Dancings Done

This is a sequel to my other story,

Hotter Than Hell

, and a prequel to

Black Velvet

. That said, they can be read in any order.

DC has sort of been forcing my hand with these. There's some romance, some smut, and a tiny bit of plot. I have mixed feelings towards this story but I hope some will enjoy it. Title taken from the Ava Max song. And if you're only interested in the smut, it's located about halfway through.

***

It was 7:30 in the evening, guests were pouring in, and as he strode through the dim hallways of the Athens Maritime Building he couldn't help but worry about one thing: Selina tearing up the carpet with her claws.

It was a ridiculous notion, but Alfred had joked about it and now it was stuck in his head. Perhaps it was his nerves; he always got worked up before attending any social event where he had to slip into the gallivanting playboy persona the public expected of him, like a performer that got anxious before going up on stage. He didn't believe Selina would actually pull any of her usual antics tonight, but she could be wild and unpredictable, even if she had promised to behave. In some ways this was part of her charm, but situations like this required restraint.

He changed directions and slipped down the opposite hallway. A quick check in was in order.

"Where are we going? The governor is this way."

Dick walked alongside him, similar height, similar build, similar suit. Not so similar temperament. He was eighteen now, an adult. Technically.

"I need to check on Selina."

"Seli--" Dick froze in his tracks. "What do you mean? You brought

Catwoman

here? To a gathering of the richest people in Gotham?"

"She'll behave."

Dick rushed to catch up. "Oh, sure, the kleptomaniac will behave. You two aren't dating now are you? I mean, not seriously, right?" When he didn't respond, Dick continued, "You are, aren't you? You've got to be kidding me. I know I spoke of future potential there but not while she's still stealing."

"She's been getting better. Stealing less."

"Stealing less! Great. Maybe she'll claw up some congressman's face instead of stealing his watch."

"She's harmless," he said, and then steered the conversation elsewhere. "Did you speak with the captain of the security detail like I asked?"

"Yeah, yeah. Two men at each entrance and a dozen men inside. Same as always."

"Good."

"I still can't get over the fact that you told her your identity," Dick grumbled. "You know she once kicked me into a fruit stand? She turned my suit into a smoothie."

Bruce ignored him, and soon they arrived at the door to the room Selina was staying in. It was tucked away in a corner of the building, second floor of three but close enough to the festivities to hear the music and rumble of idle chatter. Bruce raised his hand to knock. Three times, loud and clear. "It's me. Can I come in?"

"Go ahead," Selina's voice called out from the inside.

He reached for the doorknob but hesitated mid-turn. "Are you decent? Dick's with me."

A pause. Dick rolled his eyes. "Hold on." There was shuffling in the room, and around half a minute later she called out again, "Come in!"

They stepped inside and the door closed with a

clink

behind them. Selina stood at the other end of the room, fixing her hair and putting on a pair of pearl drop earrings that matched her pearl necklace. When they were in place, she turned, her movement intelligent and precise. She wore a sleeveless one-shoulder gown of a very dark green color with a slit up the front. It was a simple dress over complex curves, and it did well to emphasize them alongside the creamy pallor of her skin. Disregarding her normal, slightly-messy hairstyle, she'd gone for a short, sleek, and styled look, and her eyes were accented with eyeliner that made her cat-green eyes look even more feline than they usually did.

He was accustomed to seeing her either naked or in a catsuit, but there was something inexplicably thrilling about seeing her dressed in formal attire. Frankly, she was stunning.

Selina met his gaze, and a little smirk played at those enticing lips of hers, tempting and teasing. She knew just what kind of effect she had on him. If Dick wasn't in the room with them right now...

She stepped forward with all the grace that he had come to expect from her, sashaying towards him and planting a kiss on his cheek.

"You look good in a suit, Bruce. A normal suit, I mean."

He took her hands in his, squeezing lightly. "You look good in everything."

"Oh brother." Dick groaned and averted his eyes.

Selina side-eyed the former Boy Wonder, and the smirk on her face grew. "He was such a sweet kid back when he wore tights." She tsk-tsked and ignored his annoyed scoff. Turning back to Bruce, she smiled. "Ready to mingle?"

"Almost. Governor Greene's in a room nearby. I want to talk to him about my housing plan and work to get him on board."

"Ah, the less violent side of your philanthropy." She fidgeted with his tie and then strolled towards the door. "I'll be waiting for you downstairs then. Don't keep me waiting too long or I may look for excitement elsewhere." The door shut behind her, but the addicting scent of her perfume remained.

Dick folded his arms and stared at the door. "I give it an hour before she steals something."

***

This not-so-little charity event was like a smorgasbord for her. Bruce had organized it himself of course. A nice society party. Everything very chic and very money. Fat wallets, expensive clothes, an exotic Chinese jade necklace here, a 100-carat aquamarine Edwardian pendant over there, and was that The Kentucky diamond and emerald ring moving away from her towards the appetizers?

Her lips quirked into a little smile. Oh, she'd behave all right. For today. Tomorrow? Well, she hadn't promised him that.

Selina clutched at her strawberry daiquiri and shifted through the crowd towards a suitable observation point. This charity gala of Bruce's was something he did every year, and at $15,000 a ticket it brought out all the heavy spenders. Celebrities, socialites, politicians seeking to improve their image, the rich, the mega rich. Just people that she generally didn't like. But that was fine, she liked their money and the jewelry they kept in their easy-to-access cabinets.

She'd need to chat them up later. Learn names, neighborhoods, the size of their homes, when and where they liked to go on vacation. People with that kind of money liked to brag--couldn't help themselves, really--and no doubt they'd be even more willing to spill the beans to the girl Bruce Wayne was dating.

It struck her suddenly that dating was an odd term for a couple whose dates consisted of dressing up as animals and beating the hell out of the Jokers and Riddlers of the world, but she shrugged it off. So they weren't normal? Big deal.

"Having fun?"

A man she didn't recognize appeared beside her. Like everyone else at this event he looked like you could cut him open only to find a stack of green dollar bills beneath. Unlike most people at this event however, he was not only young and rich, but handsome as well. Tall but not too tall, with carefree brown hair matched by deep brown eyes, a too-symmetrical face and a light tan to compliment it. Whoever he was he definitely looked good, but there was something about his perfection that was too perfect, too boring. Like a mass produced Ken doll.

Her eyes scanned the room for Bruce, but he must have been taking his time sweetening up the governor. Well, she had a plan of her own to work on and like a mouse to a cat this man had scampered right up to her, so why not start now?

"Not yet," she finally replied, flicking her gaze back to him and offering a promising smile. She'd play with him for a bit, pitch him a curve ball and string him along until she got what she wanted.

"Name's Jacob Osmond." He gave her a practiced smile, flashing her a row of perfect teeth.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Osmond." Did he expect her to know who he was? Then again, maybe she should. She'd been slacking off recently thanks to a certain bat and his stubborn heroism and wonderful...

"Care to dance?" he asked, and she almost felt bad for him. They never knew what they were getting themselves into, how dreadfully easy they made it.

She held out her hand and put in the bare minimum when he took it, dancing slowly, comfortably, easily. The music was light and jazzy, the room dim and cloaked with cigarette smoke. It was beyond obvious what this Mr. Osmond wanted, and he expected her to play along as if she didn't know. He led, she followed, and when the time was right and the opportunity arose, she popped an innocent question that she was fairly certain she already knew the answer to.

"You seem different than the normal rabble at these events. Are you a reporter?"

The man laughed in a way that sounded almost offended. "No, even I wouldn't stoop that low."

"Mmm." She pretended to think for a moment. "Are you in the rackets, then?"

"Would I tell you if I was?"

"You might."

"I might," he agreed. "But not with a girl I haven't shared a proper evening with."

"All right," she said, "keep your secrets. Why are you here? Pardon me when I say that you don't seem like the generous type, but that's not the impression I'm getting from you."

"And that's a deal breaker for you?"

"Not if your cute." Feed a man's ego and he'd tell you his life story like you were his biographer. "Answer the question."

"Initially? To waste my money on a tax break. Now? I think it's rather obvious."

A little too obvious.

"Watch the hand." Upper back was fine. Middle back was ok. But lower back and going lower still was pushing it. "Anything else you like to waste money on?"

He leaned in a bit and she reciprocated. "Do you mind if speak honestly?"

"Please do."

"I collect spoons."

Selina nearly missed her step.

She'd seen a lot of crazies, midwits, and murderous psychopaths in her time as a costumed thief and occasional vigilante, but this guy just about took the cake. Spoons? Give it six months and this nut would be giving the Joker a run for his money. It was a miracle he wasn't already strapped up in Arkham.

"Spoons?"

"Yeah, all kinds. My favorite piece is from 1970s Afghanistan... But if I had a girl like you I could spend my money on her instead. Really spoil her."

"Oh you could, could you?"

"Sure, so long as she showed me her appreciation for it." His eyes darted around conspiratorially, and he flashed her a grin that was likely effective more often than not, dimples and all. "Want to continue this dance back at my place?"

That's what she wanted. His address, that is.

"Maybe. Where would that be exactly?"

"You know the mansion by the Russian Consulate?"

Now that

was

promising. "That's all yours, huh?"

"Uh-huh."

"Mmm..." She smiled and pulled away, amused at the future prospect of helping herself to those spoons of his. "Perhaps I'll stop by another time."

He called out to her, asking for her name, but she ignored him and kept walking. A big ego and a high libido made things almost too easy. There wasn't much to get out of fooling a chump like that, but there was still a sense of smug satisfaction in knowing just how damn good she was. She felt that familiar rush pulse through her, and she itched to be in her catsuit, infiltrating that mansion of his and stealing through whatever cutlery vault he kept his utensils in. The fact that she was excited over the idea of stealing spoons didn't dampen her mood. At least, not very much.

She'd barely gone four minutes before she was accosted again, this time by a middle aged woman in a red cocktail dress with honey blonde hair and a rope of pearls around her neck that were infuriatingly similar to her own. Short, pretty, and probably a pain in the ass.

"Selina Kyle?"

In the short interval between words she tried to place the woman. She wasn't keen on complete strangers knowing who she was, but nothing came to mind.

"I'm sorry?"

"Laraine Harper."

Selina shook her head. "I don't..."

"You don't know me. I dated Bruce."

Great, an ex. Probably shouldn't steal from this one.

"Ah. Disgruntled?"

Laraine laughed, loud and genuine, her big golden hoop earrings swinging. "No. A little disappointed is all. How are you two doing?"

Well that was certainly a question, but how to answer? It's really strange but also really nice? This is our first "normal" date in two months? Our sex life is fantastic? We beat up bad guys at three in the morning?

"We make it work," she finally said, a hint of humor in her voice.

"Get access to his credit cards yet?"

"Excuse me?"

Laraine laughed again. "Oh, don't worry, I'm not trying to insult you. Hell, I don't blame you for going after his money. I tried to get into his pockets myself but, well, I guess he prefers his women tall, dark and busty. Three dates and he barely even kissed me on the cheek, can you believe it?"

Is that what people thought of her, that she was a gold digger? And is that what Bruce had to deal with?

"Or maybe he just prefers a woman with morals?" she said.

"Huh?"

Selina raised her chin and spoke a little louder. "I said, maybe he prefers a woman with morals. You know, integrity and ethics, that sort of thing."

And who exactly was that, her?

Laraine searched her face, eyeballs scanning up and down, left and right, as if she were looking at a woman who had contracted a deadly disease that had only now begun to show itself. Finding nothing but clear skin, green eyes, and cherry painted lips, she grinned and snorted a laugh. "Yeah, I'm sure!"

Not exactly the reaction she expected.

Selina exchanged a few more meaningless words with Bruce's ex and then moved on. People kept filing on in as time went by. The room was more crowded now than it was twenty minutes ago, but the place was huge and fit them all just fine. There was a band playing in the corner, waiters rushing in and out, delivering food and drink from the kitchen while cliques of Gotham's high society conversed in clustered groups about God only knew what.

The entire interior of the old Athens Maritime Building looked like something out of the early twentieth century. Art Deco in its design, with extravagant craftsmanship, upholstered club chairs, a deep red carpet lined with geometric shapes of gold, and an equally gold ceiling. The place reeked of the Roaring Twenties all the way down to the coupe-style cocktail glasses and it didn't surprise her at all that this was Bruce's taste. It was elegant and rich and she liked it quite a bit.

She sat down at a lonely corner table and sipped her daiquiri. In only a few minutes the table had filled up with hopeful men struggling to grab her attention with a "How do you do?" or a "Care for a smoke?" or a "Love the dress," and more than enough requests to get her another drink, to the point where she'd be drunk as a lord if she accepted even half of them.

As she sat and ignored them however, the words of Bruce's ex fluttered back to her, and she couldn't help but mull them over. The money was there. It was a thing, certainly. How could it not be? Bruce was a damn billionaire and she liked to spend money on fine meals and clothes and things for her cats and costumes. But no, there was a whole lot more to it than just his money and gorgeous looks. Initially it had been a playful attraction, a passing infatuation with the one man who was a constant--and somehow enjoyable--thorn in her side.

Around three years of fighting and love-making proved that it was more serious that that. They were an odd pairing, but there was something about that fact that made things work. She'd never put it into words before, but the sensations were there, clear as day, obvious as the sudden submerging of a hand in cold water. When his skin was on hers and his lips were on her neck, or when he would first walk into a room and her mouth curled upwards all on its own? No, the money didn't even cross her mind.

Selina sighed, crossed her legs, uncrossed and recrossed them. On top of a blossoming sense of agitation, she was getting bored. She could mingle and blend into a crowd like this if she wanted to, but right now? She'd rather be stealing spoons or peeling off Bruce's suit.

Her eyes scanned the crowd for what must have been the fiftieth time. There was the blonde trollop from earlier, and there was the sterilely attractive peacock, too. But there was still no...

The doors she'd entered from earlier caught her eye as they swung closed, and whether it was her mind shutting everything else out or if the room had just gone quiet she wasn't sure, but it was as if for a fraction of a second life stopped, the lights dimmed, and all of her attention was on the man who came sauntering in.

That's just how it was with him. Bruce was the kind of man whom your eyes gravitate to even in a sea of bodies. When she found him his eyes were already on hers. She wasn't surprised. And... shit, there was that unconscious smile. She wiped that off her face real quick and followed his movement from behind her glass, almost laughing at the difference between Bruce in public and Bruce in private.

At times he looked dark and haunted. Stoic, severe, with sleepless eyes that made him appear gothic. She loved that look, but right now? He looked gorgeous in his blue suit and red tie, the hundred-billion dollar man with a bright smile that could make a girl's legs weak, at home on a Men's magazine cover or as an all-American dad on a 1950's sitcom.

Smoothing out her dress and patting her hair into place, she stood up to meet him.

***

It took him less than three seconds to locate her through the crowd of well-tailored suits and expensive dresses. She was tucked away in a table at the other end of the room, alone but not alone, looking bored and drawing attention she didn't want without even trying.

In spite of the sea of people cluttering the room, he found it impossible to take his eyes off her. She had that effect on people, him most of all. She was a handful at times and stubborn as three mules, but when you looked away from Selina for even a moment and then looked back you went through it all over again. You just didn't believe that anyone could be that gorgeous.

She was beauty, sex, and class all rolled up into one tall, self-possessive woman that could steal your heart with one look of her feline-green eyes. Her lips were a dark cherry red, her sleek hair like spilt ink beneath the dim yellow light above her, and the way she sat at the table with her perfectly patrician posture and long legs crossed made everyone else in the room seem wholly and utterly inadequate.

Without giving a second thought to those around him, he started towards her. He vaguely dismissed Dick, exchanged passing pleasantries with others, and waved away offers for drinks by the help. His eyes remained fixated on her as he walked, and when she finally looked up at him, right into his eyes, a smile caught her lips. She hid it behind her glass, then, almost lazily, got up and stepped towards him. The smile was fainter now, more controlled, but still coolly poised upon her lovely face.

Selina met him a short distance from her table, moving with the natural hip-and-leg stalk of a panther, her hips and thighs rolling slowly and seductively. When she was within arm's reach he drew her close, a hand at her hip and another at the back of her neck. She leaned into him. They kissed, and his hand moved to cup her jaw, more possessive than intended. It wasn't a long kiss, but it lasted longer than may have been proper, and when she pulled away from him she smiled, her eyes a little misty and her voice soft--almost delicate if not for the huskiness behind it.