With that, the Maid of Might was gone.
Ten minutes later, Supergirl found herself drifting among the clouds. Barbara Gordon had made quite an impression on her for a number of reasons. Even if there hadn't been an attempt on her life, she would've wanted to find some reason to spend a little time around Washington and try to get to know her better. Kara had been taken aback when she first saw the Congresswoman. Not that Barbara would have any way of knowing it, but she was almost a twin for Supergirl's first lover. At least what the Kryptonian thought her friend Zara would have looked like if she'd had the chance to grow into womanhood.
Sadly, among all the children of Argo City, only Kara Zor-El, known to the people of Earth as Supergirl, had the chance to grow to adulthood. The children of Argo, like their parents, had died when a thousand meteor fragments had shattered the protective shield around their small space borne city some eight years past. Only her father's foresight to have constructed an escape rocket, patterned after the one that brought her cousin Superman to Earth years earlier, had enabled her to survive.
It hadn't been easy adjusting to life on Earth. Unlike her cousin who had come to this alien world as an infant, Kara had lived the first 15 of her 24 years as a normal, that is non-super girl. Although taken to heart by the people of Earth as one of their super powered protectors, Supergirl had felt apart from them in many ways, especially in those relating to love.
Relationships are hard when you can, as the saying goes, bend steel in your bare hands. Actually, as Supergirl had corrected herself many times, it was difficult when you were a woman and had abilities far beyond those of mortal men - or women.
It had been almost two years since Supergirl had her last serious love, Susan Wienczorkowski. An officer on Metropolis's Special Crime Units, she had died in the line of duty while, Kara was halfway around the world fighting a fire that had already devastated half a town in Germany. The loss had hit Supergirl hard and for a time she blamed herself for not being there when it mattered. But with time, she finally accepted the counsel of her older and more experienced cousin. You can't save everyone, he constantly reminded her. Not even when the one you can't help, is the one that matters the most.
After that, Kara had little success with either men or women - contenting herself with a series of meaningless flings. It was funny, she sometimes considered, how many of them had occurred with fellow costumed adventurers. It had to have something to do with the life style.
The most interesting of these brief relationships, she thought, had been with J'onn J'onzz. Known to the public at large as the Martian Manhunter, he was also an alien visitor to this world. With a compatible humanoid physiology, J'onn was perhaps the second most physically powerful man on the planet. Her cousin Kal occupied the first position. Unlike Superman, on whom she had once turned her x-ray vision on one night out of curiosity, J'onn had a 10" cock that was as thick as a baseball bat. That being the case, who cared if it was green.
It had been fun while it lasted. The relationship had paled however outside of the bedroom. By Earth calendars, Kara had been 22 years old at the time. J'onn, according to those same human measurements, was almost a century old. They just couldn't relate to each other very well once they were out from under the sheets.
Still she ached for another relationship that would again send her heart afire with excitement. Whatever instincts she had, told her that Barbara was that type of woman who could do that. From the very first moment she seen her, she seemed the embodiment of every woman she had ever desired. Even now she could still savor the scent of her perfume, a delightful flowery aroma that conjured up images of virgin gardens and lost summer nights.
Of course she reminded herself, there could be a dozen flaws in her thinking. On the top of the list, the very strong possibility that Barbara might not be interested in other women - a very common trait for women of this culture. Unlike her native Krypton where gender was less important than feelings.
But those were questions for later. First she had to find the ruthless bitch who wanted to see her new infatuation dead. After thinking about it a few minutes, she knew exactly how to track her down.
Soft as a feather, Kara set down on the top ledge of an apartment building across from the Quraci Embassy. By international law, the large red brick building just a few hundred feet away was protected by territorial sovereignty - literally it was a piece of Qurac. Diplomatic immunity protected both the inhabitants and what ever secrets the hundreds of file cabinets within might contain. All of which meant absolutely nothing to the determined young woman standing in the warm afternoon breeze.
The Quraci Embassy had been protected from unwanted surveillance by several million dollars worth of security precautions, both human and electronic. All of this was useless against a person with x-ray vision, super-hearing and almost unlimited patience.
Floor by floor, office by office, Supergirl scanned each carefully guarded secret. In addition, every incoming and outgoing phone call was as clear as if Kara was an invited participant. It was only a matter of time before she found the particular secret she sought.
Barbara Gordon finally returned to her apartment in downtown Washington. With the almost crash as the lead on the evening news, the FBI finally took an interest in the case. In fact, the President himself had called to ask about her condition. But all of it had been merely political showmanship. The agents who had interviewed her and Jim showed no real interest in her theories concerning the Quraci's. After all, to them she was still only a temporary Congresswoman, appointed to fill out an unexpired term. She hadn't even been elected in her own right.
Rest assured, the men in the dark suits and sunglasses had told her, the entire resources of the federal government would be put behind the search for what really happened. Then they had sent her on her way, certain that their interest wouldn't last longer than the next day's evening news.
Checking in with her office, Barbara had been likewise reassured by Tim Murray, the chief of staff she had inherited from the late departed Congressman Stephen Jefferson, that everything was under control and there wasn't even any need for her to stop by. For perhaps the hundredth time, Barbara promised herself that if she did manage to get elected in her own right in November, there were going to be major changes in that office.
Right now however, she had more important things on her mind. The people who wanted her dead were still out there. If she thought about it, she knew that any other member of Congress would've quickly gone into hiding, demanding FBI or Secret Service protection as they did.
That wasn't her style. Barbara Gordon had fought her own battles all of her life. Most of them in situations that few of her colleagues could've ever imagined.
Moving into the bedroom, the tall redhead quickly stripped off her business suit and the equally conservative undergarments beneath them. Standing in only her panties in front of the dresser mirror, the Gothamite was reminded that periods of extreme danger had always left her incredibly aroused. Today's near fatal incident had been no different.
Gently she ran one hand across the lightly covered red bush between her legs while her other hand laid across her breasts. The lean athletic form the 26 year old had worked so hard to develop back in high school and college was still very much in evidence. Her breasts weren't very large, but they stood on their own without support. Many times over the years she'd been told they were near perfect globes. She played with the pert nipples for a few moments, smiling as they sprang to life. They had always been very sensitive and given her current state of arousal, it took only a soft touch to bring them to erectness.
Barbara lost herself in the sensation of her own touch. Eyes tightly closed, she slid her hands down across her breasts one last time and over her flat stomach. Coming to a rest when they reached the small white triangle between her legs. Using both hands, she rubbed against the soft material. A soft sigh escaped her lips in response to her caress.
Sliding her fingers beneath the waistband of her panties, she provided a deeper touch. Now Barbara's breaths came in shorter gasps as she slid first one, then two fingers inside of herself. In due time a third finger would follow. Faster, deeper she rubbed, manipulating
her clit and covering her long, slender fingers with her wetness. Eventually the small cloth of her underwear became too restrictive and was also discarded. A few more minutes of play brought forth a small but enjoyable climax. Yet in the quiet aftermath of her pleasure she knew it to be an empty reward.
She hadn't had a lover since leaving Gotham City some eleven months ago. Sure the work she was trying to do was important, she kept telling herself. More important than anything she could accomplish back home. Yet this was a strange city where being in the public eye meant you had little or no private life. There were times she regretted taking the appointment when it was offered to her. One of the most common times was when she crawled into bed each night alone. She had grown very tired of only having a piece of plastic and a few D cells as her only company.
Not that there weren't a great deal of men around her all the time. She was, in truth, quite an attractive woman. But it hadn't taken more than a few innocent dates for her to learn that most of them were more interested in the Congresswoman in front of her name and what that title could do for them. Reluctantly she had pushed her social life aside and concentrated instead on learning the ropes on her new job. Only to be checked at almost every turn by her own staff. Give it time, they kept telling her. You have to learn how to walk before you can run.
Her social life wasn't the only thing Barbara had left behind in Gotham. Unknown to all but a select few, especially those who had proposed her selection to replace Congressman Jefferson, there was quite another facet of her personality. One which would have made them reconsider their opinion that she was a safe candidate that would simply toe the party line until they could get a professional on the ballot.
"Screw them all!" Barbara shouted to the empty air as she finally lost her temper.
