess?" she asked in amazement. "They  
aren't security guards. There is no bomb. They are just  
friends who wanted to be here. See?" she said with a smile  
as she grabbed a guard and kissed him hard on the lips. 
	No, I had never guessed, and I felt a little angry  
and embarrassed at being fooled so easily. I tried to get  
up, but I could barely even manage sitting down. 
	Selina, sensing my anger, raised her hand. "Don't  
bother trying to stop us. You won't get your powers back for  
at least ten more minutes yet." 
	"Huh? How do you know that?" I asked. I didn't even  
know how long it would take. 
	"My dear Supergirl," she smiled smugly, and she  
pushed me over with her boot, just to show her confidence.  
"Knowledge is everything. It's the only thing that keeps a  
vigilante alive and free. Tell Andrew that, like always, I  
was a step ahead of him." 
	"What?" I asked, understanding her only a tiny bit at  
a time. The web I was caught in was much more intricate than  
I had imagined. "How do you know about Andrew?" 
	"You mean he never told you? Really, you should know  
more about your friends before you put your trust in them." 
	"We have to go now, before you get strong and angry  
and forget all the nice things we did for you." She gestured  
to the cat-man, "We owe her something to wear, after  
destroying her clothes." 
	He dropped a very familiar purse onto my lap. "I hope  
you don't mind if I keep the cape," he said, grinning. "Just  
something to remember you by." 
	And then they were gone, before I could rise to my  
feet. A few minutes later, just like Selina said, my powers  
were returning, but by then they were long gone,  hiding  
among ten million faces in Gotham City. 
	 
	I twisted and moaned, half asleep and half awake,  
half remembering and half dreaming. 
	I saw myself lying naked on the floor. I was  
paralyzed from extreme pain and pleasure. Scratches ran down  
the length of my sides and my legs. My nipples were sore  
from being sucked. My breasts were bruised from so much  
squeezing. My pussy was bleeding, and Selina was standing  
over me with my blood all over her face. She smiled at me.  
My blood dripped from her long fangs. 
	Andrew crawled beside her and licked the blood from  
her lips.  Then he turned his attention to me, and bore into  
me with a terrible glare,  yelling something that didn't  
make sense. It sounded like . . . 
	. . . the doorbell. I sat up quickly and looked  
around. I was in my bedroom, and the clock said 7 am.   
Calvin was lying at the foot of my bed, looking up at me.  I  
was naked under the sheets. I wasn't bleeding or bruised,  
yet my heart was racing, and my pussy was wet with  
excitement, ready for fucking again. What was wrong with me?  
Was I a slave to my sexuality? 
	The doorbell buzzed again, this time longer and more  
insistently. 
	"Just a second," I yelled. I slipped into a bathrobe,  
carelessly tossed on my wig, and floated downstairs. I  
paused at the bottom of the stairs when, looking through the  
door, I saw who was on the other side. 
	*Shit!* It was Andrew. I hesitated. Why was he here  
so early in the morning? He knows I sleep in late. He must  
have known about last night. *Oh, Shit!*  What was I gonna  
say? 
	"Open the door, Linda," he said impatiently from the  
other side.. 
	I unlatched the door and let him in.  He didn't look  
at me or say hello. He walked right past me into the living  
room to a hard wooden chair, sat down and told me to do  
likewise.  
	I sat in a wooden chair facing him. I crossed my legs  
and covered myself as best I could with the bathrobe. 
	Andrew was very angry. He was so angry he wouldn't  
even look at me. He just stared at the ceiling, collecting  
himself. For almost a minute, he said nothing. The suspense  
was almost unbearable. Then he finally said, "Guess what I  
found in my mailbox about an hour ago." 
	I shivered. "I don't know," I said, but I knew it  
must have been bad. 
	"A video tape," he spitted out, and then he paused  
and let the words sink in. 
	I covered my face with my hands and couldn't think of  
anything to say, except, "Fuck!" 
	"Exactly," Andrew replied. "What the fuck happened?  
What makes you feel worse? That you let Selina get away, or  
that there were still a few men that you didn't fuck last  
night?" 
	"Stop it!" I said, a little shocked, a little angry.  
He didn't have the right to talk to me that way. I didn't  
even think he was capable of talking that way. "It's not  
like I had a choice. She *made* me do it!" 
	"That's not the way it looked on the tape," Andrew  
said. "You didn't even try to stop them." 
	"I couldn't! She threatened to kill the security  
guards if I didn't do what she wanted," I told him, but not  
convincingly. It was the truth, but it felt like a lie. It  
was just a convenient excuse. 
	Even so, it surprised Andrew, and he lowered his  
tone. "What do you mean?" 
	"Weren't you listening? That's what she said." 
	Andrew shook his head, "The tape didn't have sound,  
just visual. But what security guards? There were no  
security guards. And there was no bomb." 
	"I thought they were guards. They looked like guards.  
I didn't know they were just her friends. And I thought  
maybe the bomb was hidden, maybe in lead." I said, clinging  
to my excuse, no matter how lame it seemed, no matter how  
much I might have even enjoyed last night, it wasn't  
something I chose to do. 
	Andrew shook his head.  "So you just let them all  
fuck you. With all of your powers, you could have done  
*something!*" 
	"Like what?" 
	"I don't know! You might have tried to threaten her.  
You might have at least objected, instead of begging for  
more. You are going to make me look really bad, when I have  
to show this tape to the agency. How can I justify hiring  
you now? What do we do if she makes this tape public?" 
	I shuddered at the thought. "I'm sorry. I didn't want  
to let you down." 
	"And what was all this crap about the t-shirt and the  
shorts? How did they get your costume?" 
	"They stole it from me a few days ago on the train. I  
didn't know who they were then," I said, hoping he wouldn't  
press for details. 
	"They stole it from you?" Andrew was surprised and  
more than a little confused. 
	I just nodded, expecting to be grilled. *Please don't  
push me*, I wished. I knew if he pushed, I'd have to tell  
him the truth about that train ride. I was a terrible liar.  
	"And when were you gonna share this information with  
me? I thought we were on the same team." 
	"So did I," I replied, remembering Selina's last  
words before she left. I was grateful to turn the blame back  
on him. "When were *you* gonna tell *me* about your  
connection with Selina?" 
	"My connection . . .?" Andrew paused as if hit from  
out of nowhere. "I didn't think that mattered. It was need- 
to-know information only." 
	"I think I needed to know. Last night . . . the  
museum . . . it was all a trap. They knew I was coming. They  
knew you were sending me," I said angrily, fighting my way  
out of the corner of blame. "She told me to tell you that,  
like always, she was one step ahead of you." 
	Andrew looked shocked. He stood up and looked around  
the apartment. He closed the blind to the window, then he  
examined the lamps and the furniture, until he found a thin  
wire emerging from a hole in the rug and disappearing into  
the sofa. He tore it loose with much more force than was  
necessary. "That bitch!" 
	"So what is this all about?" I pushed, more curious  
than angry, now that I was no longer in the hot seat. 
	Andrew shook his head and looked away. "I hired her  
to work for the agency several months ago." 
	"You did what?  You hired a criminal? What for?" 
	"To help us get close to the major players in Gotham  
City. It made sense at the time. She had contacts we could  
never have. I thought she'd make a great double agent. We  
had a second agent watching her from the other side, in case  
she decided to betray us." Andrew shook his head, and either  
laughed or sighed. Despite his anger, he half smiled in  
amazement. "We never expected that she'd betray both sides." 
	"What did she do?" I asked. "I mean, it must have  
been something pretty awful." 
	Andrew glared at me and said, "I don't think you need  
to know any more." 
	"Why? Was it something personal?" I asked, stepping  
closer. 
	"Never mind. It doesn't matter. Let's just say we  
both have good reasons to get her now." 
	So it *was* personal! My mind fluttered with ideas of  
what it might have been. Did she steal from him? Were they  
lovers?  
	Andrew walked away from me, as if he was afraid I  
might ask these questions. He walked straight for the door,  
and then he half turned towards me, saying, "We can't let  
her get away with this.  I'll contact you tonight." 
	"So you still want me to work with you?" I asked,  
barely believing it. 
	He nodded. "Sure, and you can keep the video tape. I  
made copies before I left." 
	I watched him leave, wondering and worrying what he  
meant by that. 
 
	I laid on the couch, trying to catch up on some of  
the sleep I had lost that morning, but I was too anxious. I  
stared unseeing at the television, instead, feeling confused  
and ashamed and afraid. And then, as my mind awakened, I  
began to feel angry. 
	I guess I can be pretty dense sometimes. Anyone would  
have known what he meant by that, except me. Maybe I knew  
what he meant all along, but it took a while for me to  
believe the obvious. 
	I liked Andrew ever since I had met him, and I  
thought that he liked me, too, even when he had trapped me,  
even when he spied on me. If I like a man, I can look past  
ten flaws to the one wonderful thing about him. Andrew  
trapped me, but then he let me go.. He would spy on me, but  
then he'd apologize, saying sometimes he hated his job, but  
he had to do it. He'd talk to me for days like he was my  
best friend. I thought he had a weakness for me. I thought  
maybe part of him secretly loved me. 
	Even if it were true, he still wanted to keep me on a  
leash. That video tape was a leash, and he could use it to  
keep me in line. He saw what happened when he let me loose,  
like at the museum. He was angry at me, like a master would  
be angry at a pet for pooping on the floor. He wouldn't let  
me loose again. 
	He was even angrier at the Catwoman. It wasn't just  
the anger he might have towards just any criminal. She was  
like a disobedient pet. She was the pet that scratched up  
his prized possessions. She was the pet that knocked the  
vase off of the mantel. She was the pet that ran away. 
	And I was the pet that would pay the price. I hated  
being a part of his control games. 
	As these thoughts of pets and cats haunted my mind, I  
thought about Calvin, and how I hadn't seen him at all since  
Andrew left. Usually when I'm lying on the couch, Calvin  
will leap up and cuddle with me, purring and demanding  
attention, making me feel better, but when I looked for him  
now, I saw him crouching in the corner. 
	"What's the matter, Calvin?" I asked. "Did that big,  
bad man scare you?" 
	He just stared at me, as though I was the stranger,  
not Andrew. 
	I waited for a minute, just watching him, wondering  
what was wrong. He didn't look hurt, yet he just eyed me  
suspiciously and kept his distance. I forgot about Andrew  
and Selina and the anger I was feeling, as I watched Calvin,   
His distrust made me feel lonely and rejected. Sad to say,  
Calvin was my best friend, and he had always loved me  
unconditionally. Until now, anyway. 
	Finally, Calvin stood up, stretched and said, "Meow".   
He leaped onto the couch. He rubbed his head against my  
belly. When I stroked his neck and back, he arched into my  
hand and purred. 
	"That's a good boy!" I whispered, as I rubbed his  
neck and back.  I sheltered him and consoled him like I  
wished someone would do for me. I treated him like a pet  
should be treated. . . 
	Not that I wanted for Andrew to treat me like a pet.  
I worked for him, and I only wanted for him to treat me with  
the respect an employer should have for his employees.  
Employees should be respected, and pets should be loved. No  
matter how he thought of me, he wasn't treating me right. He  
was using me, and I didn't want to be used anymore. 
	My eye twitched and I felt my whole body shiver, when  
I had a shameful realization: I've let people use me for  
most of my life. Even worse, I think I *wanted* people to  
use me, to take control of me. Carol loved to play with my  
emotions, and I loved the games she played. My father was  
very stern, and sometimes I think I earned his love by  
always doing as I was told. I can barely even think about  
what I let happen with Sam, and I virtually begged Selina to  
do whatever she wanted with me.  No wonder people didn't  
respect me. I was pretty pathetic!  
	*I won't let anyone do that to me again!* My mind  
screamed in anger and shame and disgust.  *Not Andrew, not  
anyone!* 
	Just then, Calvin clawed his way from my arms and  
disappeared in the corner, again. He wouldn't even look out  
from behind the chair. I hadn't seen him so scared since. .  
 well, since he was Sam's pet three years ago. 
	What happened? Maybe I let my anger get the best of  
me, and I squeezed him a little too tight. Maybe I pet him  
too hard. 
	No, that wasn't it.  I was angry, and maybe I wasn't  
being affectionate, but I was very gentle. I didn't even rub  
him the wrong way. I kept my ugly emotions inside, showing  
him only kindness, so unless he could read my mind . . . 
 
	. . .  read my mind! How could I have gone almost  
four years on Earth without realizing it? I guess I would  
have realized it earlier if I could read other people's (or  
cat's) minds. Discovering my other powers was easy. I  
couldn't miss floating down a flight of stairs, or crushing  
a telephone in my hand, or seeing through the walls of my  
dorm room.  But how could I have guessed that I was sending  
psychic signals out?	 
	I closed my eyes, breathed in deeply, imagining that  
my body smelled like catnip and it felt like a warm, soft  
spot in the sunlight. 
	A moment later, Calvin jumped back on the sofa and  
nuzzled against my belly. 
	I smiled, now knowing that I was right. Calvin had  
read my mind. 
	I closed my eyes again and imagined a familiar field  
with bushes and trees and small mice scurrying through the  
grass and darting into holes in the ground. 
	Calvin looked quickly up at me, and then around the  
apartment. He leaped from the sofa and onto the window sill.  
He stared outside, looking for mice to chase. 
	I closed my eyes again and thought of a giant  
Rottweiler, staring at Calvin, foaming at the mouth, and  
barking like thunder. 
	Calvin spun around in panic, fell from the window  
sill and disappeared under the sofa, as deeply hidden as he  
could get. 
	Why did I do that? I covered my face, laughing in  
shame and amazement. 
	I looked under the sofa and saw Calvin staring  
suspiciously back at me.  "I'm sorry Calvin. That was very  
mean of me." 
	I felt really guilty for scaring him like that,  
betraying his trust. The funny thing was that I was still  
smiling, and not in a nice way. I was so amazed by how  
quickly the predator had become the prey. 
 
	I hadn't walked the pathways of Metropolis University  
since I graduated several months ago, but I thought there  
was no better place to experiment with my newly discovered  
power. After all, everyone played mind games there,  it  
seemed. When I was a student, I played them, too. I had been  
hungry for friends, until I learned that with a little  
teasing in my short skirts and tight t-shirts, I would have  
as many friends as I could handle. 
	Just rummaging through my old school clothes made me  
shiver in excitement. I put on a one piece gold colored  
dress, with a matching gold jacket and gold shoes. Mary once  
told me that the gold highlighted my long brown hair. She  
had much better fashion sense than I did, so I believed her.  
	As provocative as my work wardrobe was, my school  
clothes were twice that. The jacket completely covered my  
breasts, encouraging curious eyes to either look in my eyes  
-- or travel south. The dress ended in a microskirt that  
barely covered my ass and fell less than an inch below my  
pussy. Unlike the red skirt of my Supergirl costume, this  
skirt was form fitting, clinging to my ass. 
	Even so, I didn't call very much attention to myself,  
because roughly half of the women on campus were dressed  
similarly. The rule among college girls, it seemed, was to  
dress to the extreme while still being legally decent. 
	Right now, brightly colored tights seemed to be in  
fashion. I walked past one woman who was wearing purple from  
head to toe. She reminded me very much of how Selina looked  
in the museum, except this college girl's tights were not  
see through -- at least to ordinary eyes. She pushed the  
limits by shaving her pussy and wearing nothing under her  
tights, so the shape of her pussy lips were clearly visible,  
as if the tights were a second skin. I admired that. 
	We were both pushing the limits, really, but she was  
getting more looks than I was.  I could steal some of her  
attention by just reaching down to pick up a pen -- I might  
even get the police's attention. But without breaking the  
rules, I couldn't compete. 
	Miniskirts were falling out of fashion.  The skirt  
flirt has lost some of it's mystery, because everyone knew  
that most women were completely decent underneath.  Tights  
gave men more too look at, but left less for their  
imagination or anticipation, so I knew that some day soon,  
miniskirts would come back. 
	Men just needed to start believing again. They were  
tired of watching a closed cookie jar, just in case it might  
open. They were tired of the promise of paradise, but no  
sign of it. They wanted a glimmer of hope, like a mirage in  
the horizon, or a rumor of a sighting, just to keep their  
faith alive. 
	And then I smiled as I realized I could give them  
exactly what they wanted. 
	I paused for a moment at a crossroads, letting people  
pass around me, and I concentrated on my appearance. I  
thought especially hard about my miniskirt, imagining that  
it was two inches shorter. I imagined that my pussy lips  
were barely visible to people walking by. They were just a  
hint of pink below the gold hemline. 
	When I opened my eyes, half of the people within  
thirty yards were staring at me. Maybe they were just  
staring at the weirdo who stopped in the middle of traffic  
with her eyes closed, I thought, so I started walking again,  
and sure enough, they were still looking, eyes slightly  
down, following my ass. 
	This time, with my eyes opened, I concentrated on my  
leg, and I imagined that a drop of pussy juice was rolling  
down my thigh, glistening in the sunlight. 
	And wow! What a reaction! I felt everyone's eyes on  
me now, and a few men were even following close behind. 
	Then, as I emerged from the shadow of a building, I  
walked into a cool breeze that sent a chill over my body,  
between my legs, and over my thighs. That's when I felt the  
moisture -- the tracks of two *real* droplets that had  
settled behind my knee. I was having so much fun imagining  
that I didn't know how real my fantasy was. My pussy was  
overflowing. 
	*Oh, God!*  I thought, in shame, and I walked quickly  
now. Embarrassment brought more excitement, and more  
evidence. At least I was walking too fast now for people to  
see. I hurried into the Mulligan Social Science Hall, and  
found a deserted corner, where I paused to collect myself. 
	This is becoming a habit, I thought to myself as I  
wiped my legs clean. I keep getting myself into these kinds  
of situations.   I want to be a good girl. I want to be a  
bad girl.  I want to do the right things -- but I want to  
break all the rules, and I don't want to be caught. Or do I?  
God, I'm messed up. I need to see a shrink. 
	Which, in a way, is why I was here. 
 
	"Linda!" Pamela shouted in surprise. She emerged from  
behind her desk to greet me. She was wearing one of those  
fashionable skin tight suits, and I felt a little more  
comfortable.  She wouldn't give me those silly Freudian  
comments, like "penis envy" or like connecting my desires to  
the death of my father. She was a good-bad girl herself.  
Besides, she was into much more unorthodox theories. 
	"Hi Pam," I said, as I wrote my name down on the  
sign-in sheet. "Not much of a crowd here." 
	She shook her head, and glanced away. "Nope, I think  
I started about twenty years too late. It was a stupid idea  
for a thesis, really. People just laugh when you say "ESP"  
today. The only people who come in are religious freaks who  
think I'm some kind of witch, and students who are desperate  
for extra credit. Why are *you* here?" 
	"Well, I'm not a religious freak, so I must be  
looking for extra credit, and I thought it would be kewl to  
get it from an old friend." 
	Pam looked at me funny. "I thought you graduated." 
	I shook my head, "Almost. I had an incomplete on a  
psych course, and I have to make it up." 
	Pam looked skeptical, but she wouldn't call me a  
liar. Why would I lie, anyway? Just to see what I could get  
away with, of course. 
	"Oh," she said. "So . . . are those the only  
reasons?" 
	I shrugged. I think she probably asked everyone who  
walked through her door about their motivations, but it had  
a special meaning for me. 
	A few years ago, when we were both undergrads, Pam  
had asked me maybe ten times to do ESP experiments with her,  
and I always refused. People talked about her behind her  
back, calling her a flake, and I didn't want to be a part of  
that. 
	But more importantly, she had a reputation as a  
lesbian, and I was strictly hetero back then. I didn't want  
to be a part of her lesbian fantasies. I always suspected  
that the ESP experiments were just a scheme to get me in  
bed. 
	But I underestimated Pam's devotion to ESP. She  
always hoped to do real research on the topic, and finally  
she had the chance as a graduate student. 
	"I thought you didn't believe in this stuff, Linda,"  
Pam said, maybe feeling used, because I would do this for  
extra credit, but not just to be a good friend. 
	"I'm sorry, Pam. I guess I didn't have a very open  
mind back then. It just seemed so ... crazy, but I'm  
thinking now: if people can fly or turn invisible, anything  
is possible, right?" 
	"I never thought of it that way," Pam said, less  
angry. "But you may have been right before. We've tested  
hundreds of people, and haven't found a single hint of  
psychic ability in anyone. I don't know why I even do it  
anymore, and I feel like I'm just going through the motions,  
now." 
	"Well, let's go through the motions again," I said,  
with a smile. "You never know when the right person will  
come along." 
 
	Pam introduced me to her creation:  a kind of  
isolation booth for two people designed to keep out all  
noise and external stimuli, fascillitating psychic  
stimulation -- or so Pam says. To me it looked like one of  
those confessionals that Catholics use. It even had the  
slide-away door inside. If I could read Pam's mind, I'm sure  
I'd find out that she bought it from an old church. 
	But I couldn't read her mind, as part one of her test  
bore out. 
	Pam read silently from a passage in a book, and asked  
me what she had just read.  
	"Something about disciplining pets?" I asked. 
	"Huh? Uh, no. Just relax. Try to clear your mind,"  
Pam said. 
	Next she stared at a series of photographs and asked  
me what she was looking at. 
	"Two women torturing a man?" I asked. 
	"What?" Pam laughed. "No, it's just a picture of a  
chair. They are very simple pictures, Linda. Just one  
object." 
	Then she told me that she was thinking of a part of  
her body -- that this somehow tested emotional signals. 
	"Your nose?" 
	"No," Pam replied, barely hiding her frustration. "I  
was thinking of my belly button." 
	"Oh, I knew it was something with an opening." 
	"Common, Linda, I know it sounds silly, but please  
take this seriously," she said as she turned off the light  
on her side of the booth. A moment later, my side lit up.  
"Your turn now. We are pretty sure that you aren't a  
receiver, so lets see if you are a transmitter. Remember,  
try to think only about the objects in your hand. The  
passage first . . ." 
	I licked my lips, as I picked up a sealed envelop and  
opened it. I read silently: 
	"The long playing record has withstood many  
challenges throughout the twentieth century, starting with  
wire recorders in the 1920's and then more serious  
challenges with magnetic tape technology, including reel-to- 
reel, 8-Track, and cassette tapes. Vinyl did not lose it's  
market until the advent of digitized sound, starting in the  
1980's." 
	"OK," I said, and then yawned. "What did I read?" 
	Pam paused, then asked: "Something boring?" 
	"Yeah . . .?" I said. "What else?" 
	"Something about car tires?" 
	Huh? Car tires?  "No, let me read it again," I said  
and tried to concentrate very hard on what I was reading.  
"OK, I'm done." 
	Pam paused, then finally guessed, almost desperately,  
"A chocolate donut?" 
	"No," I said, feeling defeated. "The passage was  
about phonograph records." 
	I was stunned. I had assumed she'd be able to read my  
mind -- I never even considered the possibility of failure.   
Had I just imagined having the power? What about my  
experiments with Calvin? Maybe I could only communicate with  
animals. What about the students on campus? Maybe they were  
just responding to my clothes and my attitude and the  
excitement running down my legs-- not to what I was  
thinking. 
	"Hey," Pam said, with a touch of enthusiasm, "that's  
really not so far off. I mean, they are all round objects  
with holes. Try the pictures, next." 
	I halfheartedly picked up the first photo.  It was a  
picture of a red pickup truck, driving through a field. 
	"A car," Pam instantly said. "No, a truck. Red, and a  
lot of grass." 
	I gasped, suddenly awake again. 
	"Well?" Pam asked. 
	"You got it! Dead on!" 
	"No way!" she said, trying to contain her excitement.  
Surely I must have been joking with her ... 
	"Really, here, look," I said, holding the picture up  
to where she could see. 
	Her eyes sparkled, but still she wouldn't let herself  
believe. "Try the next picture." 
	Picture #2  was the Statue of Liberty, which  
immediately reminded me of Carol. 
	"A dark haired woman," Pam said. "No, not a woman. A  
statue. The Statue of Liberty?" 
	I showed her the picture, and she almost squealed in  
delight. "Oh, finally! Finally, we have proof! A real  
transmitter! Try the next picture." 
	I was very excited, too, but a warning bell went off  
in my head. What did Pam mean by proof? Was she gonna hold  
me up as an example? Would she tell everyone about me? If an  
enemy knew he could read my mind, my power would become his  
power, and he could use it against me. I had to kill the  
experiment right now. 
	I didn't look at the next picture. I closed my eyes  
and imagined a candle stick. 
	"A candle?" Pam asked. 
	I shook my head and showed her a picture of a  
grandfather clock. 
	"Oh." Pam shrugged, but was still enthusiastic. "Just  
a fluke. Try the next one." 
	I closed my eyes and imagined myself giving Pam a  
massage. I moved my hands under the towels, around her  
breasts. Then I rolled her over and sucked on her nipples. 
	Pam paused, and when she spoke, she sounded  
embarrassed. "A, uh, massage parlor?" 
	"What?" I asked, laughing and sounding as innocent as  
I could. I showed her the picture of a personal computer. 
	"Damn," Pam said."The statue and the truck couldn't  
have just been a coincidence. Try the body part test. Just  
try and relax and think only about that one body part." 
	I closed my eyes and focused my thoughts on my pussy.  
I touched myself with a finger, parting the lips, starting  
the flow. 
	Pam didn't say anything. 
	I slowly massaged my clit, imaging that my finger was  
her finger. I slipped another finger under the folds and  
pushed in deep. I hoped my excitement didn't show in my  
face. 
	Pam still said nothing. 
	I looked through the wall between us, and saw that  
Pam was shifting in her seat.  She was wet, too. I could  
smell her excitement. 
	"Well?" I asked. "What part of my body am I thinking  
of?" 
	Pam finally burst out, not wanting to say it, but she  
probably couldn't think of any other body part at this  
point. "Your pus --, uh, your genitals?" 
	"What?" I asked, trying to sound upset. 
	"Oh, I'm sorry Linda, I don't know why I thought of  
that." 
	"Really, Pam . . ." 
	"Try one more picture, please! I know we had some  
kind of connection." 
	"OK," I closed my eyes and imagined that I was  
kneeling between Pam's legs, sucking on her clit and  
squeezing her ass. She was twisting my hair in her hands and  
screaming out Linda, Oh Linda... 
	"Linda ..."  Pam whispered. She was breathing heavily  
now, and her face was almost red. 
	"Yes, Pam? What was the picture?" 
	"A woman licking..." Pam said, then took a breath, "I  
mean two women having oral sex." 
	Denying my own needs, I rushed out of the  
confessional as if in rage. Pam stumbled out behind me. I  
thought for a second that she might try to kiss me -- she  
was so excited. I don't know what I would have done if she  
had kissed me. But she collected herself and said, "I'm  
really sorry Linda. I don't know why I said those things." 
	"Well, I do," I replied. "And I'm sorry, Pam, but I'm  
not looking for a lover right now." 
	"Maybe you are right," Pam said, looking totally  
confused. "Maybe I was just seeing what I wanted to see. But  
please keep me in mind ... when you need a friend." 
	"OK," I said, thinking I might just take her up on  
that offer someday. I turned towards the door. "Bye, Pam." 
	"But Linda ... what about the extra credit?" 
	I smiled at her, which must have confused her even  
more, and said, "That's OK. I've decided to go for the full  
course, instead.."  
 
	*Oh, that was so MEAN, Linda!* that voice called a  
conscience said. 
	I smiled. *Fuck that, it was fun! Stop second  
guessing yourself, girl. The world is yours, if you want it.  
It's a good day to be Supergirl!.* 
	Why did I always feel that when I was having fun, I  
was losing control? 
	I looked left and right as I left the Social Science  
building. A thousand students were walking around, but no  
one seemed to be watching me. They will be watching soon, I  
thought, as I removed my wig and put it in my purse. 
	People lose control when they always do what society  
wants, when they always do what someone else wants, when  
they never do what they want. 
	Pam should have done what she wanted. 
	I kicked off my shoes. One of them took off like a  
rocket and landed on the roof of the cafeteria. A man  
walking nearby stopped dead in his tracks, and stared at me  
in awe. I smiled, blushing, "Oops!" 
	I walked on the lawn along the sidewalk, feeling the  
grass between my toes. I had never done that before, even  
though my feet had begged me to for years. Why didn't I just  
do what I wanted? Who would it have hurt? 
	Now many people were watching me. Was it really so  
strange to see someone walking barefoot? Or maybe they were  
seeing into my mind, anticipating. 
	I slipped out of my jacket and dropped it on the  
ground, and kept on walking. *Litterbug*, complained my  
conscience. *Don't be silly -- it's gonna make a good  
souvenir for someone.* 
	My skin tingled from the cool air and the awareness  
that a thousand eyes were watching me. A thousand  
imaginations were seeing my thoughts. 
	So they weren't surprised when I lifted my shirt over  
my head.. I tossed it high in the air. No one saw it land.  
They were watching my breasts jiggling back into place,  
finally free of that tight shirt. They were staring at my  
nipples, triggering that longing to suck, that everyone is  
born with, and no one quite completely forgets. I was sorry  
that I had only two nipples for this multitude. 
	My conscience screamed, but the voice just didn't  
bother me, anymore. Why should I be modest when everyone can  
see what I'm thinking, anyway? Wherever I go, they are  
sharing my fantasies, and I never even knew it . . . 
	I stopped walking for a moment to push my miniskirt  
down to my feet, and when I looked up, it was like the whole  
campus had stopped moving. Some people were laughing, some  
people were smiling, and some people were cheering. 
	I could barely breathe, as I shivered before their  
stares. My heart leaped whenever I heard the click of a  
camera. But this was only the beginning. 
	Weaving through the traffic jam of students were two  
cops, but before they could grab me, I floated up, just out  
of their reach, hovering above them like a very naughty  
angel. 
	I smiled. They didn't look angry, really, they were  
just doing their jobs. But I could see the hard ons in their  
pants, and it wasn't just because they had a good view of my  
wet pussy. They were feeling my excitement. The whole crowd  
was feeling it. How far did my power reach, anyway? The  
feeling was so strong, maybe all of Metropolis was feeling  
it.  Was that such a bad thing?  
	*OK, Linda, you've had your fun*, came that voice  
again. *You've given them all a thrill, now it's time to  
leave. Just fly away.* 
	*Oh, no,* I thought, shaking my head, rebelling.  *If  
you say stop, I say go. Aren't you the same voice that say's  
if you have something good, share it with everyone?* 
	I touched my dripping pussy with my fingertips, and  
spread the cum over my lips and all over the triangle. My  
gasp joined a chorus of gasps all around campus. I dropped  
my purse into the waiting hands of the police, so I could  
massage my breasts with my other hand. 
	Cameras clicked. A man right below me had a video  
camera. 
	I turned  towards him and closed my eyes. I was  
terrified and breathless, knowing that I would forever be  
remembered for this moment, for good or bad. I opened my  
legs slowly. My swollen pussy gushed like an opened melon,  
baptizing the man with the video camera. 
	The crowd was completely silent. I didn't have the  
courage to open my eyes and see how they were reacting. I  
just thought of that camera, and the aching inside. I  
stroked my clit and floated closer to the camera, until I  
could almost kiss it with my pussy.  *And now,* I thought,  
as I opened my pussy lips wide, *Look into my soul! Come  
inside! I have nothing left to hide!  Here is my fountain!  
Drink from it. Here is my body. . .* 
	A hand grabbed my leg and pulled me down into the  
hungry crowd.  I didn't open my eyes or put up a struggle.  
*Oh, take me! Pillage my body! Leave me with nothing but  
your passion anointing my body, and filling my pussy and  
mouth until I runneth over.* 
	A hand grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me hard.  
A voice carried over the cheers and whistles in the crowd,  
saying, "Linda! Linda, wake up!" 
	I opened my eyes. 
 
	For the second time today, Andrew shattered my dream.   
I was laying on the couch, and he stood over me in my living  
room, shaking my shoulders.  His eyes were on fire, and he  
was breathing heavily. I melted into the cushions, sure that  
he was gonna kiss me or just jump on me. But he just stood  
there, staring, his light complexion glowing bright red. 
	"Why Andy," I finally said with a smile, "I didn't  
know you cared!" 
	He stumbled backwards, and looked disoriented, as if  
coming out of a hypnotic trance. And then he was Andrew  
again. "Do your legs always pop open when you sleep?" 
	I sat up and adjusted my skirt, which had bunched up  
to my waist while I slept. "Only when I'm dreaming of you,  
Andy," I replied. 
	He spun around, half smiling, half stern, "Stop  
calling me that!"  And then he paced around the room for a  
minute, waiting for his pulse to slow and his dick to relax,  
as he spouted random complaints: "Damn, Linda, you live in  
one messed up neighborhood. Someone almost drove into me as  
I parked in your driveway, and a couple is making out across  
the street in the middle of their front yard as we speak." 
	I covered my mouth. *Oh my God, did I do that? Did  
they see into my dream? Are they living out my fantasy?  How  
about you Andrew? Were you fantasizing about me, too, while  
you watched me sleeping?* 
	"Why are you here, Andrew?" I asked again. "I thought  
you were gonna call tonight -- not come over." 
	Andrew closed the window blind and looked the room  
quickly over. He spoke with a hushed voice words he wanted  
to shout, "We've got her!" 
	"Selina?" I asked, feeling a little jealous when just  
the mention of her name excited him, making him forget his  
feelings for me in a second. 
	"We've got her cornered in an old, condemned cinema  
in Leesburg.  We already have her henchmen. I have to admire  
their loyalty. They could have saved themselves, since  
Selina was who we were really after, but they stood and  
fought, giving her a chance to get away -- a chance she  
squandered." 
	"How did you find her, in Leesburg of all places?" 
	Andrew looked up as if to the sky. "Blind luck. A  
Hail Mary play.  I watched Selina's video again after I left  
this morning, and this time I noticed that one of her  
henchmen removed his mask. I got a good image of his face,  
which I faxed to the Metropolis and Gotham TV stations,  
saying he was wanted for serial murders. If you weren't  
asleep, you would have seen his face on the news." 
	"But he never killed anyone!" I objected. I didn't  
really know that. In fact, I didn't know anything about the  
man, the cat-man, but I felt a bond, after the intimacies we  
shared. It was like: anyone who wanted to fuck me couldn't  
be all bad. 
	"Don't worry, Linda," Andrew said, surprised by my  
outburst. "We arrested him on lesser charges, and since the  
only evidence we have against him is that video tape  
(something we will never use!) he'll probably be walking the  
streets again by tomorrow.  But the important thing was that  
the news report worked.  Leesburg is a tight community that  
notices new faces. Apparently Selina and her friends thought  
it was a nice, quiet place to hide while the heat was on in  
Gotham. They dressed up in normal middle-class attire and  
checked into a Holiday Inn.  They were spotted shortly after  
that." 
	"And now you have them in custody," I concluded. 
	"Everyone but Selina, who is hiding somewhere in what  
once was a cinema. We want you to bring her out." 
	I laughed. "Why do you need me? You've got her  
trapped." 
	Andrew shook his head. "The building is really huge,  
with seven screens, and a warehouse and several office  
buildings in adjacent buildings. We have her trapped, but  
finding her could take many hours and lots of manpower." 
	"Besides," Andrew continued with a sideways glance.  
"I thought you'd want to be a part of this -- to get even  
with her for what she did to you last night." 
	I smiled, "Mmmm, it's like you can read my mind." 
	 
	I wished *I* could read *his* mind. Why was he giving  
me this opportunity to meet with Catwoman alone?  Was he  
testing me, to see what I would do? Or did he have some  
other motivation? 
	I offered to fly Andrew with me to Leesburg, but he  
said that he would rather drive. It was only about a 25  
minute ride in his Legend, he said. I countered that it was  
only about a two minute flight. Personally, I thought the  
idea of flying made him nervous. He was a brave guy, but he  
was also a control freak.  
	Andrew tore out of my driveway as if he wanted to  
race me to Leesburg, while I took a moment to change into  
Supergirl. I had to think for a moment, because now I had  
two costumes, both incomplete.  My familiar blue costume was  
missing the cape.  Without the cape, my blue top just didn't  
look right, because it zipped up in the back.  My new  
costume was missing the shorts. So I had to mix and match,  
taking the white t-shirt, the red mini, and a pair of  
sneakers. Then I checked myself in the mirror, striking a  
few poses. liking what I saw. I never realized how boring  
wearing the same costume year after year was until I played  
around with my appearance a bit. 
	Maybe next week I'd try something more fashionable --  
maybe something with black tights, a black jacket, and this  
white t-shirt. God, that would look great! No blue at all.  
All black and white, and just that little touch of red on my  
chest. Maybe shiny red shoes, too. I was getting the hang of  
this fashion thing! 
	But this wasn't the time to think about it. I tore  
myself from the mirror and barely opened my front door  
before flying through it. I wanted to have a few moments  
with Selina before Andrew arrived 
	Really, I could get there in under two minutes, but  
it's very hard to follow the landscape at high speeds,  
especially at night. Once I was past the bright lights of  
Metropolis, everything was dark, and I had to follow the  
highway, or I'd get lost.  Leesburg was not an easy city to  
see from the night sky, and when I found it, I wasn't sure  
where to even look for the old cinema. 
	But that turned out to be very easy, because there  
were seven cop cars encircling it with flashing blue and  
white lights.	I floated down to the main entrance,  
where maybe ten years ago someone could buy tickets, but  
today the windows were broken, and conflicting signs said  
"For Rent" and "Condemned". 
	"Hello, Supergirl." the officer in charge greeted me  
and shook my hand firmly, but he was clearly annoyed. He  
looked overdressed for such a warm night.  "I'm Sergeant  
Danvers. We wanted to take her out ourselves, and teach the  
rest of those punks from Gotham to stay in their own damned  
city, but we were ordered to wait and let you get her." 
	I nodded, but I wasn't really paying much attention  
to what he was saying. The flashlight tucked into his belt  
caught my eye. It was about eight inches long, and about as  
thick and smooth as the head of a beer bottle. "It looks  
very dark inside," I commented casually. 
	Danvers nodded, "We don't dare turn on the  
electricity. This place hasn't been lit up for as long as  
I've been here, and who knows what shape the wiring is in." 
	"Would you mind if I borrowed your flashlight?" 
	Danvers handed the light over, but eyed me  
suspiciously. "I read in the Planet that Superman can see in  
nearly complete darkness." 
	I smiled, "Superman has a few things that I don't  
have." 
	Danvers opened the door like a gentleman, ushering me  
inside, where it was as black as coal, and the flashlight  
really did come in handy. I was hoping to locate Selina with  
my x-ray vision, but it was too dark. I couldn't even make  
out infrared patterns. There was something strange about  
these walls.  I examined them more closely and saw that all  
the paint was chipped and old.  Lead paint. I walked around  
for about a minute, flashing the light everywhere, but  
realizing that it would take hours to find her this way.  
There were dozens of rooms and hundreds of places to hide. 
	Maybe since I couldn't find her with my eyes, I could  
find her with my other senses. Maybe I could hear her  
breathing or maybe even hear her heart beating, and then  
follow the sound to her hiding place. Unfortunately, I was  
hearing about ten different heartbeats. The cops surrounding  
the building had hearts and lungs, too. My own heart beat  
seemed to echo off the walls. No I wasn't gonna find her  
with my ears. 
	That's when I noticed a faint, slightly musky scent  
in the air, contrasting with the smells of decay. It was  
Selina's perfume -- the same perfume that made me dizzy last  
night. God, was that really last night?  It seemed longer  
ago than that, though every second was etched into my  
memory. The perfume didn't make me dizzy now. It made me  
hungry. 
	I followed the scent into one of the theaters, and  
then walked aimlessly around, trying to sense where it was  
coming from. I had never tracked someone this way before,  
and I figured there must be a trick to it. Just go where the  
scent is strongest, I thought, but her scent seemed to be  
just as strong throughout the theater. I aimed the  
flashlight at all of the seats, down every isle. There was  
nowhere to hide. There was no balcony, no curtains, no  
doors. Maybe this was some kind of trick. Maybe Selina  
sprayed some perfume in the air here. 
	That's when I noticed a thin denim jacket draped over  
a seat in the very center of the theater. I felt a burst of  
excitement, even though I knew Selina wasn't hiding there.  
Tucked under the jacket was a skirt and a pair of high  
heeled shoes.  I could smell Selina's perfume in the  
clothes, but it was faint -- too faint. Selina must have  
just been here a moment ago, but where could she have gone?  
	Why wasn't her scent getting weaker? If anything it  
seemed even stronger than it was a moment ago. And I felt  
something different, something that didn't make sense. I  
felt a slight breeze. When the breeze blew over me, so did  
Selina's scent.  
	Finally I looked up, and I saw a vent in the very  
center of the ceiling. The vent had no screen.  When I aimed  
the flashlight at it, two eyes glowed back at me, and then  
they were gone, as footsteps hurried along the roof. 
	I put the flashlight in the elastic of my skirt. I  
flew up through the vent, pushing a fan and a small metal  
door out of the way. and I stepped out onto the roof. The  
fan fell back through the vent and landed with loud crash in  
the theater below. 
	The Catwoman was crouching thirty yards away, looking  
over the edge of the building at several cops below, who  
were having a coffee and donut break, oblivious to her  
presence. She glanced about frantically, like a cat trapped  
in a corner. Then, finally she turned to face me. 
	She was dressed just like at the museum. She looked  
magnificent under the stars and the moonlight. I walked  
casually towards her. "It's OK, kitty, I have a treat for  
you." 
	"Stay away from me!" she hissed, and to further  
demonstrate her hostility, she lashed out at me with her  
whip. 
	I caught the whip in my hand, and pulled her towards  
me as if it was a leash. 
	Then she lashed out with her claws, tearing holes in  
my shirt. "Hey!" I objected, while spinning her around and  
wrapping her hands behind her back with the whip. I  
whispered in her ear. "I don't have any more of these  
shirts. Watch it or I'll have to declaw you." 
	Now, we were standing at the edge of the roof where  
the cops only had to look away from their donuts for a  
second, and they would see us. I had Selina in a wrestling  
hold, with one hand gently squeezing her breast, the other  
on her thigh. Her mask felt like satin against my cheek. 
	"What do you want?" she whispered back,  not wanting  
to draw the attention of the police. 
	I loosened my grip and let my hands wander over her  
sheer purple outer skin. When my fingers neared her pussy,  
she fought with me, turning around, pushing me between  
herself and the ledge. Now our breasts touched each other,  
and I looked up into her eyes. My memories of last night  
paralyzed me for a moment. I felt my knees going weak, and  
her scent eating away at my strength. Selina repeated, now  
more confident,  "I said, `What do you want with me?'" 
	*No, Selina, I'm in charge tonight!*  I squeezed her  
ass and kissed her hard,  touching her tongue with mine. She  
was startled, and she took a step backwards.  "I just want  
to return the favor you gave me last night." 
	Selina struggled hopelessly to escape my grasp. She  
only succeeded in slipping on the gravel covered roof, and  
she fell flat on her back, with me on top of her. In this  
position, she couldn't even struggle against my will. 
	"No," she warned, as I reached up to her mask and  
lifted it over her head. She looked away, not wanting me to  
see her face. 
	"Why don't you want me to see you?" I whispered.  
"Remember? I saw you before, on the train. Why do you wear a  
mask? I think you are beautiful." 
	She sneered at me and said.  "We all wear masks --"  
she started 
	But I swallowed the rest of her reply with another  
kiss. Her leg brushed against my thigh, and I could smell  
her excitement growing. "Mmm, that was nice," she purred  
with a naughty smile. "I'd like to hold you in my arms, if  
you'd just untie my arms." 
	I shook my head, and slowly tore at her costume with  
my fingernails. 
	"Why not?" She demanded. Her voice was almost panicky  
as I slowly climbed down her body. "I thought you wanted to  
please me." 
	"I do." I said, smiling back up at her, and then I  
wrapped my lips around her bare nipple, tickling it with my  
tongue. Selina squirmed and gasped.  "But make no mistake,  
this is revenge." 
	I climbed further down, tearing her costume in the  
middle as I moved, and licking her skin as soon as it was  
exposed. 
	"This isn't what you want," Selina tried to reason  
with me. "You want some more of what I gave you last night,  
right? Let me loose, and you won't regret it." 
	"Open up, and shut up!" I said, as I pushed her legs  
apart. I kissed her inner thighs, as my hands reached up to  
squeeze her breasts. Her pussy was wet, and her tights were  
stained by excitement. I was about to tear the fabric away,  
but I liked the silky feeling against my cheek. "This is  
what I want. I wanted to do this ever since I met you on the  
train." 
	"No!" she cried out loudly enough to be heard by the  
police below, when I licked the length of her pussy. The  
stain spread out across the fabric. 
	"Be a good little kitty," I whispered, before I  
wrapped my lips over her clit.  Her hips involuntarily rose  
to give me better access.  
	"No," she cried out again, "you don't understand. You  
can't make me come." 
	"Come kitty," I demanded, as I tickled her clit with  
my tongue, stroking it in tiny circles at a speed that even  
a vibrator couldn't match. "Here, kitty, kitty." 
	Selina shivered and screamed and gushed so that her  
tights couldn't absorb her juices any more.  I bit a tiny  
hole in the fabric, letting her excitement escape. 
	"No," she cried out again, "you really don't  
understand. I can't come at all." 
	I climbed up her body again, so I could see her eyes  
when she came. I wanted to swallow her screams. 	"We'll  
see about that," I said, as I broke through the fabric with  
the flashlight, parting her pussy lips.  The invasion took  
her by surprise. I pushed it in until she moaned.  
	"You can't . . .oh!" she cried, when I pushed the  
flashlight deeper. I pushed in until her pussy couldn't take  
any more. I pushed it in and out, faster and faster. *Give  
in,* I thought, trying to will her into submission. I kissed  
her hard, trying to suck out her resistance. I expected for  
her to stop saying no at any moment, and to scream out  
instead at the top of her lungs: "YES!" 
	Instead, she shook her mouth free from my kiss. "STOP  
IT!" she cried out, surprising me with the desperation in  
her voice. "PLEASE!" 
	And I did. In an instant, the emotion was completely  
shot. 
	I could see anguish and need in her eyes. She looked  
like I must have looked last night, on the edge of coming,  
but not there. Why did she beg me to stop? 
	"So now you know, Supergirl," she confessed with  
shame and tears in her eyes. "I can't come. I've never been  
able to have an orgasm. I've tried with many lovers, but no  
one could make me come. There is nothing more frustrating!  
It is frustrating to my lovers as well, and that's why I  
have none." 
	I looked away, feeling very bad. I never wanted to  
hurt her like this. I only wanted to give her the same  
wonderful, humiliating, overwhelming, devastating, mind- 
shattering orgasm she gave me last night. "I'm sorry Selina,  
I had no idea." 
	"Andrew never told you?" She said. "What the hell did  
he tell you? That damned egotistic sonofabitch never could  
face the truth." 
	"Quiet!" a voice said from the darkness, and Andrew  
stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight. 
	Selina sneered at him, "You never could accept it!"  
And then she whispered to me, ignoring him, "Haven't you  
ever wondered why he is so mad at me? It's not because of  
something I did. He knew who I was when he got involved with  
me. No, it's because of something I didn't do, something I  
couldn't do..." 
	"Shut up!" Andrew commanded. 
	"Something he couldn't do for me!" Selina yelled  
back. 
	Andrew looked at the ground. "I tried my best. I  
would have done anything for you, but you just gave up." 
	"So you sent Supergirl after me? Why?" She said to  
Andrew. I felt as though they were talking through me -- as  
though I wasn't even there. 
	Andrew shrugged.  "At first I only wanted for her to  
bring you back to me. But after last night . . .I thought if  
anyone could please you, she could." 
	"Well, congratulations, to both of you," Selina said  
bitterly. "All either of you have succeeded in doing is  
torturing me, giving me a need that no one can satisfy." 
	Andrew and I looked at each other. I felt a little  
angry at him, too, for using me yet again, but mostly I  
shared his anguish. Like him, despite all of my powers, I  
couldn't give Selina a pleasure that I've always taken for  
granted. A pleasure that always came so easy for me. A  
feeling . . . 
	"I, uh, think I know how to give Selina what she  
needs," I said,. "I have a special power that might help." 
	Andrew and Selina stared at me as if I had three  
eyes. 
	Andrew finally asked, "What power might that be?" 
	"Let's just say that I think I can share my orgasm  
with you." 
	"Well," Selina said, "The way I feel right now, I'd  
be willing to try almost anything. But do I have to have my  
fucking hands tied?" 
	I helped her up, and untied her hands. "I think we  
will need Andrew's help to make this work." 
	Andrew raised his hands defensively and laughed, "Oh,  
now wait a minute . . ." 
	"Common, Andy," Selina teased, "Aren't you just a  
little bit interested in doing it with two women." 
	"Yeah, Andy," I pushed him further. "That gun in your  
pocket is growing as we speak." 
	"Don't call me `Andy'!" He said, pointing a finger,  
but the idea did interest him. "What do you want me to do." 
	"Well, first thing," I said, while lifting my shirt  
over my head, "you need to get as naked as we are. And then  
you need to make love to both of us at the same time. When I  
come, she will come." 
	"But how?" He said, while unbuttoning his shirt. "I  
only have one dick." 
	"Try this," I said, handing him the flashlight,  
before I stepped out of my skirt. His eyes locked on my  
shaved pussy, and I wish he could have seen the smile that  
brought to my face.  I encouraged his naughty thoughts with  
a quick kiss. "Don't worry about how; I have faith in you.  
You have other resources besides your dick." 
	Selina grabbed my arm and hissed in my ear, "This had  
better work." 
	I urged her to lie down with me, on our sides, facing  
each other, and our legs spread halfway, one leg in the air.  
"Keep looking at my eyes, don't look at Andrew," I said, as  
I gently caressed her face. 
	Andrew went to work immediately -- apparently he  
wanted the job more than he let on. He pushed the flashlight  
into Selina's pussy, while he chose to eat mine. Our eyes  
lit up together, and I knew Selina was feeling the wonderful  
feeling that burst through me when Andrew sucked on my pussy  
lips. Was this feeling new to her?  Could she feel my pussy  
swelling up with juices? Was her body tingling all over?  
Yes, I could see it in her eyes. 
	We caressed each other's breasts, while Andrew got  
more aggressive. I didn't see what he was doing to Selina,  
but what he was doing to me was wonderful! He grabbed my ass  
with one hand and plunged his face deep into my hole. My leg  
shivered, as I struggled to keep it from trapping him  
inside. 
	Selina and I were breathing together. Our eyes were  
glistening. Even our hearts were beating as one. Oh, God,  
Andrew, just a little longer. Don't get tired now! 
	Then Andrew found my clit, and he sucked on it hard!  
He licked it fast and furiously. 
	Selina and I pawed at other, and we cried out  
Andrew's name. Our breathing was irregular, and we felt a  
growing, overwhelming ache inside. This was where lovemaking  
had always ended for Selina before tonight -- with a deep  
and agonizing emptiness, needed to be filled.  
	I saw the fear in her eyes, as she worried that  
suddenly it would end here, leaving her desperate for  
fulfillment. I touched her face and smiled, thinking of how  
much this must have meant to her. I thought of how much good  
I could bring into her life. 
	Andrew pushed two fingers deep within me, pushing us  
over the edge. Tears ran down our eyes, as a loud humm  
seemed to shake the roof. And then, slowly, we came back to  
reality, and found ourselves looking into each other's eyes.  
Our faces were glowing, and we were both smiling widely. I  
doubt anyone had ever seen Selina smile so beautifully  
before. I wanted to get closer to her, to see what was  
behind her eyes . . . 
	. . . and that's when I knew that this was just the  
beginning of a bigger relationship. 
	We kissed very gently, very lovingly. This was a very  
special moment for her, and somehow that made it special for  
me, too. 
	"Hey," came a voice as if from afar. "What about me?" 
	Selina and I grinned mischievously at each other. We  
were thinking the same thing. "Oh, yeah, we forgot about you  
Andrew. Thanks." Selina said, then giggled. 
	"No," Andrew said, "I mean, isn't anyone gonna get me  
off?" 
	I looked at Selina, she looked at me, and we both  
shook our heads. 
	"I think I'll let you see what it feels like for a  
while," Selina said. 
	"Tell you what," I added. "If you bring our clothes  
back to my place, we may be able to work something out. Next  
time we want multiple orgasms." 
	And with that, I grabbed Selina and whisked her off  
into the air, away from the police, and away from Andrew who  
was screaming bloody-murder after us.  
 
-tooshoes@concentric.net

