Vicki Vale wasn't sure what to expect as she drove up to Wayne Manor. She'd texted him, half-expecting the number to be changed, but instead had gotten a firm agreement on finally getting her interview. She pulled up on the roundabout, expecting there to be someone to take her car, but no one. Tacky as it was, she killed the engine and left it there. It wasn't like there was a parking lot on the grounds. She got out, stepping out into the buzz of flowing water from the fountain on the front lawn, then circled her own car to the manor's stope. Up the stairs, she found the door shut. No doorman. She tried the bell—they had a bell—and wondered if she should see if it was unlocked before the door parted.
"Hello, Ms. Vale," Poison Ivy greeted her. "Do come in."
Vicki's mouth went abruptly dry. Not only was it Ivy, but she was next to naked. Ragged cut-offs, a similarly torn top that left a thrillingly flat belly exposed. In the dusk light, her green skin might be mistaken for simple paleness, while her red hair hung unabashedly to her shoulders. And her pose was pure seduction: one hand on her hip, the other raised to the cleavage of her crop top, rubbing the flap between thumb and forefinger like she was curious with this thing obscuring her nudity.
Her investigative mind rushed like adrenaline entering the bloodstream. "Bruce didn't send that text. You did."
"Mmm. Smart cookie." Ivy's voice lolled out, lazy and contented, like a tiger at rest would sound. Her erect hand pried at the collar of her blouse, like she wanted to see if Vicki was interested in the bareness of her shoulder, the lack of a bra strap. "I thought we could talk. Woman to woman."
"Why don't we talk outside?" Vicki replied. "Always heard you liked the great outdoors."
"You want to take a walk with me?" Ivy's hand pressed flat to her breasts. "Sounds fun. Alright then. Let me show you the lake."
She walked past Vicki, leaving the blonde to shut the door. Vicki could see how the cut-offs rode high on her ass, pockets hanging down past the frayed edges to do more to hide her cheeks than the denim was.
"You know, I seem to recall taking you hostage a few times," Ivy orated. Vicki couldn't help but watch her buttocks roll as she walked, almost unencumbered by a single thread. It was like watching a flower somehow in continuous bloom. "I remember I always considered giving you a little pollen, seeing what you were like without all those
inhibitions.
But they always seemed to close to the surface... wouldn't it have been interesting if you just
kissed me
because you couldn't help yourself?"
"Where's Quinn?" Vicki asked as they walked across the manicured lawn, Ivy's bare feet making the trek far easier than Vicki's pumps. "Aren't you two usually inseparable?"
"Don't you mean where's Wayne? Shame to come all this way to moon after someone who won't present that geometric profile—and you don't seem the type to moon at all,
Vale.
You're usually... eminently
separable
."
Vicki blanched. "I think I'm pregnant."
Maybe not the wisest of moves. Still, it was satisfying to see Ivy break into a hot sweat, jealousy burning up her spine and into her scalp. For the blink of an eye, Vicki thought she was tinted red, not green.
Ivy's voice trembled but tried not to as she said. "Bruce's?"
Vicki was suddenly remorseful. It was clear that knowing Bruce had been with her made Ivy feel things that were all but impossible to contain. And after all her jibing about only tolerating him... "There really hasn't been... much of anyone else."
"I am a doctor, you know." Ivy's voice choked a little, but was shockingly sympathetic now. The sweat that gently dimpled her body gave her a dark glow now. "I could check."
"You really don't have to—"
"Bruce is my husband. That would make you family. Sit."
They'd come to a golden pond, its surface featureless except for a family of ducks that milled near its center. A single bench faced the water, a little ways from a boathouse, a little ways past a pier. All so quaint. Vicki wondered how often Bruce had played here, as a boy. If his many adopted children had enjoyed it too.
She sat. The bench was old and wooden, but comfortable, with a few initials carved into its seat. Most ended in W. Ivy sat beside her, and they looked out at the rippling water, catching the red sun, except where lily-pads and reeds sat like shadows in the crystal.
"You don't have to worry," Ivy said. "I would never hurt a child. Not even a seedling."
"I'm not too worried. I left word at the office that I was going to the residence of two known super-criminals."
"Three," Ivy replied. "Calendar Girl is staying here too." She reached out her hand, gently batting a forefinger at the lapel of Vicki's suit. "May I?"
"If you must," Vicki said, feeling awkward, but not uncomfortable.
Ivy lowered her hand to Vicki's belly, feeling inside it. Her brow furrowed. She unzipped Vicki's jacket, brushing it open, then unbuttoned the buttons of Vicki's blouse below the sternum. The breeze picked up, as if obedient to Ivy's wishes, and blew a flap of the blouse aside to reveal honey-brown skin. Her fingers softly ran over the almost invisible curve of Vicki's belly, then pressed down, palm flat, the green-colored hand like a firefly's glow on Vicki's darkened stomach.
"Yes. Definitely Bruce's," Ivy said. "The same scent. And don't worry. The toxins from the skin-to-skin contact won't afflict your child. Or you, I guess."
"What... toxinsssss..."
"Shh, Vicki, shh. Don't think of that right now. Look out at the water. At the rippling water and the light from the sun—it's fading, isn't it, growing darker as the sun goes down. It's getting cooler and cooler, and the wind's picking up... the crickets are chirping... all because of the sun. The sun in the water. The water getting darker and darker..."
Vicki stifled a yawn. She felt very tired all of a sudden, a great sleepiness coming over her—eyelids weighting a hundred pounds—Ivy's husky voice smoothing out, getting softer and slicker—she couldn't keep her eyes open—she couldn't—
Vicki yawned again. She didn't hide it this time. She felt half-asleep, or groggy, like she'd just woken up, but the daze of remembered sleep wouldn't go away. Yet she hung on Ivy's every word. She couldn't understand what Ivy was saying, but she heard every word. All of it very clear, very carefully enunciated, even if she couldn't make out what was being said. Then, suddenly, she heard Ivy tell her to sleep,
