A Dynamic Duo Indeed

The following is a work of erotic fiction and includes scenes of sexual activity. It includes characters that are copyrighted by DC Comics. This story is intended for the non-commercial enjoyment of fans and should be considered a parody. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit will be made from the distribution of this story.

Author's Notes:

The Batgirl and Robin that appear in this story are the characters of my youth and not the current versions.

All characters in sexual situations are 18+.

This story first appeared elsewhere in slightly different form in 1997 under the title "Batgirl and Robin" and has since been rewritten for Literotica.

Be aware, this story contains elements of bondage and non-consensual sex.

Although ratings are nice, nothing beats a comment or two about what you liked or disliked about a story. Please take a moment to leave one. Thank you.

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"... and on the social scene, Gotham's best and brightest will be on hand this evening for Mayor Caruso's Annual Children's Benefit. The premier event of the season, it will be the place to be seen and many are still vying for a last-minute invitation for what promises to be the most exciting night since..."

The voice of the radio announcer brought a smile to Barbara Gordon as she let the warmth of the overhead shower splash across her breasts. Not only was she one of the fortunate few with an invitation, but she was going to be escorted by one of Gotham City's most eligible bachelors -- Edward Kendall. Not only was Kendall on the short list, but his name came right after Isoruko Yamaguci and Bruce Wayne.

A rising star of the City Council, educated at some of the finest schools in the country, the thirty-two-year-old was both handsome and charming. The grandson of "Black Jack" Kendall, Gotham's legendary mayor of the late eighties, Edward Kendall was already being talked about as the front runner in a mayoral election still two years away.

Running a soapy washcloth between her legs, Barbara recalled her first meeting with Ed, only four weeks before. It had been a Friday afternoon and she'd been waiting outside City Hall for her father, Police Commissioner James Gordon. As was their weekly custom, they were going to have an early dinner together.

Barbara had been greatly surprised when Ed came up to her and introduced himself. She had seen him before of course, having attended many city functions with her father, but had never been able to penetrate the bevy of hopefuls that usually surrounded him at such events, not even to say so much as hello. Ed had told her that he was a great supporter of her father and the job he'd done with the Police Department under the last three administrations, which was unusual since few members of the Council felt that way -- primarily because of James Gordon's refusal to treat the Batman as the masked vigilante that they felt he was. Gordon himself thought that most of their opposition to the Caped Crusader was due more to the fact that he had exposed several corrupt Councilmen rather than any real respect for the law.

With the arrival of her father, Ed had been about to excuse himself, but quickly changed gears when, after Jim Gordon had explained that he was going to be unable to make dinner, and offered to take his place. Not one to ever shy away from a challenge, Barbara just as quickly accepted and was whisked away to one of the most exclusive restaurants in town. Once there, it was no surprise that, despite not having a reservation, they had no problem getting one of the best tables in the house.

Rinsing the last of the shampoo out of her hair, Barbara would've been hard pressed to clearly remember what either of them had had for dinner that evening. She could, however, clearly describe the deep blue of his eyes, and how he never seemed to take them off of her. He seemed so taken, in fact, that he asked her out again the very next evening.

A third date soon followed, and it wasn't long before Barbara's name began to be linked with his in the gossip columns as Gotham's new perfect couple. Much to her disappointment, however, the truth of that didn't match the reality. As many times as they got together, there always seemed to be something that got in the way of them taking it to the next level. As one of the city's shakers and movers, Ed was always on twenty-four-hour call, and there was also the matter of Barbara's rather unusual nocturnal hobby.

Being Jim Gordon's daughter would've made the twenty-five-year-old redhead's sex life complicated enough on its own, but her dual identity as Batgirl made it even more so. Barbara's last serious relationship had ended nine months before when her lover became fed up with her many sudden disappearances and canceled meetings. In that light, the last four weeks seemed like a dream and hopefully the start of a promising future.

Drying herself in front of the steam covered mirror, Barbara took a few moments to take stock of her body. She examined the tiny mound of red hair between her legs that she had so carefully trimmed before getting in the shower. If things worked out this evening the way she planned, Ed would also have ample opportunity to appreciate her handiwork.

Her attention then shifted to her upper body, specifically her soft firm breasts. While not particularly large, they were enough to draw attention and in near perfect proportion to the rest of her. She played with the pert nipples for a few moments, smiling as they sprang to life. They had always been quite sensitive, and given her current state of arousal, it took only a soft touch to bring them to life.

A tingling between her legs reminded Barbara of how long it had been since she'd enjoyed the press of a man against her. She had done what she could in the interim, but there was only so much gratification that could be found with her fingers or the small, battery powered vibrator she kept in her night stand. In fact, neither of those options had provided her with a suitable orgasm of late, even though it seemed lately like even the simplest touch sent her hormones raging.

Many people still tended to think of her as the skinny little girl with her nose buried in books that she had been when she'd graduated from high school. The conservative wardrobe she wore as the Deputy Chief of Research for the Gotham City Library helped maintain that assumption. What few ever saw was that, from the day she first went away to college, Barbara had spent as much time in the gym as the classroom, in addition to taking outside classes in various forms of self-defense. All of which left her with a lithe, athletic form -- one which, unhappily, Ed had as of yet only had the most limited opportunity to sample.

Barbara's thoughts drifted back to the limo ride home from the Gotham Blades hockey game earlier in the week, the memory sending a warm flush through her. Ed had a passion for hockey second only to politics and during the special exhibition game, Barbara had watched as the normally reserved Councilman jumped and shouted like a school boy. An enthusiasm that she had hoped to direct in another direction before the night was over.

A few kisses had quickly led to more amorous actions and it wasn't long before Ed had his hand under the top of Barbara's dress, its palm firmly pressed against her breast. The publicly demure librarian. in turn, found herself as horny as a high school girl, slipping her own hand down her escort's pants, there to run her fingers against the hardness of his cock. She had just drawn down his zipper with the intention of taking him in her mouth when their tryst was interrupted by the loud chimes of his cell phone.

In what was almost a reflex action, Ed's attention abruptly turned to answering the call, and after a few seconds of listening and grunting acknowledgements, he said that he would be there as quickly as he could. Barbara didn't need to hear more to know that their night was over, but she listened sympathetically as he explained that a water main had broken in his district, flooding the basements of a dozen buildings.

Smiling at herself in the mirror, Barbara was determined that tonight would have a much more satisfying outcome, and it wouldn't be in the back of a limousine, no matter how plush. With her agreement, Ed had reserved a room for them at the Carlton Arms, only a few blocks from where the event was being held. There they would have a late midnight dinner, after which she planned to be the dessert.

"Babs," the naked woman said to her reflection in a mirthful tone, "tonight you are definitely getting laid."

Once back in her bedroom, Barbara carefully laid out the gown she'd borrowed for the evening from one of her closest and oldest friends, Sara Lynn Collins. A stunning emerald evening dress, it was far more than she could ever have afforded on a librarian's salary. The outfit was rather daring, and Barbara was not as well-endowed as its owner. Still, she would make the most of what she had, especially after Sara had it altered so as to better accentuate the redhead's assets. Barbara had protested at first, but Sara had insisted. After all, she'd said, it wasn't like she was going to wear it a second time. So, if Barbara didn't take it, it was going to wind up going to Goodwill.

The thought of the designer original hanging in the window of a second hand shop made Barbara laugh. Sara definitely would've done it too; she had a sometimes warped sense of humor. That was one of the reasons the two of them had been friends for so many years. A friendship which had survived the tsunami that had swept through her social set when the shipping heiress had announced at high school graduation that she preferred women to men.

Many of her so-called friends had distanced themselves after her revelation, but Barbara hadn't been one of them, causing for a time a rumor that the mousy library science major had her own lesbian attraction to the knockout blonde. In truth, though, she just didn't see any reason to lose a good friend simply because of who she was attracted to. Mentally, Barbara reminded herself to write Sara a thank you note tomorrow, letting her know how the night turned out.

Laid out next to the audacious green gown was a set of the sexiest bra and panties that Barbara could find. They'd been expensive as hell, but still within her means. The bra, what little there was of it, would be near invisible beneath her dress, the real benefit of it being when the dress came off. The same held true for panties that would barely cover her tightly trimmed mound.

Putting on the lingerie, Barbara was reminded that both pieces were as fragile as they looked. As much as she had paid for them, they would probably only last a single wearing. Well, she thought with a smile, they only have to last until morning. A smile that turned to a wicked grin as she amended that to only "halfway to morning."

"Beep ... beep ... beep ... beep ..."

"Oh damn!" Barbara said loudly as she recognized the unexpected sound as that of her beeper on the night stand. "Not now."

The senior administrator for the Library was away for the week and it was Barbara's turn to be on call in case of an emergency. Even in an age of cell phones, pagers were still used as a contact device because they operated in dead zones where cell phone reception was problematic.

As she reached for the small black device, she could only hope that whatever the problem was, it would be something that could be handled with a couple of phone calls. Her green eyes opened wide in dismay as she read the message on the digital display, realizing as she did that however important her plans for the evening were, they took second place to what she now had to do instead.

In appearance, the small black beeper looked like any other WayneTech pager, but if you were to take it apart, it would tell a different tale. Aside from receiving messages for Barbara Gordon, a secondary circuit also allowed it to receive those sent on a private unauthorized frequency. Encoded in a cypher known only to a small select band, her mental translation of the message sent a frigid chill though Barbara's near naked form.

It was a simple code, signifying the direst of emergencies, followed by a set of GPS coordinates that she knew would be more accurate than any provided by even the US Military. What worried her the most was that the end of the message was missing -- there was no Sender ID.

'Could it be a mistake?' she thought for a brief moment, allowing herself that long to think her night might not be ruined.

But deep inside, she knew that even if it was incomplete, she had to take the alert as real and act accordingly. The possibility that someone else privy to the private communication system might also respond never entered her head. No, the responsibility was hers; that decision had been made two years before, on the night she had attended Gotham's annual Policeman's Costume Ball and her life forever changed. The memories of which were as clear to her now as they had been on that cold night.

-=-=-=-

It was going to be a surprise for her father, it had started out as simple as that. Imagine the look on his face when midnight came and the mask of the girl in the Batgirl costume came off to reveal his own daughter. Wouldn't it be something? She had even donned a long-haired red wig to hide her then shorter locks to add to the illusion.

But fate, or perhaps even destiny, intervened as en route to the ball, car trouble delayed her arrival. Trying to make up lost time, she almost didn't notice the dark limousine pulled off to the side of the road. Once she did, however, it would've been unimaginable not to stop and see if she could help, having been raised with a strong sense of public service.

It turned out that the stranded car hadn't broken down, it had been forced off the road and Barbara had stumbled onto an attempted kidnapping. Without a thought for her own safety, the girl in the black and yellow costume jumped into the fray. Hours spent in both the gym and dojo paid off as she managed to disable two of the five assailants. To her surprise, the intended victim and his chauffeur suddenly came to life and overcame the remaining thugs.

It seemed an even more unlikely turn of events when the intended kidnapee turned out to be billionaire Bruce Wayne and his man of all trades, Alfred Pennyworth. While she once heard her father mention that among his other duties Pennyworth served as a sort of bodyguard for Wayne, having in his early years been a member of the British SAS, the fighting skill that the notorious playboy exhibited had seemed quite out of character.

At the time, however, Barbara hadn't dwelled too much on it, having been too enraptured by the incredible rush she'd gotten during the fight. That and the immense sense of satisfaction she felt from having made a difference.

Afterwards, Barbara never made it to the party, having instead returned home to try and sort it all out in her head. She kept thinking back to a night when she was sixteen and spied into the library to watch her father conferring with the Batman. Her teenage self had been totally infatuated with the dark cloaked figure, who stood six foot two with a physique that no amount of Hollywood padding would hope to duplicate. As she sat there in the dark listening to his deep tones, Barbara recalled the many times her father had described Batman to her, but no description could've matched the reality. The people of Gotham were of many minds about the Dark Knight, but few could question the fact that he did indeed make a difference. Just before he left through the large patio windows, Barbara found herself holding her breath as he looked right at where she was hiding -- it was as if he knew she was there. Then he disappeared into the shadows and was gone.

Recalling the memory, she knew what she needed to do, so perhaps her response when the beneficiary of her earlier actions asked her name hadn't been mere bravado after all.

"You can call me Batgirl," she'd said with a smile before, like her inspiration, she disappeared into the night.

One thing from that night still puzzled her though, namely the silly smile on Bruce Wayne's face as she'd said those words. It was as if he was enjoying some private joke.

-=-=-=-

Barely a minute had passed since she'd first reached for the beeper, and it took even less time for her to grab the phone that rested next to it and dial Ed Kendall's private number. The call that followed was both brief and loud, the Councilman being unsatisfied with Barbara's statement that an unexplainable emergency had come up that forced her to cancel their date. During the brief exchange, Barbara got the impression that Ed was more concerned that he had to go to the dinner solo than the fact she had some sort of problem. When his car passed into a tunnel and cut off the cellular signal, Barbara let out a small sigh of relief. Tomorrow she'd make it all right again.

Dropping the phone back on the cradle, Barbara grabbed her computer tablet from where she'd left it on the bed and opened the app for the Gotham Street Atlas, punching in the coordinates contained in the emergency signal.

"Craig and Yvonne," she said to herself as a small red circle appeared on the screen. "Only about a mile from here."

Leaving the tablet where it lay, Barbara quickly changed clothes. Already her mind was shifting gears, putting her into what she always referred to as her "combat mode".

Replacing the delicate underwear with a solid black sports bra and panties, she walked up to the natural brick rear wall of her apartment and pressed on a loose brick on the bottom row. With a soft sliding sound, a three-foot section of the wall gave way. Behind it was a small room leading to an abandoned freight elevator. When the building had been built back in the 1920's, the first floor had been a notorious speakeasy. The hidden room and elevator had been used for storage in case of a raid.

About the size of a walk-in closet, a function that later tenants had used it for, it was just large enough for a small changing table. Hanging on a hook on the wall was a modified version of that black and gold costume she'd worn to the costume ball.

Quickly she donned it, enjoying the feel of the deceptively soft material against her flesh. The costume itself had been a gift from Batman after she'd saved the life of a visiting diplomat last year. It was identical to her original costume, but both the cape and key parts of it had been reinforced with a lightweight Kevlar compound. As effective as the large bulky vests worn by Gotham's Finest, the thin material was also incredibly expensive. Barbara had once figured it out and, if she'd paid for the costume herself, it would've cost over ten thousand dollars. Stored in a footlocker under the table was a duplicate suit. She sometimes wondered if Batman actually paid for the outfits or had them made for free, perhaps by someone he'd helped at some time or another.

After adjusting the golden utility belt around her waist, Barbara reached for the cowl resting on a Styrofoam form. Inside the cowl was a shoulder length red haired wig, of a color just a few shades darker than her own natural hair. As with the suit itself, the wig was also a gift and of a much higher quality than the one she'd first worn. Evidently, no detail was too small not to be noticed by the man considered by many to be the world's greatest detective. Once it was securely in place, she took a last look at her reflection in the full-length mirror attached to the wall.

Batgirl was ready to roll.

As she closed the small brick door before heading down the freight elevator, Batgirl took a last look at the unworn gown draped across her bed.