Batgirl The Price Of Silence Ch 02

Author's note: This story is not so much about the adventures of Batgirl, but more about the developing sexuality of Barbara Gordon. The storyline continues from that of 'Batgirl Risks All' and re-introduces the character of Jennifer Goodbody A.K.A. Sparrow.

Enjoy!

Warning! This story contains material of an adult nature and is intended for mature readers and for personal use only. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 2: Just Another Victim Of Crime

Cyril Smallpiece was a burglar by trade, a cat burglar to be more precise. He was also rather good at his job. He'd been casing the luxury apartment block for a couple of days now and was reasonably familiar with the routine movements of most of its residents, as well as the location of the numerous security devices incorporated into the design.

He'd gotten past the electronic lock on the front entrance, by the simple expedient of masquerading as a resident who'd forgotten his swipe card, and getting one of the other residents to open it, remotely. Once inside, he'd strolled around, noting the numerous security cameras positioned in the corridors and elevator, and the massive steel doors that gave access to each apartment, with their vast array of combination locks and bolts.

Cyril was a rather slightly built, even skinny, five-feet seven, and he didn't believe in the use of violence, when robbing his wealthy victims. His techniques were far more subtle, and usually highly successful. He was currently standing on the roof of the six-story building, clipping a coil of nylon climbing rope about the base of a sturdy television antenna, by means of an aluminum karabiner. The doubled rope passed through and around a figure-of-eight friction device, attached to his waist harness by another karabiner.

He slowly backed away, playing out the taut line, before leaning back and lowering his torso off the edge of the roof, then silently descending the side of the building, slowly walking backward. His destination was a first-floor window, at the rear of the building. It belonged to the apartment of a young and single female resident. After weighing up all the possibilities, he'd decided that the girl should be his primary target. It was almost 2:00 am, and she would be sound asleep in her bed by now. He specialized in robbing rich society dames, and should be long gone, before she even realized she'd been robbed!

He paused his descent, tied off, then examined the double-glazed window, in the pale moonlight, before uttering a low chuckle. The window was closed and fastened by means of a simple catch, with no signs of any lock or alarm system. "It's amazing that, with all the security systems incorporated in this place, they leave a window almost totally vulnerable, just because it's thirty-feet off of the ground!" he mused, shaking his head. "Tut, tut, how careless!"

He removed a small hooked device from a small leather pouch, and inserting it into the slight gap between window and frame, and soon had the catch unfastened, and the window wide open. He swung in through the opening, and dropped silently to the carpet, before unclipping the line, and securely clipping the karabiner to the window catch.

Taking out a small but powerful flashlight, he flicked it on, and shone the beam around the darkened apartment. The closed bedroom door was over to his right, and no light could be seen under it. He silently crept over and eased open the door, after first extinguishing his flashlight. He allowed a few seconds for his eyes to grow accustomed to gloom, while listening for the sounds of regular breathing. There was none! He peered inside. The bed was neatly made up, with no sign of the girl, or that the bed had even been slept in?

"Shit!" After a momentary panic, he calmed down. "Hey, so the girl isn't here! Great! I can take my time ransacking the joint, without any fear of being disturbed!" he chortled. He suddenly frowned. "But how the hell did she manage to leave, without my knowing about it?" he wondered, then shrugged his shoulders. He had been observing the main entrance for many hours, ever since the girl arrived home from work! "She must've slipped out of the rear entrance?" he decided.

Confident that the girl was no longer at home, he closed the drapes, and switched on the main lights, then methodically began to search the apartment, starting with the lounge. He soon found her wallet and purse, and extracted all the folding money and credit cards, before being careful to replace it exactly where he'd found it. "Hmm, Barbara Gordon," he mused, flipping through the bill-fold, "that name seems to ring a bell?" He placed several items into a sack, including some solid-silver candlesticks, and a very nice antique carriage clock.

He frowned, as he spotted a set of car keys, with a BMW fob, lying on a glass-topped coffee table. "Strange she should've left without her car," he mused, "unless she's been picked up by her date for this evening? Barbara Gordon IS quite a striking young female, after all!" he reminded himself, with another shrug of his shoulders.

The bedroom was even more interesting than the lounge. The drawers of the dressing table revealed lots of lacy female underwear, including bras, garter-belts and thong panties, but what made his eyes really open wide, was the contents of the bottom drawer. These included various lengths of chain, with locking leather manacles, and a number of sex-aids, including several dildoes and vibrators, of assorted shape and size.

"Well, well, well, who's a dark horse?" he chuckled, as he picked up a strap-on dildo and examined it closely. "Seems our little rich girl likes to play naughty games?" He stroked the realistically shaped, but over-sized pseudo cock, then reluctantly returned it, and closed the drawer.

The small jewel box on the top of the dresser contained a couple of necklaces, several bracelets, three pairs of earrings, and some gold waist and ankle chains. It was a nice selection, but hardly worth a king's ransom. He was a little disappointed, as he added them to his bag of loot, and closed the box lid. He'd expected more. The whole of the apartment was far more basic and austere than he'd been expecting.

Turning, he spotted a framed photo on the wall, showing the girl standing next to a distinguished-looking, white-haired, older man, with her arm around his waist, looking up at him, adoringly, while the man stared, rather woodenly, at the camera. Cyril's eyes opened wide, as he instantly recognized the man. Just about every criminal in Gotham knew that face. "Commissioner James Gordon!" he gasped. "Then the girl… Barbara Gordon, must be his daughter?" He chuckled. In a way, it was sort of poetic justice, robbing the spoilt little brat of Jim Gordon, scourge of the Gotham City underworld.

He was just about to rifle through the clothes, hanging in the walk-in closet, when he heard the sound of a powerful motorcycle engine in the narrow back alley immediately below the open lounge window. He hurriedly doused all the lights, and stood in the darkness, listening. There was the squeal and clang of a metal garage door opening and closing, and then the throbbing roar died, as the motorbike ignition was switched off.

Just as he was about to heave a sigh of relief, there was the faint sound of muffled footsteps, ascending a wooden staircase. They seemed to be coming from behind the bedroom wall… and they were getting closer!

Suddenly, with a loud click, a section of wall, together with the dresser, started to swing inward.

"Shit!" Cyril gasped, diving underneath the bed.