***Author's note: I pictured the Christian Bale at his prime from "The Dark Knight" and Anne Hathaway's portrayal from "Dark Knight Rises" as I wrote this, but feel free to imagine them, and how the Penguin looked, however you like. Everything that follows is
exactly 750 words
***
The Gotham Met was packed with the rich and glittering. Gleaming after a two-year renovation, the formal ball celebrated the grand re-opening the following day. Muttering into the concealed microphone in his boutonniere, adjusting his earpiece, Bruce worked to mask the intense stress that consumed him.
"Still no chatter, Alfred?" Carefully ensuring he wasn't overheard. "If Penguin's moving that weaponized avian flu virus, everyone from Al Qaeda to Ras Al-Ghul must be placing a bid."
"Patience, Master Bruce," the calm voice reassured him. "We'll know the moment it goes on the market."
"The means to wipe out half of humanity in that madman's hands and I'm stuck here." Impotent rage infused his growled whisper.
"You are the largest donor, sir, so-,"
"Hold that thought!" Bruce spotted the unmistakable profile of a masked Selena Kyle, slipping the velvet rope-line leading to the visiting collection gallery.
"Should I remote pilot the Batmobile around, sir?"
"No time, I'm afraid," Bruce hurried toward the mezzanine bathrooms, fishing a soft cowl from the lining of his dinner jacket.
Catwoman slid smoothly down the rear façade of the museum, like hot fudge down a marbled ice cream cake. Landing lightly, she never heard, or felt, the iron grip of his clenched fist until it snared her high pony tail and pinned her against the cold marble.
"I'll take that," The familiar growl whispered, his free hand forced its way into her suit, fishing Nefertiti's Pearl Necklace from where it had been hastily lodged alongside her quivering left breast. It slid through her protruding cleavage, the memory of his bare hand still fresh on her hard nipple.
Spun around and pinned against the wall with enough force to let her know that she was caught, but without really doing any harm. The tuxedo and mask threw her off for just a moment. "Ooh...Dolce...bespoke?", seductively stroking the perfectly fitted jacket. "Hmmm...bullet proof?" Eyebrow lifted, her full, luscious lips curled into a wry smile, deep eyes twinkled in teasing seduction before quickly shifting to pouty obedience. "Can't we just let this slide?" she shrugged. "Night's still young...nice party. You got the goods back...," the sly grin returned, "and to second base." Her hand slid down. "Maybe I could blow you to apologize...?" His semi-hard cock twitched beneath her hand, already stiffening in his suit trousers.
"You know I'd never do anything, so..." a quiet gasp as her long, elegant fingers grasped at his hardening shaft. "...unethical."
